She came to us in April. Ragged and filthy, she wore only a flimsy shirt two sizes too big and a diaper that was dirty inside and out. When I opened the door, she was draped across the social worker’s shoulder, sleeping like she never really had before. I gathered her tiny body and took her to the crib in the back room. She didn’t stir at all as I walked through the house. I laid her down and covered her with a blanket, wondering at what she had been through.
Looking down at her sleeping frame, I wished I knew her name. Her face was so pale it was almost translucent and her dirty hair was cut in jagged lines around her tiny head.
I knew very little about her story. Later, however, I would discover details about that day that left me with the unshakeable feeling that God had intervened in the nick of time. Not two miles from the church where my husband pastored, had sat a helpless baby girl in a desperate situation. And we were totally oblivious.
But the God of the Universe was watching all along. And before evil could make a claim on her life, He reached down, yanked her out and declared, “Not this one.”
And then there I was peering down at that little miracle sleeping snug under my roof, and totally unaware of the way God had orchestrated a million details to put her there.
We adopted that little no-name darling. Her name means Lamb, and in so many ways she is. It’s true that she’s mostly mild. But make no mistake, the heart of a lion is tucked inside of her.
I often tell people, “Do not underestimate this one. God choose her for great things.”
And already He has done great things. Through her, God opened my eyes to who I was before Him, and who I am in Him.
Through her, I see grace. Grace with golden hair, long lashes and pink rimmed glasses. Grace that giggles and sings. Grace that sees wonder in the simplest things.
I watched God rescue her, and restore her. And every day I watch Him miraculously reveal Himself through her.
What marvelous, unexpected grace.
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