I glanced at my doctor's computer screen as he was talking. Lots of yellow and green Chinese characters on a black screen--a list of patients for today, I surmised. One column had ages--again, surmising. I scanned the column quickly . . . 45, 70, 67, 29, 80, 19, 22, 54, 31 . . .
I didn't see 28. Hmm, maybe I surmised wrong. Maybe they are numbers of something else. So, I went back to paying attention to the doctor and our conversation.
He goes to write out the prescription on the computer and clicks the line with 29. I glance to the left of the 29--sure enough! There is MY Chinese name!!
29? What!?! How can that be!?! My 28th birthday was only yesterday!
But, the form for the medical records was "gotten" from my official government health insurance card so 29 is my "official age."
Then I remember . . . "oh! that's right, many Asian cultures count the time that we are spent being woven together in the workshop of the womb as a year of life."
Now I am in a state of shock.
Thursday I was 27.
Today I found I am 29.
I thought I had another whole year before I had to contemplate turning 30.
Guess not.
You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother's womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous – and how well I know it. You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You
saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your
book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. (Psalm 139: 13-16, New Living)
