"My Mother's Bible"

As a child growing up in rural East Texas, also known as the "Bible Belt", I was no stranger to praying. Being raised by devout Pentecostal Christian parents fasting and praying were a normal part of daily life at our house. Prayer at every meal, before bed, and any other time during the day or night it might be needed or wanted. I went to church on a regular basis with my mom and dad, and they set the same examples and followed the same rules as was preached at Sunday worship services.

I have seen my mother kneeling on her knees many times, head bowed, eyes closed, one hand holding her Bible, and the other raised up over her head as she prayed. I watched as her feet sometimes turned purple from lack of circulation, but it never seemed to bother her or stop her from finishing a prayer. My brother and I learned at an early age how to pray... how to talk to God in an effective manner, and to believe, trust and accept that our prayers would be answered as God saw fit.

I wasn't aware of the dissimilarities in other churches until I was around nine or ten. I went to church with some of my friends from school on several occasions, and was surprised at how different the services were.... not bad or disappointing, but quieter and very different. Up to then I thought all churches had music, singing, speaking in tongues, loud sermons, and an active "into the spirit" congregation. I still remember the shocked looks on the faces of my friends that came to visit at my church with me, and a few of them respectfully declining a second invite. I once ask my mother why some kid at school called me a "Holy Roller" and said our church was full of "freaks". Her answer to me was that people are sometimes afraid of things they don't understand, and different churches have different ways they praise God. She opened her Bible and read to me some scriptures about our beliefs and why we did things that way. She then told me I should pray for my own answer from God about how to handle this situation and explain our beliefs to others in a way they can understand and not be afraid of.

I was a stubborn, headstrong, independent young adult, insistent on doing things my way, and learning many life lessons the hard way. I am very thankful to my mother for my deeply planted Pentecostal Christian roots, and to her and God for never giving up on me regardless of the life I chose to live for a long time. I never jumped off in the middle of anything that bad,

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