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“Mom, who’s Jesus?” I asked as I walked into her bedroom right after we returned home from church. I was seven years old and all this talk at Sunday School about this guy named Jesus had put questions in my mind, and my heart.
“Jesus is God’s Son, he’s how you get to Heaven,” she replied.
“Does He take me there? How does He know me?”
“Oh yes, He knows you, He knew you before you were born. In fact, He came to pay for you to get to Heaven.”
“Paid to get to Heaven? You havta pay to get to heaven? Why did He pay my way?” I asked, this was starting to confuse me.
She looked at me, “Yes, He paid your way. You see He died on a cross so that you, me and anyone who asks Him in their heart will get to Heaven. He died to pay for your sins. Do you know what a sin is?”
“Yeah, that’s when I do something wrong, like lie to you about breaking the window in the Little House.” I couldn’t believe I just confessed to that.
“That’s right. He paid for that and the sins of the whole world. All He wants from us is to accept His gift, and He’ll give it to you. The gift is eternal life with Him in Heaven.”
“Did He give you a gift? Will you be in Heaven.”
“Yes,” mom answered, “I’ll be in Heaven, and I’ve been praying that you and your brother will too.”
“I want His gift, mommy, when will He give me my gift?”
“Right now if you’d ready, all you have to do is ask Him.”
“Right now? Where’s He at? Do you have His phone number?”
“No, just pray to Him. He’s in Heaven with God and He’s waiting to hear from you. Just talk with Him like you’re talking with me.”
“OK, cuz I want to go to Heaven. Jesus, I want your gift so I will be in Heaven with you.”
So it is, one day He will usher my mother to be with Him in paradise, as He will me. One Sunday, so long ago, my fate was sealed. Standing there in front of her dresser, in her slip, my mother led me to Jesus. All the meals prepared, all the knees mended, all the advice she gave as I was growing into an adult, all that pales in comparison to our five minutes together, one Sunday after church, in her bedroom. Thank you, mother, for showing me Jesus.
Red Ink Appreciated
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