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When I was eight the end of the school year and the beginning of summer vacation was almost as exciting as Christmas. That summer was off to a great start. The city was putting in sewer pipes about 12 feet below street level, leaving great mounts of clay at the street corner. All of us neighborhood kids
gathered at the mound to play. We used clods of clay to get our throwing arms back in shape. We enjoyed hitting the clods with baseball bats and seeing how far a sling shot would propel them. We had a great time until we all went home for dinner.
After dinner I returned to the street corner hoping for more active play with my neighborhood friends. At first, I thought no one was there. It was quite peaceful. Then I noticed one figure standing at the corner. It was not a child nor any neighborhood adult. Unexpectedly I was drawn to the figure. I lost
track of time communicating with the figure without words. When the stillness passed, I realized I was alone.
I returned home and told my mom I’d met with Jesus. She checked me for illness and fever. She asked if I had eaten any strange berries. Then she told me everything was fine.
I believe that event changed my life. I still see that same image of the Holy Spirit today when I pray.
Richard McClelland
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