For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
(Psalm 139: 13)

The events surrounding my birth were some-what different than most of my contemporaries. Over the years I have been told many stories about it.

My mother, a shy, young country girl, was too embarrassed to give birth in a hospital where strangers would watch the procedure. She elected instead to give birth in my fraternal grandparent’s home on their kitchen table. Once labor began, my father went to the home of the local doctor and drove him to my grandparent’s home. He was invited to join the family for dinner while awaiting my birth. My grandmother had baked fresh peach pies that afternoon. Upon seeing and smelling the pies, the doctor insisted on having a piece right away. He expressed concern that babies have their own way of deciding to be born and he wouldn’t mind missing his dinner but he wanted to be sure he had the opportunity to have a piece of peach pie.

In addition to my grandparents and father, my aunt, who still lived at home, was present. Her boyfriend (who later became my uncle) was there but elected to sit outside in his car once my birth became eminent. The next-door neighbor watched the whole process through the kitchen window by standing at his own kitchen window. Everyone knew he was watching because the light from his cigarette showed his location.

My grandmother had a cardboard box lined with blankets ready and the oven of the coal-stove warming. I arrived but with problems. My ears were bent down double and my legs were bent backwards and would not straighten. My grandmother took me from the doctor, placed me in the cardboard box and put it into the oven. She massaged my ears and legs until they would remain in a normal position. The doctor --- had another piece of peach pie.

The doctor was driven home by the boyfriend and told that I was a boy and that my parents had named me Toby. When the boyfriend came back the next morning, he was surprised to find that the doctor had made a mistake. I was a girl and had been named Nancy in honor of my Great Grandmother, Nancy Blair France. In later years, my uncle would shake with laughter as he told that part of my birthing story!

Among all the stories surrounding my birth, nobody mentioned another witness - God. When I sing the words starting the first verse of hymn 732, Borning Cry, they add one more birthing story for me to remember. And, throughout the remaining lyrics of the song are reminders that God - in addition to being present at my birth - continued to be with me through all other events in my life. The final verse reminds me that the story has not yet ended and God will continue to be with me all the rest of the way. What a comfort!

(Psalm 139: 1-6) LORD, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD. You hem me in--behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.

I pray: Thank you Lord for being with me every moment. Who could ask for more? Amen.

Contributed by Nancy
Monday September 1, 2014
Liturgical Year A: Week 40
Liturgical Color: Green
Sunday Gospel reading: Proper 17
Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost