Remember me...

On the way home today, I drove over my favorite bridge. It is on one of these Alabama backroads that I love so much, shaded by the biggest oak trees. Under it runs from the foothills the most beautiful emerald green water. Being a creek it isn't quite see-through, although I wish it was. Sometimes I wish I had 5 more seconds to stop and take in everything I see.

When I was 8 years old, I had this little brown wallet (a mans wallet, because what girl doesn't want to be just like her dad at 8?) that I was given to me by my dad. At this age I still had a huge toybox that fit perfectly at the end of my bed. It was so huge, it came up almost to my chest! One particular day, I was searching and searching for my wallet because I had a dollar to contribute to it's mouth. My man wallet was no where to be found. I sat there in my huge toybox after throwing things over and around it, and for probably the first time I asked God, "God, where is my wallet?". Immediately, I heard the Holy Spirit breathe it into my ear. Guess what? Holy Spirit was right. That was my first true encounter with God that I can recall. The first time I actually heard the voice of God. My faith was made known that day in something, someone who loved me. Yes, I went to church with my parents and I did the Sunday school thing, but never had I been introduced to God in such a way. The God that we talk about...talks back? I stepped out on some faith and curiosity that day and He met me.

Years later in a hurt kind-of rebellion, I told that voice 'no more'. I couldn't listen or talk because He hadn't listened to me. My prayers for a family made whole weren't answered and I wanted to try it my way for a while. Oh, but He still didn't listen...he kept talking!

Sitting with my feet hanging off the end of a pier, in a drunken stupor, I remember shaking my head at God and cursing His name. My faith had been chipped at and it had been too long since I had heard His voice..He left me long ago, at least that is what I told myself. Then He spoke. That sweet voice I had longed for came back to me bringing me to sobriety and awareness. "Remember me..." Those were the words I had heard that night. Tears warmed in my eyes and so did my heart in my chest. I remembered.

I remembered the day that my faith had been made known. The first day I truly heard the voice of God. Moments after finding that little brown wallet, I took off running off our back porch down into our woods. I ran and ran until I reached the small creek that lined our property. I climbed down the 5 foot steep bank and stuck my bare feet into the beautiful emerald green water. From there I ran as fast as you can through water until I couldn't breathe anymore. When I close my eyes, I see that 8 year old girl with her blue jean over-all shorts and tangled brown hair with her hands lifted to the Heavens, running. Just running. Full of faith.

That is why I love my favorite bridge. Not because of anything but my memory of the day I found faith in the One I love. I still remember....