I don’t know about any of you that may be reading this, but I always wonder what the authors I’m reading are really like. For example, why did they start writing, how much are they like their characters, what is it that they really care about? It’s just something I’m always curious about. There’s always About Us pages, like the one we have, but there’s not any deep important info on there. What do you know? That I go to college and own a cement goose? You guys out their in cyber land don’t even know our real names, seeing as we all go by our nicknames, well, except for that goose. We really do call him Sammy B. So, maybe you’re wondering about me, maybe not, but let me tell you a little something that is more important than who is sleeping on the bottom bunk.... Maybe you can guess what I’ll tell you from reading the stories when there are little mentions of God or the Bible sprinkled in here and there, but let me just lay it out for you right now. And thanks to the wonderful freedoms of speech and choice, I can and you can choose if you want to read it. Don’t say you haven’t been warned. Oh, and if anyone from my family, more specifically my mom, is reading this, I don’t apologize for what I’m going to say. It’s the truth, and I do not pass judgment. More importantly, I love you. This is my testimony...

When I was two months old, I was baptized. The priest dumped Holy Water over my head as I wiggled about in my Aunt and Uncle’s arms, screaming at the top of my lungs, announcing my presence. To this day I still like being the center of attention, but that’s besides the point. I was baptized into the church by my Catholic mom and Lutheran dad. They made the commitment to raise me to know God. They did a good job, I guess. Having gone to Catholic school and going to church on Sundays, I definitely knew ABOUT God. There was always that religion class where we got to color pictures of the first days of creation, or tests where we had to know the stations of the cross... I think I did well on that test, but if you asked me to name them now, I would fail miserably. Oh, I still know what happened at that cross, but I’ll get into that soon.

While I have always been considered a ‘good kid’, and knew what to do (Church on Wednesday with school, and make sure you sing, the teacher is watching; Church on Sunday with mom, dad, and Josh... afterwards we get to visit Sunny’s family and eat donuts; prayer before dinner... Bless us O’ Lord... mmm those potatoes look good; and prayer before bed, don’t forget to ask God to prove His existence by placing a quarter under your pillow like the Tooth Fairy does), I never really took those values and teachings close to the heart. It never really meant that much. It was what you were supposed to do, I didn’t want to disappoint my parents. I was a good kid after all.

I have always had a really close relationship with my mother. Like most children, I guess, she was my mentor, and everything she said, I took to heart. My mother is a beautiful woman, and I’m not talking looks even though she is pretty too. She’s a very caring person, loves her family, creative, all around great. She taught me everything she knew and believed. Oh course there was a God. And of course He loves you very much. When you die, if your work on earth is completed, of course you’ll go to Heaven, but if it’s not, you will be reincarnated. You have a very old soul, by the way.

I was taught about reincarnation; I was raised around tarot cards, astrology books, and psychic readings. By the time I was in eighth grade, while I was making my Confirmation into the Church as an adult, I was drawing pentagrams on the back of my notebooks. After all they were wholeness signs, earth, wind, fire, water, and spirit, all in one. The Craft, a movie I own, but still can’t watch to this day, was my favorite movie. I played with Ouiji boards without a second thought. Oh, and I was still a ‘Christian’. I was a good girl after all.

Freshman year of high school... the highlight of my week was watching Buffy on Monday nights. I didn’t get out of the house much. It worried my parents, I guess, but I was perfectly happy. My older brother, ever the social butterfly, was always out. And on Monday nights while I was parked in front of the TV, he was at some youth group where he knew some kids from one of the near by schools. My parents made me go. Did I know what to expect? No. Was I nervous? TERRIFIED doesn’t even begin to describe it. My face was as white as the newly fallen snow, and I’m not even exaggerating. I hated to meet new people. HATED it with a passion. And I was about to go into a whole huge roomful when the only people I knew were Sunny who came with me, and our brothers.

JAM, standing for Jesus and Me, had a buzz to it. There was so much energy in that room, radiating off those people. I got hugged by someone who I had never seen before in my life, people smiled, and chatted and I thought “Oh God, this is some sort of cult or something.” I can guarantee my life would have been easier if it was... It got scarier. They started singing. Some of these people just stood up from their seats when no one else was, and the weirdest part, they were holding their hands up in the air like some crazy people. I didn’t like it, but I still went every week for the rest of the school year.

I remember one point during my sophomore year that I got in a debate with my religion teacher over the third commandment... Keep holy the Sabbath day. My argument? Church wasn’t important. I prayed, I went to youth group, why would I need to go? That class finally ended, and I still went to JAM, whenever a good Buffy wasn’t on. When I did go, I would sit there and debate some more. Topics like reincarnation and tarot cards were brought up every once in awhile. And by now, I knew these people, I was comfortable, I would tell them what I thought. ‘Don’t sit there and tell me psychics are bad, half the people in my family get premonitions.’ ‘Horoscopes can tell you a lot about yourself. I got my astrology book for my 15th birthday.’

