I have TWO birthdays...Do You?

I will wake up tomorrow and because I was born on March 13th. I will celebrate 69 years on this earth. I accepted Jesus Christ as my savior 60 years ago this past January. I used to tell children when I was teaching Sunday School, or Patch the Pirate, that the best thing that ever happened to me was not marrying Preacher, not having 3 wonderful sons, not even being a Missionary. The best thing that ever happened to me was getting saved. When the Lord Jesus saved me...He forgave all my sins, and gave me EVERLASTING LIFE. John 10 tells me that at the age of 9, I was given (John 3:16) everlasting life. Well, that was 60 years ago, and guess what? I still have it! Praise God, one day I will see Him face to face. I have a precious twin sister awaiting me in heaven. Whatever tomorrow brings....It's all good. And yes, I have some surgery schedules...just found that out today....But I'm a child of the King...and He loves me. Thank you to each of you who have sent Birthday greetings. I love you.  

As you see by the heading...I said I have two birthdays. My first birthday is March 13, 1945.  But I also have a second birthday.  That is the day that I mentioned in the first paragraph.  The  day Jesus saved me.  I want you to know that Jesus wants to save you too.

I often use what is called the Roman Road when I share this with others.  There is q song that  I love...it is “Tell Me the Story of Jesus”  Another is “ I love to Tell the Story of Jesus and His love.”  You know that everyone needs to hear the true story of Jesus, so for a few moments I want to tell you about the day I got saved.

It all began one evening when I was almost 9 years old...actually I was 8, but it was January and of course my birthday is in March...so I always say I was 9, but in truth...I was nearly 9.  Anyway, at our house in Quinton, NJ  Mom had dinner ready to go on the table when dad got home from work every evening.  This particular night...started out as normal.  We sat down to eat...and as we started out to eat, dad picked up his fork to begin eating, but suddenly he loudly put down his fork and said to mother, “Call the Preacher, I have to get saved.”  Mom jumped up immediately and call Pastor Al Black. He was knocking on the door in 10 minutes.  Mother rushed us girls upstairs.  We all headed up, but being the inquisitive person that I am, I slipped quietly down and crouched on the lower steps...wanting to listen to what was going on.  As I sat there, I heard our pastor sharing the gospel with dad and then very soon, I heard dad begin to pray.  He was weeping and the earnestness of his words shook  me to the core...I had never heard dad pray, and I had no doubt that he was saved.  That night, we girls got a brand new dad...he was changed.  

I had always gone to church with mother, and I listened to the preacher, I listened to my Sunday School teachers at Quinton Baptist Church.  I knew I was not saved.  I remember our pastor preaching about One day Jesus was coming to take all those saved to heaven.  As a young girl, that scared me to death.  Now not only was mother a Christian, but now...dad was saved too.  My parents were ready for Jesus to come...but I was not ready!  I shared a full size bed with my twin sister and that night when we crawled into bed, I could not stop thinking about what had happened that night.  Dad had got saved...and as I lay in the bed...staring into the darkness, I trembled as I whispered into the silent room...”Don’t come yet!  Please don’t come yet.”  My heart seemed to be beating so loud, that I would glance over at Arlene (my twin sister) to see if she could hear the beating that pounded in my ears.  Again the next night...I would whisper those same words...begging the Lord to wait.”  Finally that 3rd night ....with no sleep the last two nights, I was so tired, so filled with fear, and didn’t know what to do.  As I called out to God for help, I slipped out of our bed, and onto my knees, and as best as a nearly 9 year old could, I called out for forgiveness of my sins.  I knew that Jesus had died on the cross and paid for my sins, I knew that He was buried, and risen again. (thank you QBC sunday school teachers) I quoted John 3:16 and ask Him to saved me.  Finally I crawled back into the bed...and immediately fell into a peaceful sleep. 

Do you know 100% that your going to heaven?  Ladies, there is such a peace in knowing that your sins are forgiven, and you know that heaven is your home.  You must understand that your a sinner. Sin is anything that does not please God...hatred of others, disobedience, angry, and listen to this one....gossip, stealing, cheating, thinking evil, or hurtful things in your heart.  The Bible says, “As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.”  and I’ve only scratched the surface of what sin is...but you get the idea...  (Smile)  Jesus paid for your sins when He died on the cross...so we don’t have to pay the debt...which is eternity in hell.  None of us want that!  But what can we do?  Accept what Christ did when He died on the cross...He died for me, and HE DIED FOR YOU. Romans 10: 9 & 10  

IF you have a question, please call me...and i would be honored to help you. 606 877 5710,  Today I was reminded of the frugalness of life.  Test revealed that my heart function is at 40%.  Ideally it works 100%.  This caused some real concern since I need to have carotid artery surgery and am scheduled for surgery.  I am totally at peach about this.  Not only am I saved, but I belong to God and understand Romans 8:28  “....All things work together for GOOD to them that love God.....”  

I’ll leave you with this final thought.  Do you want peace?  Assurance of Eternal life?  Jesus is the answer. 

I love you ladies.  

