A tribute to my late friend Melody, who played a vital role in my life

Disclaimer: This entry has nothing to do with Italy. I posted this message on a memorial website to honor an old friend who recently passed away. Now I want to post it here for posterity, since it describes one of the most important events in my life, a decision I made as a teenager. Skip it if you are reading this blog to learn about our experiences in Tuscany. But read it if you want to know more about what makes me tick.

I still remember sitting in the pews of our local Catholic church with my dad in 1969. Mom rarely went to church, so growing up, it was Dad, me and my brother and sister who sat together pretty much every Sunday. By then, my older brother and sister no longer lived at home, and they no longer attended church. I was 16 years old, and I gave God an ultimatum: “God, I have two more years of high school, and then I’ll be on my own. If this is all there is to you, then I’m quitting church too when I go to college. If there is something that I’m missing, you’ve got two years to show me.”

One year later, God sent a radiant girl named Melody Givens to answer my prayer. In August of 1970, a friend and I took a road trip to the Oregon coast in my 1959 Chevy, blasting 8-track tapes of Steppenwolf, The Doors, Led Zeppelin and Three Dog Night all the way. At age 17, Kelly and I really thought the song “Born to be Wild” was written just for us, though in comparison to other teen guys during those tumultuous years, we were pretty All American.

The trip was mostly uneventful, until one fateful day when my Chevy’s fuel pump gave out in Cannon Beach, shortly after we had parked at a campground. We took a walk through the town and immediately noticed that there seemed to be a lot of other teenagers hanging out. Two girls in particular caught our attention. I was painfully shy around girls then, but fortunately Kelly was much bolder. He struck up a conversation and asked them if they wanted to go for a walk on the beach that evening.

To my surprise, they said yes. However, there was a condition. We’d first have to attend the chapel service with them at the Cannon Beach Conference Center, where they were attending a Christian camp retreat. We accepted and showed up at the agreed upon time. The sermon at chapel struck a chord with me, as the message basically said: You can’t meet God on your own terms. You need to surrender to His. I realized that for most of my life, I’d been making half-hearted promises to God—I’ll try to be kinder, I’ll try not to cheat on my homework, I won’t shoplift, I’ll go to church. Besides the fact that I wasn’t very good about keeping my promises, I didn’t feel that this was bringing me any closer to God.

After the chapel service, Melody and I walked and talked for another couple of hours. She had just committed her life to God a few days before, and she said that decision made all the difference. Now she had a personal relationship with God. Her prayers had purpose and meaning, and she had the definite feeling that God was present with her at all times. As she spoke, her face looked radiant, almost glowing.

Some time during our conversation, the realization hit me like a ton of bricks: This was God’s answer to my prayer. He was explaining what I needed to do for Him to become real in my life, and frankly, this scared me profoundly for three reasons. First, I worried what my friends would think if I became some kind of religious fanatic. It seemed that all Melody wanted to talk about was her new relationship with God, and I’d probably lose all my friends if I became like her. Second, what if I submitted my life to God and he sent me somewhere crazy, like Africa. I had other plans for my life. The third frightening thought is that if I said no to God now, this would be a turning point in my life. I had asked Him to show Himself to me, and now He was answering. Previously, I could claim I was seeking but didn’t have enough information to make up my mind. But if I walked away now, I’d unquestionably be rejecting God, right after He had specifically answered my prayer.

As our conversation came to a close, Melody asked me if I wanted to pray, and I remember feeling such inner turmoil that I was in danger of vomiting. That feeling went away after I said yes. I remember almost nothing about what I said, but I had no doubt that I was giving my life to God, whatever He had in store for me, and suddenly I felt radiant too, as if I was floating a foot above the ground. As I walked back to my car, my mind raced with thoughts about my future. I didn’t fully understand what had happened to me, so I didn’t try to explain it to Kelly at the time, though I did at a later date.

During my senior year of high school, Melody and I exchanged quite a few letters, and I visited her in South Bend, Washington, a few times. I purchased a New Testament and read through it, slowly starting to understand what my commitment meant, with additional help from some Christian books and tracts and Melody’s gentle guidance. On the campus of the University of Washington the next year, I became involved in Bible studies in my dorm and became active in Campus Crusade for Christ, and that’s when I began to fully understand the ramifications of my faith.

Melody in the Canyonville choir

I did drive to Canyonville Bible Academy twice during the spring of 1972 to see Melody, once for a social event and once for her graduation. I remember she received some kind of award at graduation, though I don’t recall what it was specifically. The following year, Melody came to see me at the UW. We were planning to go skiing together, but it was raining in the mountains, so we canceled that idea. Not too long after that, she stopped writing, and I learned that she had married in June of 1973.

We only saw each other maybe two other times after that, but in the early 1990s, she sent me a manuscript and asked me to read it and edit it. It told of health struggles she and her young daughters faced. I think it covered maybe about four or five years of their lives together. I’m ashamed to say I never finished reading and editing it, and she never inquired about it. I’m not sure what she had in mind to do with had I returned it. I did make it about halfway through, and I realized that the only way it could possibly be worth publishing anywhere was if the two of us worked on it together. It had gaps that could only be filled by Melody. There were passages I didn’t fully understand, where I just wrote things like, “elaborate,’ “explain what you mean,” or just put a question mark. It wasn’t poorly written. It was well above average, but it was not professional quality, and I didn’t know what else to do, as both Melody and I were leading busy lives at the time, and we were separated by geographical distance. I believe I still have the manuscript, but I’m not sure where it is. Probably it’s in my storage warehouse with some of my old school files. When I find it, I will let one of her daughters know.

I have written this to let people know what a profound and positive experience Melody had in my life. I became a leader in Campus Crusade during college, and I’ve been an active member of my churches ever since. I’ve taught adult Sunday School and led the junior high school youth group for a couple of years. I’ve spoken in our church and in Young Life groups, and gone on mission trips to Mexico, Bolivia, Liberia and Ethiopia. Lucy and I have four wonderful grown children and nine grandchildren. Our children all have strong families and fulfilling careers, and Lucy and I have supported children around the world with organizations such as Compassion, World Vision and Food for the Hungry.

About 20 years ago, during a church home group meeting, the leader encouraged each of us to write a thank you letter to a person who had strongly influenced us. I wrote to Melody then, but I am writing this now with tears in my eyes to let others who loved Melody know what she meant to me, and how grateful I am that she led me to the Lord. From the depths of my heart, thank you, Melody, and thank you God for sending her to me.