Читать книгу The Fatherless Father - Reco Inc. McDaniel - Страница 7

“He said to them, ‘Because of your little faith. For truly, I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you.’” –Matthew 17:20

Weeks had passed since the conference, and I was beginning to feel very overwhelmed. Monday was running into Tuesday and Tuesday into Wednesday. Each day became a blur, and the stresses of life were compounding on my shoulders. At the time, I was in the midst of an ugly legal battle that was taking a toll on my professional life, as well as my personal life. Furthermore, I had just created a new company, my wife had recently become pregnant, I was actively engaged in the motivational speaking world, and, to top it off, I just found out life-altering news: My mother was diagnosed with cancer. It was almost as if I was drowning in life’s surprises. Despite these things, there was this persistent need to place my words to others down in a book; the burning responsibility to write these pages somehow always stayed at the forefront of my mind.

My world seemed to be caving in; there was so much joy yet so much sorrow all at once. To be honest, I was stretching myself trying to find a way to stay positive, searching my spirit for inspiration. I kept thinking to myself, I must keep myself going for my family, for my business, for myself. In those moments, I remembered the story my grandmother always told about how strong my mother was right around the time of my birth. The circumstances that surrounded my birth—and the months and years that followed that date—helped to test the true character of my mother, something I referred to during this time in my life. I thought, If Momma could hold it down with far less than I have now, surely I can press on. She was that kind of woman: the type of individual that left one inspired, even when she wasn’t around to have her presence felt.

Now, when I was born, there weren’t any photos taken of me. There wasn’t one taken of my mother holding me moments after she had given birth. There weren’t any cute pictures of me sleeping in the baby nursery with a dozen other children who were brought into the world on that day. No photos were taken of me during my first feeding, my first sleep, or even my first diaper change.

There was nothing.

It may be hard for some to believe, but there were no pictures of me until I was about 5 or 6 months old. You may wonder why this rite of passage did not happen.

The answer is quite simple: The doctors told my mother and grandmother that I was not going to live.

My premature birth came around the end of my mother’s second trimester. Here I was, coming into the world at the end of the sixth month of her pregnancy. As you can imagine, this was an alarming experience for my small immediate family. I was born at 2lbs 2oz. Take a moment to let that marinate in your mind. I weighed less than a telephone book, a bag of sugar, or a laptop computer—everyday items that people pick up without much effort. It’s important to note that babies typically lose weight right after birth before they gain weight, so at one point I went down to 1lb 2oz. It is honestly a blessing from God that I was even able to survive such an improbable hardship as that one. When I reflect back on this time in my life, I realize that I’ve always been destined to overcome obstacles, no matter how daunting they may seem at the time.

My grandmother would later tell me she tried to get my mom to avoid seeing me so much while I was in the incubator. She was afraid my mom would become too attached to me when they all thought it was a matter of time before I passed away. In hindsight, I really can’t blame this mentality. Honestly, what’s the likelihood of a child with a dangerously low birth weight making it out of infancy without birth defects and lifelong disabilities that would have them sidelined their entire life?

My mom refused to give up on me and said no matter what, she would come every day after work and pray for me. And that’s exactly what she did—she kept the faith. And slowly, without much fanfare, both my mother and grandmother would come pray for me each and every day. They would tell the doctor that no matter what he said, I was coming out of this. Simply put, they were speaking my little life into existence. It was a routine they followed: They lived their lives, took care of their outside obligations and tasks, and kept me prayed up. They would not be deterred from this path.

A period of time had passed, and the doctor said I was progressing; however, he said because I was so small, my lungs would never work properly, predicting major breathing ailments associated with underdeveloped lungs during the early moments of my life. It’s important to note that my lungs had already collapsed twice before his prognosis. The doctor also told my mother and grandmother that I would never be a “normal” child and that I’d likely be a special needs child, would probably never speak, and in a worst-case scenario, I’d be a vegetable. My grandmother and mom refused to accept the doctor’s diagnosis.