Going Home

I remember well that Christmas Eve Sunday so many years ago.  We lived just down the road from that old country church that we loved so well.  As Preacher headed out the door to make that long haul across the mountain over into Vest, where little ones would be watching for that old yellow bus to stop out front.  I stood at the window and watch as he climbed on board and started the engine.  Then he climbed out and with the long handled window scraper, he cleared the windshields snowy cover and then with his bare hands, wiped the snow from the side mirrors, before climbing aboard, and putting the bus in gear.  I stood there every Sunday until the bus disappeared out of sight.  Often one of our 3 boys would go with their preacher daddy on the long drive Up Ogden, over the mountain, through Vest, and then all the way around until he came out of Possum Trot, through Hindman, and back up Big Branch where the Little country church was filling up, and awaiting their pastor’s arrival. 

It was December 24^th. Christmas Eve Sunday and so much planning and preparation had been made.  The children would be singing, some of them saying parts, Special recognition to those who helped faithfully.  I remember that this particular year, Hessie and Jerry Pierce would both be given special mention, and given small gifts of appreciation for their service.  There would be sweet treats for every boy and girl, and some gifts for them too. It was a wonderful time of celebrating Christ coming to earth.  We even had a birthday cake with candles as we sang Happy Birthday to Jesus.  It was snowing softly, but the roads were still passible. 

Finally, Sunday morning was over, again the bus, and vans were loaded and the voices of happy children could be heard singing and laughing as they head home. 

I hurried to our house, excited and so very thankful for the already cooked dinner Martha Cornett had prepared and given us for Sunday dinner that day. Her meals were such a treat.  Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, slaw, biscuits, and a warm from the oven cobbler filled the basket. As I peeked into the basket of goodies, all three of our boys gathered around to get that first glimpse of the meal that they knew would be delicious.  Rewrapping the meal and placing the kitchen towel over the basket to hold in the warmth, I scurried off the pack…we were going home for Christmas.  I pulled out the 3 old suitcases we owned, and opened them wide across the living room floor. Then told each of the boys to go get 5 pair of socks, enough underwear for the week, and their PJ’s. One suitcase always held all the bedtime clothes.  Then back up to get their shoes, and a pair of boots, gloves, and their hang up clothes.  I would look over each item, most were badly worn, but I’d made certain all was clean and ready for this once a year trip to grandma and Grandpa’s house.

Finally preacher was back, and I want to the kitchen to put the Sunday meal on the table.  I had things ready when my husband walked into the kitchen.  The food was wonderful, and the conversation was peppered with laughter as we talked about the Christmas service that morning, and made final plans for the long, all night drive north to be with family.  Oh how light our hearts were that afternoon. 

That last suitcase was finally closed just in time for all of us to head back to church for the Christmas Eve service.  We had decorated the church with candles in each window, a wreath on the front door, and in the center of the room the old floor furnace was glowing red as it heated the room.  It was a wonderful evening, and everyone seemed to burst with joy as they headed back to their homes that evening. It was indeed a special night.  In just a few hours, it would be Christmas.

Preacher and I closed up the building, making sure everything was in order. Our boys put the song books back in the racks.  We said goodbye to our precious church family and drove the short distance back to our house.  Bathroom visits were made, pillows, blankets, handed out, the suitcases in the trunk, and we were on our way.  For several hours, the boys all sat up…three little heads all looking over the front seat…. talking about pumpkin pie, turkey, and grand mom’s cookies.  Six eyes beams into the night as they remembered past Christmas’s…the folding table up-stairs loaded down with presents. The Beautiful Christmas tree that they knew would we shining brightly no matter what time we arrived and a warm welcome awaited all of us.  I must admit my heart was doing flip-flops as well.

It was a 13-hour drive.  Preacher was tired.  Some times I would relieve him for an hour or two, so he could sleep.  He had been up since before daylight on Sunday morning, and now it was beginning to grow light again…it was Christmas and we were all singing.  I remember the song…”Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmothers house we go, the Horse knows the way to carry the sleigh over the white and drifted snow.  Then we’d get to the part about the pumpkin pies and the children were literally screaming out the words. 

Even now my heart seems to squeeze as I remember all the delicious treats that my children knew awaited them.  We weren’t able to provide all the goodies and extra special treats that they knew would be found at Grandma’s house.

It was nearly 9am when we pulled up in front of the house.  I would lean forward for that first glimpse of the house, that first moment when I’d see mom and dad standing there, looking out the window for their first sight of our car pulling up.  We had arrived! The back doors of the car were thrown open, and three boys spilled out, heading for the house.  The front door opened and I saw mom and dad bending down, gathering their grandchildren in their arms.  I stood back, my eyes awash with tears, as I saw mom looking, waiting.  Her arms were open for me.

Dad wrestled and played with his grandchildren, while mom hurriedly tied her apron around her waist and soon the house smelled like bacon, sausage gravy and buttermilk biscuits.  A jar of her homemade blackberry jam was opened and very soon we were gathered around the kitchen table, in the house I grew up in…and I was home.

The years have passed and this year, I’m back in the states, But this year mom is much older, more feeble, her hands tremble, her walk is slow, her strength almost non-existant.  Breakfast is now my job. Now those long ago Christmas happen only in my memory. But still where mom is, I feel that welcoming pull of Home.

And now, just days ago, mom moved her address.  Dad had gone on ahead 15 years before, and finally, once again, they are united…their address:  Mansion over the Hill Top, Golden Avenue, Glory Land.  I look forward with much anticipation to one day going home…my real home.