My First Flame (Going Back)

Experiencing death of a loved one is actually probably the best thing for a child.

I do not remember the first time that I asked Jesus into my heart. Yes, Kailan Wing, can not tell you when that first moment was. (see Turning Point for my real found faith) The church I remember growing up in was a Nazarene church. They believed that you could lose your salvation. Everywhere I went, if they offered "The Salvation Prayer" I would do it, knowing that I had already said it, but that I need to say it again. I loved to ask Jesus into my heart. I can't even tell you how many times I have said that prayer. As I grew older into my teen years I came to the realization that once you're saved, you are always saved. That nothing can take you out of His grasp. But still, I can not tell you, when it came to me for the first time, that Jesus died for me, and rose again to save me. Maybe my parents just did an excellent job in breeding us up in the knowledge of Jesus Christ that we never knew different. BUT, what I can tell you is when I, for the first time, felt the Spirit hold me.

I was nine. That puts me in about 4th grade. My family was normal at that point. The oldest sister had moved out of the house not too long before that. The other older sister, still in the house, still trying desperately to be ungrounded for once. My brothers and I making our forts out in our huge backyard, with scrap pieces of brick and wood. Death had not really shaken us yet. We still seemed to be living in our "forever worlds" is what we thought anyway. Well, everyone, except for Mom, who had experienced far more hurtful loses in her own childhood. Nothing blew passed her.
I remember being so shocked at the news, that my cousin had committed suicide. He had shot himself. I remember hearing details like their was gun powder on his toe, supposing he used that to pull the trigger on one of those long rifles, pointing it to his head. And that he had gotten in a fight with his girlfriend. He was eighteen, and his younger brother was the one who found him.
I remember being in disbelief the whole time before the funeral, thinking maybe it was just a joke? At the funeral, I remember staring at his body laying in the coffin. He looked as if he were sleeping, and that he would just wake up at any moment. Soon after seeing him, it finally hit me. He is dead. I began to ponder heaven for real, for the first time. and hell. Where is he? Did he get to heaven, even though he killed himself? It was the first time, I began to think deep about these things.
I cried so hard at night, so hard I couldn't sleep. I began to really miss Aron. I thought about the last thing I remember him by. It was Christmas, and he gave me a Pink Panther flashlight. I tried to find it, but it was gone, just like him. To this day, I've never been able to find it. But that's not the point of my story here.

That night I couldn't go to sleep because of my tears, I did what any child in that predicament would do. I went into my mommy and daddy's bedroom. Mom's side was the closest, so I got in bed with her, after waking her very gently. I told her I couldn't sleep and she, of course, opened her covers to me, slid over to make room, and cuddled me. I kept crying, and she just held me. She started to pray, "Dear Lord Jesus, please just hold Kailan in Your arms and help her to sleep. Calm her spirit Lord and just hold her. In Jesus' Name, Amen."
I closed my eyes, and imagined Jesus holding me as though Mom was holding me. Cradling me like a baby. I felt a calmness and was asleep.... so fast that when my eyes opened again, it was morning and another day.

I will never forget that moment for the rest of my life. Because of Aron's passing, I was able to feel that feeling of loss, the brokenness that can only be felt when something truly horrible has happened. And I was also able to experience that calmness that only God can give, that peace that surpasses all understanding. Only then was I able to truly feel anything spiritual.
I hate that my cousin did what he did, but I still love him. I know that he was forgiven by that sin and that has been my hope for him. I do not know for sure, if he was saved, but I do know that if he was, then he is indeed with our Lord.

I always thought, though, how one could be saved and have the hope of Jesus, and still be suicidal. But I have learned that everyone backslides, and some people's faith are weaker than others. They have just forgotten, that even "faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains. "