Walk This Road With Me, Will You? Chap.2

Chapter 2

I am writing this while sitting by the ocean at dusk. The sun has gone down and there is a full moon out. The beach is quiet. There are a few fishermen out surf fishing, my son being one of them. There is a soft and wonderful breeze blowing off of the ocean. I feel that I could literally stay here forever.

I saw the surgeon today. He showed me the CT scan of the mass in my lung. He is not one hundred percent positive that it is cancer. The lung doctor is almost sure that it is. I am scheduled for surgery on August 16^th. The surgeon explained to me that I would be put to sleep and special tubes would be placed in my lungs while he removes the mass. While I am asleep he will send it to pathology to see if it is cancer. If it is not, he closes me up and I go home the next day. If it is, he removes the lower lobe of my right lung and I stay in the hospital for a few days. By removing the right lower lobe, he feels certain that the cancer will be gone and I will not need chemotherapy. Also he said that because I have never been a smoker, my breathing should continue to be normal. He did say that I might not be able to become a professional singer in this lifetime. Thank goodness that is not one of the items on my bucket list of things to do:)

Pray for me. Pray that the surgery goes well with no complications. Pray God’s will for my life. He is the worker of miracles. He is able to do anything. He is God no matter what. He is our shield, our Glory and the lifter up of our heads. Not only am I asking you to pray for me today, but please say a prayer for the family of an 11-year-old girl who drowned this week in my hometown area. I cannot imagine their pain. I am asking God to give them a peace that is unexplainable in this very dark time for them.

When I was a little girl I remember being happy to the point of almost being giddy all of the time. It’s hard to describe but I remember a euphoric fullness rising up inside of me at the least little thing. It was just an incredible sense of knowing who I was and loving this life to the fullest. Our family was not wealthy by any means but I never remember wanting for anything. I loved my family, I loved school, I loved Christmas, I loved books, I loved my church, and I loved potato chips. I cannot think of a thing back then that did not bring me joy. I was an unusually happy little girl with the solid belief that all was right with the world. That genuine happiness stayed with me throughout my childhood, my teenage years, and into my marriage and beyond.

I don’t remember giving God much credit for my happiness. That’s pretty strange to say since church was a huge part of my life. From birth, I was raised in a Pentecostal Holiness Church and stayed in that same church until I was almost 50 years old. I was there on Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, Wednesday nights, and all revivals. I loved my church family. They were (and are) some of the best people that God put on this earth. The friends who I grew up with are like sisters to me. I loved the singings, the picnics, the Christmas plays, the sleepovers, the trips we took, I loved everything about my church.  Except for the spiritual part. That was the thing I just could not figure out for the life of me. 

One of my earliest memories of church was when I was about 8.  I was kneeling at an altar in my home church. I remember several well-meaning older women, hair up in buns, all around me, their hands on my head, my shoulders, my back, my face. They were crying and praying and shouting for the Lord to fill me with the Holy Ghost. I remember that I was sobbing. It seemed that the more I cried the louder they got. Some of the ladies were speaking in tongues. They kept pulling on my jaw, telling me over and over to keep praying, that I almost had it. I remember feeling confused. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I don’t remember anyone ever explaining to me what the Holy Ghost was all about. I just knew that in order to be ok in God’s eyes, I needed it. I went to the altar many times after that and even though I prayed and cried and asked, it was the same. I didn’t get it. Maybe next time.  I didn’t know it then but I was beginning to develop an unhealthy view of God.  I began to believe that maybe something was wrong with me. There must be or He would give me the Holy Ghost. It made me afraid of Him.  I was taught that He didn’t want us to smoke, drink, wear nail polish or go to the movies. My skirts and dresses were always longer than my school friends and that always embarrassed me. When I got to school I would try to hike them up so I would look like everyone else. It is mortifying to be in middle school and be different.  I thought God was always mad at me and I lived with feelings of guilt. I just felt like I could never get it right and that devastated me because I wanted to so badly. Please don’t get me wrong here. I am in no way blaming the wonderful people in my church for any of this. Yes, some of the things I saw and was taught may have been misguided but these were people who truly loved me and had my best interests at heart. I was the one who internalized it all and never really talked with anyone about it. The love for my church family far outweighs anything negative that I may have experienced and I would not change any of it even if I could.

As afraid as I was of God, I was terrified of the Holy Ghost. I can remember sitting through highly emotional Holy Ghost-filled services and being so confused.. People were shouting and speaking in tongues and running around the church and falling out in the floor and I just didn’t get it. When we had those kind of church services, I remember sitting in my seat and feeling so alone. I loved church when all we did was sing and hear the preacher preach. But when the Holy Ghost showed up, that’s when I shut down. The only one that didn’t seem scary to me was Jesus. I was taught that he loved the little children. We sang songs about it and had pictures of Jesus smiling with children all around Him. I remember really loving Him because I believed He loved me. I remember asking Him to live in my heart. He was the one I prayed to when I was afraid at night. He was the one I pictured in my mind when I felt alone. He felt like a friend to me and He didn’t seem to be disappointed in me.  I didn’t realize it then, but I know now that I was clinging to that with all of my might. Little did I know, this was all the beginning of a spiritual journey for me that would I would be on for most of my life. As you walk with me I will share what I have discovered.  I am still on the journey and I still have so much to learn but I have taken a turn in the right direction. There is no way I cannot share this with you. Please stay with me……