Even at a young age . . .

When I was very small, I remember hearing my mother tell the story of her birth.  You see, she was born at home to a woman who was old enough to fear that she had cancer more than she thought that she might be pregnant.  My mother was born "blue".  She wasn't breathing at all.  But, my grandmother was in her 40s and not doing well.  The doctor set to work on my grandmother and set my mother to the side, giving her up.

Someone in the family was a nurse and happened to see a commotion and stopped by the house.  I believe her name was Mary.  She picked Mom up, took her outside on the porch and started to work with her.  Obviously, my mother started breathing.

Now, I took one thing from this story - God must have had some plan for my mother.

I took all of that in and pondered it around the same time that I would have my own peril to face.  At the age of 4 and a half, I would be having heart surgery.  I knew that it was a big deal and I wanted to be sure I knew who this God was and He knew who I was.  I was sure he would need to know me to help me be alright in surgery.  I understood that I had done wrong things in my life.  I understood that God demanded perfection and I was not perfect.  I understood that Jesus was the only way I could be assured that if I didn't make it through surgery, I would at least be in heaven.  I wasn't scared, I just knew.

So, at the ripe old age of 4 and a half, I gave my heart to Jesus.  I was baptized, I was ready for whatever came my way.

So, I went into surgery knowing Jesus and knowing that I was not alone.  I truly knew that.  Didn't keep me from crying my head off when they turned the corner away from my mother. 

Just for the record Pittsburgh Children's Hospital was a great place to be if one had to be somewhere.  Mr. Rogers was on the board of directors, people were friendly, and I only remember being in pain twice.  Once for the IV, which wasn't too bad and once when I had to move my arms to be able to get out of ICU.  Not bad for major surgery!  One surgery, a few scars, a few years of follow-up visits, and then clean bill of health.  God truly did watch over me!