Open Doors and Open Windows: A Journey with God

Table of Contents

Other books by this author Catherine Kenney Wilcoxson

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTER 1 - SEARCH AND FIND

CHAPTER 2 - STUDY...DECISION...CHANGE

CHAPTER 3 - GREAT LAKES CHRISTIAN COLLEGE

CHAPTER 4 LOVE

CHAPTER 5 - LIFE’S JOURNEY WITH PAUL

CHAPTER 6 - WHAT ARE ROOTS?

CHAPTER 7- GOD-GIVEN TALENTS–YOURS AND MINE

CHAPTER 8 - BAPTISM

CHAPTER 9 - CARS, PLANES,TRAINS, AND FEET

CHAPTER 10 - WEATHER

CHAPTER 11 - WEDDINGS

CHAPTER 12 - FUNERALS

CHAPTER 13 - TRADITIONS

CHAPTER 14 - NEWBORN BABIES

CHAPTER 15 - KNEE-KNOCKING FEAR

CHAPTER 16 – IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE

CHAPTER 17 – NOW WHAT?

EPILOGUE: SIX YEARS LATER

ENDNOTES

Other books by this author Catherine Kenney Wilcoxson

The Adventures of Captain Heman Kenney and Lady Catherine 1833-1917

Open Doors and Open Windows:

A Journey with God

Catherine Kenney Wilcoxson

Copyright © 2017All rights reserved.

Watt Light Publishing Company

404 LeBlanc Street

DeQuincy, LA 70633

Author’s Email: [email protected]

Website: www.theladycatherinecompany.com

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author.

Library of Congress Control Number:

All Scripture quotations marked (NIV) are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Wilcoxson, Catherine 1952-

Open Doors and Open Windows: A Journey with God

Revised Updated Edition: First published 2011 Independent Publisher -ISBN 13: 978-1-4507-8910-3; PCN  2011936253

DeQuincy, Louisiana

Watt Light Publishing Company

350p.

ISBN 978-0-9966807-3-8 - Paperback

ISBN 978-0-9966807-4-5 - Ebook

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to

GOD.

Finding Him as a young adult was the best thing that ever happened to me.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank You for the man from Tennessee, Paul my husband. He stood by me and walked with me through the opened doors that God set before me.

Paul was with me every step of the way while writing this book. I thank God for him daily.

Thank you, Dear.

CHAPTER 1 - SEARCH AND FIND

I always liked church. As a child, my parents would take the whole family; I liked to sing along with the choir. The songs we sang were anthems and marches; however, I did not know what we were singing nor, why.

On Sunday mornings, the Kenney kids were up early, making sure they were ready to walk the half mile to St. Johns’ church for Sunday school. I remember my father going to church regularly. For the first time since his childhood, my father was involved at this church. He had a friend, a Mr. Norman. They helped organize the yearly church picnic. I have fond memories of attending. I remember the steam rising from the dry ice used to make ice cream and the small toy that was given to the children. It resembled a Frisbee today but had string on both ends. You placed both hands on the string, pulled it and the disk would whistle. Something happened to hurt my father’s feelings, and he stopped attending and just stayed home. I believe my father’s responsibilities were given to others. However, my mother continued to take us to church. I do remember that my father would have dinner ready when we came home. In addition, I also remember it was very important to him that I was in Sunday school, and if I wanted, to go to church.

We only went to Sunday school and church in the fall winter and spring. I thought everyone took church off for the summer. Most of my family spent the summers at our cottage in Sheet Harbour. I was the middle child of six. My father would come down to the cottage from Halifax on Friday night and return on Sunday evening to work Monday, leaving Mother with the kids during the week. As far back as I can remember, he had four weeks' vacation and spent it all with us at the cottage.

Sundays were different from the rest of the days of the week. I can still remember my father telling us to be quiet. We were on our beach, which was right in front of our cottage. It was early in the morning and we were not allowed to raise our voices. My father said, Don’t you know it is Sunday? Your voices will carry down the Harbour, now be quiet. Maybe church for my father was quiet fortitude among nature. I never heard him speak of God or speak to God.

In my mind, only children, ministers, or priests could talk to God. I did not know any adults that talked to God. Only the minister or priest, and he read it from a book. It sounded like words you would speak to a president of the United States or Queen of England. I surely did not talk to anyone like that. However, small children were different. They were taught to say simple prayers that had rhymed like, Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake. I pray the Lord my soul to take. God, bless Mommy, Daddy, brothers and sisters and whomever else you could put in there so you would not have to go to sleep. When you got a little older, you did not have to say that prayer any longer.

