On Tuesday, December 4, 1973, The Who played in Philadelphia, The Grateful Dead played in Cincinnati and this “who” was grateful to be born. It was on that day that I left my mommy’s tummy to become a Canadian citizen under Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau. And it was on that day that the population of Leduc, Alberta, increased from 5271 to 5272.
My dad came to Canada from Italy in his 20's and had a background in the Catholic Church. My mom is not Italian, grew up in Canada, and had loose connections with the Lutheran Church. When my mom and dad married Luther and the Pope kissed!
When I came on the scene neither of my parents went to church or were living out any faith commitment but, as is true of many nominal Christians, it was important for them to have me baptised. So, within a few weeks of my birth, a Catholic priest sprinkled me with water and presented me with a baptismal stole. Years later I would discover how meaningful this infant baptism was to be for me.
Two and a half years later my brother Michael was born and, like me, was baptised Catholic. At his baptism, however, he received a baptismal candle. My parents never thought much of it at the time, but after witnessing several other child baptisms, and seeing each one receive a candle, decided to ask a clergyman about my stole. They were told that, though the giving out of a stole at baptism is practiced in some places, a candle is more traditional. In fact, there is even controversy in some segments of the church as to whether a stole should be given out at baptism. According to the Official Catholic Encyclopedia:
The stole is worn only by deacons, priests, and bishops. For deacons and priests it is the specific mark of office, being the badge of the diaconal and priestly orders… As a liturgical vestment, the stole signifies the “yoke of the Lord” whose “burden is light.”
I will never know what was going on in the priest’s mind who gave me that stole. He is long gone, although I do have a picture of him baptizing me and a card that he signed, “Father Reidy.” That’s all I know of him. Did he run out of candles the day I was baptized? Was it just another baptism for him and he happened to be the stole-giving type? Did he know something about my future? Whatever the reason, I’ve always taken it as a sign from God regarding my calling into pastoral ministry. I recall the words God spoke to Jeremiah, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.” (Jeremiah 1:5, NIV).
That stole now hangs in my office as a continual reminder of God’s call on my life.
Discuss in the comments - were there any significant events around your birth?
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Discuss in the comments - were there any significant events around your birth?
*When you publish your comment, select "Anonymous" from the drop down menu and simply sign your name at the bottom of your story - unless, of course, you have an account with Blogger too!
The only thing that stuck out to me about my birth story was that I came home on the floor of a pickup truck. That seems crazy by today's standards, but apparently that wasn't out of the ordinary back then. I guess that's a bit of a story, but the one I really wanted to share was about my son Isaiah. Isaiah was born on Remembrance day in 2005. The thing about his birth that stuck out to Lisa and I was that the moment of silence was a few seconds after he was born. I wouldn't say that particular time was "silent," but it was certainly a significant celebration of life. It also made me keenly aware of the freedoms I enjoy and the benefits of our Canadian society as the doctors and nurses made sure our son's introduction to the world went as smoothly as possible.
ReplyDeleteI have nine siblings and I am the youngest in the family. Mom was a hard working woman and a tough lady. She often told us that she would have to work at the store the next day after she gave birth. My parents owned a small grocery store and mom worked from 6 to 8 every day (6 in the morning to 8 at night). Mom was pregnant with me when she was 41 and certainly categorized as "high risk". Mom used mid-wives and there was a mid-wives clinic on the same block where we lived and it was very convenient for mom. Dad was very chill with mom's pregnancy the ninth times and he certainly did not worry too much about it...business as usual. Mom told me that the staff at the clinic tried to persuade her to check in to the hospital this time because mom was older and they were worried that there might be complications at birth. Mom did not want to go to the hospital because that would mean longer stay in the hospital. On the day, a baby girl "me" was born, little over seven pounds (mom said she could not remember my exact weight) and mom was healthy....and of course, mom carried on with her work at the store the next day. Life is both a battle and a blessing at the same time. I would never think much of my birth story but on a reflection, my birth is certainly a battle and a blessing God has given to me and to my mom. Thank you Lord for giving me life and for leading me to live it with many battles and blessings.
ReplyDeleteNow I know better where all your talents and efficiency come from.
DeleteMy mum was a young bride at 17, and my dad 16 years older. He wanted to start a family immediately after getting married. My mum, on the other hand, wanted to prove that the neighbourhood gossip was wrong and that she didn’t “have” to get married. She planned to walk down the street a year after the wedding with a still flat tummy! I was born in Manchester England in June 1964…precisely 9 months after my parents’ 1ST wedding anniversary!
ReplyDeleteBack then the father was sent home from the hospital while the mother laboured. My dad paced and fretted as he waited for the news. Finally the call came that I had arrived. He rushed out of the house and sped to the hospital. According to dad I nearly didn’t have a father. In his haste he lost control of the car and almost smashed into a wall. That was a wake-up call for him. He slowed down and made his way, safely, to see me and mum. I also managed to be a special gift for my grandma, arriving on her 50th birthday. Interestingly enough, my mum also has a granddaughter born on her birthday!
