A miracle. A vision. My first year.

I grew up in a family of hermits. We lived at the end of a dead end dirt road. And, as I grew up, I was told not to trust anyone outside the family. They will always hurt you.

My mother was a manipulator. Whatever the situation was, I would hear “Do it or I will never forgive you.” She meant it. I never knew much about either side of the family because she had shut them out. Later, when I was out of the house, she would regularly call, pressuring in one way or another and leave me in tears.

I always thought I was close to my dad. When he worked around the house, I was the one who would help. He would laugh and call me his go-fer (go fer this, go fer that). When he fell 20 feet at work,I was the one who massaged his back when it hurt. But it was actually a kind of betrayal bond – it felt like I’d been punched very time I assumed a closeness only to find that it didn’t exist. He often looked disappointed when he looked at me. Never did know why. Nothing was ever said.

After my mother died, there were a lot of years without any communication at all. When he died, it was my father’s will that made me realize that I had been disowned.

As time went on I spent more and more of my time alone. I would cross a field near my home, climb a huge rock to a tree with a rock next to it that made a perfect seat. I’d sit there in the woods for hours reading about other people, other places and other times. When I was with people I didn’t talk. If someone asked a question, I might have an answer in my head but there was a disconnect. It never reached my mouth.

Someone invited me to church so I went. Then at one point, I asked about a Bible Study and they started one. I went each week, watched and thought. The woman who hosted it had a bookshelf. She let me take a book home each week. It was reading In His Steps that I made a decision to follow Christ. But like everything else, I wasn’t going to trust it until I saw what happened.

I had also joined two choirs. One, the Dawntreaders, traveled to several places in the area putting on rock musicals.I had a solo and there were no understudies, in case of a problem. Then I broke my foot. I had a cast but couldn’t put any weight on it. The director didn’t want the distraction of crutches so I was going to have to stand on one foot and balancing on my other heel. When the lights went out for changes some guy near me would have to pick me up and set me down in a new place.

When the time came for the final rehearsal, I did that balancing act. But final rehearsals never only go the length of the show. I ended up standing on one foot for 4 hours. As I was going home I had pains shooting up to my knee and that leg was collapsing with each step. Only the crutches kept me from falling.

But I still didn’t talk. The next morning it had not improved. The director had it set for me to be in a room next to the stage so that I could come out after everyone else was in place then leave my crutches out of sight. I still hadn’t told anyone. I heard the audience filling the room and I panicked.

The only thing I could think of was to pray. I did. And as I got up to go out – my leg was healed. No pain. No collapse. Healed! I thought it would be back to pain the next day, but it wasn’t. I didn’t know that God still did miracles, but he did! And suddenly there was another one – my mouth opened. I started talking my thoughts and sharing my faith.

Later that year I bought a set of bongo drums. I was asked to play along with a kids choir singing The Little Drummer Boy.

I prayed before that performance that I would make him smile, just like the drummer boy did. The kids did a great job. And then, when I looked up, I saw a smile. I was so surprised that it knocked the wind out of me – I couldn’t breathe.

I still remember my third-grade teacher because she smiled at me once. But this – this filled my field of vision – and my heart. He was proud of me. He loved me. I could make him happy.

“…you have been adopted into the very family circle of God and you can say with a full heart, “Father, my Father”.” (Rom 8:14 Philllips). Jesus did all that needed doing to save me. He lived a sinless life – for me. He died on the cross – for me. And he rose again – for me. He adopted me into a new family. But he went even further. He did what needed doing to unlock my damaged and frozen heart. Praise God!