Okay, I want to share something very, very intense, and personal with you. I was unwanted… at first. Did you know that unborn babies experience their mother’s feelings while they are in their womb? And those feelings can stay with them through their lifetimes? I never knew the full story until I was an adult. My parents married young, probably right after graduation. Dad went into the military and Mom was the “stay at home wifey.” I don’t know when the drama started or who started cheating first but by the time, I was three, Mom was “fleeing for her life,” my sisters were living with my Aunt and the ink was drying on the divorce papers.
The short version is: Cross daughter #3, Wanda, was a sick baby. Despite the wheezing, coughing, and etc., my Mom neglected to get her to the doctor, I don’t know why she waited so long. But on the way up the elevator to the doctor’s office Wanda stopped breathing. When the doors finally opened the nurses snatched Baby from Lenora’s arms to revive her, but to no avail. And where was Dad? IDK. Thank God his brother Ken, who I call “Uncle Daddy” was there for moral support. That must’ve been the last straw. This was the day she must’ve decided to never have any other kids with “that man.” But little did she know that there was already a bun in the oven… me.
I wouldn’t say that I am afraid of heights, but whenever I stood at the top of the stairs, I would always see myself tumbling down them. That was so weird and it bothered me to the point that I did what I do when I am between a rock and a hard place with no where to to… and that is (you guessed it) pray. But really it’s deeper that that. I rondevous with my Divine Father, the source of like EVERYTHING, especially wisdom. Not that I have to qualify that, but I’ve lived without my earthly father all my life and someone led me to a passage in The Book that says, “… God will be a father to the fatherless.” And I gave it a try, and let me tell you, He is literally the BESTEST FATHER ever. So I go to Daddy (God), I talk, I cry, ccomplain and even sometimes cuss… but then a sense of warmth and comfort blankets me like a warm shower and then … I listen. Once I learned what His voice sounded like there has never been a void of meaningful conversation between, He and I.
And He said to me: “When your mother threw herself down the stairs to abort you, I held you together.” HIS HANDS HELD ME TOGETHER. Wow, even now it takes my breath away. Imma let that set right there for a second…. It’s kinda interesting that He’s also given me the gift of healing. Now don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t work without Him. Its His healing virtue that flows through my hands when He ordains it. Understand this, EVERYONE HAS GIFTS, so I am not saying in any way that I am more special than anyone else. But I am saying, He held me and I have the awesome privilege (for which I am very grateful) to hold others. Hugging my children and grands (and adopted kids) give me life. When people are “going through” stuff they sometimes don’t need words - and divine wisdom helps you decern whether a person needs a hug or just to be emotionally held. When people are uncomfortable with physical contact, I just give them my undivided attention. Listening with care can do wonders.
Hugs can heal. Hands can help do work. Holding someone’s hand can strengthen them, Holding attention fosters respect and also affirms. And because hands can harm, one must be especially responsible when they offer “a hand” or experience consequences (and reprocussions) for not. So, I “High-five” (or fist bump) you for trackin’ wit me. I appreciate you; I hold you up spiritually and if you need an emotional hand… I got your back! Need help, CLICK HERE.
Oh, I forgot, to end the story. Near the end of her life my mother told me that she used to purposely fall down the basement stairs while pregnant with me. (I already knew.) The strong hands of God held me together in my Mom’s womb (Thank you Father) … and when I was born on Thanksgiving Day, she looked me in the face and called me Angel.