I was an abandoned child.  Yes, I had a mom and dad, but they were never there.  My father worked out of state, only coming home on weekends.  My mother worked long hours outside the home.  I was left alone to take care of myself at six years old.

The early 1950’s was a far simpler time, and in a sleepy little New England town, things were relatively safe.  My parents did not see any need to worry about me.

Because our house was at the bottom of a hill, the land on the lower side had to be built up to support the two-hundred-year-old house and connecting barn being used as a garage.  A retaining wall kept things in place on one side of the yard.

Flush with the street at the beginning of the driveway, the wall approached close to thirty feet ( 30’) off the ground at its abrupt end by the garage. 

My instructions were: “Don’t go anywhere.  Don’t go in the backyard; it’s too dangerous.  Don’t let anyone come in the house.  Don’t walk on the wall.  Don’t bother the neighbors.”

And that is exactly what I did not do every day – except for the walking on the wall part.

Young children love to walk on curb stones, and I had my own personal curb stone right in my yard!  A foot wide, I could walk along the top of the wall with ease – no fear of keeping my balance on this beauty.  Back and forth I walked, back and forth until I was bored with it and went inside to do a jig saw puzzle or cut up pictures from a Sears and Roebuck catalog, pretending I owned a store.

One day when I was about seven years old, as I approached the granite wall, I heard an audible man’s voice say to me, “You’re going to fall off the wall.”

“No, I won’t,” I silently responded, quite defiantly.

I recall telling myself, “I have to pay attention so I don’t fall off,” but within seconds I was lost in a daydream as usual.  In that totally relaxed state, I took a step right into thin air.

More than half a century later I can still hear the sound of my body hitting the ground below with a loud thud.  I landed on a grass lawn incline on my back.  I bounced.

The man’s voice said, “Lie still and don’t move until I tell you that you can get up.”

I said, “Okay,” no longer in a defiant tone, but rather meekly.   

I looked up at the most wonderful blue sky, amazed that I had never before seen the sun shine like that.  I was lost in the beauty of a nearby butternut tree.  The little hairs on the leaves were glistening in amazing golden light.  I was at complete peace. I kept thinking how it never looked this beautiful before.  I lost all sense of time.

The man spoke again.  “You can get up now, but don’t ever walk on the wall again.”

I got up and walked away, telling the man, “Don’t worry; I won’t.”

Up the hill I walked, up the driveway, through the shed and up the stairs into the kitchen where I sat down in a chair for –  I don’t even know how long.  I just know I sat there for a very long time.

I never told my mother.  I was fine – nothing happened to me – why tell?  She would kill me if she knew.

Imagine my surprise a few days later when late at night – in bed but not asleep – I heard my mother in the next room telling my father all about my falling off the wall.  She knows!

It seems that old Mrs. Williams was sitting in her rocking chair, right beside the window with a clear view of my escapade.  She said my fall took her breath away.  She said I did three complete somersaults in the air before I fell with such a loud thud, she could hear it in her house.  She said I laid still for so long she thought I was dead.  She was about to call the sheriff when I got up and walked away.  She said if my mother and father did not take better care of me, she would have me taken away from them.

I don’t know what was said after that because at that news my mind was racing with fear that I’d never see my grandmother again.  I fell asleep with tears in my eyes.

Before I knew it, I had a babysitter.  I did not want or need a babysitter!  I could take care of myself just fine like always.  I knew I would never walk on the wall again.

My babysitter was the pits.  I reported every little thing she did wrong to my mother.  That’s what CEO’s do, right?  Report?

Until she cut up all my mother’s precious houseplants, however, I was stuck with the high school girl who never once paid any attention to me.  Instead, I was monitoring her misbehavior in my house!

When she finally got fired, I thought I was done with all of that.  I was nine, old enough to be alone.  But no, mom hired yet another babysitter.  Boy, was I mad.

I overheard Kay telling mom, “Let her get used to me.  She’ll come around.”  I walked away in a huff.

The ice breaker came when Kay and I made a cake.  A new cake mix had just hit the shelves.  Confetti was a pink cake with tiny colored dots in it.  I mixed colors to make the frosting turquoise to match some of the bits in the cake.  It was the first cake I ever made, and probably the best.  It came out perfect.

After that, I could tolerate Kay.  Then she took me to her house and showed me frogs and tadpoles that lived in a stream.  Then she showed me how to make jewelry with sea shells.  Kay was pretty cool now.

I really liked making that sea shell gardenia pin.  I sold it right away to Mrs. Favor, one of mom’s friends.  I made myself another one, but old Mrs. Williams bought that one, and the two ladies next door to her ordered two more.  I was in business, and have been ever since.

What are my two favorite words?  “But God……”

Throughout the bible you read about impossible situations, but God intervened and all was made according to His loving will.

When I look back on that fall and the events immediately before and after it, I realize that I must have been familiar with the Man’s voice because I did not turn around to see who spoke to me.  It was a voice I recognized as being One I could trust.  I answered defiantly; I was comfortable enough with the unseen Man to not be afraid of who was speaking.  I obeyed the voice without question when told to lie still and to not do that again.

No one ever told me about Shekinah glory.  I would not have understood it if they had.  I know now that is exactly what I experienced.  I know God worked on my body that day so I could get up and walk away.  I should be dead or in a wheelchair, but God loved me.  He wanted me – that feisty, little, defiant, independent child.  He needed me.  And I need God every minute of my life.  •