I was also taught that you were born in a church. Pick your denomination; it did not matter. If you were born into it, that was the end of it. You did not question it, and you certainly did not go to or visit other churches. God was at your church. You were required to take the time on Sunday morning to gather with those of the same persuasion. You were not important enough to ask any questions. Only the ones who wore the long robes, and the fancy braided rope, used for a belt, were important enough. The ones who carried the gold cross on a stick, as they walked up the aisle to the front of the church. You were expected to follow your little book of rules.

I was okay with all this. I liked to watch the pageantry around me. The organ was so loud it vibrated off the four walls and came right back at you. I watched the men and boys dressed in white robes up front. I always noticed the shiny black shoes that showed under their white robes. They walked from one spot to another. Each spot marked a place to say a blessing or a prayer. Then the voices of the people around me would answer all at the same time. I did not even know the priest had asked a question. Everyone knew when to stand up, when to sit down, and when to kneel on the prayer bench. That was the hardest for it hurt my knees.

My friend, Marilyn, who lived on Fredrick Avenue, just behind my house, was attending what she called an evangelistic church. We went to school together. Her parents allowed her to do things that my father would never let me get away with. She could stay out as long as she wanted. My mother would come looking for me.

I knew that she was born the same persuasion as my family. I actually asked her what she thought she was doing. She had better come back where she belonged. What does she mean she was studying the Bible? She should not lower herself to such a thing. Then she told me she liked it. She liked getting to know Jesus.

I was shocked. How can you get to know Jesus? Everyone knew that we were not good enough to have a personal relationship with Him. I never heard us sing What a Friend We Have in Jesus – only, Onward Christian Solders and maybe an anthem telling God how great He was. I was christened as a baby, confirmed as a young girl, questioning my faith as a teenager.

Tragedy struck my life at the age of twelve. My older brother of fourteen was killed in a car accident. Wade was hit by a car while leaving a dance in Sheet Harbour. The driver was a young man who had been drinking.

All I have to do is close my eyes, and I still have a very clear picture of what took place that night. The cabin in Sheet Harbour had two bedrooms. Dad built bunk beds under the small window in the living area. I slept on the top bunk; Blair, my younger brother, was on the lower bunk. I awoke hearing adults talking. They were sitting at the small kitchen table. My father was there, for it was a Saturday night. Also sitting there were my mother, a Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman, and a priest. I recognized him being a priest because he wore a white collar. When they realized I was awake, the priest asked my father if he should continue. My father said it was okay. I didn’t say a word, for I knew my father would not approve of my interrupting an adult conversation. I listened carefully; they talked about someone involved in an accident.

Then there was a banging on the door. It was my aunt, uncle, and cousin Elry. They were totally upset. Crying and almost shouting, I am so sorry about Wade.

My father took my mother into their bedroom for she seemed to be falling apart. I began to cry; everyone else was crying. However, I wasn’t exactly sure why. Elry came over, put his arm around me, and said, Don’t worry; everything will be fine. My father sat down with me and told me that my brother had died. He was run over by a car. That night changed my life forever. My perfect world had changed.

For what is death? For me a twelve-year-old, it was tearing my life apart. I just kept thinking, How could God do this? We go to church most Sundays. Doesn’t God know that?

A year later, a promise was kept to my mother. My father would take her home to visit her family. Her family was in Alberta, Canada; we lived in Halifax, Nova Scotia. She had not been home to see her family in twenty-five years. The death of my brother made life more fragile, more urgent. Now was the time for her to return home. However, how do you do that with six children?

At the time, I was attending a small group of teens for a Bible Study on Friday evenings. I did not attend for the Bible study; I had no interest in that, for I had never studied the Bible. I went for the get-togethers after the lesson. This group was at the preacher’s house one night after the lesson. The subject of my parents’ trip came up in conversation. I laughed and revealed that my parents had places for all their children to stay but me.

Ron and Rita, the young preacher and his wife, volunteered to take me in. My desperate parents were contacted. There was a dinner at my house and then a dinner at Ron and Rita’s house, and a week later, my parents left for their four-week trip to Alberta.

Throughout July, I met people who studied the Bible, prayed and called themselves Christians. They were people that loved and cared for each other. Church was a lot different from what I was used to. You did not walk into a quiet, cold building among strangers. Here there was talking and fellowship. The worship was warm and happy. The preacher talked about Jesus. Jesus actually cared about people, all people, and what I found interesting was that Jesus even cared about me. I knew something was different and I liked it.

