CULTIVATING JOY

Many childhood incidents encouraged spiritual sensitivity and awareness of God's protection.

How stimulating were the romps on trails and hillsides in Mexico. I had a rather free, eager, venturesome life and enjoyed the outdoors. Staying in doors was torturous and positively unpleasant unless it was raining. On one of those drizzling days (I was about 10), I foolishly ignored my mothers warning to stay indoors and had better plans. I was always fascinated by these "bush trees" with pretty shiny leaves. They had hollow branches. I got this idea that if we cut some of those branches, we could make them into flutes. So sneaked out of the house, grabbing a sharp machete on the way out and proceeded down a wet, slippery slope where one of those trees stood. Just before I got to the tree, I slipped and fell, the machete fell across three fingers of my right hand, slicing each one. This incident occurred about a day I was to begin school. I had to do most of my school work orally which was very unpleasant. One day, I found myself hopelessly lost in the vast rainforest -like property that surrounded the home we were staying at while attending school.(I was about 8 or so). My friends and I had set out for a brief walk. I willfully ignored an older friend in charge and set off in another direction, thinking it was a short cut back to the house. I eventually found my way back, scared, sober, relieved, however, afraid of the consequences of my behavior, I hid under the bed, not telling anyone I was safely back. Another day, I was allowed, with no supervision to use the stove and oven to bake a cake. (I was around 10) The stove was run on butane gas tanks that were parked outside in the back. It did not have a lighter so to turn the burners or oven on, one had to light a match to get it lit. On that occasion, I thought I had lit the burner in the oven. The oven was not getting hot so I opened the oven door, smelled a little gas but in my foolishness I did not wait to relight before all the gas had been cleared. So I lit another match and all the dust bunnies under the stove and gas exploded, singing all the hairs on my face, hands, and arms. The back of my fingers were burned. Looking back on these memories, I see the protection that God provided.