Wanda Mann

Jesus said, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock.  If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me.   Revelation 3:20

I was born January 10th, 1962.  I don’t recall too much of that day ...well actually nothing, but that’s not so unusual, eh?  Yes!  I am Canadian with my roots coming out of Montreal, Quebec.  I grew up the 2nd oldest in a family of six (2 brothers, a sister with my mom & dad).  We moved to Ontario when I was four and that is where my memory starts kicking in.

This is the place that I got my first two-wheeler bike.  It was oversized and had really fat tires.  I remember (proudly) painting it a brilliant peacock blue, with the help of my dad of course.  I was so proud of it and felt so grown up!  Ha!  Hindsight can be terribly funny, can’t it?  We used to ride all over the place; and without grown-ups too.  It’s hard to believe now as none of us would ever let our children go the distances that we were allowed to then.  Things have changed so much.

Our house was right across from the public school that I attended for Kindergarten and Grade 1.  I still remember my 1st Grade teacher’s name, Miss Monk.  She was one of my all time favourites (if I could only let her know now…).

We had a lot of fun in those few years with tons of friends, playing T-ball in the summer, riding our bikes, going to the corner store, and watching TV on our rounded-edged, black and white screen.  I liked adventure and I liked fun.  We played and explored, we went on hikes and caught bugs and we imagined ourselves to be teachers and moms and actors…

You know the saying ‘kids will do the darnedest things’?  Well, I recall playing in my friend's basement and … um, there was this big line of empty beer bottles stored along the wall … and, uh, we would find the ones with something left in the bottom of them and drink the remnants.  Of course, we never told our parents and never really got more than a few drops.  Ugh!  I’ve never had any since!

I was 5 when I met God.  Although I do not remember every detail, I remember the moment well.  I was sitting up late with my dad and he was telling me how Jesus died on a cross so that I could have my sins forgiven.  When I went to bed, the conversation continued to linger in my spirit.  This wasn’t the first time I’d heard about Jesus, but for some reason it was the first time that ‘I really heard’ ... if you know what I mean.  I became so overwhelmed by His love and that He would go through so much for me that I started to cry.  My dad must have heard me, because he came back into the room.  He prayed with me as I accepted what Jesus did for me and asked Him to come into my life.  Over the years, dad was often there to teach me of the deep things of God.

As an adult, I have not always been so quick to respond to God’s knocking as reason and fear have held too strong a place in my life.  I do believe though, that He gave me this experience as a young child to anchor my spirit and memory.

A few years ago, when I was crying out to God for that childlike freedom, He led me to a picture that my mom had given me of when I was 3 or 4 years old.  Yes it's the one you can see here....  I have kept that picture in front of me (blown it up and hung it on my office wall) and asked God to take me back to the freedom that I so obviously had as a child.

Jesus said, “That unless we change and become as a little child, we cannot enter the kingdom of heaven”. (Matthew 18:3)

I love that!