THE MOMENT LINDA WAS ALL THAT GOD CREATE

I was struggling with my column this month, I believe because of the circumstance of my life. I was thinking about the theme "being all that God created you to be" and of course my thoughts are still very wrapped around the death of my dad and his last days on earth.

Those of you that are regular readers read that story last month -- if you haven’t read it, you can go back and read it now -- I’ll wait -- but please hurry, because in living through his death, I learned once again how precious time can be.

I’ve had a lot of lessons in my life---- a lot of wisdom gained----a lot of struggles---- a lot of victories--- a lot of losses --- a lot of pain-- a lot of joy--- a lot of success. I think when we hear the phrase "being all that God created us to be"-- we as humans, immediately think of coming up with a success story to prove what we have become.

We want God to be proud of us. Of what we have become. Of what He created us to be. Yet as I thought about being all that God created me, Linda, to be, as I thought of my successes, one other story kept coming to mind.

A while ago I flew up to Pennsylvania to visit my sister Vicki, her husband Bill and my niece Allison. I wasn’t staying long, and one of the things that I absolutely had to do while I was there was to have Vicki take me on a tour of my past--as it was in Pennsylvania where I grew up.

It was a very strong desire in my heart. My sister warned me up front that most of the locations we were going to see are now considered some of the highest crime districts in the area. She was very reluctant to even drive around to do this, but knew when I have a very strong desire to do something we had better get busy doing it. We started in Philadelphia, where I was born.

We drove past the first house I ever lived in-- a brick row house in Germantown. Past the park I used to play in. To my first school, a very uninviting looking stone building with a concrete playground and absolutely no grass of any sort. We drove past landmarks, some of which I remembered and some that she remembered and couldn’t believe that I couldn’t remember.

Everything had changed, yet everything had stayed the same as well. We weaved through neighborhoods and down cobble stone streets where trolleys had traveled and some still do. I had told her all the places that I had really wanted to see, and she had some places of her own that she had wanted to see, so we weaved around quite a bit and once in a while we would slow down or even stop the car so that I could snap a picture, to help me remember or to help me forget.

We were weaving up and down streets so much that it didn’t take me long to lose my sense of direction and where exactly we were headed. We turned a corner and my heart leapt to the sky. In front of me, standing tall in the light of the day, was the place that was first on my list of places I had to see: My first church.

I made my sister stop the car so that I could take a picture and up to this point my pictures were all taken from inside the car, as per her warning.

As I stared at the building that has not changed a bit, except that now it is a Baptist church instead of a Presbyterian church, my sister was telling me that this in particular was the worst of the worst neighborhoods for crime and shootings...... “So whatever I do, take the photo fast and don’t let anyone see me because I will look very suspicious, and we need to get the heck out of there, like 10 minutes ago. Ok?"

I opened the car door and got out of the car. She started yelling at me at the top of her lungs and it got a lot more muffled sounding once I shut the door and told her to wait for me. Luckily she had tinted windows and her asthma inhaler with her at the time and I could still hear her screaming as I walked toward the building.

This was the church I had been born into -- and attended up until I was around 6 years old. The church that I remember being the littlest child in the children’s choir standing on the altar steps on Easter morning with my plastic tulip singing.......(and yes I remember all of the words to the song). “A fair white tulip raised it’s head, one morning in a garden bed....."

I remember being so proud because as the littlest child I got to stand in the front and I got to hold the white tulip, while the other kids had colored ones. It meant a lot to me. Remembering it made me smile.

These memories flooded my heart as I crossed the street toward the building and saw my sister’s car drive past again in her incognito attempts to circle the block.

It was a clear autumn Saturday morning in the highest crime district in the area, and I felt absolutely no fear. I can’t say the same for my sister. My heart drew me closer.

It was my church -- where I had felt safe--and obviously still did.

Like I said, it was a Saturday morning and pretty unlikely that I would be able to get thru the iron gates that separated the street from the courtyard, but wouldn’t you know that this particular Saturday morning there was a fashion show at the church in one of the back buildings?

My path in was wide open. My spirit was drawing me. There was no fear in my footsteps at all. There were members of the new congregation scattered about and all dressed up for a fashion show. I must have stuck out like a sore thumb as a stranger and an intruder, but it didn’t phase me one bit. I drew closer.

In this high crime district, this intruder --this total stranger looking extremely suspicious, was never even noticed. By anyone. In fact not even the person who saw me slip into the sanctuary, which by a miracle of God was unlocked in this high crime district, not even that person-- batted an eyelash.

It was clear that my footsteps were deliberate. That my footsteps were fearless. And that my path was led by God.

I can’t even describe how it felt to step into that sanctuary after .....well let’s just say a really long time.......but I need to find the words, otherwise you won’t be there in "the moment that Linda was all God created".

This church is a very old stone church with a breathtaking sanctuary. It wasn’t breathtaking because it was ornate in any way-- it was breathtaking because it had been around for so long, it was built on a strong foundation, and it had withstood forever, never changing. Like God.

It took my breath away and yet my heart remembered it more than my eyes. I looked around was very aware of how I felt ---that I was indeed that child again. I stood in the center of the center aisle --- feeling 2 feet tall in body -- and 90 feet tall in spirit-- a little child --- yet, a child-----------of God.

I said, " Hi God!", with a heart of genuine happiness. Just like a child. A child of God saying Hi to her Father. The spirit and the joy of the moment overwhelmed me and tears started to trickle down my cheeks and all I could do was stand there in total awe--- looking upward --a child in the presence of God.

I felt so small in body, and so huge in spirit. The feeling was absolute, innocent, pure awe.

Then I choked out the words of my heart, words that were totally unrehearsed, words that just came from the heart of a child --me.

“This is where I first met you." I smiled as I was choking on my tears.

“Thank you. Thank you."

I felt totally safe -- totally small -- totally in awe--- and totally thankful.

And that------------------was the moment in my life where Linda------------was all that God created her to be.

Copyright 2007 Linda Woodward. All rights reserved.