A Sunday Visit

The mulberry tree at the west end of the house was a welcome haven from the summer sun. No grass grew in its dense shade and a cool breeze set the huge leaves to turning in the wind, alternating their fuzzy white side with the dark green side. Those huge three point leaves turned and twisted at the end of a long stem. We snapped leaves from the lower branches, broke off the long stems and used them to sew the leaves together to make aprons and tablecloths.

Being Mary’s eleventh child brought with it a unique but happy situation. When my older siblings came home they brought their children; girls who were more like sisters, welcome playmates for Bobbie and me.

Being an older child also brought worries and concerns to a young tender heart. To me, my parents were old. Old people died. Daddy was too tired to play games or to give us much attention. Mama loved to play board games and share stories, but she was often sick.

Jim, my oldest brother, and his family lived in St. Louis. They would drive down occasionally on Sunday to spend the day. This made for an exciting day for Bobbie and me. Laverne would bring “real” bread, light bread, we called it, all wrapped in its own white bag decorated with multicolored balloons. It was almost like eating cake. Laverne also brought banana pudding. This was a special treat. This was the only time we’d have bananas. But, best of all, Nancy came.

Nancy was Jim’s daughter just a year younger than I. We soon found ourselves beneath the mulberry tree playing house. We’d sweep up narrow rows of dirt, twigs and leaves to mark the boundary of our kitchen. We’d set the wash bench inside and pull up some buckets for chairs. We’d spread our leaf woven cloth on the bench table and tear leaves and grass as if we were breaking beans or tearing lettuce. This was accompanied by idle chat; about things of which we thought grownup women talked. But one Sunday afternoon a serious conversation developed between Nancy and me.

Mama was having a stretch of illness and I was filled with dread and concern. What would I do? What would become of me if Mama should die? She was the most precious, the most important person, in the world to me. I shared my concern with Nancy. She looked at me with eyes bright with hope.

“Oh, Grandmother (her special name for Mama) doesn’t have to die.” She said. “Jesus died so she wouldn’t have to.”

Though neither of us understood the infinite meaning of what she said, the demonstration of her simple faith was sufficient. That eternal truth gave hope and satisfaction to the troubled hearts of those young girls.

Joy filled my heart. I had never heard of Jesus. I knew nothing of him. Immediately I loved him, and was eager to share this news with Mama. Thus began my life long relationship with my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Thanks Nancy, for the most important conversation of my life.

Jesus cares about you and me. My young heart was not ready for saving faith, but that did not impede the faith I needed for that moment. Jesus seeks you, no matter your age or your circumstances. Jesus can also use you, sometimes in special ways that are uniquely yours.