June brings to mind graduations, blushing brides, and celebrations.
Just last year, we celebrated my son's graduation from Visible Music College in Memphis,TN.
For me, June 7th, 1974 is a different type of anniversary.
I had a stroke that day.
No warning, other than the intense headache I had walking home from school.
I ate dinner, as usual, while still suffering from this awful headache.
My mom, a single parent, was working and I was pretty much left to my own devices.
It was prom night. (I wasn't going.)
My boyfriend noticed I wasn't seeing right, (I couldn't look at him squarely because I could only see out of one eye).
My speech was slurred.
I don't remember much from that time.
I remember a neurologist asking me why I didn't die.
I remember telling him, "It's not time yet." I was sixteen at the time.
Mind you, I did not know Jesus as my personal Savior yet.
But He sure knew me!Of that I am convinced!
In "Come Away My Beloved", Frances J. Roberts writes:
"...I want your life, character, and personality to be as beautiful and lovely as I visualized you to be when I created you. Much has not developed perfectly. Some early beauty has been marred. Live close to Me, and let Me remold and re-create until I see in you the image of all I want you to be...You have not chosen the pleasant path...you have often misconstrued My will and felt that only in sacrifice and suffering could you please Me, while much of the time I have longed to deliver you... You have gone far enough in this way. I offer you My path now, if you are strong enough to accept it. It has been there for you all along. You can have it even now if you will...I have waited for you...
So each year, this day is a retrospection. I know I felt His presence with me, even though I did not know Him yet.
My mother, while she was alive, would call me every June 7th, to ask if I was alright, even if she had spoken to me the day before. I used to smile and say, "Yes Mom, I'm fine", as if saying it would make the past less real; could erase the visions she had in her mind of me, frustrated, unable to communicate.
Frances continues: He writes--
"I only want you to live with Me as a person. I have waited for you to wear your self out. I knew you would find it eventually--the secret of silence and rest, of solitude and of song.
I will rebuild your strength--not to work again in foolish frenzy, but just for the sake of making you strong and well. To Me this is an end in itself. Make it your aim and join with Me wholeheartedly...Many joys are waiting yet."
Many joys are waiting.
The struggles of today are preparation for what is ahead.