By the grace of God, I have survived the plague.
Yes, the plague, Yersinia Pestis, as in the black death.
When I was a little more than two years old, I somehow
contracted the plague into my large intestine. There were two reactions.
The doctors wanted pictures to put into the textbooks, as it
was a one a million medical discoveries. This picture could be very well have
been from that day.
My mother and father were “getting my affairs in order” per
the doctors instructions.
Obviously I survived.
There is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a reason that I am
alive. I could have very easily died that night and been taken back to that same
God that gave me breath. God knows that I have contemplated, multiple times,
with all the hell that I have lived through, all the hell I have raised, the mistakes
that I have made, why I have been preserved?
I was born to fulfill a purpose. I am here today because
there is a work for me to do. It could be that I am to solve some great societal
ill or stop some great evil in the world in my day. It could also be that God
needed someone to be a small light to the world, a small kind light to brighten
the space around him.
I don’t know why yet I was preserved, but I was… and here is
the important part.
If you are alive, you have purpose. God doesn’t make junk. You
are not junk. You were made to do great things because you are great.
