Even Me

By Virgie Marie Wilson

75 *

75 *

This is a book about a simple housewife, mother, and grandmother who suffered through tragedy and unexpected events, but never gave up her faith or the hope of someday having a life without the threat of losing her life at the hands of the person she spent thirty-eight years caring for and loving.

I plan to write another book soon because I have many events with laughter and humor as well as many other chapters I was not able to include in this book. I wanted to get my first book out there as soon as possible so that the readers could get acquainted with me and with the hope that they would request to know more about a person who only thought of herself as a nobody but didn't let her experiences keep her down or destroy her hope.

I am a seventy-five-year-old who loves to write about the things I see in the world around me and share the good, the bad, and the ugly side of the life I knew and still enjoy. I completed my education and work as an accountant/financial advisor, but still have time to continue writing religious manuscripts and other religious articles. My strength comes when I make time to pray and commune with God as I do on a daily basis. When the Spirit speaks to me, I learn something new, or I am reminded of something I need to write about before I forget. If the feeling a writer gets to record what they feel needs to be written down, a true writer never fails to stop whatever they are doing even in the middle of the night. Sometimes the Spirit keeps speaking while I try to keep up and get it all down. Then I read it over and pray God's will over the words His Spirit has given me. I am amazed at what God has shown me.

I have a busy schedule taking care of two teenage girls I have been fostering as their granny nanny since their birth, and their dad, my employer, who calls me mom and treats me like real family is a single business owner. I am a grandmother of nineteen grandchildren plus two deceased, and twenty-one great-grandchildren with two deceased at this time, as my family continues to grow. This book has several chapters about some family events, but many chapters will require another book in the future.

I read a lot and enjoy the testimonies of several popular religious writers. My hope is to write books about the things that will help strengthen and encourage others to find their faith in the living God and listen for His Spirit to speak to them even as He has spoken to me. A conversation is always between a person speaking and a listener. We must learn to listen to God's voice as He answers our questions just as we would in real time with anyone else. He is always there waiting to be asked to come into our lives and be a present active part in all that we do. He is not intrusive and respects our privacy, and we read His Word to learn what He expects of us. The respect I have learned to give the Heavenly Father, God Almighty, Creator of all and His Son Jesus who died on the cross for all believers keeps me grounded and secure until He returns. Until then, I will continue to write hoping to help someone along the way find the faith I have found in the one true living God who loves even me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685709679

Book preview

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Even Me

Virgie Marie Wilson

Copyright © 2022 by Virgie Marie Wilson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

X-Ray Handprint of God

Almost Kidnapped

Holy Spirit Comes In

Medical Miracle

A Fasting Experience

Dad’s Spiritual Visit

O Lord, Direct My Path

God’s Message in the Sky

Death of My Daughter

Death of Our Son

My Near-Death Experience

Preface

How do I start? Typing a book is not my usual style. I usually take out a pen and notebook and start writing. I have attempted many times to write a book only to do several chapters and go on to something else. I stay so busy, but I keep telling myself someday I will actually finish a real book. Not just any book like a novel or anything, but one with real meaning and a purpose. After so many years and missed opportunities, I’ve decided I will give it my best and promised myself this time I must see it through to the finish. I really don’t know where to start, and I may even have to redirect a few chapters until it comes together. Do I start at the end and work my way back in time, or do I start at the beginning? I think it would be best to start at that pivotal moment when I knew that I must write some of the things I’ve experienced down for no other reason than just in case I get sick and can’t remember. That’s how the idea got started. I heard about people losing their memory, and I knew I never wanted to forget the events of my life. Not even the bad things go without merit. Out of those events of hardship and pain come a knowledge of how one becomes who they are and how they will use the information to choose for themselves a path to happiness and better circumstances.