“Our God and your God must be two different higher powers because we don’t accept this,” they’d tell him. “Our child will make it through this. I don’t care what your science says about him. God will bless him with the will to live, even if you won’t.”

A number of weeks had passed before they were allowed to bring me home. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and I was still alive and physically progressing at my own pace. My mother and grandmother said I didn’t really talk during the first several months of my life. I also didn’t seem to pay much attention to events going on around me. For example, people would talk and laugh around me, yet I wouldn’t seem to react to them. Pots and pans would accidentally be dropped in the kitchen, and I would always look in the same direction, something that many would categorize as being odd. One day, when I was around 6 months old, the two women were sitting on the front porch of our home when a car drove up and honked the horn. Miraculously, I looked over in the direction of the car. At that moment, they both knew the doctor didn’t know what he was talking about—I wasn’t as bad off as he perceived me to be.

A few months later, my grandmother recalls my grandfather playing with me when she believes she heard me mumble something.

“You spoke, you made a sound, and you haven’t shut up ever since,” my grandmother would lovingly tell me as she recalled those first moments in my life.

She believed in me, my mother believed in me, and after those moments of hope, they were determined to keep their faith in God and me very strong.

As I started to get older, the doctor told my family that there was a slight chance that I would never walk. During that time, I would pull myself around instead of attempting to crawl like many babies tend to do during that stage in life. By 8 or 9 months old, I was still in the habit of pulling myself, and the doctors explained to my family that this was not normal or promising for my development. However, my mother and grandmother had witnessed other miracles during my short time on this earth, so they believed that things would get better for me. After another 4 to 5 months of this abnormal behavior, I was still scooting and pulling myself around. Finally, one day, I just got up and started walking. I never crawled as a baby; I just started walking! I was proof that faith “as small as a mustard seed” was strong enough to keep me and my family moving forward, only looking at the positive progress I had made. What was the point in focusing on my delayed development?

Years later, when I started school, the “experts” said I was not going to learn as fast as the other kids because they believed I was developmentally delayed. By the time I was in first grade, I was making straight A’s. I later went on to graduate in the top of my class at my high school and was accepted into one of the top tech universities in the nation. They’d later go on to say that I would never be able to play sports like the rest of the kids because they predicted I would have asthma and other breathing issues. I played baseball from the age of 5 until I was in high school, along with football and basketball. Overall, these major life wins proved to me and all my naysayers at the time that I was mentally, physically, and emotionally strong enough to overcome statistical odds. My will and motivation were too strong to be torn down. I was on a mission to succeed, no matter how much outsiders doubted me.

When my grandmother and I recall this part of my life, I am immediately comforted knowing how much she and my mother were in my corner, allowing me to blossom far beyond my wildest dreams. I reflect on those formative years and remember that it doesn’t matter what everyone out there says about you or what they believe you can achieve—the only thing that matters is what you believe. For me, my faith in God and my ability to press on through trying times is what got my family through my challenges.

Throughout my life, I remained centered with the Word of God and how He wanted me to live despite my circumstances. I won’t lie, there were numerous times when I tried to challenge God. “Why must I always work harder than the other kids?” I would ask. “How many more obstacles do I need to face before I face no more?” I would wonder. Little did I know that countless other people ask these same questions when they’re going through difficult times in their own lives.

I must admit, without having a father there to help me during these difficult moments in my life, I was secretly sad and bitter. I sometimes dreamed of having a father like other kids—a man that would stand by my side offering words of encouragement and teaching me how to dismiss the naysayers while becoming a man. I wanted a man there to tell me about the complexities surrounding girls and someone to tell me I was doing a great job in school, on the baseball field and basketball court, and in life. Although I knew I had the greatest Father of all, I still yearned to have my biological dad, my blood, to walk beside me on my journey. Regardless, I still had faith that things would work out for me and mostly kept these feelings to myself and told no one.

