It is a great heritage to have been raised in a solid Christian home. My father was born again when I was about three years old. Even though we had our share of inconveniences and hard times, they were overshadowed by our parents’ great love for us. The Bible was read in that home, and I knew it was the truth.
When I became a little older, I was aware of the power of God. My father would tell us that he used to try to be a Christian in his own strength. It didn’t work. He would throw his plug of tobacco into the weeds, but the next day he would be out there hunting for it. Of course, all that changed when he was converted.
I remember a meeting my father conducted in a farmhouse in Wisconsin when I was ten years old. A young woman who was working on that farm fell on her knees after the service and prayed, repenting, with her hands raised toward Heaven. She was wonderfully saved from her sins (and attends our church in Tacoma, Washington). At that service, I could feel the power of God’s Spirit.
When I was in my late teens, God manifested Himself to me personally. A heavy weight of conviction came upon me. I was miserable and restless. It took me quite awhile to repent of my sins and give up to the Lord, but when I did, that restlessness was gone and I had a desire to please Him.
I do not know where I would be today if I had not yielded my heart to Him, for I feel I have no strength of my own. I’m so thankful He called me when I was young. Now I am a grandmother and appreciate the Christian family we have had through the years. I give God all the glory. He has always been there to guide our lives, and I want to keep my hand in His.
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