At the time of the Crucifixion, the Dogwood tree was the size of the mighty oak tree. So strong was the Dogwood, it was chosen as the timber for the Cross. To be used for such a cruel purpose greatly distressed the tree. Jesus, nailed upon the Cross, sensed the tree's distress and in His gentle pity for all sorrow and suffering said, "Never again shall the Dogwood tree grow large enough to be used as a cross. Hence forth, it shall be slender, bent, and twisted. It's blossoms shall be in the form of the Cross, two long and two short petals. The center of the outer edge of each petal shall have nail prints, brown with rust and stained with red. And in the center of the flower will be a crown of thorns so that all who see it will remember."
I first came to know Jesus at my mother's knee. Going to church was important to my family. And for the seeds that were planted, I will remain forever grateful.
My father was transferred cross country when I was 16 years old. My world about fell apart. Even the denomination of church I grew up in was gone. So, I started attending my best friend's church. I'll leave the denomination unnamed. My parents divorced shortly afterward after 25 years of marriage. Since they never fought, the shock, dispair, and the grief were almost too much to bear. The leaders of the church group for youth came to visit me and told me, basically, that I was to blame for my parents' divorce. If I had been a better witness, they would have come to Jesus and not been divorced. My parents were Christians!! I was a mere 16, in the worst situation of my life, and this is what I got!!! I decided that if this is what religion was about, I wanted no part of it. I became a card carrying atheist and remained so throughout college and graduate school. But, God watches us even when we turn our backs on Him. And, I tell this story in case anyone out there reads this and is thinking of giving the same advice to some other kid. Just don't. OK? I'm 43 now and what those people did to me still hurts even though the anger has, finally passed. That took a lot of prayer and a lot of forgiveness.
I completed graduate school and took a position in a very small town in Alabama out in the country. I rented a duplex apartment behind the house belonging to the landlady. Her name was Solita, which means lonely one. She was an elderly lady, and she fed me. I probably ate enough to spend all the rent money I paid her every month. I was just out of school, I had rent, car payment, power, gas, and on and on for the first time in my life and there just was no money left at the end of the month for groceries. Miss Solita was a saint. She never pushed her religion onto me. She just talked about growing up Catholic, about the funny things that happen when you grow up Catholic in the South, where the percentage of Catholics still today is only 3 per cent. And, she talked about how much her faith meant to her. Well, I listened politely and nodded and smiled all the while eating her food. I had been living there about six months when one day, just after Christmas, my mouth opened up and I heard my voice say, "I'd like to go to church with you sometime." Where did THAT come from? Mary immediately saved with, "Maybe for Easter." I figured that Easter was months away and I would make myself scarce. Time passed and soon it was Easter weekend. And I was out of groceries. Well, I figured that I had food for Sunday if I ate dinner with Solita on Saturday evening. Little did I know that the big Easter celebration in the Catholic Church is the Saturday evening before Easter Sunday morning. So, guess where I ended up on Saturday night? Yes, right the first time. And I was home. I had never felt so at home and at peace before as that evening at the Easter Vigil Mass. You may think the rest was history, but I really did try to stay away. I didn't go to church again for a few months. Then one Sunday morning, the first Sunday of August of that year, it was like I was kicked out of bed with an uncontrolable urge to go to church. So, I got up and got dressed and Solita wasn't even there. So, I sat through church. I went to visit Solita after church because I was concerned about her. She was elderly and never, ever missed church. I found a house in mourning. Her oldest daughter, who was the mother of five children, and her husband had both been killed the day before in a car accident. I told Solita that I had gone to church that morning. She told me that "Little" Solita had been praying for me for months and now she knew that Solita was in heaven for sure because she got me out of bed and to church. I didn't miss another Sunday after that for years.
The priest at that church was persuasive, to say the least. He invited me to a prayer meeting. I skipped it. He invited me again. I skipped it. I figured they were there saying a few rosaries and I just wasn't into it. So, he finally got persistant enough that I went to a prayer meeting to shut him up!!! Oh, my!! No rosaries at that prayer meeting. People were singing and praying out loud and smiling and happy and talking about how they had a personal relationship with Jesus. Well, enough of that!!! Too wierd for me, thank you very much. So, I skipped the next several. Every time I saw the priest he asked me back to the prayer meeting. Ok, OK. The next prayer meeting was more of the same, except one woman started talking like she was Jesus herself. And I knew it was Jesus speaking through her. But, I wasn't to be so easily swayed. In my great pride I went home and told God that if He wanted me to believe this, He was going to have to do it to me. Well, you can guess what happened at the next prayer meeting. Boom!!! There I was talking the word of God. I didn't even know it was called the Gift of Prophecy until after it had happened. The other spiritual gifts followed with time. But, that is how my introduction into the Catholic Charismatic Renewal came about. I always said I was like Paul and got knocked off a horse. I went from atheist to Charasmatic Catholic in the period of one year. I was confirmed into the Catholic church one year after I attended that first mass, Easter Vigil of 1982. I met my husband at a retreat in December. For our story, please see the Anniversary page.
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