My Friend Betty

By Terri Pease

hand in hand

Jesus is my friend. For as long as I can remember, He has always been my friend. My earliest memories are of Him and I having conversations and playing together. My family thought I had an imaginary friend named “Betty”. No one seemed to believe me when I said I was talking to Jesus so I started calling Him Betty.

Betty and I had the best conversations. I could tell Him anything and everything. He played house with me and helped me raise my doll babies. I would pretend the tank on the back of the toilet was a piano and I would sing, “When the Roll is Called up Yonder, I’ll Be There”. I would shout, “Hallelujah”, when Betty preached. When I hurt, it was Betty I first turned to. Betty comforted me.

I broke my leg when I was about 8 years old. My parents had a beautiful, three-tiered, birdbath in the center of a concrete based goldfish pond. It was so big it took six adults to lift the birdbath in place. In the center of the birdbath was a huge angel with praying hands. I got the bright idea one day that I could skate around that birdbath by putting my foot in the back of a Tonka™ dump truck. While holding onto the rim of the birdbath I could pull myself around and have a good time. It worked just fine until I pulled the whole thing down on top of me. I remember screaming and struggling to keep my nose out of the water. I remember my two brothers, who were 10 and 12 at the time, lifting that huge birdbath (that took six adults to assemble) off of me. I also remember Betty. He was with me.

The angel’s praying hands had karate chopped my head and I was bleeding profusely. I could hear my mother calling out to Jesus and I can remember thinking, “He’s right here, what are you yelling for?”
I awoke in the hospital with stitches in my head and a severely broken leg. I literally knocked my knee cap off the bone.  The doctor’s decided to put my leg in a cast placed at a ninety-degree angle. For six weeks I scooted everywhere I went.

Finally the time came to remove the cast. After they took the cast off, however, I couldn’t straighten out my leg. The muscles had atrophied and wouldn’t stretch back out. After a couple of weeks of non-success stretching the doctors started saying they would have to re-break my leg and re-set it. This absolutely terrified me!

While lying in bed one night I heard my Da telling my mother he would just break my leg and save the money. (He really wouldn’t have, he was just disgusted with the doctors seemingly inability to “fix” me, they just wanted more money, yada, yada.) I laid in my bed crying and talking to Betty. I didn’t beg, I don’t even really remember “praying”. I just remember telling Betty I didn’t want them to re-break my leg. Suddenly I felt someone gently put their hands around my ankle and move my leg straight out. There was no pain, no struggle. My leg just straightened out. I yelled for mama and Da. I told them Jesus healed me! Da said, “I knew you could do it if you set your mind to.” (He wasn’t a Believer at the time.) I knew what had happened. I knew afresh the next morning, when I got out of bed and ran down the hallway, what happened. Yes, I knew what happened. Betty was with me. Ask Him!

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