
Walking by the Sea
If I were Jesus’ therapist, there is one moment in particular that I’d love to process Read More
In 1984, my life changed forever. My mother died, and nine months later my father died. I was in my early twenties, married, and still in college. Life wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Over the next few years, my wife and I sold my parents’ home and merged much of their furniture with ours. We purchased a new home and had a baby girl. Life on the outside looked great, but something was missing. I now know that I was grieving the loss of my parents. It had happened so quickly.
One week, there was a terrible rainstorm. It stormed steadily for two days — thunder, lightning, flooded streets, and flickering power. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the storm stopped. On Sunday morning I woke up to no thunder or rain, just the bright sun shining through our kitchen window that overlooked the front yard. In the middle of our yard, I saw a black object. Could it be a large blackbird or a garbage bag? Curiosity got the best of me, so I quickly put on my clothes and walked outside.
Once I got closer, I realized it was a book, open and face down. I picked up the book to put it in the garbage can, and to my surprise it wasn’t wet or even damp. And it wasn’t just any book; it was a Bible. I thumbed through the Bible looking for a clue as to who the owner might be. It was my mother’s! It had her name written in it along with an Upper Room devotional guide she used as a placeholder, opened to the next day’s Bible study: January 9, 1984 — the date of her death. At that time, a warm feeling came across me, much like I believe John Wesley had at Aldersgate. My faith was renewed, and my life was changed forever.