THE BIBLE IN MY LIFE August 21, 2006 Issue

SIMPLE ENOUGH TO HELP A CHILD

LINDA PAYNE-SYLVESTER

MY PARENTS weren't churchgoers. Religion didn't have a meaningful place in our lives, although my sister and I attended various Sunday Schools from time to time.

My mom had a Bible that had been given to her when she was a child. The cardboard box that housed it was stained and tattered, but the Bible itself was in pristine condition—still stiff when you turned its pages. We kept it in the bottom of a cabinet where all the clutter was stashed. I found it a curiosity, and occasionally I'd pull it out to look at the maps in the back. I remember once my mom reading something from it to my sister and me, but she wasn't able to answer our questions.

One morning I was feeling ill, so Mom decided to keep me home from school. From my bed, I could see the cabinet where the Bible was kept, and began to think about it. Finally, I got up, pulled out the Bible, brought it back to bed, and started reading it from the beginning.

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