Day 2 of reading The Purpose-Driven Life by Rick Warren.
How many times in life do we rail at the circumstances of our birth? Resent our parents–the body parts that don’t quite work or fit? Or maybe it’s the color of our skin or we take issue with the part of the world in which we live.
As the last of eight children, with a six year difference between the closest sibling and myself, it really wasn’t too hard to figure out that I was an unplanned addition to the family tree. Well, there was that and the fact that I’d heard it mentioned on numerous occasions. Add to that the fact that I was born in the West Indies, and while my family wasn’t poor, we were certainly not living large. I recall the restrictive atmosphere and the feeling of not fitting in because we were “Spiritual Baptists” (whatever that meant).
My elder siblings and I weren’t allowed to socialize outside the family circle. Although they tried to be a buffer for me, it was clear that our family was not like everyone else’s. But how could they explain, to a seven-year old, the cycle of extended mania or depression that can result when bipolar disorder is left untreated, especially when they didn’t even know that it existed themselves? All we knew was that Dad was either Jekyll or Hyde.
In my later research about bipolar disorder I realized that I wasn’t alone. Many famous people and even a former president have suffered from this mental illness. Somehow that information comforted me, validated the fact that I was going to be okay, that the stigma surrounding mental illness would no longer control how I interacted with the people around me.
Isn’t it funny how quickly we accept and even desire validation and acceptance from the people around us, when the One whose opinion counts the most put His seal of approval on us before we were even born? Yet, we discount His opinion left, right and center.
Although it’s hard to break the habits of a lifetime, I have learned to see each day as the gift it is, reveling in the knowledge that my parents were supposed to be my parents. My place of birth was the necessary soil in which my roots grew and flourished. The color of my skin and the body parts with which I’ve had issues over the years all serve to add up to the unique package that is Dee.
I’m here to tell you today, that I am no accident…and neither are you!
Be blessed,
Dee
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