My Walk with Christ

My walk with Christ 

Growing up in Bonnie, Illinois early 1950’s my first memory was the tiny white steepled neighborhood church, at the end of our block. Sunday school, bible school. Learning about Jesus. In those years the style of preachers were hell and damnation at the top of their voices. Terrifying as a shy sensitive little girl, whose only playmate was my imagination. 

The revival meeting was held each summer at the Bonnie campground, many attendees had tiny little cabins that surrounded the revival tent. For a full week preacher after preacher each evening would test the volume of their voices. 

It was hard to sit in those meetings, so many of the town school kids would play hide and seek around the campground with the only lights coming from the revival tent. You’ve not played hide and seek in the dark, with hell and damnation blasting through loud speakers. 

Knowing that the devil was behind every tree. 

Life was full of farm animals, kittens, fireflies, swings in trees, and bull frogs plopping along the garden path. A sound I can still remember. My closest cousins lived on farms, a great place to grow up. Then my father took a job with Coors and we moved to Golden, Colorado. 

My Aunt and Uncle invited us to attend Fruitdale Baptist church, in Wheartidge, Co. Sunday school began again in a much bigger church, and we memorized verses and would recite them. I remember only a little of these services, the pastor was a bit quieter in his sermons, I was headed into my teenage years and still hadn’t accepted the Lord, shyness kept me glued to the pew. 

My father and mother stopped attending church, I’m not sure why. They bought a camper and every weekend we would camp. I spent time walking the campground trails, lost in the beauty of the plants and trees. I graduated high school and worked as an assistant commercial artist. Training on the job, during this job I was given the Denver Bronco helmet to design. A horse inside of a D. 

Part of my limited church experience stayed with me through my young adult years, my prayers to God when I was scared, or worried. And always in my prayers was “your will be done”. 

I met my husband Bruce in 1969, we were married in 1970. As I write this, we celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary. It was also when I accepted Christ as my savior. The pastor of Fruitdale Baptist church wouldn't marry us in the church unless we accepted Christ. Bruce and I accepted Christ in the pastor's office that very day.