Over the next three years, I tried to attend this church whenever I could. It was not easy. My father forbade it. I was expected to be at our church on Sunday from 10:00 a.m. until 11:00 a.m. The 11:00 a.m. to 12 noon service was optional. That was my chance to skip out and make my way to the church I wanted to attend. I could get there if I walked fast. Sometimes my Sunday school teacher offered me a ride. I needed that ride, but how could I tell her I was going to another church? I did not; I asked her to drop me off a block from the church. I had many more friends at this church, and I was learning more about Jesus. The span of three years passed. I decided I wanted to do what Jesus was asking me to do, and His words went right to my heart.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

How could I even think of doing anything? I was not even sixteen years old. My father would not be pleased.

Oh, believe me; I know how one feels when they make the decision to follow Jesus or to reject the whole thing. The seed of God’s Word was growing in my heart. No one put it there. No one told me what I had to do. I knew what I had to do. Nevertheless, was I willing?

I had an argument with myself daily. You have got to be kidding me, I would tell myself. Do you really know what will happen if I do such a thing? Maybe I just need to go to my priest and ask him what to do.

I did and that was a disaster. The questions I had. He did not even look at them. Don’t you worry about questions, he said. Just come on Sunday morning and bring your gift offering with you. Do you have a church bank? Here, take this one. He handed me a cardboard church building with a hole in the top. Make sure you have it full by Easter. Then I found myself out the door.

Now what do I do? I was more confused than ever. I just let things continue the way they were.

Dear God,

Thank You for allowing me to question my faith.

Thank You for allowing me to meet people that opened the Bible to me. Your word is alive and has begun to grow inside my heart.

Thank You for not giving up on me. It scares me to think of the path I would have taken if I had not been pointed Your way.

Thank You for being with me at the beginning of my journey to know You.

Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, Thank You.

In Jesus Name I pray,

Cathy Kenney

CHAPTER 2 - STUDY...DECISION...CHANGE

A study of more than three years brought me right back to the discussion I had with Marilyn, my young friend, years before. Her statement remained with me all this time. She liked getting to know Jesus. I found out I liked it too. This business of being a Christian was all right. I enjoyed being around Christians. They were kind, helpful and caring to all those they met.

I still did not know very much about the Bible. The stories of Jesus got most of my attention. The songs they sang to Him made me feel good. Before I knew it, the scriptures were speaking to me right into my heart. I felt like I was standing amongst the crowd looking up to Peter, as he told the story of how we all crucified Jesus. Mankind did not accept God’s Son. Instead, they hung Him on a tree. However, what really amazed me was that this was God’s plan.

Jesus was to die on the cross and on the third day rise up from the hands of death. Death could not keep Him. The death was to wipe away all sin. Rising from the dead was a new beginning. Our sins were taken away. The wall that separated people from God was knocked down.

I was among the people to whom Peter was talking. I listened as he explained what man did. When the people heard this, when I heard this, they were cut to the heart. I was cut to the heart. They asked Peter, Brothers, what shall we do? I asked Peter, What shall I do?

Peter replied, ‘Repent and be baptized every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.’ With many other words he warned them, and he pleaded with them, ‘Save yourself from the corrupt generation.’ Those who accepted his message were baptized and about three thousand were added to their number that day.

Doesn’t Peter know that I was baptized as a baby? How can a baby repent? Repent of what? I do not remember ever receiving any Holy Spirit. Looks like three thousand did what Peter asked. No mention of babies anywhere. The three thousand were old enough to make a decision. I did not make any decision. Does confirmation count for anything? I attended classes at around age twelve. I do not remember a thing I was taught. All I remember is wearing a pretty white dress, with white socks and white shoes. I remember the Bishop was there. He wore a pointed hat and white robe with gold trimming. Two girls went to the front together; he placed one hand on each of our heads, and then we returned to our seats. However, nothing was said about repenting, baptism, forgiveness of sin, or the gift of the Holy Spirit.

The Apostle Peter continued to speak and everyone continued to listen. I continued to listen. Peter had many other words he was using to warn them, warn me! What were the other words?

Peter continued, Save yourself! I have to save myself. My mother can’t save me, my priest can’t save me, my preacher friends can’t save me. I have to save myself. I found the other words He used to warn them throughout the scripture. One of my favorites was:

Ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks the door will be opened. 

Therefore, I am ready to ask, seek, find and knock. Even though I wanted to do what Jesus said, I had a big problem, my father. However, I could not carry the burden alone any longer. The burden that kept me awake at night.