So, I have realized that many of the people who will be reading this blog are people who either don't know me or who are not familiar with my life. I have had many wonderful experiences in my life, all of which have played in to making me who I am. I am the synthesis of my heredity and my experiences. While I cannot do anything about my heredity, my experiences can best be understood as a review of my life. I am interested to hear what you have to think. Again, these experiences are mine, some of which are terribly personal. But I write them in the same way that Jeremiah writes - the word was shut up in his bones like a burning fire, and I cannot refrain.
So, let's begin at the beginning.
I was born on October 29, 1974. That was 45 years from the Black Tuesday that started the Great Depression. Some days are just meant to be dark and auspicious.
While I don't remember the events of that day and subsequent days, my parents have reminded me on several occasions. It was something that they will not likely forget. It is also something that has changed me through the hearing and telling of the events.
My mother was experiencing some pretty severe pre-labor labor. She had already had one baby (my older sister, Amie), so she knew what the real thing was like. She also knew that I wasn't due for another seven weeks. But she was also concerned about the pain. She went to the hospital.
The doctor on duty at the time either didn't understand that I was not supposed to be born for nearly two months or was incompetent. He broke the water and began to take steps to bring me into the world. I was reluctant to leave the safety of my mother's womb: my mother reports that she was in labor for 36 hours with me...
Again, I don't remember any of this. :-)
When I was born, I was very, very sick. I had all kinds of water in my lungs and other complications due to being born so early. The doctor told my mother that if my father (who had gone home to get some rest) wanted to see me alive, that he should come back to the hospital now. He said I would not make it through the night.
My mother, obviously distressed, phoned my father with the news. He, in turn, phoned his home teaching companion and long-time family friend. They came to the hospital and gave me a priesthood blessing. Through the power and authority of God, they blessed my tiny little body to be whole and well.
This was the first of a series of miraculous things that have happened to me in my life, things that are undeniable, as real as I am sitting in this chair. The fact that I AM sitting in this chair, more than 33 years since that blessing, is testimony to me that the priesthood is real. It is the power of God. I am humbled and grateful to be given this chance.
Now I, as a father, have the opportunity, in turn, to bless my own children. It is a great privilege and honor to have this ability. My family is mine.
So, let's begin at the beginning.
I was born on October 29, 1974. That was 45 years from the Black Tuesday that started the Great Depression. Some days are just meant to be dark and auspicious.
While I don't remember the events of that day and subsequent days, my parents have reminded me on several occasions. It was something that they will not likely forget. It is also something that has changed me through the hearing and telling of the events.
My mother was experiencing some pretty severe pre-labor labor. She had already had one baby (my older sister, Amie), so she knew what the real thing was like. She also knew that I wasn't due for another seven weeks. But she was also concerned about the pain. She went to the hospital.
The doctor on duty at the time either didn't understand that I was not supposed to be born for nearly two months or was incompetent. He broke the water and began to take steps to bring me into the world. I was reluctant to leave the safety of my mother's womb: my mother reports that she was in labor for 36 hours with me...
Again, I don't remember any of this. :-)
When I was born, I was very, very sick. I had all kinds of water in my lungs and other complications due to being born so early. The doctor told my mother that if my father (who had gone home to get some rest) wanted to see me alive, that he should come back to the hospital now. He said I would not make it through the night.
My mother, obviously distressed, phoned my father with the news. He, in turn, phoned his home teaching companion and long-time family friend. They came to the hospital and gave me a priesthood blessing. Through the power and authority of God, they blessed my tiny little body to be whole and well.
This was the first of a series of miraculous things that have happened to me in my life, things that are undeniable, as real as I am sitting in this chair. The fact that I AM sitting in this chair, more than 33 years since that blessing, is testimony to me that the priesthood is real. It is the power of God. I am humbled and grateful to be given this chance.
Now I, as a father, have the opportunity, in turn, to bless my own children. It is a great privilege and honor to have this ability. My family is mine.
Comments
I have experienced this whole thing from the mother's point of view. Have whitnessed the healing power of a priesthood blessing and the quiet calm that settles over a room full of people strething their faith and letting it take wing.
I am glad you are still here almost 34 years later to be my friend.