Did I ever tell you about the time I fell in love?  Well get comfy because in order for you to understand this story I have to go back to the beginning.

I was born in Bible Belt, GA, USA….so naturally I went to church.  Only there was a slight disagreement about what kind of church we should go to.  Eventually the matter was settled and I was raised in the Catholic church.  I was a good kid growing up.  I did what I was told…for the most part.  So when they told me it was time to get baptized I said ok.  Then when they said it was time to get my first communion I said ok.  Then they said it was time to get confirmed and…well you get the picture.  At the time I really didn’t think too much about church or God.  I just did it because that’s what you do.  I realize now and I’m thankful that my time in the Catholic church was used to build a foundation in my life.  It would also prove helpful in giving me an "outsiders" perspective in a very baptist world.

Like I said, I happily went through all the prescribed steps when I was a little girl.  Then I went to high school and this is where the trouble started.  I should’ve seen it coming, but I didn’t…I don’t think my parents did either:)  All of a sudden I didn’t want to go to church anymore.  I didn’t really have any friends at the church I went to because most of the kids went to a different school than I did.  And being the shy (think my current shyness times a million) ninth grader that I was, most of the time I flat refused to go to church or youth group events.  After all, I was in high school now and I had much better things to do with my time.  Like follow around cute senior boys and taking spirit signs off their lockers.  Eventually I reached the conclusion that being cool was king…top priority in my life…and I was willing to do whatever I thought necessary to attain that status.  So I hung out with the people that I thought would make me cool.  I said things, dressed in things and did things that in my mind would make other people think I was cool.  This of course included things that were against my better judgement which would in turn force me to lie in a vain attempt to cover my butt.  At first when I would do things that I knew I shouldn’t be doing I would feel guilty for days.  However, the more I did those things the less guilty I would feel.  Until finally I reached a point where it didn’t bother me at all.  As a matter of fact, it made me mad if anyone tried to tell me that I shouldn’t do those things.  Who were they to tell me what to do!  Sadly, this included my parents.  Let’s just go ahead and praise Jesus for the miracle of them not disowning me during this time of my life.

By the time I was a junior in high school I had perfected the art of appearing cool and avoiding trouble.  See the Lord had given my parents some kind of sixth sense when it came to my lying so I pretty much always got caught (thankfully).  This resulted in my spending about ninety percent of the first two years of high school on restriction.  Isn’t being cool fun:)  But like I said at this point I had managed to keep the restriction to a minimum.  I also had started to drive….I fear the day that I’m a parent and my kids start to drive.  Now I understand why my mom was so neurotic about it.  I saw that license as my way out of there.  I saw it as a free pass to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.

Interestingly enough about this time I started to feel….lost…in the dark.  I didn’t like the life I had built for myself.  I felt like the things I did in order to make myself cool had started to take over who I really was.  Then it happened.  An event that has forever changed who I am.  Second semester of my junior year one of my friends committed suicide.  I remember it clearly.  I was at a gymnastics class and my mom came to pick me up and told me to go wait in the car so she could talk to my coach.  Being the hard-headed brat that I was I was pissed that she wouldn’t just say what she had to say in front of me.  So I stomped out to the car and got in the driver’s side and waited.  When she finally came out she got in the car with me and told me what happened.  Amanda was gone.  I was in complete shock.  My brain couldn’t comprehend it.  She couldn’t be gone…I just saw her at school that day!  Suddenly I didn’t feel like driving.  My mom and I switched places and she began to drive.  On the way home it hit me that I needed my best friend.  She loved Jesus and she loved me…I needed to talk to her.  It was a wednesday night so I knew she would be at church.  My mom drove me straight there.  Only she wasn’t there.  They had already heard what happened and Tanaya had gone home.  So we drove over to her house and she and I sat there together for a long while.  I don’t know what we talked about or if we even talked.  We just sat together.  When I finally got home it was late and I was exhausted so I crawled into bed, but sleep wouldn’t come.  I laid there for hours.  Then the strangest thing happened….I got scared.  Very, very scared.  I sat up in my bed and turned the tv on.  Not because I wanted to watch tv, but because I didn’t want to be alone in that room.  I was terrified.  I don’t even know what I was afraid of, but I sat straight up in my bed all night. 

The days following Amanda’s death were filled with all kinds of gatherings.  No one wanted to be alone so we would gather anywhere we could.  There was a memorial service, a funeral service…lots of services.  At the end of every one of these services some kind of invitation was given and people would flock to the alter.  Emotions were high.  On the day of the actual funeral service another invitation was given.  I remember sitting in the chapel of the funeral home and thinking "Ok, God.  I guess I’ll give this a try."  There was no way I was telling anyone, though!  What if I messed up?  What if I decided that I didn’t want to do this whole Jesus thing after all.  No, I would just keep this to myself until…until later.  Over the next week or so things began to change in my heart and on one Wednesday service at my bff’s church I knew it was time to say something.  Not because walking down the isle does anything, but because I knew I had to stand up and say that I was following Jesus.  Somehow I knew that just wasn’t the kind of thing that you kept to yourself.  So with the help of a precious friend I walked down the isle (thanks Bobo).

I wouldn’t really describe my "conversion" as one particular point in time.  It wasn’t really at the funeral and it wasn’t really at the church.  It was more a gradual progression over a week or two.  But at the same time it was like an instant awakening.  All of a sudden I could see…and I hadn’t even known that I was blind.  All of a sudden I was in the light and I hadn’t even known that I was in the dark.  All of a sudden Jesus went from being some guy in a book to the most precious thing in my life…my life itself! 

Jesus took such good care of me in the beginning.  He put a whole group of friends around me that were in love with him.  They taught me what it meant to walk with Jesus.  They embraced me in spite of my former way of life and they loved me.  Most of my desires for the things I was doing before disappeared immediately…and believe me I know what a mercy that is…it doesn’t always happen like that.  That was the start to an ongoing process of teaching me who He is and what it means to love Him.

I’m not one of those people who’s going to tell you that if you follow Jesus life will be swell and all your problems will go away….read the Bible…that aint how it went down for His followers.  He isn’t a means to an end.  He isn’t a solution to my problems.  He just IS.  And I forget that so often….but He is always faithful to remind me.  So here I am…a little over 10 years deep into this journey with my King.  I’m still learning who He is and what it means to love Him.  I still suck at it…but He’s still good. 

And that my little blog readers is the story of how I fell in love.