When I was nineteen years old and my mother, Tahleatha, was thirty-nine years old, she was diagnosed with stomach cancer. She was the most godly and compassionate person I knew. She was in the hospital when I took her my first saddle bronc riding check I won in my first PRCA rodeo. I thought it would make her happy because she was at the high school rodeo when I covered my first bull, and I could hear her over the entire crowd cheering me on. I thought it would bring her joy that her son finally became a man, but I could read disappointment on her face.
The rodeo check didn't even put a smile on her face, so I asked her, "Mom, what would make you happy?"
She knew I gave my heart to Jesus at a young age. So she said, "I wish you'd give your life to Jesus."
So I told her on her deathbed that I would, and I signed up for a one-year Bible institute in the Adirondack Mountains. I asked God, "Please get a hold of my life, or when I get out, I'll probably go back to rodeo and hunting and manly stuff."
I learned God wasn't about taking and stripping everything from us but using the talents and interests he gave us in the first place as a platform for God to display his glory.