This will be my first entry, obviously. I’ve tried blogging before, but I suppose I’ve never had enough interesting things to talk about, and I suppose I didn’t have enough confidence in the importance of what I have to say. I’ve been like that for a while now, but I’m slowly growing out of it. Perhaps this will be a good way to get past it. Hopefully someone actually reads this one, too. If someone leaves a comment asking me to write another entry after this I’ll be more motivated to write more.
Of course, I’ll have to write something more first, won’t I?
Well, let me begin by telling you the reason for my blog name. This blog is going to be about me and my life thus far, and how things will turn out in the future as I continue writing. Let’s focus on the past though, because the past is where it all began. Obviously.
When I was born I had a birth complication called Gastroschisis, and for those who have queasy stomachs, you might want to skip over the next couple sentences. Basically what happened was that my abdomen did not form properly in the womb, and there was a big hole in my stomach, about the size of a grape fruit according to my mother. My intestines were outside of my stomach and wrapped around my Umbilical cord. My father, who was in the room and had already witnessed the births of my two older brothers before me, fainted.
Needless to say I don’t remember any of the events from my infancy, but I am told that I was in the NICU for almost two months. While I was in the NICU I was fed less than a table spoon of formula food every four hours, and that was all I could handle. (I have vague memories from when I was a toddler of panicking when I was hungry.)
My parents couldn’t stay with me the entire time I was there, though I’m sure my mother would have wanted nothing else than to sing to me through every moment. So my parents recorded their voices on cassettes (remember those?) and ask the nurses to play them for me when they couldn’t be there. They even got my brothers to talk on it, though apparently my oldest brother mostly talked about dinosaurs or race cars or something. Boys will be boys.
Eventually my parents received a call back to the hospital, because the doctors didn’t think I would make it through the night. So they came to say good-bye to me. Little did the doctor know that shortly after I was born my mother called up nearly every friend and family member she knew and trusted and told them to pray for me. (Or the doctor did know but wasn’t sure that it would do anything.) Lo and behold, I was still alive the next day. After that my parents received a few more call backs, but every time I pulled through. Then one day after weeks and weeks of suffering for everyone, not just me, I made a full recovery, and was permitted to leave the hospital.
My mother tells me that when she brought me home the first thing my oldest brother wanted to do was hold me.
I bet your wondering when the flowery dress comes in. Well, a few years later my family and I were at my great aunt and uncle’s house for a big get together. Everyone was chatting and having a good time, when suddenly my Great Grandmother gasped and dropped whatever she was holding. (I might be exaggerating about her dropping something, but that’s what I remember my mother telling me.) My mother approached her and asked her what was wrong. My Great Grandmother pointed towards the backyard and said, “That’s what I saw!” My mother looked and saw me running and playing on the hillside in a flowery dress. “That’s what I saw before Anaisa was born!” Or she saw it when I was born, but I’m pretty sure my mom said that she saw it before I was born.
There are two reasons why this is so near and dear to my heart. The first one is probably pretty obvious. My Great Grandmother got a vision of me playing in a flowery dress during a time when my survival would be uncertain. God gave her that comfort, or perhaps more that confirmation, that He was with me. He was with me the entire time, and planned for me to keep on living even when all the odds were against me. He got me through that. I know He did. I’ve been asking Him to give me my memories back about that, or rather to dig them up from my memory banks and make them more clear. Sure, there was lots of pain in those memories, so maybe it’s a blessing that I was too young to recall them. But still… God is in those memories. I am so certain that a crucial event in my relationship with God happened in those first two months. A moment that helped define my relationship with Him in a big way. My mom says that even then, in that hospital, the Holy Spirit’s presence was very strong with me. I hope that’s true. I want to find out for myself if it is.
Anyways, I digress. The second reason that I hold it so near and dear to my heart is because of something that happened about half a year ago. I was at young adults group with my fiancé, and my Uncle C was hosting/speaking that night. He talked about prayer and prophecy, but mostly he talked about our identity in Christ, and even more specifically, our spiritual personality. I could elaborate on that, but I’m too tired to, it’s getting late, and I need to get the flower part.
My Uncle C was praying over each person and asking the Holy Spirit to reveal to him a piece of their spiritual identity. When he came to me he said three things. Mountain Sheep, Springbok, and beautiful child of God. He said that he saw an image of me as a child running on a hill of flowers, and I immediately thought of my Great Grandmother’s vision. I love it. I love that God is so in love with us. I love that he reaches out to us through any way he can, without dishonouring Himself or us. He is amazing that way. He is amazing in all His ways. I love Him.
Thank you for reading my blog. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope I’ll have more to come. XD Hopefully I don’t lose my inspiration or commitment to writing a blog again. I’ll try to keep to it this time if people actually want to read it. 🙂
Again, thank you.
~I do not need to be celebrated by man, because I am already celebrated by God.~