Read Part One
So where did we have the funeral you may be wondering? It is actually a very good question. We had the funeral at a Methodist church. My day ran a gas station/garage and Ed (the pastor) was a customer. They got to know each other, and my mom got to know Ed's wife. I knew one of his daughters from high school. She was two years older than me. So, when it was time to start making arrangements, Ed and his church was a logical choice.
A few months after his death, my mom started "church hopping". There really isn't a better word for it. She would go to this church for a month or so, then another one for a few weeks, and then move on to the next one. I went with her once to a church and they started speaking in tongues and there were snakes and stuff. Scared me to death! I had no idea what was going on. There was a lot of singing and people dropping to the floor, but I really didn't hear much about God from the pastor. I did hear many "Praise God" and "Praise Jesus" from the congregation. They were very welcoming to me as a newbie there, but I realized that was not for me. Nothing spoke to me, and I really didn't hear Him calling or speaking to me.
I also went to a couple of churches with friends. Not many, but a couple. I explored the Methodist church, a Baptist church, and a Catholic church. I liked the Methodist and the Baptist church. There was a lot of talking about God coming from the pastor, which I liked. The Catholic Church was very big, and everyone was so quiet. Being sixteen, it was a little overwhelming. Stand up, sit down, kneel down, bow here. I was trying to follow along and only got snickers from my friends. Them Catholics are not real sociable before or after church, I do remember thinking.
So, I went back to the Methodist church again with a friend of mine, and that was it for a couple of years. When I started going back there, I was 18.
My mom finally settled on a church, and she was sticking to the Methodist church. The one that Ed pastored at. She got remarried there, because she was a member and my step dad did not attend church. I went to church a couple of times with her, but never felt that I really needed to go. After all, why do I have to go? I know what is in my heart. God knows. I don't have to go. I am going to sleep in or work. Couldn't really be bothered with that thing called church.
Then one day when I was nineteen, I was preparing to join the military. On a whim, I went into the christian book store in town. I heard some music that was playing and really liked it. The more I listened, the more I heard the lyrics talking about Jesus and how to be happy. I don't remember exactly what the song was. I started talking to the lady behind the counter. She gave me some recommendations on cassettes that I would like. One of her recommendations was Petra. This was the album with the songs Rose Colored Stained Glass Windows and More Power to Ya on it. It was the album called " More Power to Ya". That cassette kind of started my whole conversion of heart, but it was still many years to come. More Power to Ya helped me to get through boot camp. The song would keep playing over and over in my head the entire ten weeks that I was there. Not sure if I could have made it without that song. Actually, I now know that I could have not made it.
Up to this point, for the last three years I had been working. I had my own place at seventeen. My mom found her boy friends much more important than me. She moved out to live with the man she was going to marry. It was okay though. I made over three bucks an hour and was able to rent a two bedroom town house, pay my insurance, pay for a car, and buy food. Those were the days, weren't they? I was also able to buy lots of beer. It was easy. The people I worked with would buy that for me. Before this time, my mom would buy it. As long as we were home, she would go and buy it for my friends and me. So, I kind of developed a drinking problem, and got busted for a DWI months before my 18th birthday. The bad part was I had two friends with me. I lost those friends because their parents refused to let them hang with me anymore. Word got around school, and I became the bad kid all of a sudden. Some people that I considered friends, would no longer come around. Parents were parents then, and I appreciate that now. At the time of course I did not.
Around the same time heavy drinking started, I started smoking pot. That was free from the adults I worked with. I started hanging around people that were older than me. Drinking and partying was so much fun. I didn't think about God much.
After boot camp, there was no need to play that song anymore. I was a big boy now.
Drinking continued because it was allowed on the base because of the close proximity to Mexico. Going down there was even more fun because hard liquor could be had. Three or four nights a week was taken up by partying. (to be continued - I told you this was going to be a long story)
So where did we have the funeral you may be wondering? It is actually a very good question. We had the funeral at a Methodist church. My day ran a gas station/garage and Ed (the pastor) was a customer. They got to know each other, and my mom got to know Ed's wife. I knew one of his daughters from high school. She was two years older than me. So, when it was time to start making arrangements, Ed and his church was a logical choice.
A few months after his death, my mom started "church hopping". There really isn't a better word for it. She would go to this church for a month or so, then another one for a few weeks, and then move on to the next one. I went with her once to a church and they started speaking in tongues and there were snakes and stuff. Scared me to death! I had no idea what was going on. There was a lot of singing and people dropping to the floor, but I really didn't hear much about God from the pastor. I did hear many "Praise God" and "Praise Jesus" from the congregation. They were very welcoming to me as a newbie there, but I realized that was not for me. Nothing spoke to me, and I really didn't hear Him calling or speaking to me.
I also went to a couple of churches with friends. Not many, but a couple. I explored the Methodist church, a Baptist church, and a Catholic church. I liked the Methodist and the Baptist church. There was a lot of talking about God coming from the pastor, which I liked. The Catholic Church was very big, and everyone was so quiet. Being sixteen, it was a little overwhelming. Stand up, sit down, kneel down, bow here. I was trying to follow along and only got snickers from my friends. Them Catholics are not real sociable before or after church, I do remember thinking.
So, I went back to the Methodist church again with a friend of mine, and that was it for a couple of years. When I started going back there, I was 18.
My mom finally settled on a church, and she was sticking to the Methodist church. The one that Ed pastored at. She got remarried there, because she was a member and my step dad did not attend church. I went to church a couple of times with her, but never felt that I really needed to go. After all, why do I have to go? I know what is in my heart. God knows. I don't have to go. I am going to sleep in or work. Couldn't really be bothered with that thing called church.
Then one day when I was nineteen, I was preparing to join the military. On a whim, I went into the christian book store in town. I heard some music that was playing and really liked it. The more I listened, the more I heard the lyrics talking about Jesus and how to be happy. I don't remember exactly what the song was. I started talking to the lady behind the counter. She gave me some recommendations on cassettes that I would like. One of her recommendations was Petra. This was the album with the songs Rose Colored Stained Glass Windows and More Power to Ya on it. It was the album called " More Power to Ya". That cassette kind of started my whole conversion of heart, but it was still many years to come. More Power to Ya helped me to get through boot camp. The song would keep playing over and over in my head the entire ten weeks that I was there. Not sure if I could have made it without that song. Actually, I now know that I could have not made it.
Up to this point, for the last three years I had been working. I had my own place at seventeen. My mom found her boy friends much more important than me. She moved out to live with the man she was going to marry. It was okay though. I made over three bucks an hour and was able to rent a two bedroom town house, pay my insurance, pay for a car, and buy food. Those were the days, weren't they? I was also able to buy lots of beer. It was easy. The people I worked with would buy that for me. Before this time, my mom would buy it. As long as we were home, she would go and buy it for my friends and me. So, I kind of developed a drinking problem, and got busted for a DWI months before my 18th birthday. The bad part was I had two friends with me. I lost those friends because their parents refused to let them hang with me anymore. Word got around school, and I became the bad kid all of a sudden. Some people that I considered friends, would no longer come around. Parents were parents then, and I appreciate that now. At the time of course I did not.
Around the same time heavy drinking started, I started smoking pot. That was free from the adults I worked with. I started hanging around people that were older than me. Drinking and partying was so much fun. I didn't think about God much.
After boot camp, there was no need to play that song anymore. I was a big boy now.
Drinking continued because it was allowed on the base because of the close proximity to Mexico. Going down there was even more fun because hard liquor could be had. Three or four nights a week was taken up by partying. (to be continued - I told you this was going to be a long story)
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