My parents were fundamental in their religious beliefs and strict in their parenting. Our church was First Assembly of God. They took us five children to services there at least twice a week. Mother was also a Sunday school teacher, caring and devout, with a loving heart.
About the age of six, I came down with an agonizing flu. Fortunately, it wasn’t life-threatening, but I ached with fever, my throat burned, and I could hardly breathe. Mother’s distress was as great as mine.
She tried everything to ease my suffering, but to no avail. Finally she said, “Let us pray.” Her faith itself was a comfort to me. I was very young and my mind was confused by the fever, so I don’t remember what she said.
What I do remember is that instantly the pain stopped and I was healed. “How deeply I am loved,” I thought, in gratitude and amazement, “not only by my mother, but also by God.”