Side note: 2 years later mum & dad chose to have a midwife & a home birth so that dad could be present during my brother’s delivery.
-Kim Boer
The Beginning
ReplyDeletePeople used to ask if my sister and I were twins. When we would tell them that, no, we were actually 8 months apart, we would receive dumb-founded looks and slack-jawed incredulity as the cogs in their brains began to work out how this was possible.
My birth was unexpected. At 38 years old, my mother finally married a younger man 11 years her junior. Because of her age, she did not want to wait to start a family, but after two years, she still had not conceived. After several medical tests, the doctors confirmed that she was not likely to be able to conceive, as she scored very low on the fertility tests. So, my parents began the process of adopting. In 1968, it was not difficult to adopt – simply fill out the paperwork, and unless you were a criminal, insane, or otherwise deemed an unsuitable parent, it was just a matter of time. In December, 1968 they brought home a baby boy 1 month old. Three years later, in June 1971, my sister joined the family.
Now my mother was busy with a newborn and a 2 ½ year old, and feeling quite tired. Over the next few months, she stopped menstruating. She thought she must be hitting early menopause, but after visiting her doctor, she learned that she was actually pregnant! No wonder she was tired! 8 months after bringing home her adopted daughter, she gave birth to a 5 ½ pound baby girl on March 8, 1972 at the Foothills Hospital in Calgary, Alberta. She was scheduled to be induced that day, but soon after the induction, my heart rate began to increase, and they decided to do a C-section. In those days the mother was completely anesthetized, and the father was not allowed in the operating room. They sewed up her 6 inch vertical incision and kept us both in the hospital for a whole week!
After returning home for several weeks, she began feeling pain at the incision site. So, back to the hospital she went, to discover that the stitches needed to be re-sewn, as her muscles were coming apart underneath the skin. She has had a bit of a ‘tummy’ ever since, as a reminder of my birth.
My parents named me Nancy Lois. Nancy was my dad’s favorite aunt, and he always liked the name. Lois was my mother’s middle name, and so she followed the pattern of those who name their progeny after themselves. I never have really understood this tradition, as it seems rather egocentric to name your child after yourself. But, it was common then, and still is, especially in the United States. I guess it is a way of leaving a legacy for the future.
I was born in 1940 in the middle of winter to German parents living in the Ukraine. Times were hard, with Stalin killing people by the millions and World War II in full swing. It was a difficult time to bring children into the world as there was widespread starvation in the Ukraine, orchestrated by Stalin. My Mom was especially glad at my arrival as she had witnessed the tragic death of my 9 month old younger sister due to infantile gastroenteritis during the summer of 1940. When my 20 year old Mom realized that she was pregnant with me and before my beautiful little sister died, Mom tried everything to get rid of her second pregnancy (me) by jumping out of apple trees, hitting herself in the stomach, etc. By the grace of God, her attempts to induce a miscarriage were unsuccessful. Thus in the midst of the tragedy of my sister's death, Mom was overjoyed that I had hung on for dear life in her womb. Had this series of events taken place in Canada during the past 30 years with our liberal abortion laws, it is unlikely that I would be here today. I thank God that He intervened and has given me 74 years of life, many of which have been blessed by His incomparable love.
ReplyDeleteBorn into a mixed race family, German and English, near the close of WW2, my parents experienced both the blessings and the curse that came with such a union at that time. My German grandfather disowned his only daughter when she married my dad, and didn't speak to her or see her for almost a full year. My English grandparents never met their daughter-in-law's parents as they were the "enemy".
ReplyDeleteLuckily for me my German grandmother was a believer who knew in her heart that her husbands stand was so very wrong in many ways. She prayed for my mom and dad every day, and when she heard that they would be having a baby she went into high-gear as only a mother with one daughter could. By the time my elder sister was born in 1944 my Grandfather consented, with much grumbling, to drive his wife to see the new baby. It was love at first sight. Grandpa never would admit to his anger or cruel dismissal of my dad, but often told mom how lucky she was that such a good man married her.
There were no complications around my birth, or anything unusual about it at all, other than that I arrived 3 weeks late. My parents were expecting me to arrive within a week or two of my mom's birthday in early July, and instead I arrived 2 days before my dad's birthday in early August - a nice present for him, but 27 years later I still feel bad that my mom had to carry me around for those extra weeks in the summer heat! I was quiet when I was born, which is nearly the opposite of what I have been like since.
ReplyDeleteIn a rather opposite story, one of my best friends was born in the back of her parents car, delivered by her father because labour went so quick they didn't make it to the hospital. She was early, I was late, and yet now that we are adults, I'm usually early and she's always late. Funny how these things happen!
