I overheard a conversation between my mom and dad. It worried me as a tween of twelve years.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she said to my dad. “I can’t keep going to church and going through the motions; there has to be something more than this.”
As far as I knew, we had always gone to church. We sat in the same seats for years. “How could she even think about not going?” I asked myself.
On a Tuesday, she announced that she was going to a prayer meeting. “A prayer meeting?” I said to myself. “Why would my mom want to go and sit around with other people and pray?” My Mom is a cookie baking, PTA, Camp Fire Girl kind of mom whom everyone loved; she had no need of that,” I continued to wonder.
But week after week she continued to attend the prayer meetings. And as each week passed, my mom was changing right before my eyes. There was a peace, a calm that surrounded her that even this twelve-year- old could not deny.
One afternoon I came skipping down the stairs, I swung around the banister and came bounding into the dining room. My mom was busy measuring strips of pink paper and cutting them neatly.“What are you doing Mom?” I asked not wanting to miss any kind of a craft project. “I am making bookmarks for my Bible” she replied not lifting her eyes from her cutting.
“Can I help?”
“Sure.” Mom replied.
We busily cut out close to a hundred of these little pink bookmarks. She explained that she was reading the Bible and wanted to mark the verses that were important. I remember thinking to myself, could there be that many important things to mark in the Bible?
I began to frequently see her read the only Bible in our house, our huge, four-inch thick door stopping family Bible. The size and the gold pages did not intimidate her search for what was important. And the little pink bookmarks that she and I had cut began to decorate and fill the gold leaf pages. Apparently, there were a lot of important things in the Bible, and she had found them.
About a month later, I was skipping down the stairs again, I swung again around the banister and came bounding into the living room. My mom was reading the Bible. She stopped me. “I want to tell you something very important.” Her firm but gentle tone signaled me to stop. I sat at her feet. She began to tell me about God’s love for me. She told me how my sin separated me from God. She told me that my sin deserved death. She told me how Jesus died on the cross in my place. And she told me that if I believe in Jesus that I could live in heaven with him forever. I remember thinking why hasn’t anyone ever told me about this before? And although she offered to pray with me, I replied no. I went upstairs to my bedroom and lay on my top bunk. I prayed…”Lord, I know what she is telling me is true but I am not ready to give my whole life to you.”
Mom traded in our huge family Bible for a smaller size and a translation that was easier to read. She continued to study God’s Word. The little pink bookmarks gave way to highlighters and underlining. She gave me a Bible. She gave relatives a Bible. She gave friends Bibles. It seemed that every present she gave was a Bible. She loves God’s Word. The gospel message is so important to her. She wanted those she loved to hear about God’s incredible gift of grace and mercy and the free gift of eternal life.
It was almost four years later that I gave my life to Christ, a day that I will never forget and a day that I will forever thank God for. My mother’s witness of her steadfast love, her commitment to Christ and her love of God’s Word paved the way in my own journey to know Christ and walk with Him.
This year marks thirty-eight years since I gave my life to Christ.
Thirty-eight years of learning and growing in the knowledge of my Savior.
Thirty-eight years of working alongside Him in His work.
Thirty-eight years of joys and sorrows experienced along the journey.
Thirty-eight years I am privileged to walk in His grace.
Thirty-eight years of sharing the gospel with my family, my friends, and those who were searching.
It has been wonderful, and with resolve, I want to know and serve Jesus even more than the day I first bowed my knee to Him.
I am so thankful for my mother who was not content with just going to church or being a good person but answered the call of her heart to seek the truth. I am so thankful that she shared the good news of Christ’s salvation with loving boldness. And I am so glad that in faith, she cut a hundred little pink bookmarks and searched for what is really important.
I love you Mom!
Love to all the moms in the world, who lovingly share the good news of Christ with their children through their words and actions!
From Our House to Yours,