I belong to Jesus. He belongs to me.

I remember it was hot outside that day.  The sticky kind of hot that makes the back of your neck wet and your shoes squeak after wearing them to long.  That’s why I begged my mom to let me wear my white easter sandals so my toes would stay cold.  I loved the church it was always cold and quiet.  I couldn’t wait to get to my class.  The ginger snaps, tropical punch koolaid, and singing “This Little Light of Mine,” where my favorite things to do.  That day things felt different.  He was there in the church that day.  The man from my dreams.  Standing by the pastor.  The pastor was talking about how it was important to ask Jesus to come into your heart, say you were sorry for your sin, and then you had to come up there where he was so he could pray.  I understood what was being said I had heard it before.  Talked to my mom about it and just the week before my brother went up there to talk to the pastor.  He called my name.  I remember I was getting tired of sitting there waiting, so I started swinging my feet and my sandal fell off.  I jumped down off the bench to get it and that’s when I heard Him.  I stepped out into the aisle.  I could smell lemon furniture polish, musty old books, and feel the rough red carper on my toes.  There He was at the end of the asile on one knee with His hand stretched out to me.  We had a friendship already.  I knew Him.  His name was Jesus.  I loved Him already.  I don’t know when I started loving Him I just always had.  He said to me, Heidi come down here to let everyone know you are mine. So that’s what I did on that day during Vacation Bible School at Baulman Road Baptist Church in 1976. I was 5 years old.  I met the man named Jesus, with those bright stormy fire blue eyes on one knee with His hand out stretched, at the front of the church and prayed with the pastor to let everyone know that Jesus was mine.

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