Hope in the Mourning

My faith journey began when I was a six-year-old girl. I had undergone a simple tonsillectomy, a common childhood procedure. But during recovery, my stitches came loose, and I woke up in a pool of blood at my grandparents’ home. They rushed me back to the hospital for emergency surgery and a transfusion. When their pastor came to visit, I told him, “The Lord saved my life, and you should baptize me.” Reverend Winters waited until I was ten, and then he did just that. Looking back, I realize that even then, God was planting seeds of faith in a little girl who didn’t yet know what “unfinished faith” meant. “Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6 (NIV) As a teenager, I loved writing poetry and journaling, but it was during high school that I sensed God’s call to teach. My swim coach, Mr. McKinney, invited me to volunteer in his special education classroom. As I planned and taught my first lesson, I felt a deep joy — the kind that only comes when you’re walking in your calling. During my senior year, I served as the editor of the school newspaper, blending my love for writing with my growing faith. After college, I returned to Florida to teach first and second grade at our church school. Around that time, God answered another prayer — leading me to my husband, Dave. Before we even dated, I told my mother that I knew who I would marry. Dave was a quiet, intelligent Nazarene pastor’s son, patient, steadfast, and strong in faith. God didn’t give me everything I wanted in a husband; He gave me everything I needed. Within two years, we