There was a time long ago in my younger years.
When I visited doctors and had many fears.
From the day of my birth imperfections would show.
This would follow me through life wherever I would go.
For the memory of hospitals is still fresh in my mind.
Where I would hear studied doctors a cure try to find.
I would listen intently for the words they would speak.
To know if my future would leave me so weak.
They would view me in groups trying to learn what to do.
For the surgeries they tried were sometimes brand new.
But with confidence and skill they would forge on ahead.
And I would wake up hours later in that recovery room bed.
This process I lived with for 18 years of my life.
Of having my body on the sharp end of the knife.
The results are miraculous and their skill was the best.
To see me today I look the same as the rest.
The memory I have of this time from the past.
Leads me to believe in the God that will last.
For faithful He’s been to this child of His own.
He loves and protects me for my future He has known.
A grown up today with many years passing by.
I think back and say that I don’t have to ask why.
That the defects that came with the day of my birth.
In the eyes of my Savior never diminished my worth.
And through all the years there’s a lesson I’m taught.
That upon that cruel cross my life had been bought.
That the pain I endured which seemed so severe.
Was nothing compared to my Savior so dear.
So this memory of mine has honed all my senses.
It has given me strength never leaving me defenseless.
I sit at my keyboard writing stories that rhyme.
Like this one that I’ve told you called “There Was A Time”.
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