I have asked myself this question countless times through my life, why I was I born so many years after my brothers and sisters? Mom would call me "her extra special little something later in life", or something close to that anyhow! But I did not feel special.
Recently during a lunch conversation with a new friend, I was talking about mom and my brothers and sisters, and the many years that separated us in age. As I was sharing, the pieces all came together in one powerful revelation moment, that gave meaning to my life up to this point.
Mom was 38 when she had me, which was 9 years after the youngest of the first 4. Such age differences meant I spent most of my younger years alone.
I had worked in nursing homes years before, so I did have some background in caring for the elderly. I was young enough and strong enough to care for mom, plus had the "clinical" skills as well.
Now, the rest of the story is that I was the one to help mom through her last days, and moments. To sit and hold her hand, encourage her on, and watch her take her last breath....as she enters heaven....where she would see daddy after 40 years, on his birthday! More wonderful even then that was that I helped her to finally see the One that we all yearn for, Jesus.
There was no one else in my family that would have or could have done all that needed to be done, through these last years, except me. So, this is why God chose me and why He chose the day for me to be born. He chose me to be that person to help mom go home!Now, for the next part of my journey....