Thinking the world was flat and that Dalmeny was the center of the world gave me a starting gate, however erroneous. Our little town and way of life felt familiar and secure. Only two churches existed in Dalmeny—the MB and EMB, meaning “Mennonite Brethren” and “Evangelical Mennonite Brethren”. We attended both at different times for whatever reason. I still can feel the quiet security of sitting with Mommy and Daddy through the long services and very long German prayers. Though I couldn’t understand High German, I do remember a deep fervency in the prayers of the elderly. I also loved to look at the painted river mural behind the baptistry and hear the beautiful music of the choir each Sunday.

Children remained in the church service back then and learned to be still. We always sat near the front. To occupy me, Mommy would fold her white handkerchief in a triangle, roll up both ends, and pull one corner back under to make it into a little cradle with two babies in it. String beads also could occupy children during the service. I remember the sound of string beads striking and bouncing loudly all over the hardwood floor when the string broke—more than once. I also remember laying my head on Mommy’s lap and falling asleep during the long sermons.

When she became pregnant with my brother, she told me early on so I would not worry about her not feeling well. She later told the story that I stood up on the wooden pew in that M.B. Church, turned around, and excitedly announced to the congregation that my Mommy was going to have my baby brother. So much for keeping their secret!

My baby brother was born that spring and the following winter my Daddy built a little wooden sleigh with a three-sided box on it. When we went to church, they put my baby brother and me into that sleigh and completely covered us with a blanket because the air was too cold to breathe. I can still remember that crisp winter air, see the morning light filtering through the blanket, and hear feet squeaking on the snow ahead of us as they walked to church in sub-zero temperatures. From those early years our faithful attendance in church gave me the security and predictability of belonging to something bigger than myself or my immediate family.

One Sunday morning when the service was over and everyone got up to leave, we filled the isles on our way out. Without glancing up in the pressing crowd of very tall people, I clung tightly to my Daddy’s hand. When we got to the foyer, I happened to look up and with sudden embarrassed shock, burst into tears! The hand I held was that of a stranger! However, my real Daddy was right behind us and he swept me up into his arms. He had been there all along.

I can’t help but wonder if the security of my Daddy’s presence that Sunday morning didn’t give me a greater sense of my heavenly Father’s presence with me today. Somehow, I instinctively know that when fears or embarrassment seek to traumatize me, I can still run to my Abba Father who is always there, watching. . . waiting for me to realize I’ve been holding the wrong hand and comfort me in His arms.

The Psalmist says, “I keep my eyes always on the LORD. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.” and “Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory.” Psa. 16:8; 73:23-24