The circumstances for my Jesus experience were these. I was in New Jersey trying to sell our house and still teaching at Mary Help of Christians Academy. I was teaching French and Psychology. Randy was already in Vermont fulfilling his responsibilities as the new plant manager at Ben and Jerry’s, Allie was doing her senior year at South Burlington High School and both boys were away from home. I was unhappy with my life, my husband and my children and full of anger. But, I never stopped praying!
One day in early January 1996, I was all alone in our big house in Kinnelon praying in bed. There was no rush to get up so I snuggled under the covers a while longer. When I got out of bed, I suddenly felt a heavy pressing on my right shoulder which literally brought me to my knees. I heard myself saying. “Oh my God, it’s me. My husband and my children aren’t the problem. It’s me.”
Dad shocked the hell out of me when he said, “When I pray, it’s to get all my kids into Heaven. If they are not working themselves there, then I ask Jesus to come and get them now before they tarnish themselves even more.” I think about this often. Dad was clever enough to eliminate the guilt of being sinful. Did he really mean it? My father was saying he would rather have his children die than lead sinful lives. What a unique way to make me think about my relationship with Jesus. As a teenager growing up on a dairy farm in Northern Vermont, this message had a profound influence on me. I watched him, and defiantly said in my teenage voice, “Prove it.” And, he did.
It all starts with a loving family, and that was her blessing and privilege. Grandparents, loving and hardworking parents, and the good old-fashioned Irish neighborhood of Chicago’s Austin Boulevard cement her values and outlook on life. Her Irish girlfriends went to church faithfully, and Marysue always tagged along.
What is it about me, Lord, that scratches my soul, tenses my shoulders and lets me fall asleep with clenched hands? I’m in my early 60s, single and have what’s expected for a woman my age—a college education, a supportive family, nice physical features and some income. My bi-polar disease is well controlled—so why am I not happy?
All the warning lights suddenly turned on. Then the engine died. Heart thudding, I stared at the glowing dashboard.
I credit the Bible prophet, Amos, for bringing me closer to Jesus. I heard reference to him twice before. Admittedly, I knew very little about Amos and the Bible. Imagine me in a Sunday School setting in 1999, and Amos is the name I hear. Curious yet inattentive, I just let it go. Eight years later, I am standing in the same Sunday School setting, and again I hear the name—Amos. Curious and attentive and mad, I hit the ground running.