I’ve never been good at fake – I’d rather know facts and then decide for myself. That’s just how I am. Show me your ugly and I’ll tell you if I can deal with it. You’d be surprised what I can deal with. Friendships are very precious to me. I don’t have many really deep ones but the ones I do have I’m thankful for. I’d like to share a story with you today, if you’re open to it, dear blog reader.
I shouldn’t be here. Yep. I was born dead. Beyond dead, actually. “White asphyxiated”, according to my mum, and she should know – as a midwife in the east end of London during her early years, she had adventures that would make your hair stand on end. Brave woman. Strong. Persistent. But she didn’t get around to telling me I was born dead for many years.
The humbling thing is that my good friend M happened to share one day in a moment of weakness that she was born dead. Being a very immature Christian at the time I found this fact intriguing, and would introduce her to friends with, “This is my friend M, and she was born dead…” Callous, I know. But as the old folks say, if I knew better I’d do better. Or, to quote Forrest Gump, stupid is as stupid does. And boy, that was me. Then, out of the blue, at the tender age of 40 something, my mother announced that I was too! I was flabbergasted. How could this be? Nothing that exciting had ever happened in my mundane life as far back as I could remember. Talk about eating crow. I now had to say, “This is my friend M, and she was born dead – but then again, so was I…” Some people will tell you that explains a few things… not about her, but about me…
Being a child of a single mother is never easy. On the finances, but also on the emotions. Mother Teresa said you cannot give to the outside what you do not have on the inside. When you’re hurting you can’t help but hurt those around you, despite your best intentions. So for all those friends out there that I’ve never met yet, I want to encourage you. Pain is a universal emotion. It’s OK to feel that pain. It means you’ve not shut yourself off from the world and can still relate to those around you. Use it to your advantage. Reach out and touch someone. Take that pain, and turn it into gain.
One more thing. As anyone who goes to CLuv will know by now there’s the most incredible song the choir is singing right now called, rather innocently, Great Are You Lord. We were singing it for two full weeks before it hit me. What hit you? I’m glad you asked, dear blog reader. The first line of the verse: It’s Your breath… in my lungs…
“You give hope, You restore… every heart that is broken…” would have made me go ballistic. Three years ago. It still does, to some extent. But now, I’m in a different place. Knowing you were born dead will change your perception of life in a very deep way if you let it. As we were singing this song the third week I had a literal vision of God breathing life into Adam, and it wasn’t a huge step to see a tiny baby, dead as a doornail, lying on a hospital table some place in England with that same God breathing that same life. Into me. Life has become so precious to me. Even on my worst days, and yes, I do have them, tho I don’t let it show as much as I used to, I know every day of life I’ve been given is a slap in the face to my enemy, the one Papa calls “the accuser of the bretheren”. Or sisteren, as the case may be. How cool is that? So if you see me lose it in Praise and Worship from time to time, humour me will ya? I’m a walking miracle.
Kari, the lively and lovin’ it!
original content, copyright © 2000, karigraceplace.com, all rights reserved