-Amanda S.
I made my entry into this world in the early morning of July 6 1941. The world was in the middle of the chaos of World War II. In a way my birth was a bit of chaos for my parents as I had a cleft lip and palate deformity. This deformity required numerous operations to close up. Most of the specialists were in the armed forces to deal with war casualties. A general practioner tried his best to close up the openings. When I was about 5 years old a final attempt was made at surgery followed by radiation to the lower face to try to reduce formation of exuberant scar tissue. There was no concept at the time of the dangers of radiation. My poor mother was berated for my crying that tore open my repairs. How can one stop a newborn baby from crying?? The end result left me with a permanent hole in the hard palate – connecting to my nose. So my start in life was difficult, especially for my poor parents.
ReplyDeleteRon Hiller
I think very few people had his or her birth celebrated as splendidly as mine. According to my parent the best of the army, navy, air force, marine, military police and civic police formations and others marched before me just hours after I was born.
ReplyDeleteYou see I was born in the late evening of October 9th at the Taiwan University Hospital located on a major promenade next to the Taiwan's Presidential Palace. And October 10th is Taiwan's national holiday and usually there are military parades passing through the Presidential Palace to celebrate on that morning. They all would have to pass by the University Hospital first before getting to the Presidential Palace.
So hours after I entered this world. Great lines of parades marched before me held in my parent's arms as they watched by our hospital room window.
38 years later I revisited that hospital, it was more modern, bigger and also taller. But the Presidential Palace looked the same. Now I often wonder what would be like if I witness the second coming of the Lord? Would it be the most glorious march ever in the history of the universe or would our Bridegroom surprise us like he did with his humble birth?
Pastor Joe
On Saturday, July 10th , 1954 , Cedric Palmer Hope and Louise Emily Hope welcomed their fourth child and first and only daughter into their family. My mom was shocked that she actually got a girl and named me "Valerie Jean". Now everyone in my family had been named after someone special or carried a family surname in their name. My brothers John Alfred, Philip Bruce and Walter Norman had names of distinction and family history. However, my mom had no idea why she named me "Valerie". I wasn't named after a song, or an actress, an aunt or anyone of significance. The only consolation I had was that the name "Jean" was the name of the nurse in our doctor's office. My mom said I was named after her, but, I'm not so sure. I think she just said that as she knew it bugged me that my name was not linked to someone or something! I had no "story" when people asked ( as they did in the 50, 60's) , "Who are you named after?" Even my mom's sister, who was the ninth born in her family had a great "story". They had run out of names by the time she was born, so my uncle (who was in his 20's) called the telephone operator and asked what was her name. She responded briskly, "Edna Mae" and so Edna Mae it was.
ReplyDeleteI was a little sister to my brothers who were 12, 9 and 3 at the time of my birth. Mom was delighted that she had the "girl" that she could dress in dainty clothes and put bows and ribbons in her curly hair. The problem was, unlike my three brothers who had gorgeous curly locks, my hair was straight and I mean STRAIGHT. So one of the earliest pictures that I have of me, is sitting in my high chair with rollers in my hair! Before I turned one, I had my first "Toni" ( the perm of the decade) and would continue to get a "Toni" every year into my teens!! As for dainty clothes and bonnets, I frustrated my mom by throwing off every bonnet and messing up all the dainty clothes. I was never quite the "girly girl" that she had envisioned but I was her girl and she loved me.
The other part of my birth that remains with me is a story that mom would tell of day 2 in my life. She was holding me in her arms when an intern walked into the room and apparently I turned my head to see him. He remarked "Oh my , she's a bright one". Now in the 1950's, parents weren't worried about our self esteem and were more concerned about us becoming "too proud" so excessive praise was not a part of our life. Mom would often relate this story when I had accomplished something of significance in school. Her way of saying she was proud of me. The intern's remarks often rang in my head as I would face something that I thought was too hard for me. It often gave me that encouragement that I needed to move forward.
Valerie Jean Hope was my name for nearly 29 years and I can honestly say that when I married Corey Coyle in 1983 I really did give up "Hope".
Val Coyle
Like Pastor Stef, I was born in the year 1973. January 13th to be exact. Martial Law was just declared four months earlier in September 1972 by President Marcos in the Philippines. This was a prelude to the dictatorship that was to follow years after. Aside from what was happening in my country of birth politically, nothing extraordinary happened to me before, during, and after my birth. To my mom though, I was my mother's fourth and last Cesarean-section birth. Back then doctors capped C-sections on women to four only in a lifetime. And so my mom had her Fallopian tubes ligated in order to stop future pregnancies. Prior to me, I had a sister who died shortly after birth five years earlier. And five years before that, two other sisters who were born one year apart and still live to this day. I thank God that He put His will into my parents to try again for the last time to have another child. To my mom and dad, I was a God-send and an answered prayer because finally they had a son to keep the family name alive. I was their last ditch attempt to produce a son.
