We've all heard the "until it happened stories." In my case, I used to think Christianity was bull. Boring. And bogus until I told my nana I didn't love her.
Why, Jessie, why? Nana said.
Her brown eyes started to water. She was going to cry. I was use to her fighting back. I expected her to call me an ungrateful brat. But crying? I’d hurt her. I'd really hurt her. I put my wheelchair into second gear. And went into my room as if I were a criminal fleeing the police.
For some reason, I reached for my speakerphone and called Em.
"Em, I really hurt Nana," I said in between hiccups.
"What's going on Jessie?" She asked.
I was silent.
"Jessie it's me," Em said. "You can tell me anything."
"I told my Nana I didn't love her, I blurted out, hoping she wouldn't understand me.
"I know. She was crying Em. I never want to make her cry again."
"Jesus can change you, Jessie"
"Tell me about Jesus again."
She told me the gospel. God came down in human flesh, suffered and died for me. So I could trust him. And walk into a new life. Me. Someone who trashed his love. And my nana’s love. Who would've thought something so awesome could come out of bull? Bull as in unfairness. If Jesus wanted me, he could have me. Em prayed with me. I drove out of my room, the chair still in second gear and smiled as if I'd just seen a designer sweater.
By that time, Nana was sitting in her favorite rocking chair, which matched her eyes. I began to cry.