Ladybug

When I was little, I used to be fascinated by ladybugs. I used to carefully study their red spotted backs as they crawled along. I used to affectionately call her “Lady,” and appreciate the way she was one of God’s creatures. And, there were ways in which I was similar to the ladybug. One day, I would become a lady, too.

But I would never have guessed the kind of lady I would become. I would never have imagined that instead of flying or crawling around, I would be in a wheelchair to get around. I would never have fathomed that killing little babies would be legal, and that I would be driven to stand up against it. I would not have chosen for myself to be so shaped by suffering that the meaning of my middle name, “cultured pearl,” would become a reality in my life. I would never have dreamed that the Lord would entrust me to help others find their way back to him, and build His Kingdom with my testimony. From a wheelchair with a red frame, called, “Ladybug.”

And now as the poem goes,

“Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home

Your house is on fire, your children alone.”

Catch another ladybug next time, maybe that one will be blue with spots.

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