Sunday, June 1, 2008

The First Nominee is...

How many times after enjoying an activity have I said that was the best day of my life? Was it? Did I compare it to all the days of my life? What made it the best day? Was it truly the best or just one of the better? Could my whole perception of best and worst be off?

Thinking about the calendar of my existence, what date would I pick as the best?

How about the day I was born? Egotistically speaking that has to rank way up there.

Except I don't remember the day I was born. How could the best day of my life be one of which I have absolutely no recollection? Frankly, I can't recall anything in the first months of my life. I have no internal images of life in my first two homes, of lying in a crib or my first steps, my first words. Those may have been great days for someone, my mother or father, but they left no impression on me.
I had very little to do with it at all. My birth resulted from an act of love between my parents. In the design of God a seed joined an egg and in that instant I was. After that God formed me as I was carried within my mother's womb until I was delivered into the hands of doctors and nurses, who spanked breath into my lungs, cleaned me and cared for me until my parents brought me home.
I remember none of this.

My earliest memory is of fright at the sound of a siren, people scurrying about, shades pulled, being suddenly surrounded in pitch darkness and hushed whispering. That scene comes vividly to mind. Perhaps I wasn't born, but burst to existence in the piercing whine of an air raid siren.

How can I prove otherwise, that siren is the first thing I remember, so maybe I didn't exist before then.

All the evidence I have of my birth is a piece of paper saying so, some photos before and after the fact that may be of me, and the stories of my mother and father and a few other eyewitnesses. I understand human biology and how it works, having had three children of my own, but that doesn't prove I was created the same way. With talk of clones, existing doesn't prove birth. I can only accept I was born in the normal way on faith and trust in those who told me about it.

And I suppose I can eliminate a day I have no memory of as the best day of my life. I will have to nominate some other time, but I thank the Lord for that first day even if it has been disqualified for consideration as my best.

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. --Psalm 139: 13-16 NIV

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