Once I chose an event of most importance in my life, concerning how I became a Christian, I wrote a few chapters. Later, other events played out that caused me to write more chapters, so I never really found the right way to get started. I may have to get the help of a professional to get this all put together. I will start with an event, and hopefully it will be the choice that will not only draw the readers’ attention but keep them wanting to read more. No one wants to lose the reader because the content is so mundane it puts them to sleep or they think it is full of untruths. I, for one, only like nonfiction books and don’t waste my time on fiction unless it is for the sake of the children. I enjoy reading the fairy tales to them, and I especially enjoy the pictures. This has to be all about the truth, or I would be just wasting my time getting this finished. I am not a celebrity. The main point of writing the book is to help someone.

I just made my first deleted sentence. I have to rethink every thought I put into this. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time. I am typing this as fast as I can trying to leave nothing of importance out.

My window of opportunity is closing for the day, so I will try to get the preface done so I can go on to my first chapter or what I think at this moment will be my first chapter. I hope the reader will stay with me, and I truly hope what I have to tell will leave them open to the possibility that they too can have spiritual events in their lives. After all, God loves all of His creation, even me.

There I have it, the name of my book will be Even Me.

Acknowledgment

This is a picture of my pastor and his wife:

Reverend Howard and wife, Wilma Puckett, of Lami Pentecostal Church, corner of Ninth and Lami in St. Louis, Missouri, where my family and I attended from 1967 until 1975. This couple was not only the leaders of our church but mentors for my husband and myself as well as personal friends. I have never found a group of people as close as the fellowship we shared at this church. It was just a storefront building, and I don’t know what it was before it became a place to worship and prayer. I don’t know how long it was there before we started to attend or if it is still there. My memories of the services and the movement of the Holy Spirit are what is important to me.

Some of the experiences I write about in this book took place during my membership at this church. My pastor and his wife helped pray our family through many difficult times and came to our aid in many ways. They will never be forgotten.

In Memory

Howard A. Puckett Jr.

1935–2015

Recently I was reunited with my dear sister and friend, Wilma Puckett, while attending a homecoming at my granddaughter’s in Festus, Missouri, on June of 2017. It was such a surprise to see her. We spent the afternoon catching up on old times and enjoying new information. I will never forget this time we had together.

Introduction

I’ve waited a long time to do this. I handwrote many chapters only to stop and wonder if anyone would really care. Several reasons played a part in my delay. There was no computers when I wrote my first chapter by hand, and I didn’t own a typewriter. Most of my time was spent taking care of my family. When I was left alone and no family to care for, I had to get two jobs to take care of myself. As I got older and I found the years slipping away, I realized many of my experiences could help someone, but I didn’t want attention. I wasn’t interested in using anything God gave me or showed me for any material gain. I was told no one was interested in hearing about the life of a nobody, a housewife, a mother, or then as a waitress. I went about my life still knowing in my heart that some of my experiences could help someone. If I could help even one person with just one of my experiences, it would be worth the effort and the time.

After seeing all the articles in the media these days, which we didn’t have during most of my experiences, about people having out-of-body experiences and other supernatural occurrences in common, ordinary lives, I now feel that it would not be impossible for someone to hear what I have to say. I still stand behind my original thoughts and do not hope for more than at least one person receiving a blessing or help with their decision to believe there is a living God and that he is able to communicate with anyone who will be open-minded and ask his opinion, or even mercy on their life.

What God has given me I must share with others. It is my duty as a Christian and my honor as a child of God to humble myself and my own convictions in order that these events will not be lost or wasted as time runs out.

When I am finished writing this book, I hope I will be able to get the opportunity to be published. I have struggled with a title that is both simple and pointed. Maybe by the time it is finished, the Lord will pick a title and, in his own unique way, show me. But nonetheless, I must get started as time is very scarce, even for a nobody like me.

My Background Part 1 and 2

Part 1

This is hard to write about, and as I try to tell the stories of my background, I have to take breaks to compose myself because the events of my life are relived each time I remember them. It wouldn’t be my background if I tried to write about all the good times but left out the bad to make the reader think I had this wonderful life growing up. I have to tell it like it was in spite of the pain and embarrassment.

