My mother tried to abort me twice and failed. The day she went into labor, she was found digging a grave for me in the hog shed. My grandfather dragged her to the hospital where I was born. She refused to feed me, and my grandmother made formula for me with maple syrup, coffee and canned evaporated milk.
We lived in a tar-paper shack that had been a chicken coop. It didn't have electricity or water. We lived with a mattress on a dirt floor and had bed bugs. Our only light was a kerosene lamp.
When I was four years old, my mother married a man who was not my father, and we moved into a house that still did not have plumbing. The "house" was a cinder block garage.
When I was fifteen years old I weighed 80 pounds and looked like a skeleton. I left home, got a job and for the first time, lived in an apartment that had a bathroom and electricity, and I had enough food. I began going to church and heard about all the wonderful things God did for his people.
I heard about Jesus creating miracles . . . but not for me. Jesus did wonderful things for "other" people, his chosen people . . . but not for me.
One of my favorite verses in the Bible, was Psalm 113:7, "He raiseth up the poor out of the dust and lifteth the needy out of the dunghill that he may set him with princes even the princes of his people."
As beautiful as that sounded, I knew it wasn't meant for me.
I was a janitor in a large building. I spent my days mopping floors, cleaning restrooms and keeping 25 rooms clean. In return I had a tiny apartment and small salary.
One day, a limo with flags on the fenders stopped at the building and military officers got out and handed me a large envelope with ribbons and gold seals on it. I hurried inside to deliver it to the owner of the building, who was rarely in his office. He opened the envelope and said the president of the United States and the emperor of Japan were meeting, and he was invited to the reception but he couldn't go because he was flying to California on business. He tossed the invitation into the trash.
When I took out the trash I looked at the beautiful invitation with gold seals and ribbons. It didn't have a name on it. It just said, "You are invited . . . ". The invitation wasn't for me, but the man it was for, had thrown it into the trash.
My heart leaped in my chest. I was Cinderella, and I was going to the ball! I went to a bridal shop and rented a yellow lace formal for five dollars. I showed up at the building where the reception was to be held, and the door was guarded by two Marines in dress uniform. I showed them my invitation and they let me walk in.
I was a janitor in a rented formal, but suddenly I was with the president of the United States and His Imperial Majesty, Hiro Hito, the Emperor of Japan. There was the governor, the mayor, a senator and very, very important, powerful, rich people . . . and one janitor. My heart was pounding. It was as if God himself had reached down and plucked me up and sat me down among princes.
Years later, I married a wonderful man, and I prayed for God to bless us with a baby. I didn't see how I could be so lucky to have a baby. In the next five years, God blessed us with four healthy, beautiful, perfect children. "He maketh the barren woman to keep house and to be a joyful mother of children" (Psalm 113:9).
God hears our prayers, he knows the desires of our hearts, and he blesses us above and beyond anything we could have imagined.
I didn't deserve the blessings God poured down on me. I didn't earn them; He heard my prayers and lovingly, generously blessed me. He picked me up out of the dunghill and set me among princes.
Sometimes we feel that God blesses other people, but not us . . . and He loves us just the way we are. God wants to bless you, and bless you abundantly.
Just the way you are.
Crying Wind is the author
of Crying Wind, My
Searching Heart, When the
Stars Danced, Thunder in
Our Hearts, Lightning In
Our Veins and Stars in the
Desert. You can order at https://intertriballife.org/store/, or contact us at Intertribal Life Ministries (IntertribalLife.org).
