Robin's Tweets

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                                                                    This is my testimony and story.

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                                                                    I did not grow up in a Christian home.  

                                                                    Actually, we did not go to church or even

                                                                    consider the possibility.  I was very loved

                                                                    by my parents, but it wasn’t a Christian

                                                                    environment.   

Both of my parents attended church as children, but I am not sure at what age that ended. My dad always claimed to be an Atheist, but that was not true. He was too angry at God to have not believed in him. (You can’t hate something you don’t believe in.) He was just too angry at God to accept His love. My dad lived a very difficult life that no child should have to endure. His father was an alcoholic and a hard man, and his family of nine children often went without food and necessities. His mother, who he adored, suffered from Multiple Sclerosis.  It was a hard life and he hated God for it. Even so, Dad was a family man, and always stayed devoted to his siblings and to being a part of their lives. Unfortunately, he and so many of his family followed the path to alcoholism.  Nevertheless, there was a goodness to my father.  Dad was a very giving and generous person who was always willing to give to those he felt were in need. He wasn’t a believer in loans and would say, if you want to help someone, give them a gift; don’t hold a loan over their head.  In fact, at one time he owned his own roofing business that went bankrupt. The bankruptcy of course legally cleared him of his debts, but that wasn’t okay with him.  He said it took him a long time, but he made sure that all his debts were paid.  As for my mother, she believed in God but did not have a complete understanding of what it meant to walk with Christ.  She was always easy to live with, a people-pleaser by heart and filled with a sweet spirit. Furthermore, she was a submissive wife who would not have gone against my father’s wishes to send us to church.

 

But this did not keep God from entering my life.  My first introduction to Christ was a backyard Good News club in the neighbor’s yard. I was probably 5 or 6 years old. We would also get invited to some local Vacation Bible Schools. People would show up at our door and say, “Can we take your children to VBS?” If it would not have been for these people I would never have had the opportunity to go; Mom did not drive and Dad would never have taken us. I remember that I enjoyed the stories, many of which seemed like fairy tales. I also remember being intrigued by the fact that there was a God out there in the universe who created me and a man named Jesus who loved me. They would hold me and love me, and I could talk to them whenever I wanted, so I did.  I saved my talks with my new friends, God and Jesus, for when bad things were happening and I was frightened. I was a little girl with a big imagination and already was spending a lot of time with my imaginary playmates “Hoggy” and “Poggy,” and was delighted to add this Jesus and God to my assortment of friends.

 

The summer I turned eight my life changed. A little church in New Danville started a bus ministry that stopped by our home and invited my sister and me to their VBS. My past VBS experiences were okay, but often very much like school. This one on the other hand was fun, fun, fun! The bus was overpacked with three to four kids in every seat, and we sang the whole way there and back home again at the top of our lungs. The bible school was exciting and fun; you just didn’t want to leave. During those two weeks of VBS I began to learn that my friends God and Jesus were real. Following VBS, my sister and I were invited to continue with the bus ministry and come to Sunday School and Church. I wanted to go so bad, but was quite nervous about whether or not we would be allowed. Dad conceded his usual rule and compromised. We would never share or preach to him about church, we would not pray in front of him, and conversation at home would not include church. In his defense, he was sending his little girls to something that he felt would ruin their lives, because to him Christians were hypocritical, dishonest, greedy, judgmental and weak. We agreed to his terms and joined the Sunday school and church bus ministry along with two of our neighborhood girl friends and about 20 to 30 other children who rode the bus. Sunday school and church were of course very different than the wild and crazy VBS. We learned what a Sunday school class was and what a worship service was, and I loved them both. I was home. Mrs. McNally, our Sunday School teacher, always sat behind us in the worship service. I had always figured that she just thought we were so adorable but came to realize that all of the bus children had special watchers. Our Pastor, Reverend Hank, was an endearing man. He was a very emotional speaker and would often break down crying during his sermons. He was always at the door to greet us when we came off the bus; and with his large bellowing laugh, he would greet us with laughter, hugs, and tears all at the same time. I used to think, “What a silly man.” But this was not a silly man; this was a man so filled with love for us that it radiated through his pores.

 

This little church was holding the task of being the only means of helping us find Jesus. Often that rickety old bus was not in running condition, but Mr. Teaman, the bus driver, never called and said “no church today kids, the bus is not running.” On those days, the Bowlanders showed up for us in their car. This was my church from age eight until right after I turned sixteen. Never once was my family asked to provide transportation for us, and never once did I feel that I was a burden. In my ninth year I went to the altar to accept Jesus. Mrs. McNally, my Sunday School teacher, went with me and led me through my salvation prayer.  During those years the Holy Spirit worked in my life in an amazing way. I was not the normal child sitting in the pew with their parents, fidgeting and restless. I can remember being lifted by the music, glued to the sermons, and being brought to tears by messages; God knew I would get nothing at home. But in the evenings when I would have my quiet time with the Lord in my room, I would often feel that I was wrapped in His arms; I was not alone. As an adult, I have often missed the intimacy I had with the Lord during those years.

