I love getting random questions that make you stop and think....I text back that it wasn't a two sentence answer and she suggested I write a jewel, so here goes.
I have been in many conversations that start off with "share your salvation story." Some people can tell you the day it happened or at least the year but I didn't have an actual moment.
My relationship with Jesus began when I was a little girl. I knew I was loved but couldn't tell you exactly why, it was just a feeling.
I grew up in your typical dysfunctional family. I was supposed to be a boy, my name was Brian Keith but God had other plans. I was born in a small town in Florida, the hospital didn't have a designated labor and delivery floor so my mother was in a room with a woman who was quite a bit older than her. My grand entry into the world was a disappointment to my parents but a blessing to this unnamed woman.
As the story goes, per my mother, the woman had 7 sons and always wanted a daughter. She fell in love with me right away and took care of me the first week of my life. My mother had a hysterectomy after I was born so we were both in the hospital for an extended stay. This woman not only took care of me but she also named me, Rogena Ann. I will have a talk with her when I meet her in Heaven regarding the name.
Years later I asked my mother if she remembered the name of the woman who named me and she said no. This didn't give me a warm fuzzy feeling but I asked her to call me if she did remember anything about her in the future. She did call me one day and said I remember something about the woman who named you. I was very excited and asked "what?" She went on to tell me the woman had a wooden leg. This explains my love of telling pirate stories.
I believe this woman was a follower of Jesus. I also believe she prayed over me and gave me a mantel for loving people that aren't necessarily wanted. I look forward to meeting her one day to hear the other side of the story.
I don't remember a lot of love in my home. My father never spoke my name, since it wasn't Brian, and I lived a bit of an invisible life. I lived in different places starting at the age of 3, not my siblings, I had 2 sisters and a brother that stayed in our home.
When I was in 3rd grade we went on a family vacation, I should have known something was up cause we didn't do family anything. My parents left while I was sleeping and I lived with my grandparents for 3 months. When I got home there was a baby in the living room. A boy baby, the right kind of baby. I had a brother and ironically his name was Brian. Later my parents changed it to Michael.
I tell you all this because I didn't feel love in my home but I felt loved from somewhere. I had, and still do, a great imagination. I loved to sing and play and would make friends with just about anyone. I could feel a presence around me that hugged me without arms. I assumed I made up a loveable imaginary friend.
When I was in middle school my brother and I attended a private Christian school. Not because we had any religion in our home, we didn't go to church or hear about God but my mother had a close friend and her kids went there so my mother sent us. Of course this was all of God's plan for me.
There was a church about a mile from our house and I would walk there and sit in on a service once in a while. I think back now how weird it was that no one asked me who I was or if my parents were there. I still carried that feeling of being loved and enjoyed hearing stories about love.
I made a friend named Cindy at the Christian school and she lived near my grandmother. Now just a note about my grandmother, she was a devout Catholic, attended mass just about every day. We never spoke about God so I didn't have any idea He might be the one that was with me everywhere I went.
Ok back to my friend from school. She attended a charismatic church that was across the street from my grandmother's house. One weekend I was staying with my grandmother and Cindy invited me to church. I let my grandmother know I would be going and she was not happy about it. She told me they spoke in tongues and she was pretty sure there were snakes of some kind involved in their service. I didn't even know about tongues and to be honest I don't think my grandmother really did either. Needless to say I went and no snakes were harmed at the gathering.
I was definitely becoming more spiritual as I grew. I learned about God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit at the school and finally had a name for the one who loved me.
The Holy Spirit often told me things that were going to happen, sometimes to share and other times it appeared to be a secret between the two of us.
By the time I got to high school I already had a reputation of being a bit odd and the one to go to if you needed to get a message to Jesus. None of my friends were being raised in Christian homes.
I was always independent and continued living other places other than my parents home. No one seemed to miss me. I could be gone for days or months with no questions asked.
One day I was walking down the road and I found a rocking chair in the garbage. I dragged it home, it was old and the paint was chipped but I just loved it.
There were many nights I would feel so alone and longed to be wanted. I would begin to cry and every once in a while that chair would rock by itself. It was never scary, it was strangely comforting because I knew the lover of my soul was sitting there, even if I couldn't see Him.
So you see Gems, I didn't have an official come to Jesus meeting. I first met Him as an infant in need of a name. I met Him in an elderly woman that lived across the street who was always so happy to see me. I met Him in 3rd grade through a teacher that called me by name. I met him when my friend Frances would share an apple with me because I had no lunch. I met Him in High School when Mrs. Taylor said I had something special in me when my parents told me to quit school. I met Him amongst tears of sorrow and moments of joy. I met Him in every bad and good decision I ever made. I still continue to meet with Him all day every day.
The truth is He met me when He knit me together in my mothers womb and was patient while I journeyed to Him.
I had years of love and comfort with a presence that led to a name that led to a full on relationship that I am eternally thankful for. I know who I am and whose I am. I am loved unconditionally and never alone.
I pray, however it happens, you meet Him too, so when someone asks you "how were you first introduced to Jesus" you can tell your story.
