Michelle A West, click
here to update your pages on AuthorsDen.
Revelation Part I by Michelle A West
Monday, October 29, 2007
Rated "G" by the Author.
A child is chosen to play mediator between a small town family and God.
It was 1977 in Brooklyn, New York, when I first discovered that I had Meaning. Just 5 years old, my sister and I shared a bed together in our parent's apartment building. My daddy, a good natured man, found employment as a mechanic and worked very late. Every night he would come home, just before bed time to find us hiding underneath the bed with the mice.
Aware that we, that is my sister and I, were hiding underneath the bed, he watched us lovingly as we pretended to be scared, hoping that he would reward us with a kiss and tuck us into bed.
This was a nightly ritual in our home because we never saw daddy much during the day. My parents kept an old, white fishing bucket in our room for us to use the bathroom in. This would give my mother peace of mind and keep us from wandering the dark, cold hallways at night. I remember not being able to sleep well and waking up several times during the night.
Before my very eyes, plain as day was an image revealed to me that I believed to be Jesus. With arms out stretched towards me, as if to extend a welcome, I eagerly moved towards him. At that very instant, I felt that I had known him for all of those 5 years of my existence.
My parents, both born and raised Baptists' from Clarksdale, Mississippi, had not yet truly exposed us to their Christian up bringing and I have no recollection of seeing a picture of Christ before that very moment but this heavenly image that was privately revealed unto me made me want to tell someone.
My mother, whom I trusted and could tell anything, was the perfect choice so I made my way into her room. In the far corner of mother's bedroom I noticed a leaky corner sink with a yellow light that hung just above it and in that moment, I moved towards my mother's bed. The floor boards that squeaked beneath my feet as I walked across the room sounded of soldiers marching off to war.
I was scared. Gently nudging my mother's shoulder to awaken her, she opened her eyes and gazed at me with a look that only a mother could give a child. She proceeded to ask me if everything was alright? I kneeled down next to her bedside as if to pray and softly spoke the words "I saw Jesus" in her left ear. My mother, frightened, sat upright in her bed and asked me to repeat what I had just said to her. Again, I repeated softly, "I saw Jesus mommy".
Having gotten married in Mississippi and then moving to a big city like New York, my mother had seemed to find time to do everthing else except attend church, which in not how her parents raised her. After speaking with me that night, she decided that she had not been living right. She then took my vision of Christ as a sign and started attending church regularly again.
That night back in 1977, an innocent child was chosen to play mediator between a small town family torn between big city living and christian values. I feel blessed, being able to reflect on this occasion with fond memories of that wonderful night's divine intervention. My life truly does have Meaning.
