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.
"What?"
"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.
"What do you mean? You've always been a Christian."
"No, I've always been Catholic."
Her eyes looked like a mahogany dresser that hadn't been dusted for months.
"Are you saying Catholics aren't Christians?" Nana asked.
"Yes...."
If looks could start fires, she would've burned the house down.
"You're saying I'm not a Christian," Nana said interrupting me.
My face turned red as the battery gauge on my electric wheelchair.
"That's not what I'm saying at all," I said. "For goodness sakes, Nana let me finish."
"I won't let you run down the Church," she said.
Good thing I wasn't much for cursing even before I got saved or a whole river of it would have come out.
"I'm just saying Jesus never meant anything to me before," I declared.
"You were baptized of a baby," Nana said.
"As if that means anything."
"Jessica Anne, I've had about enough of this."
By that time, I was crying like a two-year-old.
"Will you two calm down," Mom said. "Do I have to come home to this all the time? What's going on?"
"I became a Christian, and Nana's freaking out," I said.
"She said 'Catholics aren't Christians,"' Nana said.
"Jessie, what have I told you about that?" Mom said.
My muscles tightened.
"Honey, calm down," Mom said. "I'm sorry."
I took a deep breath and began, "What I was saying was that being Catholic doesn't necessarily make you a Christian. And it sure as heck didn't make me one."
"There, Mom, feel better now?" She said to Nana.
"I still don't trust that Emily girl," Nana declared.
I started.
"Jessie, you know Em's cool with me," Mom said. "I've never heard her say anything about the Church."
"Thanks," I said. She wouldn't.
"Mom, lighten up."
"Yeah, Nana everything's gonna be different now. I have Jesus."
"What's that, Jessie?" Nana said.
"I said "'I have Jesus'" I declared.
"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked looking through me instead of at me.
I didn't know what the deal was. Was she still mad?
"You'll see. I'm different. Everything's gonna be different. Now can I have a hug?"
She came over to hug me like she always did after a fight. Everything was OK. And it was going to get better.
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