me as a baby with my three siblings: my sister around eight years of age

When I was at church on Sunday, I felt like the Holy Spirit whispered something into my heart.  Maybe it came from my own head, but it didn’t feel like it came from me because it was out of nowhere, and it wasn’t something that I would have put together at that time.

When my sister Tiffany was in the hospital battling with her leukemia, near the end of her fight, I remember one of her doctors saying that she had likely had a mutation inside her a long time ago, which is what eventually caused her to get leukemia, that if she had overcome this leukemia, because of this mutation, she would be fighting it again someday.  For whatever reason, the doctor threw out an age that he thought was the likely time when this had happened inside her–eight years old.  This statement of his was brought back to my mind in church on Sunday, and for the first time, I realized that this year, the year that Tiffany was possibly marked to be taken Home early, was the same year that I was born: six years after my nearest brother, a surprise, not planned by my parents.  But make no mistake:  I was planned.

It was as if God said to my parents, “I will be taking this first beloved daughter of yours earlier than you would like, and you will mourn for her.  But I am giving you this second daughter to help you when that time comes.  I will not leave you completely bereft of daughters.  I will even place this second daughter in a place where she can be a comfort to your first daughter during her last days.  She will not be the same as the first, but you will love her, and she will be a blessing to you.”

The thought of this, that even if God didn’t literally mark my sister at the time of my birth, but that part of my purpose on this earth is to be a blessing and comfort to my parents is a great joy to me.  He provided for my parents in this and many other ways during Tiffany’s sickness and death, and once again, He proves Himself to be full of lovingkindness and faithfulness.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.