Born Loser - Born Again Winner

I mentioned that I might try writing for real. Well, here is the very beginning of that attempt. This is a first draft, but I thought I'd throw it out there anyway. Here goes nothing.

Introduction:
I heard a speaker say once that they don’t write biographies on losers, they only write about you if you do something great. That is the inspiration of my story. The one thing I do great is lose. I figure I’m like most of the millions of American’s that get up each day to put one foot in front of the other to come home and do it all over again. So why is my story special? If you want to know what not to do, I am there for you. Keep reading and see how one mistake after another and another can continue to keep you from “success” but God will continue to help you succeed in spite of yourself.

Day 1-Age3
It started out like most first days for someone I’m sure. But for me it was all wrong. I was 6 weeks early and there was nothing easy about it (or so I’ve been told). I’ve also been told that once my mom saw me as they rolled me away holding onto the side of the incubator with a firm grip, she knew I’d be strong. That’s what she said. So hello world, here is Tonya, your strong 6 weeks premie and ready or not, here I come.

I must have had that attitude too. When I listen to my mom tell stories of my toddler years, I can picture the moments in my head. “I’ll never forget” she says, and then she proceeds to tell how one day she looked over at me during dinner and I had fallen asleep in my mashed potatoes! Or how my sisters (who were 5 and 6 years older than me) shared a room with me and I’d climb out of my crib and jump on them into their bed. She talks about how I loved my daddy. I was daddy’s little girl. I’d light up bright as the sun when he’d come home. I don’t know if I’ve heard the stories so much that I can picture it or if a part of me can feel the familiarity because God is giving me back my memories. I say giving me back because I had a head trauma when I was nine and for many years of my life I didn’t remember much of my childhood. But let’s not jump too far ahead.

Where was I? Oh yes, familiarity. I can remember her telling the stories of how she would put a pillow in the back of the tractor when I was a baby/toddler and fix it up to be soft and how I loved being in the tractor and I would get tired and eventually fall asleep. She loves to tell of the time when I was about 2 and she asked me “Tonya what do you want for lunch?” and as sweetly as I could I sang to her “give me the Campbell life”. I was quite the cutie (in her modest mother’s opinion). She said she let the youth group that she was the sponsor of spoil me with life saver candies. I guess I’d go to church and hold my hand out for them to give me candy!

One time I tried to run away. I was following my uncle who lived with us some during that time. She said that the house they lived in was just off the interstate on a farm and I got almost to the highway before they caught me. I don’t think she ever let me out of her sight from that day on, she always knew where I was and what I was doing. So far, it doesn’t sound like much of a loser or a winner, just an ordinary childhood.

So let’s skip ahead to age 2. We’ll call this the enlightened moment. As I mentioned I have two older sisters. When I was 2, one of my sisters decided to “enlighten” me. “Well, you know you were never wanted. You were supposed to be a BOY. Mom and dad didn’t want you.” My first memory of losing. I remember crying and asking mom if I was supposed to be a boy. Now, as you can imagine, as any mother, with her hands full with 3 young children, juggling life, she responded to the best of her ability (probably while she was cleaning or cooking) “Well, yes, we did want a boy…” (she went on to say how they loved me and tell me all the stories of my strength and thinking I was wonderful the moment she saw me…etc). All I heard was the first part of that…”yes we did want a boy.” A boy. I was devastated. I had let my parents down. I had been born wrong. How could I fix this horrible error? Well, I spent the next year determined to be “daddy’s little boy” I followed him everywhere. I wanted to do whatever he did. I may not be a boy, but I can do my best to be what they wanted. Great thinking for such a young age, there’s only one problem. 3 weeks after I turned three years old. They got their boy. I was devastated. Now what would I do? I decided I’d do my best to outshine this beloved one because, if I didn’t then there is no reason for me to be born. I was a mistake. I was a mistake and I had to fix it, somehow.

As you can imagine, outshining a baby when you are already three is tough. So I became withdrawn. My sisters were too many years older than me to spend time with me they had each other. My mom had my brother and my dad was working two or three jobs to make ends meet. I wouldn’t understand it or really know it for years (about 25) later, but this is when the disconnect happened for me, when the insecurities all started. I had failed. I was not a boy. I was “another” girl. They didn’t need me. For years after that moment I tried to be a boy for my parents. I figured it was the least I could do. I didn’t play with dolls (much) and I tried to do whatever my dad did. After my brother was born, I tried to do everything he did. I was told time and time again that I was loved just as I was, that I didn’t need to be him to make my parents happy. The problem was, I couldn’t hear that because I still had in my “yes we wanted a boy” (forget the but, I did.) Heart broken that my brother was cute and loved and the one that they were looking at, I did the only thing I could do. Remember the lifesavers? Well, I didn’t just get candy at church. Somewhere, somehow, when no one was looking, I heard “For God so loved the world” and I needed loved. So I decided one day to go and get some.
I went to the back bedroom of the trailer we lived in. I knelt at the bed. I folded my four year old hands and I said “God” in the sweetest 4 year old girl voice. Much to my surprise, I heard in my head “yes”. Well, I don’t know about you, but for me, that was not enough. I needed to HEAR God. I felt Him say yes, but I needed to HEAR Him say it. So in the deepest voice a 4 year old girl can create I said “Yes”. “No one loves me” (in my sweet voice), “I love you” (in my deep voice). “I will always love you.” About that time, my dad bust into the room, swept me up in his arms laughed and said “you’re loved”. He laughed and took me to the living room where he proceeded to tell the story and for many years (into my adulthood) told the story. Now you might think, how sweet, dad loved her, mom loved her, everyone thought she was cute because she said “I love you” in a deep voice. All better. Right? Wrong.

At that moment in time, I knew God loved me, I still didn’t believe that I was the right kid. I still had to fix that somehow. But I had this new friend, His name was God and He and I were just starting our adventure together. This is the day I became a born again winner. I maybe didn’t know it all or understand it yet, but me and God, we were connected. I asked and He answered. That’s how I became a born loser/born again winner and where my journey begins.