He was a mother's nightmare. In the reasoning of the local, idolatrous community into which he was born, the child was a curse from the gods. So, at the insistence of the father he was cast on the nearby village dunghill and left to die.
He was a regular guest in the village dunghill. Every time he had his epileptic fits and lapsed into a coma, his father had him thrown out on the dunghill in the hope that he would just die. But even then, the distraught mother's ear were alway in anticipation of the familiar weak cry of her of her baby boy; and when it eventually began, she would be there in an instant.
This cycle continued until the angry father read the riot act: "leave this cursed child to die, or else, leave the house!" Mother, sweet mother, chose the latter.
One last time, she picked up her son from the bed of filth with a firm resolve to brave all odds and nurse him to health. " this child is a blessing from God,not a curse",she must have reasoned.
The child recovered from his bad health condition and grew up to become a vigorous youth, and an inflential gosple minister who touched so many lives.