ReplyDeleteI was baptized into the Catholic faith as an infant but unlike Pastor Stef, I was given the traditional candle. My parents were both Catholics. My mom was devout, who at one time, spearheaded and fund-raised to build a Catholic Chapel on the highest hill in our little subdivision of about 50+ homes. I remember our garage was temporarily turned into a carpentry house where the pews for the chapel were built. Mom commissioned my uncle from my dad's side to cut the wood planks, carve the ornamental details, upholster the bench, stain and paint, and assemble them all into pews. My job was to test the kneelers for comfortability and whether they go up and down with ease. As a child it was awesome to see the motions of carpentry, its artistry and geometry, the craftsmanship that goes with transforming planks of wood into functional furniture for the house of God.
My fondest and fun-filled memories growing up were around food, extended family, and church life. My mom especially, loved cooking food during fiestas (community parties), and organizing church fund raising events like bingo nights, beauty pageants, and selling raffle tickets. And every year since my birth we would go up to my dad's family home in Baguio City in the summer. Then my mom's family would have their reunions during the Christmas season and they held those in our home which was the house I grew up on until my early 20s.
I must say though that beyond the food, the extended family, and the church, my parents, my mom especially, instilled in us through their daily example and their imperfections, that ultimately our joy was not found in ourselves but from others whom we serve in service to God. My mom in her very Catholic way, taught us that it was a way to show gratitude to God for sustaining our lives and making the struggles we experience bearable.
ReplyDeleteI was born on Oct 1, 1934 in Vancouver BC to very delighted parents as their first child, during the depression. My parents emigrated from Poland in the 1920’s having known each other in the old country. Mom (Lydia) coming directly to Vancouver and dad (Fred) to Saskatchewan. Mom it seemed was a much sought after young lady and she warned dad that he better come to Vancouver or else he might lose her.
My early years were uneventful except that I was exposed to the German language and when school started I had difficulty coping, thus I had to endure grade 1 for two years. We attended Ebenezer Baptist Church until 1937 when we joined Bethany as charter members. As a German community we lived quite close together – usually within 6 blocks of the church. We faithfully attended church every Sunday morning and evenings and Wednesdays for bible study. We faithfully studied our Lextions Blaetter every Saturday night as a family. It was during a crusade meeting with Dr. Palphaneer that I went forward to accept Christ, more so because all my friends were going forward. It wasn’t till much later that I under stood the full meaning of “God’s gift of eternal life through faith in Him”. The Elders method of interviewing candidates for baptism was quite different than now. At that time, in front of the church we were questioned and I was asked whether I would rather go to church or play ball? I loved playing ball. What could I say? After replying church many laughed and I cried. I was 14 years old. Our lives revolved around the church, we had a vibrant Young Peoples group and I spent most of my Saturday evenings at YFC. Many of our group are still connected to this day. As a typical teenager I got myself into more trouble than I should have - hanging around with the wrong kids, racing around with hot (souped up) cars. But God must have had his hand on my life. I can’t say that my spiritual life showed any change for the better, but I was slowly maturing. Many of us belonged to a Christian Car Club, where we helped people who where in trouble on the streets. We started the original Bethany Quartet – Wilf Hass, Herb Sturhan, Gerry Litke and myself. Irene Rathbun (Strelau) was our pianist. We sang at many churches, and it was there that I met my beautiful wife (Gwen). While Irene was playing the intro we noticed two gals who caught our eye and we asked them out later and a romance began. It was at this time that I decided to join the RCAF. We carried on our courtship with letters. When arriving at St. Johns, Que. (boot camp) I had to make a major decision. Would I continue in the ways of the world or take a stand for Jesus Christ. In a room of about forty men I knelt down beside my bed and prayed. I had various objects thrown at me, but God gave me the courage to hang in there. It wasn’t long before I met up with other Christians and we started a bible study. My decision payed off and I was able to grow in the faith. I was stationed in Clinton, Ont., where I took my electronics training for nine months. Then I was posted to Cold Lake, AB for a few months before going overseas to Grostenquin, France. By this time our courtship had got serious and we had planned to get married in June 1960. After our wedding we were just able to catch our breath before taking the train to Montreal, Que., and catching a liner (Saxonia) to La Havre, France..Some of my friends picked us up and drove us to our first home. We got involved with the Protestant church on base and helped in the chaplaincy ministry teaching SS. On Saturday night we often went to Kaiserslautern, Germany to the Navigators meetings which resulted in our being able to spend a week long retreat in a castle in the Bavarian mountains, That is where God was able to shape and mold my life and reveal His truths to me. I am thankful to God for His saving grace and the forgiveness of my sin – whereby God exchanged my sin for His righteous, Praise God for |His faithfulness.