On 7th January 1984 Peter Dorrington received a phone call whilst away on business in Germany, his wife Christine had been taken into hospital for an emergency Caesarean. His daughter wasn't due for another two months but due to complications the doctors decided it was best for her to be delivered early.
After the rather unexpected entrance to the world the little girl's early childhood was quite uneventful.
When she was 6 they moved from Croydon to a tiny village in Hampshire so she grew up amongst fields, horses and windy country lanes. No brothers or sisters arrived despite her pleading but her mummy always had time for her. They baked together, they went to church together, her mum taught her to sew and to make lace. The little girl grew up feeling loved and accepted.
Sounds nice doesn't it!
But with most stories there is a twist.
As the little girl grew up amongst wellies and pretty dresses she began to notice something. Her Mummy kept having to go into hospital, she would often go too but then the one off hospital trips turned into weeks. Then towards the end of her time at primary school the C word was mentioned. Christine Dorrington, her mummy had cancer. Cancer that tore through her body and although Christine was a fighter the invasion of the cancer cells was too much for her body to handle.
The little girl and her mother continued to bake and sew and make lace and go to church together but Christine no longer walked through the house with ease, she was now confined to a wheelchair. The little girl was now suddenly older than her years as she tried to understand what was going on.
Her final year at primary school began and her mummy's health got worse and worse until one morning she heard voices downstairs including her mum calling her. The girl and mother exchanged tender words before Christine left to be with her Jesus.
How does the story go on? I guess as expected....
The girl, now nearly 11 was destroyed by the reality that her mummy, her hero was no longer there. Everything began to change. Her friends at school didn't know what to do or say. Her father, no longer not particularly present left his job to take care of his daughter and to have time to grieve his wife.
The days turned into weeks which then turned into years. The little girl became a teenager and the grief and pain followed her. She would often cry at school much to her embarrassment and her friends bewilderment, the pain simply rose at unexpected moments.
One thing that hasn't really been mentioned in this story so far was that every Sunday the girl and her father continued going to church. Every Sunday the girl heard about this Jesus, who had been present her whole life, first through the stories her Mummy told her and now through the youth group she attended once a week. He was present through the songs, the teaching, through her youth leaders who took time to understand her and let her cry. Yes, the girl still cried, most of the time she had a brave face but the pain continued to rise at unexpected moments.
One evening she went to a big youth meeting in a nearby town and a man gave the challenge to stand up if you wanted to follow Jesus. She stood.
She stood, not really because she wanted to follow Jesus but because somehow she thought that this Jesus might be able to take the pain away.
That Jesus, this Jesus, her Jesus, your Jesus did just that. It was a long process, the days turned into weeks which turned into years and slowly the pain began to shrink and shrink. And as the pain began to shrink and joy grew inside of her. Not just a happy, warm feeling but a joy that reminded her that Jesus heals and mends broken hearts.
Again a few years later, the girl must have been about 18 or 19 she read a bible passage.
Psalm 30:1-5 + 11-12.
1 "I give you all the credit, God— you got me out of that mess, you didn't let my foes gloat.
2-3 God, my God, I yelled for help and you put me together.
God, you pulled me out of the grave, gave me another chance at life when I was down-and-out.
4-5 All you saints! Sing your hearts out to God! Thank him to his face!
He gets angry once in a while, but across a lifetime there is only love.
The nights of crying your eyes out give way to days of laughter.
11-12 You did it: you changed wild lament into whirling dance;
You ripped off my black mourning band and decked me with wildflowers.
I'm about to burst with song; I can't keep quiet about you.
God, my God, I can't thank you enough."
It summed it all up for her. God had pulled her out of the pit, he gave her another chance at life, he turned the nights of crying her eyes out into days of laughter.
That is my story and that is why I worship...
I worship because Jesus changed my life and healed my heart
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