My mother and my grandmother modeled what it means to walk by faith not by sight. They taught me to believe in God always, knowing He will always provide. They showed me how I am a living testimony, even if my father was nowhere to be found. During my formative years, I had to have faith in myself, knowing that, one day, I would be great—so great that I’d be able to pass that knowledge on to others to show them their potential. With that being said, here are a few steps to help you keep your faith alive during challenging times:

1.Always surround yourself with positive, forward thinking people. There’s nothing worse than allowing those with negative thoughts and beliefs to influence your mind and your life. Well-known actor Will Smith was quoted as saying, “You can tell how far in life you’ll go by the five people you spend the most amount of time with.” Just think of those words: the individuals you spend the most amount of time with will help dictate where your future goes. Isn’t that powerful? Those who think positively will keep you uplifted, and you’ll know they will always have your back—through the tough times when you want to give up and the good times when you’re jumping up and down in happiness. As media mogul Oprah Winfrey once said, “Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.” Do you know people like that?

2.It’s ok to get frustrated. Nothing in this world is perfect. Not your financial situation, your home life, your responsibilities at work and school—nothing. It is actually a good thing to get frustrated with some of the circumstances we go through in life, whether we had a choice in something happening or we didn’t. However, it is important to identify our frustrations and figure out ways to make them better. In short, use the frustration as your motivation to do something about it. For example, if you’re getting poor grades in your English class, ask your teacher for help. Do not be ashamed. It’s better to ask for the help ahead of time instead of receiving the D in the class, correct? Life is all about acceptance or change. If you don’t like something that is going on in your life, change it. If you can’t change it, you must accept it and create a plan to deal with it as positively as possible. I’ve learned that it’s not what happens to us in life that determines our results. What determines what we get in life is based on how we react to what happens to us. So, don’t let your frustration make you bitter. Use it to make you better!

3.See the end from the beginning. Most of us get excited and inspired when we start something because we think of the end result, the goal. Typically, along the way to accomplishing that goal, whether it be trying to finish school, achieving success in business, or successfully raising our children, there are several tests we face that discourage us. The tests are normally at the beginning and during the course of our journey. Most people focus on the tests, trials, and tribulations and forget about that goal or the end result they are looking for. Once this happens, you are in jeopardy of failing. You should always focus on the end result, not the trials that you may be presently faced with. If you focus on where you are, you will never be able to get where you’re going.

4.Pray. This step is the easiest to do out of the four suggestions, but often times, it is the first one that is forgotten. Young people sometimes forget how powerful prayer can be in moments of happiness and times of despair. You can pray on the school bus, while you’re paying your monthly bills, on the way to a job interview, before the big game with the cross-town rival, and even when you’re sending in your college applications. You can pray anytime, anywhere. It’s important to remember that even the slaves back in the 1800s relied on prayer to help them through the daily beatings, inhumane living conditions, and the painfully aggressive workdays they were forced into. You should never be ashamed to pray, whether you believe in God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Allah, Yahweh, Jehovah, or any other higher power. You should be able to create your very own personal relationship with that higher power, which will allow you to keep your faith strong. Do not rely on other people to create that bond for you. You must do it for yourself. There are a few Bible verses I look to in times of need.

•Psalm 62:1—My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him.

•Matthew 14:30—LORD, save me.

•Hebrews 11:1—Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we don’t see.

•1 Peter 5:9—Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

•2 Timothy 4:7—I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

You, of course, can look in the Bible for verses that connect with your life situation, but I’d suggest looking at Psalm and Proverbs for additional inspiration. I believe that once you read many of the lines in these books, your soul will find peace and your faith restored.

Anyone can tell that I had a slew of tests going on all at once at the beginning of my life. However, I found that all my burdens were lifted when I kept the faith. There was an overwhelming comfort that went on to follow me as an adult as I handled demanding situations with my business, my wife, my family, and my mother. To this day, I continue to smile at the adversity and remember at the end of the day that I have no choice but to take care of my responsibilities, raise my eyes to the sky, and thank God for giving me this life and allowing me to make the most of my trials each and every day.