SUBJECT TO EMBELLISHMENTS DUE TO MY LACK of INFORMATION AND MEMORY:
On this day in 1986, a child was born in a hospital at Quezon, Philippines. But this little bub was different from the other three that preceded him, for he was blue. This had caused his mother and father much worry. So it was scheduled that the baby should be named and baptised, as soon as possible. The following day, a priest was called in. And being that a godfather had not yet been decided on yet, he too was elected responsible over that role.
Some time had passed as well as much anxiety. Thus, the mother of the child went to find an open space outside and cried out to God something in the spirit of
“TAKE HIM AS YOU WILL!”
And soon enough, a blood donor was found, the transfusion was made. And on that day, the lifeblood that flowed through the child’s veins would be remembered as a gift from God through that gracious donor. Soon after this, the boy’s father left to emigrate to Australia with the promise that the boy with the mother and his brother and sisters would soon follow. And only until the boy was five did he come to realise that his father was not a voice that came out of the cassette tape stereo but real human flesh and blood that loved him enough to leave him with a promise of a greater life with him in the future.
But little did his mother know that later in life her prayer would be answered to its fullest.
For the other posts and my rationale for this series, see ‘Protestant Pat’.
At some undetermined time on this day I would officially have lived twenty-four years. That means in another year’s time, I will be twenty-five. Twenty-five. Venticinque. 二十五. 25. The age for J.K. Rowling when she road on a train from Manchester to London and ‘Harry’ just “fell into her head”. The age for Mark Driscoll when he had found Mars Hill Church in his apartment with his wife, Grace, and thirty students. And the age, I hope, that I will discover God’s will for my life.