“Yet you brought me safely from my mother’s womb and led me to trust you at my mother’s breast. I was thrust into your arms at my birth. You have been my God from the moment I was born. Do not stay so far from me, for trouble is near, and no one else can help me.” – Psalm 22:9-11 NLT
In March of 1988 a little girl, Nicole, told her parents that Santa was going to bring her a baby brother for Christmas. At the time both parents scoffed, they weren’t pregnant and their previous attempts at having a child had failed. Plus, could they really support another child. The mother worked as a gas station clerk and the dad worked as a tool grinder. The pay wasn’t much to go off of, plus they already had to support their four year old daughter. Could they handle another child?
The baby boy was due mid-January but on Christmas Eve around noon, the Dad and Mom had to rush off to the hospital. The little girl knew Santa would come through as she was dropped off at her great-aunt’s house while Daddy took mommy to see the doctor. The rest of the night it was a race against the clock. Yes they wanted their child to be born, but not on Christmas day, it needed to happen soon. As the time ticked by, the baby just wasn’t ready to come out. Nearing Midnight it was time to push, and then a baby boy, at 12:06 AM MT. He was the first baby born at St. Joseph’s hospital on 12/25/1988, Christmas Day.
They named him Nathan, because as it turns out the Father argued that Nathaniel would be too hard for the boy to learn how to spell. What they didn’t realize is, that with all names the purpose, God’s intent, for this child would change. Simply, Nathaniel means “Gift of God”, Nathan means “Gift”; and how fitting of a name was it for Christmas morning.
That Christmas baby, the big sister’s Christmas present, is me. I will forever blame my sister, Nicole, for the miraculous timing of my birth. A day that was never to be my own, a day that was to be shared, a day my family will never forget.
I was born into a family who, I have now determined wasn’t ready for the trial that God was going to put them through. A family, who at times felt like they were being held together by bungee cords and duct tape; but a family none the less. My birth, my name, my life are all due to God’s purpose. I was a gift that day, Christmas Day, to family who needed someone to keep them together. God had a plan.
My Life, His Story
