52 Years Ago Today

The mind is truly an amazing thing. I can't remember what I did yesterday afternoon, but I have vivid memories from 40 and 50 years ago with no problem at all. Think of all the billions of thoughts, memories and feelings our minds contain, and it is a wonder that we can retrieve anything at all.

Today is November 22, 2015 - 52 years after President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas. And yet, I remember it like it happened yesterday. I was 8 years old, in third grade at Thomas Edison School in Morton Grove, Illinois.  My teacher was Mrs. Stevens. She had blonde hair and wore it in a bob, which was popular back then. I liked her as a teacher, but she had some interesting ways to discipline us. If we talked to our "neighbors," she would put tape across our lips. If we were chewing gum, she would make us stick it on the tip of our nose. She would spray us with water and smack the tops of our hands with a ruler. There were others, but I only remember these - probably because I was at the receiving end for all of them.

Of course, there were no rules back then as to how the teachers could discipline us, and some of them really did take their liberty. I had one teacher in junior high school, whose name was Mr. Zavada. For some reason, we thought he was really weird and loved to terrorize him which caused him to lose his temper to the extreme. One day, we figured out that if you threw a coin up to the ceiling, it would stick - I don't know what kind of ceiling that was, but it would actually stick up there. So most of us (naughty) kids, threw any change we had up to the ceiling when Mr. Zavada's head was turned as he was teaching at the blackboard. It became so hilarious that we all started giggling louder and louder until he turned around and then up to see what all the laughing was about. He went into a rage and threw a couple of the boys across the room, along with their desks. I think all he could do was leave, because he was too flustered to know how to handle the situation. We all probably got into trouble, but I'm sure we all felt it was worth it, just to see all the coins sticking out of the ceiling.

We were all sitting at our little, blonde desks on November 22, 1963, when over the loudspeaker, the principal announced that President Kennedy had just been shot and died shortly after that. Mrs. Stevens started crying and we sat there silent, not knowing what to do or say. After the announcement, we were all sent home early that afternoon, to watch on our little black and white television sets, the news which kept repeating the same thing over and over. In fact, this whole scenario played out every day and every night on the television in our living room. Everyone was riveted to their televisions or radios, watching and listening to the news. Even as young as I was, I remember the heavy darkness that seemed to engulf the entire country. Everyone in the world, it seemed, was in mourning. The Dallas police quickly found the man responsible, Lee Harvey Oswald, and then, a day or so later, right in our front rooms on live TV, we all witnessed Jack Ruby shoot Oswald dead. I think everyone was just stunned - to watch an actual murder right as it happened. It was surrealistic and people could not believe what was happening. My parents, like everyone else, were very upset by all of this, but it wasn't until I saw the funeral that it really struck me in a personal way.

The president's funeral was a long march down Pennsylvania Avenue in a procession with servicemen on horses and his lone casket being pulled down the middle of the street. Mrs. Kennedy, her children and the president's family walked down the avenue following the casket. This took a very long time, as it seemed to go very slowly. I don't remember where they were standing, but Mrs. Kennedy and her two children were standing on a corner in front of a building and her son, John, stood there saluting as his dad's casket passed by. That brought tears to my eyes. He was probably too young to understand all that was being done that day, but I was old enough to know that he had just lost his father, which made me really sad for him.

The assassination, the capture of Oswald, the killing of Oswald by Ruby and the funeral, all played out on TV day after day like there was no end to it. In fact, there really wasn't, because every year, documentaries, and many conspiracy theories, are televised about this very place in time and you can still feel the exact way you felt 52 years ago, as well as remember where you were when you heard the news that day. That's how much of an impact it had on everyone back then - and still does today.

"Freedom From Bondage"

I joined a ministry in church called "Freedom From Bondage." It's a class/service/ministry for people who have issues with addictions of all sorts and problems in their lives that hinder them from being successful with God and life in general. I'm not an alcoholic, nor am I a drug addict (except for the menagerie of prescription meds I take on a daily basis), but I do have some pretty intense issues of my past that still affect me today, so I decided to try this class out. Micah kept telling me that he thought this would be good for me and I wasn't exactly sure why. So I started going, and the first time I went to the class, I thought, "This is nice. Good for these folks who have addictions or problems or are in "bondage" to whatever, but I really don't think this is for me." I left that night thinking I would give it one more chance just to be generous and after that, if I still felt it wasn't for me, then I would go back to the normal services on Wednesdays and Sunday nights. That was on a Wednesday night.

