The Bumper Sticker

I've been thinking about memoirs for a few months; you know....writing in short snippets about different times in my life.

I've avoided it for a few reasons. At least some of those that I can identify are: perfectionism, feeling that I should write in chronological order, becoming overwhelmed by the details of it all, the laborious task of handwriting. (I only have one desktop pc at home, which the family shares.)

Then a couple or so weeks ago I ran across some blogs by Marta Szabo and her and her husband's (Fred Poole) website on Authentic Writing. I resonated with much of Marta's writing; so much so that I started a private blog for my own memoirs. I even bought a laptop today.

Yea....I bought a laptop with wireless and the IT guy is coming out on Wednesday to set it all up. :-D

I am so excited!!!!!!!!!!

Following is one of the memoirs I've written. It's short. It's simple. That is all I can handle at one time.

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The Bumper Sticker

I drove up to the health food store; I forget the name of it now. My friend Gretta worked inside. At the time I was in college, about 2 hours away. I must have been home for a weekend.

As I parked my car I noticed a bumper sticker on another car. It read The Way in bold black letters on a green background.

That's that group, I thought.

Two months earlier, when I had been led into tongues at a charismatic church, I had been given a list of groups to be wary of; the literature had stated that the list of groups were cults. One of the groups listed was 'The Way.' I hadn't read up on The Way, so really knew nothing about it. Yet for some reason 'The Way' had stuck in my gray matter. I had even asked about The Way at college, but never got an answer as to why the group was considered a cult. Plus I thought, wasn't Jesus considered a cult leader?

Yet, here 'they' were; The Way.

It seemed a simple, yet foreboding, name. None-the-less, I wanted to know the way; I wanted to know.

I sat for a few minutes in my car. My heart beat faster as I silently spoke in tongues and whispered a prayer:

What if they are a cult? God, you know how much I want to know your will. You know how confused I am. Just because someone else says a group is a cult, that really doesn't mean they are. Look God, you protected me through years of drugs, surely you can protect me from this too, if it is a cult. Please protect me God; show me what to do.

I entered the store. Gretta was there; two guys in their 20s were speaking with her. I patiently waited. I then introduced myself to the two young-adult men. I was 18 at the time and none too shy.

"Hi. I'm Carol," I stated as I stretched forth a handshake.

"I'm Bill," stated one. "And I'm Dan," stated the other as we shook hands.

"What do ya'll do?" I asked, knowing full well they were the guys that owned the car with the bumper sticker.

They proceeded to tell me that they had just moved to Hickory to run some Bible fellowships. They had recently come from a festival in Ohio, a gathering of believers. They were part of a group that lived the book of Acts, the first century church in the twentieth.

Dan and Bill had my full attention. They shared with such love and they were so genuine. My heart opened as they spoke the Word to me making references to scriptures that had caused my heart to thrill. I was excited, and at the same time cautious. I didn't let on that I had heard that The Way was a cult; besides I was hungry and was still looking for answers.

Little did I know I would eventually lose myself. But at the time I don't think I would have cared; after all, my craving was God-consciousness, to know what was "the breadth and length and depth and height" of Christ's love, to "be filled with all the knowledge of God," to be able to understand the Bible as it was initially written, to know the will of God for my life. Yes, to know the will of God for my life.

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Click here to view the memoir index: Journey through Memoir (an index).
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