The Phone Call

I remember that phone call as if it were yesterday. The woman introduced herself as a neighbor, Diane Baker. She explained that she was the granddaughter of my mother-in-law’s neighbor. She continued to say that she had heard I recently moved in and that she wanted to welcome me to the area.

The year was 1980. I was 30 years old and had just moved, with my family, from the suburbs of Newark, Delaware, to a rural community about 30 minutes south. The purpose of our move was to “save our marriage.” The plan was for me to quit my job selling real estate and together we buy a house closer to Bill’s work in Dover. Then, we would have more time together and surely that would fix our marriage. It sounded like a good plan, but it was seriously flawed. First, our income was cut in half. Second, we had a bigger mortgage! Now, we not only had marital problems, but financial ones as well!

Shortly after moving in, we realized we were in over our heads, financially. I began to think about how I could earn money from home. Only God knows how, but someone from DuPont company (where I had worked as a typist) found out I was looking for work and called me . She wanted to know if I was interested in transcribing a book she was writing. I said, “Sure.”

The book turned out to be an autobiography of a woman who had been in witchcraft and how she got “saved.” Because I dabbled in the occult, I found it interesting; but, I shrugged it off as “nonsense.” It did get me thinking about religion, again, so I decided that day that I ought to take the kids to church so they could “decide for themselves” about religion. Shortly after that decision, I received the phone call.

After our brief introduction, I asked Diane where she went to church. She told me about her Methodist church a mile down the road, and I told her I would meet her there the following Sunday. (She later told me that she was shocked that I asked about church as she had heard I was a pagan!)

That Sunday, I attended church for the second time in my life. The first time was at about eight years old with a friend who attended a Catholic church where the service was in Latin. (I later found out from my mother that I attended church several times as a toddler. However, I don’t remember it.) The Methodist service was dull and uninteresting and the kids began to misbehave; so I ended up leaving church early. But Diane didn’t give up.

She invited me and the kids over to her home which was part of their huge family farm. My kids loved going there to play with her four children and I enjoyed Diane’s friendship. While the kids played, Diane shared her life with me. She listened as I talked about my problems. She gave us a bag of food one time when we were short of money. She accepted me for who I was - a messed up woman who cussed, dabbled in the occult, and had totally messed up her life.

I began going to a Bible Study in her home where she showed me who Jesus really was. She gave me books to read and music to listen to. She prayed for me and counseled me. I slowly came to the knowledge that Jesus was real and that I needed to make Him the Lord of my life. But Satan wouldn’t let me go that easy.

As I considered giving my life to Jesus, a thought came into my mind that if I did, Bill would die. I know now where that thought originated, but at the time, I thought it was ESP. It frightened me. I told Diane and she and the group prayed that God would show me that this was a lie.

In June of that year, I went to visit my parents and decided to “camp” out in the back yard with the kids. While they were asleep, I thought about all that Diane had told me. I cried out to God that I knew He was real but I couldn’t let Bill die. As I prayed that prayer, God sent me a supernatural sign that convinced me Bill would be safe.

I gave my heart to Jesus that night, in a tiny tent in the back yard of my family home while Wil and Shelly were asleep. When I got back to Odessa and told Diane what happened, she was delighted. During the next few months, Diane became my best friend and my spiritual mentor. She modeled what a Christian should be. She loved me when I was at my worst and accepted me just as I was. She was never judgmental and she showed her Christianity through her actions as well as her words. She was one of the best examples I have ever met of someone who was a “doer of the Word and not a hearer only.”

In 1990, Diane was struck by an automobile and killed while walking down the road past her home. Her life was short, but I know that when she arrived in heaven, God presented her with at least one crown - a crown labeled, “For your patience and faithfulness in presenting the Gospel to Cindy Downes.”