But bitterness and rebellion reigned in my heart. I nurtured resentment and ill-will toward my stepfather and something between disappointment and anger toward my mom. I lashed out angrily at my brothers. I ignored my younger half-siblings when I could get away with it. Yes, I knew it was sin but it wasn't my fault. So that made it understandable. And if God understood, then it was okay. However, deep in my heart, I knew it wasn't really okay. So I worked harder at being "Christian." I devised a self-improvement regimen for myself...I began a Bible reading program...I chose one of the ten commandments to work on each month...I copied verse after verse out of the Bible... However, I remained in a miserable state of mind because I knew it still wasn't okay. Grumbling and unhappy, we kids were working out in the field one hot summer day. It hadn't rained in several months and the corn was desperately dry. Heavy, awkward and hot to the touch, the irrigation pipes needed to be loaded onto the truck to be moved to another location. I looked up at the cloudless sky and challenged God: I asked Him to fill the sky with clouds to prove to me He was real and that He did love me. Sighing, I heaved another pipe onto the truck and glanced up in the sky. Still cloudless. More pipes on the truck, more complaining amongst ourselves. Another load delivered and another pile of pipes to load.
I don't know exactly how long it took for me to notice the clouds that had begun to bunch up in the sky. My joy at this welcome sight soon turned to self reproach. Who was I to be making demands of God? It came to me that I was nothing but a sinner, shaking my fist at a holy God, asking for proof of His existence and love. This was the first time I really understood that I was choosing to sin and that I was responsible for my choices. I finally realized that I really wasn't a good little girl and asked God to forgive me. The back of that old farm truck became the altar where I sacrificed my pride, resentment, and self-pity. Those moments under the blazing blue Nebraska sky with a few fluffy clouds defined the turning point of my life. He took me just as I was, nothing good in me, as I claimed the shed blood of Jesus.
The first real hymn I remember learning was For the Beauty of the Earth. I loved the first line: "For the beauty of the earth, for the glory of the skies..." Spending virtually all of my waking non-school hours outdoors, I had a great appreciation for God's creation. Even though I didn't know God, I knew of God because His creation spoke to me of Him daily. I wanted to know more than the tidbits I had learned in my sporadic, brief spurts of Sunday School and Vacation Bible School. Those tidbits only whetted my appetite for more. But it was not to be--at least, not at that friendly little Methodist church. Sunday School, church, Vacation Bible School and summer visits with my grandparents came to an end as we kids became more useful out in the field.