I had a friend at school that I met on shear coincidence by commenting on Raine Maida from Our Lady Peace. Wow, I loved him. That voice! She agreed. I soon found I had other things in common with her too. She believed what I believed, and we would spend hours in the mall after school in the New Age section of the book store looking at the witchcraft books and talking about joining a coven. And then on Monday nights at JAM, I would be asked “You’re a Christian right?” Duh, yeah. “And you believe what the Bible says?” Once again, a no brainer. “How can you believe in reincarnation and going to Heaven at the same time then?” I couldn’t answer that. Sophomore year was my low point.

I knew how to talk the talk. I knew the right answers, more importantly, I knew when not to say things. I didn’t like those questions I couldn’t answer. I was a Christian, I always had been... The summer before my junior year of high school, I began looking into Wicca as a new religion for myself. I kept it pretty much a secret, because I was for some reason ashamed of it. The more I learned, the more it made sense... It said there were many ways to get to the afterlife, many different paths to take, all leading to the same place. I liked what I heard. You would think this would be my lowest point, but this is when God really started working on me.

I wanted to be known in JAM. The way to do that was to go on a trip. And lucky for me, there was one coming up, SEMP, Students Equipped to Minister to Peers.... It would make sense for an on the edge of becoming a wiccan girl to go to a workshop on how to tell people about Jesus Christ and what He can do... right? I gave my youth pastor my application, I paid my money, I went. My life was changed.

I remember writing in my journal after the first night of the program about how I actually rose my hand into the air during one of the songs. I actually had the guts to raise it up, like that’s what it took. I remember meeting 30 plus people from JAM and actually forming bonds with them. I remember going out on the street and talking to an old man who told me of miracles that happened in his life. I remember for the first time really hearing what it was that Jesus went through on that cross and why.

There was so much pain. I’m getting choked up right now just thinking about what it was like. If you want details, tell me. I have a seven page research paper written on the topic. The pain isn’t what is so important. He died for us. For you. And if you were the only one on the earth, He would still die. He loves you that much. He died on that cross two thousand years ago so that you might come to know him, and you would be able to live eternally with him... wow.

I came home from SEMP with something on my heart. I knew I needed a drastic change in this duel game of beliefs. I needed to make up my mind, if only it was a simple thing to do. Here I was, a girl who only a few weeks before was contemplating becoming a wiccan, a girl who valued her mother’s opinion more than anything, and if I chose to truly become a believer, things would change... and they did.

I stopped reading my horoscope when the paper was brought home. I packed away all my books and stopped using my tarot cards. I chose to believe what the Bible said, and that alone. I started going to church on Sundays, and even argued its importance in religion class. It was very very hard.

Like I said, I have always had a close relationship with my mom. In her eyes when I chose to take my relationship with Jesus Christ seriously, I was rejecting her. I was judging her. I was breaking that bond. To her, I took everything she believed in, everything we used to hold in common, and threw it back in her face and told her she was wrong. When she came to me in tears, telling me to just hurt her some more, my heart broke. When I got a letter from her best friend, my conformation sponsor, saying, and I quote, “I know that you are going through a period of time when you are fervently seeking a passion for Christ. This is a wonderful thing, and as you proceed through your spiritual journey, I encourage you to keep your mind and soul open to the ways in which other people find God. For some, it is tempting to embrace a path of self-righteousness and say ‘This is the only way to God.’ ...I encourage you to remain accepting to other’s belief systems as you develop and strengthen your own. Christ reminds us to ‘Judge not, lest you be judged’,” I fell down in a fit of tears, having felt as if I was being rejected by the two women who I valued most in my life. It was hard. It is still hard, even in having my relationships with them back in order for they will never be the same as before.

If it wasn’t worth it, I would have given up. If it wasn’t the truth, I wouldn’t have been able to stand against my own family as I chose another path. If it wasn’t the truth, I would not be the person I am, I would not feel the joy He provides me. I would not be here today. It is in the Lord I find my strength.

The funny thing is I never realized it happened until I started looking back and saw how different my attitude is, my priorities, my life. There is only one way to God. And that is through having that personal relationship with His son, Jesus. I would hate for anyone out there to get to the gates of Heaven only for God to turn around and say “I’m sorry, but I don’t know you.” I thought I was a Christian, after all I was a good kid. Almost three years since I figured out what following Jesus really means, I can tell you this... if I would have died before, I would not being floating around with a pair of wings. I would have heard those words, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know you.” God bless- Cali