Exactly twenty-one years ago, at five o’clock in the morning, a very little girl made her debut on the world stage in a hurry. The scene was set in the maternity ward of the Hutchinson, Kansas hospital. Nurses bustled around the young woman, laboring as she gripped her husband’s hand. “Just wait,” they pleaded. “Don’t push yet!” The regular Doctor was on vacation enjoying Southern hospitality, because no one expects a baby on her due date. His substitute barely made it to the delivery room, whistling a hymn, in time to put his stamp of approval upon the little waif’s arrival. And then, that was that. She’d accomplished her first great task in life—in a rush.
Just a common occurrence in the little hospital. Not even the couple’s first baby. But this birth had a profound influence on my life. I was there. Announcing my entrance into God’s beautiful world with a piercing wail.
It’s not like I’d accomplished anything extraordinary. But I still get ice-cream, presents, balloons and flowers every year—just for that.
Imagine what would happen if I ever did something really outstanding.