The following Sunday night, I went and listened to the different speakers and enjoyed it, but didn't really feel anything for or against it. Sis. Butler (who is pictured below) is the head of this ministry  and she is really cool - funny and to the point and an anointed woman of God when she's preaching or teaching. I've already come to really love her - she's been a blessing to me. Someone else preached that night and it was a really good message. At the end of the service, there is always prayer and the preacher asked people to come forward if they needed prayer and many people did. I sat back and prayed in my seat as I felt the need to pray, but didn't know for what. I sat there for awhile like that and then I felt someone's hand on mine. It was Sis. Butler and she was praying for me and then all of a sudden, I started crying uncontrollably and squeezing her hands so tight that my arm hurt the next day. She knelt next to me, and I held on to her for what felt like dear life. I couldn't let go and I couldn't stop crying. This went on for a long time, in fact, most people were leaving and she stayed right where she was, praying for me as I repented and cried and repented and cried over and over again. I've been in the church for 35 years and I have never felt like this before. The only thing I can compare it to is when I realized that abortion was wrong after seeing a filmstrip in the old, old church and I had dry heaves in the bathroom sink, thinking God would never forgive me for doing that not only once, but twice. This was even more intense than that. I can't even describe how this felt. All I knew was that I was holding on to her and I couldn't let go. Sis. Butler kept praying and humbly kneeling beside me. When I finally felt finished, I kept apologizing to her for squeezing her hands so tight and all she would do was smile and tell me that it was no problem at all. She taught me another role, and actually the most important role, that a leader in the church follows, if they are a good leader: humility. She didn't have to pray for me - she could have asked another person to do that; she didn't have to pray with me so long - again, she could have asked someone else to stay so she could leave; and she didn't have to kneel next to me - she could have stood over me in an unspoken body language of superiority - but she knelt next to me in true humility. I will never forget that night, because of what she taught me and because of what God did for me.

It's hard to describe what happens when you've fully repented in prayer and knowing that God has forgiven you. It's a cleansing - a refreshing - a clearing of your mind like nothing else you can ever experience. Absolutely nothing can take its place, and you'll know when it happens because you'll have a peace of mind you've never experienced before. Now I've repented many, many times, however, I have never felt like this before. I think we should repent every day, simply because we sin every day and it just seems safe to me to cover all the bases. But when you experience the level of repentance that I experienced that night, (and I didn't know repentance had levels), its totally in a different spectrum than every-day repentance. (For those of you who aren't sure what repentance is, the bible directs us to ask God to forgive us of all our sins, both known and unknown, and then to turn away from those sins. It's a turning around from one direction to another.) What I experienced was such a desperation of emotion that it left me speechless. I just kept shaking my head in unbelief at what just happened. To top it off, the following week, Sis. Butler came up to me in service and  said, "In prayer, I feel God is taking you to another level. He said He's not done with you yet. He has a new thing to do in your life." Again, I was totally blown away and began to cry, thanking Him for His mercy and grace. How would she have known that I've been in a rut - both spiritually and emotionally? The answer is, of course she wouldn't, unless God revealed it to her. Sometimes we fumble around trying to figure out what God's will is for our lives, and then there are times like these, where He speaks directly to our hearts and makes it plain. I finally realized why I left the security of Madison and came out to California. Yes, it is because I missed Micah so much and because I wanted to spend time with him and Jasmin and of course, get to know my newest grand baby. But now, right before me, God showed me the main purpose for my exodus. Here, He has me all alone with very few distractions, in a new church where no one knows me, my past or my mistakes. Here, He can change my heart and direction and create a new thing in me, as He said. I have purpose once again, when I felt I had none. And I have direction once again, as I was drifting alone in confusion.  

                                                   Sis. Michelle Butler, my friend and mentor.

                                           Our ministry as well as others in church had outreach
                                           in Victory Park in central Stockton.

                                         Outreach at Victory Park in Stockton.