The First Miracle

I guess if we’re going to talk about miracles, we should start with the first one – my birth. Yes, it was that long ago!

My parents, Alfred & Peggy Smith, had been married for about five years, and they had a cute little red-headed girl named Judy. Mama suffered a miscarriage sometime after Judy was born, and they discovered that there was an issue. Mama and Daddy had an Rh factor problem, which had something to do with the blood type of the mother and baby not being the same, and it caused the mother to develop antibodies that recognize the baby as a foreign substance to be fought against. Though it’s not as much of a problem today, it was in the 50s. Mama suffered four miscarriages between my and my sister’s births, and she almost bled to death twice. It was a very traumatic time for her. She really wanted another child, but she told me she had prayed that if God didn’t mean for her to have another child, she would accept it as such. She miscarried the fourth time the next day after her prayer. So she decided it was not meant to be and left it in God’s hands.

Several months later, Mama noticed her belly button had begun to protrude. Mama, ever the positive soul, became convinced she must have a tumor. She went to the doctor to get it checked out, and he gave her astonishing news – she was about three months pregnant – with me! Things went well at first, as with the others, but before long, the symptoms of a miscarriage began with more bleeding. The doctor put her on immediate bed rest.

So tell me, how do you stay on bed rest when you have a four year old? I guess you do what Mama & Daddy did. Mama stayed in bed during the day with Judy in the bed with her or close-by, and after Daddy was finished work, he came home & donned an apron and cooked supper and did whatever else needed doing around the house: cleaning up, washing dishes, washing clothes, doing whatever his little family needed. Mama was on bed rest for the entire rest of the six months of her pregnancy with me. Daddy came through like a champ, like he always did. I’m sure he was exhausted, but he did what he needed to do for his family and held things together as best he could, and it paid off in the end.

About six months later I was born without further complications. Mama said my hair was so long when I was born that she could pin curl it (which apparently was a thing then.) I weighed over 8 pounds, and as far as I know, I was healthy and no worse the wear for the traumatic journey Mama had during her pregnancy.

So Mama always told me I was her miracle baby. I’m sure after all she had been through, it was a great relief that I made it. It could have ended in sorrow again, but God heard the prayers of a young mother crying out for her child. It would not be the last time He answered her prayers for her children.

Many years later, I was in a church service one evening, when the minister preaching began to speak prophetic words over some of the people there. I had not experienced this in my church, though I was raised in a Pentecostal church and believed in the move of the Spirit. I had never seen this man before, and he didn’t know anything about me. I was astounded to hear him say, “You were anointed from your mother’s womb.” Wait a minute…he didn’t know my story! How could he know that? He didn’t, but the Holy Spirit who dwelt in him did. God revealed it to him. This experience touched my heart in a special way, and it really got my attention. When God does something like that, it’s very personal, and makes you feel as though He knows who you are and the street where you live.

But that God is that kind of God I serve, a personal God who knows you in an intimate way, and sometimes when you need to be reminded of that, He makes sure that you are.

Call to Me and I will answer you, and show you

great and mighty things that you do not know.”

Jeremiah 33:3 NKJV

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