Finally, the day arrived for my Cursillo. My entry wasn’t as smooth as Dan’s. A certain woman wrote hateful letters to the Chairwoman about me, and therefore, the group rejected my application. My new friends at church strenuously intervened, and at the last minute, they moved another bed into the dormitory so I could attend. One of the earmarks of Cursillo is that the graduates send piles of loving, encouraging cards to the attendees, and the cards delivered literally make mounds on the beds. Well, this woman also sent me hateful cards. When I showed them to my table leader, I burst into tears, and the team apologized profusely for distrusting me, and they withheld her cards for the rest of the weekend.
Emotionally, I was a wreck. The talks, given by members of the team describing horrific life events and what Jesus did for them to heal the events, made us all cry. We wanted that. But at the marriage talk on Saturday morning, where I watched a husband and wife kissing between sentences and relating how Jesus put their marriage back together, I couldn’t stop crying. I cried for six hours, and during rest period in the afternoon the whole team came to me. I was too ashamed to tell them the story, so they just held me and prayed.
That layman who served the wine called his wife to meet me and shared that I had just gotten born again. I didn’t pay attention to what he said about me as I was just happy to be happy again! My children and I were the last to leave the courtyard as I had such a good time talking to anybody and everybody. I don’t think it occurred to me to tell Dan about the events of my morning, but he must have noticed something different as the next Sunday, he attended church.
During coffee, the layman’s wife pulled me into a little knot of women and asked if we could have a ladies luncheon at her home sometime before Thursday this next week. I mentioned a day I preferred, and the three of them immediately chimed in that they also had that day available. I noticed Dan speaking with the layman at the same time, but I didn’t catch that there was a plot afoot.
Writing has been in my blood, so to speak, but when I surren-dered my life to Jesus Christ and He told me to write, all my trepidations rolled away and I began in earnest! After all, if God Almighty says it was His idea that I be a writer, who am I to stand in His way? My hope is that you not only like what I write, but that your life is moved by it, and that your party to Jesus and with Jesus turns your life into days of Heaven on Earth.