My eyes opened in more ways than one. As I lay in bed that Sunday morning, I knew I was never again going to rise hurriedly to get myself and the kids dressed and fed for field service. I was actually feeling relieved and wanted to just turn over and go back to sleep, certain and content in my decision.
The day before, I had stood at the end of the block, after working a territory filled with barking dogs and people sleeping in after a hard day’s work week, and thinking, "never again". I had stood there on a cool but sunny morning, and looked down the block I had just worked and knew with an inner certainty that this was going to be my last day in the door-to-door work.
Even though my fade took a while and I probably turned in time for incidental witnessing, I never again went out in service after that cool sunny Saturday when I had an epiphany. I vividly remember my last time right down to the emotion I was feeling. I knew what I was doing to myself, my little children, and these householders week after week, day after day, was not living life meaningfully. It was not what God wanted me to do with the life I had been given. I just knew it as if He was telling me Himself. Period. It was over.
Do you remember your very last day in service?