I secretly loved being scared when I was a kid. We’d watch the old monster movies – Frankenstein, Dracula, The Mummy, Werewolf – they were awesome, and provided just enough fear to give you a thrill. When I got a little older, the movies got a little scarier. To get to my best friend Julie’s house, I had to travel down a stretch of road where some large, old trees hovered over the street. There were very few street lights in this part of town, and it was pretty eerie. Julie and I were always a bit apprehensive about traversing this stretch to reach the house at the end of our destination – if it was dark. At some point, we convinced ourselves that we were perfectly safe…as long as we didn’t hear the theme music from Friday the 13th. You know…the dreaded, “Che che che che che. Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.”
Not every lesson my mother tried to teach me went the way she planned. One such time happened when I was about 15 years old. Mom called my little sister, Mary (who was 12 at the time), and I into the room and told us to sit down…she wanted to have a talk with us. I remember vividly, my mind racing back and forth, wondering what in the world she wanted to talk to us about. Had something happened? Was someone sick? What is going on? It was a bit odd to say the least.
One of my favorite times in church as a child, is when we would sing songs in our Sunday school. Often, we would perform one as a special for the congregation before the preaching service began. These children’s church songs usually had hand gestures or other body movements to go along with the words, signifying the ideas in the verses. I particularly loved, This Little Light of Mine. The version we sang went like this: