According to my Mom, when I was born, I was weak to the point that the doctors thought I hadn’t made it. They later found out that I had a congenital heart defect (hole in heart, with an enlarged heart), and announced to my Mom that I wouldn’t make it past two months. That was twenty-nine years and a few months ago. This report came from doctors in the best hospital in the country (KBTH-Ghana), but at a time when not much could be done about it realistically. Long story short, she was devastated, but she brought me home, put my medical files with the diagnosis and prognosis to flames, prayed, and put her faith in God.
Not many people who know me personally know about this, because I don’t like to talk about it, or maybe I just found it quite incredible. I’ve lived a relatively normal life. In almost thirty years, I’ve spent less than a day in total in any hospital; not that I’ve never been sick, I’ve had plenty of that; and I realized quite early on that I wasn’t as strong or as energetic as other boys my age, but hey, I preferred reading to running around anyways. To most people, I looked like a pampered little boy with an overly fussy Mom. And of-course, my siblings weren’t always happy with me being the ‘favoured’ one (they had it wrong though, besides, I couldn’t be faulted, I really tried to be a good little boy).
It has taken me a while to share this because it has never really felt like my testimony. It is, and will always be my Mom’s testimony, her faith, her prayers, her tears, her sacrifices. But ever since I could reason, and understand the peculiar state I was in, I’ve wondered, sometimes more intensively than others, why I survived.
Since she believed, I knew where to take my strolls when I wondered and wandered. I sought God for myself, first by reading the (her) Bible (this was more of an intellectual engagement in the beginning); then by simply believing (something had to give, God either is, or is not…I chose to believe that He is, and that He had a plan and a purpose), then by accepting (this required a personal encounter, and a pointer to a destination).
I’m still seeking though, for more clarity, more answers, a fuller picture of that plan and purpose. It’s a search I can’t seem to separate myself from; it consumes me sometimes, and frustrates me at other times; But I believe that I’ll find much more than I’m searching for…in bits and pieces, in chunks sometimes, and in floods. But it’s undeniable, that it took a mother’s faith to set me on this course of seeking.