About four years ago, my sister gave me a copy of The Hiding Place with the assertion, “you HAVE to read this book.”A typical younger sister, I accepted the book but refused to read it. I don’t like being told what to do.

Concentration camps? World War II? I try very hard not to think of those things for very long. Too scary.

My sister didn’t give up. “Did you read it yet?” she would ask at our monthly visits. I decided I would read the book, but only up to the point where they get sent to the camp. Only the happy, hopeful parts. Little did I realize that Corrie liked to quote a minister who turns to the end of a book when it starts to get scary and reads the end before continuing on—a metaphor for a Christian’s faith that Jesus will be victor.

I liked the happy parts. I read on. And on. The book filled my heart with hope and inspiration. To my theatrical brain, this was a one-woman-show just waiting to happen.

When would I ever get the chance to write it? I’m a wife and a mom and a teacher. It would take more time than I have. So I kept the story on my heart, played it in my imagination, and let it speak to me when it wanted to. I read everything I could get my hands on about Corrie ten Boom. I talked about her to everyone I met. I asked God to show me when, where, and how this would happen. I tried to be patient.

After three years, I got the clear message that it was time to end one chapter of my life (“young motherhood”) and begin the next (I haven’t named it yet). I began writing one of the stories on New Year’s day of 2008. Three days later I got a call from Sharon at The Poughkeepsie United Methodist Church. She had heard of me through Susan Kobza, from my church, New Hurley, and wondered if I’d do some drama for their women’s tea. I told her my stories. Corrie ten Boom appealed to her most. I didn’t say yes immediately. I had to pray. “Is this it, Lord? Is this really what you want me to do?” Immediately, my vision included Susan singing and my actor friend Sean portraying all of the male characters. It had to be a one woman show. With a guy. And a singer.

Four months, five miracles and one very supportive husband later, I performed for the Poughkeepsie United Methodist Church. Writing the show was like putting together the pieces to a puzzle. Most of the words are Corrie’s own, from messages she delivered in the 1970s that were converted from cassettes to sound files on semonindex.net. These, I listened to, mimicked and memorized until her voice—it’s timbre, its temperament—lived inside me. Again, I have my sister Melinda to thank for pointing me in that direction of the audio files.

This summer, I read the book, The Five Silent Years of Corrie ten Boom. It is about the years before she died when she was silenced by a stroke. The author, Pamela Rosewell Moore, tells how she and others would speak for Corrie when visitors came. That God has allowed me to speak Corrie’s words and bring this message to a new generation is an honor and a privilege.

“I watch over my word to perform it.” Jeremiah 1:12.