This story is not about me. Rather, it begins nearly twenty-two years ago in a small Texas town called Hull. There is no one moment that claims monumental significance , but instead revolves around a series of actions set into motion in the life of a 17-year-old girl named Misty. This story is about a choice.
During her first semester at a community college in Houston, Misty found herself swept away in the chaos that was, at the time, young love. Six weeks and a few thousand tears later, she discovered that she had become pregnant. For Misty, there were two choices. One was to take care of the problem before it grew any larger–maintain the path to state beauty pageant potential. The other involved social isolation, disappointment from her family, and a great deal of courage. Because of her strong will, she chose to follow through with her pregnancy. For months, she avoided phone calls from friends, remained locked inside her room with only the company of a kitten, and managed to slip away from her mother’s silent but pitied looks. After what felt like ages, a new little girl was born on September 21st, 1989.
Across the East coast, in the midst of Hurricane Hugo, a man and woman caught the last flight out to Houston from their home in Charlotte, North Carolina. Shaken from the storm, they arrived at the hospital to meet what would become their future child. The woman was extremely anxious–they had already been matched to two families before, both of which decided to keep their children. With a guarded heart but a growing hope, the woman held her little girl for the first time.
No doubt you’ve realized by now that the little girl was me. Two decades ago, my future was decided for me. Although it is easy to believe that I have little importance in this world, I am constantly reminded that my mere birth was responsible for healing two separate families. And despite the differing opinions of religion within this group (and trust me, I know there are many to be found in a Liberal Arts college), I personally believe that God was in control of this action, as he continues to be on a daily basis. Every morning I wake up, I’m allowed to remember that my life could have been much different–if I’d been given a life at all. Because of Misty’s bravery, her resistance to the easier choice, I was allowed to live–among great privilege and love. And I have no doubt that my own existence is part of a bigger plan. So when it comes to “reading” my life for signs of salvation, all I have to do is look at the broader picture. There is not a specific moment in my life in which I felt destined–but merely that I was able to have a life to live. And just like all others in faith, my salvation as well as my eternal soul are of remarkable value.