I just felt like writing a little about my history. I was born in the General Hospital in Wichita Falls, TX, at lunch time on a late January day in the mid 1970's. My mom was 45 years old when I was born. Dad was 50. Mom had gone into labor several times during the 3 weeks prior to my big day. I was a C-section baby because my mom’s pelvic bones had calcified. Every time I wanted out, her body wouldn’t let me.
I know my life is a gift that nobody else would have ever given but God. I was the only child of my parents’ second marriage. They had been married to each other, then divorced, then reconciled. They even remarried in the living room of the house I grew up in. My four sisters and 2 brothers were all from their first marriage. They all agree I had it good, too. The son of my father’s old age, I was. I was his pride and joy – the apple of his eye. My mother has called me her “special blessing” my whole life - if she only knew how much of a special blessing she has been to me.
When I was 6 weeks old, I had a problem mostly occurring in first born sons. It was where the valve of my stomach wouldn’t open, so whatever I swallowed wouldn’t go down, and so I had surgery to fix it. I don’t think anybody believes me but I think I remember being in the hospital then, hooked up to a lot of tubes, just looking out into a well lit room. For years I believed I had been shot by an indian. When I asked about my scar, I was told so many times that “that’s where the Indian shot you” and I really thought I had to watch out for the indians – they’re dangerous!
My brothers couldn’t believe how spoiled I was growing up. I remember crawling into my parents’ bed many times as a little kid. I would get scared almost nightly and take refuge there right in between them. But I don’t know what they thought about it. I wouldn’t go to sleep. Instead I would just be afraid wide-eyed and wiggly in their bed. My mom had an old picture of two owls hanging up at the foot of the bed. In the daytime, they didn’t bother me a bit. But at night when a little boy’s imagination goes wild, and when the outline of momma’s owls glowed along with their eyes, there was no containing the mental processes at work! I honestly remember thinking those owls were blinking and staring straight at me! I remember when I was about 5 or 6, they told me to just go back to bed. Even at that age you know when not to ask again because you understand tone of voice. That’s why I would go back to my room and wait. Then after a while I would stealthily sneak down the hall back to their room, like a cat carefully stalking a bird. I would enter their room, being very diligent to make no sound and make my way - under their bed. That’s right! Parents beware of children like me! Before the break of dawn I would awaken and would sneak out and go back to my own bed and go back to sleep. But I felt so much safer near them in the night. This I did many times.
Some people can’t remember their early childhood. I can’t forget mine. It stays with me. I have never lost it. Growing up I fought hard to not lose my memories. I now realize they are a gift to me. They are not gone, but instead they’re just a different reality I’ve experienced, just like this moment right now. I can draw from those experiences, and rest in the fact that God is still God over them just like the now. I thank my God for His wonderful gift of life to me!
--Johnie
I know my life is a gift that nobody else would have ever given but God. I was the only child of my parents’ second marriage. They had been married to each other, then divorced, then reconciled. They even remarried in the living room of the house I grew up in. My four sisters and 2 brothers were all from their first marriage. They all agree I had it good, too. The son of my father’s old age, I was. I was his pride and joy – the apple of his eye. My mother has called me her “special blessing” my whole life - if she only knew how much of a special blessing she has been to me.
When I was 6 weeks old, I had a problem mostly occurring in first born sons. It was where the valve of my stomach wouldn’t open, so whatever I swallowed wouldn’t go down, and so I had surgery to fix it. I don’t think anybody believes me but I think I remember being in the hospital then, hooked up to a lot of tubes, just looking out into a well lit room. For years I believed I had been shot by an indian. When I asked about my scar, I was told so many times that “that’s where the Indian shot you” and I really thought I had to watch out for the indians – they’re dangerous!
My brothers couldn’t believe how spoiled I was growing up. I remember crawling into my parents’ bed many times as a little kid. I would get scared almost nightly and take refuge there right in between them. But I don’t know what they thought about it. I wouldn’t go to sleep. Instead I would just be afraid wide-eyed and wiggly in their bed. My mom had an old picture of two owls hanging up at the foot of the bed. In the daytime, they didn’t bother me a bit. But at night when a little boy’s imagination goes wild, and when the outline of momma’s owls glowed along with their eyes, there was no containing the mental processes at work! I honestly remember thinking those owls were blinking and staring straight at me! I remember when I was about 5 or 6, they told me to just go back to bed. Even at that age you know when not to ask again because you understand tone of voice. That’s why I would go back to my room and wait. Then after a while I would stealthily sneak down the hall back to their room, like a cat carefully stalking a bird. I would enter their room, being very diligent to make no sound and make my way - under their bed. That’s right! Parents beware of children like me! Before the break of dawn I would awaken and would sneak out and go back to my own bed and go back to sleep. But I felt so much safer near them in the night. This I did many times.
Some people can’t remember their early childhood. I can’t forget mine. It stays with me. I have never lost it. Growing up I fought hard to not lose my memories. I now realize they are a gift to me. They are not gone, but instead they’re just a different reality I’ve experienced, just like this moment right now. I can draw from those experiences, and rest in the fact that God is still God over them just like the now. I thank my God for His wonderful gift of life to me!
--Johnie
You are truly blessed to have those wonderful memories! Thanks for sharing them!
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