One afternoon, when I was two and a half years old, a number of we children
were invited to a neighbor's for lunch and play. As we passed the pantry
window on our way in, we saw a number of dishes filled with nice red
berries. One youngster suggested that we help ourselves to the berries, and
this we did. After a few mouthfuls I began to scream and ran home. Mother,
hearing my screams, rushed out to meet me and, picking me up in her arms,
asked me where I was hurt. I couldn't tell her but kept screaming. Finally
mother began to chide and shaking me, said, "Tell me where you are hurt."
Still I could not speak, then mother fell upon her knees and cried, "Lord,
my child is dying in my arms and I cannot find what is the matter with
him." I was then able to speak and tell her the cause of my trouble.
Putting my hand over my heart I said that I was having pain there and not
in my stomach. Mother questioned me as to whether the lady had given us the
berries, and I told her, "No," that we had helped ourselves to them. She
said, "I will tell you how to get rid of your pain: Go and tell the lady
what you have done and giving her your hand ask her to forgive you, and I
am sure the pain will leave you." Mother went with me and when I confessed
to the lady she took me up in her arms and wept with me. After confessing
the pain all disappeared.
* * * * *
When I was about eleven years of age it seemed that a voice was continually
speaking to me and saying, "You ought to be a better boy; I want you for a
preacher." I did not understand at the time that it was the Holy Ghost
speaking to me. Mother often wept over me and said, "Child, O child, what
shall I do with you! You make me more trouble than all the other eight
children put together."
At the age of fifteen I was confirmed and at the following preaching
service I was supposed to participate in taking the Lord's supper (as was
the custom of the church). Before that service I went out into the woods to
pray. I asked the Lord to forgive me for partaking of the Lord's supper,
for to refrain from taking it would bring disgrace upon my family.
From that time on, the Lord continued to talk to me, saying, "You ought to
be a better young man." It seemed as though I could not be better at home
in Norway so I determined to sail for America.
I had been in America about a year and a half when I met a distant relative
who was thought to be lost in this country, because his family had not
heard from him for two or three years. He invited me to go into a saloon
with him and have a glass of beer. We went in, and also played several
games of pool.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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