I grew up in St. Louis, Missouri, with intermittent months living in Southeast Missouri. My dad wasn’t retired, but due to his lung condition and bouts with alcohol addiction, he was sick a lot and often in the hospital for weeks. We moved from place to place often until I was fourteen. I wasn’t aware of the problem which caused our poverty and constant moving until I was in my teens and could see for myself. Dad was a funny and often a gentle person, but there were times when he would beat my mom and scare us with his violent tantrums. Once while we were eating dinner, Dad started yelling at Mom and threw her plate out on the porch and shoved her out the door telling her she could eat her dinner on the porch in the snow. When Dad left the table, I went out to see if Mom was okay. She was crying, and I helped her clean up the mess. I always tried to comfort Mom as best I could.

Dad got hurt at work from a fall and had to have surgery; he didn’t work for a long time. We lived in a nice little house on the banks of the Mississippi River in St. Louis at that time. It was near Shantytown, but it was one of the nicest houses on the outskirts of that area. There was a railroad right in front that stretched from the south all the way to Illinois and possibly beyond. The trains made a lot of noise and shook the house and woke up the baby. After a while, we sort of got used to it. It reminded me of Osceola, Arkansas, where both my father’s and my mother’s parents had lived. Most likely these same trains went right past my grandparents’ house on their journey north.

We had lots of friends from the neighborhood, and Mom and dad often played cards with the Harrisons next door. It was here that I started kindergarten. It was Monroe Elementary, and my first teacher was Mrs. Kraus. She had a daughter a little older than me, so she gave me a large box of her hand-me-downs. I didn’t have the appropriate warm winter clothing or mittens, so I was very happy she chose me. I’m sure I stood out amongst the other children even though many came from poverty-level families. After the war and on into the early fifties, there was still a lot of poverty. I remember going with my dad and two oldest brothers walking along the bluff overlooking the Mississippi River looking for glass which lay broken all around and putting it in a large metal wash tub. There was a salvage yard across the street from our house called Matt Boe’s Salvage, and Dad would sell the glass there. We had to leave this home when my youngest brother was still a baby and I was six years old. The Texaco Oil Company held some mineral rights to the land, and Dad was served with a notice from their attorney with an offer to buy the house or move it. After talking with an attorney, Dad took the settled amount. He used the money to buy our next home at 2626 Lafayette. It was a huge three-story, six-family, red-brick apartment building, with tenants already there in most of the building leaving a first-floor, three-bedroom apartment for our family. Dad still wasn’t working, so this brought some much-needed income. The tenants liked Dad and Mom, and we all got along like a great big family. Two of my sisters babysat for some of the children, and I remember having good times there. We played in the back alley and chased the ice truck picking up chunks of ice that fell when the iceman delivered ice for everyone’s icebox. That ice was like a popsicle on a hot summer day. We played tag and hide-and-seek, stick ball with a broom handle, and bottle caps collected by the dads in the neighborhood from those who drank beer or could afford pop. The men would come out after work and play stick ball, and it was fun to watch. They would get all excited like it was a real ball game. We would pitch in and help pick up all the bottle caps and put them in box, which was always there in the alley along the fence until anyone who wanted could enjoy using them. The community was very connected and friendly. People watched out for each other’s property and children. There were a few drunks that hung out around the truck docks down the alley way, mostly sleeping under the docks out of the weather and begging for pocket change and leftovers. Mom would let any hobo, we called them, come and sit at our table, and she would give them food. She told us she had read in the Bible somewhere she could be feeding an angel in disguise. Her brother, my sweet uncle Johnny, whom I dearly loved and spent a lot of time with, and my aunt had told my mom it was dangerous to let them in the house, and he told me we had gotten lice once before she would finally heed his warning. Poor Mom had a giving heart but poor judgment. She only had a third-grade education, but she was good at spelling and math.

We joined Lafayette Baptist Church, and when I turned twelve, I officially accepted Jesus and was baptized. No one from my family went with me, and