 

As these years went by, my sister and I kept our commitment to our Dad and the rules he had set, but I would see him softening at times. And when I was older, he would occasionally offer to drop me off if it was really cold outside. My sister stopped attending a year or so before me because she often went to a friend’s church or to church with her boyfriend. I occasionally visited with her, but it never felt like home to me, so I stuck with New Danville Evangelical. It wasn’t always easy being a fifteen-year-old girl and riding a school bus mainly with small children to church, but it was my sanctuary.

 

A few weeks after I turned sixteen, I began dating Jeff Groff, a very handsome Christian boy that I had met at work. When he learned that I went to church by myself, he invited me to attend church with him, as he had just begun attending Manor BIC Church by himself. For the next ten years Manor Church was our church home, but in 1983 Jeff felt led to join a church planting that Manor wanted to start.  Thirty-three people accepted the calling. This may not sound like a tough beginning except for the fact that we were made up of thirteen adults and twenty children, ages infant through fifteen. (This is not a typo!) We named our church Millersville Brethren in Christ. I wholeheartedly embraced my husband’s desire to join this venture. (I just lied. He carried me kicking and screaming all the way. I was smaller back then; he could do that.) Millersville BIC became our church home for the next twenty years. During those years, Jeff and I both grew spiritually and were able to recognize our gifts and talents and grow in faith and maturity. Then, about ten years ago, we felt called to leave Millersville BIC, and began attending Bethany E.C. Church which is now our home church.

 

As for my father during these years?  Well, he continued to soften over time, and he finally beat his addiction to alcohol when he was sixty-five. Dad’s great love for his grandchildren certainly helped with that; they were his joy! He would welcome them to pray before meals at his home and they could speak to Poppy about Jesus anytime. When invited to events at church that the grandchildren were involved in, he was always there. In fact, as the years went by, it was not unusual to have Mom and Dad pop in on a church service and attend worship with us. My sister Bonnie and her family also went to Millersville BIC, and it was an exciting time for us. Dad finally believed in God, even prayed and knew He was real. But the stubborn man that he was, he still could not give up control to God for his life and seek forgiveness from Christ.

 

During the last nineteen years of his life he was in ill health with congestive heart failure.  Many times he was told he would most likely not survive the surgery he was about to undergo or would not be there for the next Christmas or Easter.  But time after time he became a medical miracle to many doctors. They did not know what kept this man ticking, but we did! God was holding on to him until he surrendered his life to Christ, and in the last year of dad’s life he finally surrendered it all to Jesus. On our last Thanksgiving together, as a family we stood by his bed and sang “Amazing Grace”. He thanked us for sticking by him all these years and apologized for  taking so long to come to Christ.

 

As for me, life continued; just now it continued without my dad by my side, but instead with the peace of knowing he was in eternity with Jesus Christ. God has been my constant through it all, and that is no more evident than in the most recent months.

 

This past summer, in July, I began not feeling like myself. I thought possibly I was depressed, as I just felt listless and tired. During this time, I also began to hunger for a closeness to God that I was lacking; I felt distant.  But near the end of July, during my daily quiet times with God, I began to feel closer to Him as I would become engulfed in His word, and He was revealing things in scripture I had not recalled before.  Little did I know He was preparing me for the tailspin that I was about to experience starting the first week of August.  In a matter of days, my symptoms of depression escalated to a frightening level of confusion.  An unexpected trip to the ER and quick CT scan revealed a mass in my brain, and   within days, I had brain surgery and was a patient in the trauma neuro unit waiting for biopsy reports.

 

A few days following surgery, the report disclosed I had cancer - Glioblastoma. This is considered an incurable brain tumor, and if they cannot put it in remission, doctors consider my time here very short. As it turns out, some people carry a special gene that helps fight the cancer, but it was discovered that I do not have that gene.  What I do have is faith that God will destroy this tumor, and I am asking for you to pray along with me for complete healing, giving God all of the glory.

 

The day my girls came to our home for Jeff and me to let them know the final diagnosis was a very difficult day. But I did not want them to leave that evening without knowing that this happening to me and all of us is okay. I had them turn around and look at their children’s pictures hanging on my living room wall displaying Jeff’s and my 15 grandchildren; I told them that if me having this cancer brings even one of those children closer to Christ, it has all been worth it! I also let them know that this diagnosis has given me a gift. I again feel the intimacy with Christ that I had been craving - the intimacy with God that I had when I was a child but had lost for such a long time. I have had some of the most incredible times with God since my diagnosis, and He has been holding me so tight just like before. Again I say, it is worth it!

 

Love you All,

Robin

 

 

You, Lord are the light that keeps me safe. You protect me, and I have no fears.  

Psalm 27:1

 

For the Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord will give grace and glory; no good thing will he withhold from those who walk uprightly.   Psalm 84:11

 

And the whole multitude sought to touch Him, for power went out from Him and healed them all.  Luke 6:19

 

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities;the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.  Isaiah 53:5

 

I can do anything through Christ, who gives me strength.  Philippians 4:13

 

“If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.”  Matthew 21:22