I Could Not Have Known Better...

As a young child, I just assumed that Jesus Christ was the only man in the world to EVER die nailed to a cross.

I'm talking about before I went to church, before I read the "Bible" on a regular basis or anything like that. You know how you imagine what G-d must look like, and you imagine what Heaven looks like. I admit, I would imagine white clouds everywhere, with never ending light from the sun, and a patch of blue sky here and there. I imagined G-d the father sitting at a desk, with a pen and a pad of paper (LOL) :). Guess he was keeping tabs on everyone. He was wearing white pajamas and white slippers. I mean pajamas: A shirt, button down, long sleeve, and pajama bottoms, elastic waist and all! Guess I wanted G-d to be comfy!

But Jesus wasn't with G-d in heaven (in my imagination)...not living there, not all the time...he would "pop in" (sorta like magic, you know, so that G-d the Father could pat him on the shoulder...but just as quickly...he was gone again. This is because he needed to be back on earth ASAP because he would need to climb inside someones soul if they called to him. (I was just a kid) :). Anyway, I thought that Jesus dying on the cross simply made him the savior of the world because no one else had ever done that. I had no idea that crucifixions were quite a common form of punishment and death...or even that there were two thieves on either side of him also being crucified...

My great grandmother (my Nana) was the earliest example of Jesus in my life. Never did she tell me what he said, how he thought, what I should read in the Bible, or what I should believe about him. She knew I was afraid of the dark. Whether she put me next to her in her bed, or Nana came in and slept in the other twin bed in the guest room., she knew I was afraid of the dark, and she would sing me to sleep:

"Jesus loves me, this I know
For the Bible tells me so
Little one's to Him belong
They are week, but he is strong..."

Needless to say, this was a comfort, a protection, a relief. I don't ever recall my Nana not working, on something...anything...you name it. She baked and sewed, and made everything from scratch. She cleaned and scoured, and then raked leaves in the yard, and always as she worked, she sang:

"Rock of ages cleft for me
Let me hide myself in thee."

I even wrote a poem about this, I remember it so vividly. Going to church with her was a real treat. (How could it not be when she kept Tic Tacs in her purse?). Anyway, I felt as though we were "visiting" Jesus there, and because I did not go all the time, this was a special treat. So, I had no idea what it meant to reverence someone...but this is what I was learning to do. So, I had not read any verses about Jesus, but "saw" him in the joy, empathy and reverence that my Nana had for him. Believe me, it was quite infectious, and left an impression on me that I'd not even seen forming...

Somewhere between the ages of eight and ten, my step-dad told me the story of the woman who had an affliction of bleeding for 12 years. She was in the crowd and she "tugged" at the garment of Jesus, believing that he could heal her (as the story goes). (Luke 8:40-49). The point was made that Jesus did heal her, and all she had to do was ask. Even back then, anything in the Bible was something somehow I knew I should read, but it was like this super holy thing that was hard to understand, and literally gave me goosebumps. :). But, the story itself was very simple: This woman believed...and she was healed. Easy, right? So, that night when I went to bed, I wondered what would happen if I said that I believed the same thing. I knew I had no sickness to be cured and that I would not actually touch Jesus, but I decided to tell him that I believed...

If I could touch his garment...then he would heal me too if I needed it. Sure, why not? I figured if it was good enough to be in the Bible it was good enough for me. So, in the dark, grabbing on to my Teddy bear (the one Nana had bought me when I was an infant) I just said so...mouthed the words. No noise...not even a knowledge of what had just happened. The memory of my Nana singing to me helped me believe the story of this afflicted woman with ease...and I told him so... I felt warm and tingly, and happy and giddy, like a kid feels when they know something good has happened they're just not quite sure what it is. :). Let's just say that on this particular night, Jesus climbed inside my soul and made himself at home.

I had absolutely no knowledge of scribes or pharisee's or Christians of Jews, or crucifixion, or religion or becoming saved...I just had the example of absolute sweetness and joy that left a very good "taste in my mouth" if you will, and I wanted more of it. This was all I needed. I don't think I could've "known" any better (than that).