Excerpt
My mother and father were separated when I was born, and my older sister, Betty, was only about five years old. My father had left for places unknown, so Mom struggled through the next three years working outside the home to try to make a decent living for the three of us. She taught us good moral values, to say the blessing before we ate our meals, and how to pray at bedtime, but she kept her relationship with our Heavenly Father very private.
I vaguely recall spending a lot of time with my grandma, who was a beautician and worked from a shop in her home. My grandpa was a section boss on the railroad, and he didnt drive so Grandma would have to drive him to work each morning, and go back to pick him up every evening during the week. I recall quite a few scary trips because Grandma wasnt the best of drivers and she tended to take a lot of pretty wild chances on the road, but somehow, the Lord and His angels always got us home safely. I would sit in the back seat and try to count the cars that went by or some other means of amusing myself. At that time, I didnt know that much about angels or the Lord because that just wasnt a subject we talked about too much except when Donna, Grandpas daughter by a previous marriage, would come to visit them on the weekends. On Sundays, Grandpa would give each of us a few pennies to put in the offering plate at church to teach us how to give to the Lord, and we would then walk to church together.
One of the most vivid memories of going to church with them was one particular Sunday, at the tender age of five, when Donna and I had secretly devised a plan to get some peanuts to eat after church. I put my pennies in the offering plate, but she kept her pennies to spend later to buy peanuts for us. I didnt ever feel right about that deal, but to a five-year old, the temptation and the desire for the peanuts was greater, so I went along with the plan. After we got home that day, we asked Grandpa for some money to go to the little service station across the street to get us a soda pop. He gladly gave us enough to get each of us a soda, and we proceeded across the street, bought our sodas, and Donna bought us some peanuts from the machine. We were enjoying our peanuts when suddenly we looked up and saw Grandpa standing in front of us. In his stern but loving voice, he asked us where we had gotten the money to buy the peanuts. I glanced at Donna, then up at him, but I couldnt speak, because I just wanted to run and hide someplace. As he stood there looking at first one and then the other of us, Donna finally spoke up and said, Daddy, Sandy (my nickname at that time) put her offering in the plate, but I kept mine to buy our peanuts with. Grandpa just took a deep breath, shook his head, and looked disappointedly at both of us and replied, Do you girls realize you just stole that money from the Lord? All you would have had to do is ask me, and I would have given you enough money for peanuts too! At that moment, my heart sank, and I fearfully waited for the strong arm of the Lord to come crashing down on me, as I had the misconception that God was some gigantic mean being who would wipe us out if we did anything wrong. I didnt see how He could ever forgive me for stealing from Him, and I didnt know how to make it right with Him. Needless to say, those peanuts just didnt taste the same after that to either of us, and we could barely eat them. That is the first recollection I have of the conviction of the Holy Spirit, and it wasnt until about eight years ago I realized that conviction is what it was.
I can guarantee you that it felt just as bad then as it does now whenever I get out of line with the Lords Word and His will. It left a very strong impression in my spirit, and I am very thankful to God for that conviction, because it started me out very early in life knowing how to tell right from wrong. But, Grandpa, in his mature wisdom, just told us to tell God we were sorry for stealing from Him and that we wouldnt do it again, but I had a real problem forgiving myself because of my low self esteem.
I do have a lot of great memories of my times with Grandma, Grandpa, and Donna because when I was little, I would get to go on vacations with them. I recall one time going to the Wisconsin Dells with them, and Grandpa kidding me about riding a duck, which was actually a type of boat, but all I could imagine was a live duck, and it sent my imagination into frenzy until we actually rode on that boat. We would stay in motels, get to swim in pools, and eat in a restaurant, which was a real treat for me, and they would buy us postcards to write to our families to let them know we were all right and having fun.
When I was three years old, our mother married our stepfather, who was nineteen years older than she was, and he had never been married before or dealt with young children. My sister and I were excited that we were finally going to have a daddy to love us, care for us, and make our family complete.
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