My Story-Part 1

Hello my dear, dear readers!

The time has come! The time we have all been waiting for...okay the time God has been waiting for. Here comes My Story!

Now it is 10 pages long, so I will be posting it in chunks over the next several days. I will not be signing off these posts, so please don't think I forgot! #warriorprincessKJ

Would you keep praying for me as I post these? This is me being obedient to God, and we all know Satan does not approve of that, so I could use prayers, lots of prayers. 

Alright, here we go...

Here is part one!

Raised in the Church, but not Saved.

Despite attending church, Sunday school, Bible camps, Vacation Bible School, and youth groups regularly throughout my childhood, I was never really saved. 

This is my story— God’s story of how He saved me and how I came to know Him. 

I was born to two loving parents on November 13. Eleven days later I experienced infant baptism. From that point on, I attended church and Sunday school regularly.  In third grade I went to a special Sunday School class to earn my first Bible. We went through every book of the Bible and talked about a specific verses in each book. However, I can not tell you about any of them.

In fifth grade, I went through first communion class and received my first communion. I still have my special first communion cup that I used that day, but I can’t tell you anything else about that day.  Until I truly understood what communion symbolized, it never really mattered.

There are two things I clearly remember about growing up in the church. One was in sixth grade. My Sunday school teacher asked my class how we thought our parents would react if we were to be put in Mary’s shoes and be blessed a virgin mother. I knew without a doubt, my parents would believe me and they would still love and accept me. I think I was the only one in class that thought that way, and my teacher questioned my thoughts. 

My second memory was from confirmation classes in eighth grade. This meant on Wednesday nights, I had to attend confirmation class or participate in youth group weekly. This was not something I choose to do. What really truly was the importance of it, I don’t think I’ll ever know. I’m sure it wasn’t to memorize that memory verse for one week in order to win those SPAM sunglasses that we all coveted. (Which I did in fact win, probably wore them once, and have no clue now where they are, or what verse I ‘memorized’ to win them.) Regardless, I took the classes and on  October 28, 2001, I was confirmed. I remember the date because the date is written in the Bible, my grandparents MorMor and Papa gave me— and this date would be come significant later in life too. 

Aside from these memories there’s not much else I can tell you about growing up in the church, but I can tell you by that point in my life, I was just going through the motions. I was living life the way my parents wanted me to, not that way I wanted to. I was doing what I had to do to get by.