My origin story

Starting from the beginning makes sense in a way – it is the sensible, logical thing to do. What blog can truly start without telling people who you are and where you came from? It is with this thought that I did not have to think long about what I wanted to write about first – even though what I am about to share is deeply personal to me and my family. It is with this disclaimer that I will share about my origin – the circumstances of how I came to be…the result of prophecy born out of the depths of tragedy.

After that last sentence you might want to skip to the end of this and just see what I am talking about. However, I really encourage you to read through this entire story. The journey makes the ending that much more compelling. So, with that being said, I’ll start at the most appropriate starting point – the beginnings of my family.

In short, my parents met at the “prestigious” Georgia Southern University in the early 80s. I say that kind of tongue-in-cheek – it wasn’t much more than 6,000 students back then, but it has tens of thousands of students enrolled now, so I guess you could say it is prestigious! They had the typical college romance, dating for the majority of their time in college after figuring out they liked each other as a little bit more than friends, and quickly married each other upon graduation. Marriage would quickly bring them to new horizons, both exciting and challenging.  

Now, if you know anything about the story of “us,” you will know that moving around is a big part of my family’s story. To abbreviate this part of the story as much as possible, my parents lived in a couple of different places after getting married in 1985 – living in New Orleans, LA, Dunwoody, GA, and finally, Dallas, TX – all in pursuit of the perfect opportunity and situation. The move out to Texas finally seemed like it checked all the boxes they were looking for, and it was not too shortly after that they received one of their greatest blessings – my sister.

The circumstances surrounding my sister’s birth were largely without problems and/or issues. My mom, at this time around the same age I am now (which is crazy for me to think about) ended up having her a few weeks early, but otherwise – she came into this world healthy and as perfect as could be. For the next few years it would be just Mom, Dad, my Sister, and Gracie, my parents’ first dog, and if you ask them, their first child! However, it would not be too long before they made plans to add an addition to the family. This is where the story takes a decidedly somber turn.

Long story short, my parents did pursue an addition to the family – wanting to give my sister a sibling close in age, which makes total sense. So, it was in the early months of 1992 that my parents discovered that they were pregnant, again! The pregnancy went about as smoothly as you could hope for in the following months. However, about 7 ½ months into the pregnancy, my mother started experiencing some unusual pain. She still remembers where she was – in a shopping mall near Atlanta, visiting her mom and dad for a few days. She quickly called my dad, who was away on a business trip, and told him what was going on. She booked a flight back to Dallas that very day. Within just a day or two, the decision was made to deliver their baby.

My newly born older brother lived for about 13 hours. He was born with many complications, and several vital organs missing, which needless to say, makes life impossible. The fact that he lived 13 hours was a miracle in and of itself. Words can’t describe how devastating this was for my parents. At this time, my parents were away from their family in Georgia, and the only family they had was their church family. Throughout this day, no one in their lives was aware of what was truly happening. The only person who did know was the pastor of their church, who miraculously, showed up at the hospital during the birth because God told him that he was needed there.  

So, there my parents were, somehow having to navigate this situation, and having no idea how to do so. On the periphery of all of this, my parents were serving as youth pastors at their church. One can only imagine how difficult this season was – being expected to pour into teenagers’ lives – when you have to know that their faith was being severely tested, and they were questioning so many things. My parents had to decide what to believe during this time. While it was hard, they kept their faith, continuing to serve in church – being uplifted by the same church they were serving.

Moving along from all of this, you might be asking why I share all the gory details. I don’t share it for shock value, but rather, so you can understand how traumatic an experience this was and, furthermore, how dangerous it would be for my parents to attempt a pregnancy again. In the wake of this, my parents were essentially told not to try again – that the risks of another pregnancy were too high. This brings us to the amazing part of this story, something that can only be described as miraculous.

In the following years, my parents were still continuing to serve at church, and one of their good friends, who had served as the previous youth pastor, invited them to a revival service where he was pastoring a few hours north of Dallas. My parents decided to go, partly out of love for their friend. Little did they know that they were about to have a life-altering encounter with God.  

When they got to the service, they quickly realized that this was no ordinary service. Now, if you have ever attended one of these, you probably have a good idea of what was going on, but if you haven’t, you probably have never seen what I am about to describe. In the middle of the service, multiple people had rushed the altar in response to God’s tug on their heart. Simply put, people were being saved, and their friend was at the podium, doing what ministers do. As my parents describe it, nothing necessarily unusual was going on, but the presence of God in the room was distinct and palpable. People’s lives were being transformed.

As my parents were just standing at their seats, praying, and seeking God for themselves, it was in the middle of this that the pastor made eye contact with them in the middle of the auditorium and started making his way back to my parents’ seats. Anyone who has ever been a part of a service like this would know that this is pretty unusual. When he approached them, he started praying for them – powerfully. My dad still has written down in his Bible what he said: “You will receive a double portion of what you lost.” My parents left that meeting, not knowing quite sure what that meant. They would find out almost 9 months later.

The above event happened sometime in November of 1994. Shortly after that night, my parents discovered that they were pregnant again! This is where things get really interesting. In consideration of the fact that the pregnancy was deemed high risk considering past events, my mother would go in for checkups multiple times a month, instead of the standard monthly check up. For 6 months they only heard one heartbeat. Then, they discovered 2!

Now, if you know anything about ultrasounds and other tools doctors use to monitor pregnancies, you will know how impossible it is to not discover two sets of heartbeats for 6 months. Simply put, they did not know I was there for 6 months! They knew my twin brother was, but not me. The only thing I can figure is that our heartbeats were so in sync that they were indistinguishable from each other. Regardless, the point is simple: My parents were pregnant with twins, a double portion of what they had lost – their first son.

So, it was on July 7, 1995, that me and my brother were born into this world. We were a few weeks early, and barely over 5 pounds each, but we were here, and that was what counted. This miracle is where I get my name from. Trey means “third,” and I am the third son. My brother and I were now in a party of 5, completing our family.

To wrap this up, we can all rationalize whatever we want to. Sure, you can chalk everything up to coincidence, even though the probability of everything happening the way it did was assuredly microscopic. I share all of this with you not to point at myself, but to point towards Jesus. There is a God in heaven who loves you. His name is Jesus, and it was from the pastor’s connection with Him that he spoke into their lives when they needed it.  I don’t know the answer to many of the toughest questions of life. No one does. However, I do know that all things work for the good of those that love Him (Romans 8:28). My parents are a living testament of this, our family is a living testament of this, and you can be a living testament of this too! All you have to do is just humble yourself, believe, and receive what is freely given. He is real, He exists, and He is for you.

With that, I’ll stop talking until next time…

Trey