I grew up in a Christian family with deep Christian roots. My maternal grandfather was a Baptist preacher and missionary to Africa. One cousin on that side of the family is also a Baptist preacher. The other set of grandparents were Episcopalian and one of my great aunts was Methodist.

You could say that I am a denomination hopper. When I was growing up we started off in the Baptist church. They went a little off track as the preacher started what I recall was “sharing time” during the worship service. At one of these sessions, the pastor remarked that he was the shepherd and we were the flock and if we didn’t like the shepherd we could find another flock. In the car on the way home I said to my parents that I thought Jesus was the “good shepherd” (John 10:11 & John 10:14) and would it be okay if I went to a church where I could worship Jesus instead of the preacher? That began a church search that lasted about a year and resulted in my mother and I becoming part of a Presbyterian church. (My dad and brother stayed at the Baptist church for a while and my brother eventually joined a “Bible” church.)

In college the Presbyterian church was too far away and the Baptist church had a shuttle service. They were very conservative and non-inclusive. By my senior year in college I had switched over to the Methodist church. When I moved to Austin, I tried several different denominations and ended up attending, but not joining, a Methodist church close to my apartment (I did join the choir). After I got married, we switched to a different Methodist church (and joined the church and the choir). The chance to be a pianist/organist brought me back to the Presbyterian church. After about 10 years, that church brought in a new pastor who wanted a different musician and I was left with no church home. When I came to Central Presbyterian, I felt as though I had come home. I joined the choir the Wednesday after my first Sunday in attendance.

While church is a key part of my faith journey it is only one part. One key element of my faith is prayer. The power of prayer has sustained me through the many phases of my life. I first recall feeling the power of prayer when I was six years old. I was born with deformed feet and legs but I was misdiagnosed by doctors in 5 different cities and three different states. By the time I had the correct diagnosis, the only option was surgery. One day, after the surgery, I was in my bed and felt as though a hand lifted me out of my pain. I could feel the prayers of the people at both my church and then my grandparents’ church. The pain was gone, at least for a time. I turned to my mom and told her that I felt that all the people in the world were praying for me. It was a Sunday, she looked at the time, and it was about the time for the prayers of the people in both churches and I was on the prayer lists.

I like to help others. When I was in college I thought I was going in one direction for my major but I ran into some obstacles. I was in the library one day and it was almost as though I heard a voice telling me to change my major. I even got up and walked the whole floor of the library but there was not anyone close to where I had been sitting. I changed my major to nursing. There have been times that I have felt that I was led to be in a certain place at a certain time. One example was on a night shift. I was walking by a patient room and there was a strong sense of urgency to go into this one particular room. The patient in that room was not assigned to me, the call light was not lit and there was not any discernible reason to enter. I went in and was just in time to intervene for the patient.

We are all part of one body and each of us has an important role to play. We each have unique talents and gifts to share.