Grace

A seemingly normal Wednesday afternoon was suddenly interrupted by a phone call. Social services had found a two-day old baby that had been thrown away in a plastic bag and left in a cemetery. 

Rebeca and Juliette both dropped everything they were doing to be with the baby. Juliette got up so quick that she left her phone and wallet at her house. Rebeca was in the middle of getting her hair done, but she didn't wait to finish. Instead, she showed up at the hospital with only half of her head arranged.  

They cleaned dirt off the baby girl and pulled worms out of her eyes and ears. She had bruises on her abdomen and neck. Wounds on her legs. Her eyes were red and swollen shut. The placenta had still been attached. No one had any idea who her family was or what had happened. 

Of course social services had called on Rebeca to take the baby and of course she accepted without hesitation. After they finished cleaning the baby, Rebeca took her to her house, and that's where I met them. Rebeca's twin preteen daughters had gathered around and were admiring how beautiful she was when one of them said, "She is ours now. She is for us." If it wasn't evident before, it became perfectly clear to me in that moment that Rebeca has passed on her heart for orphans to her daughters. And really, it's the heart of our Father God that I see in them. 

Rebeca tenderly washed the baby again, this time with sweet smelling local soap instead of sterile hospital solutions. She gently and tenderly clothed her, prepared her a bottle of warm milk, and gave her medicine, all the while breath-taken by the unbelievable nature of her story (represented by the bruises) and the indisputable touch of God on her life (the rising of her chest as she breathed and her heart beat). 

"God operated a miracle on her behalf today," I said, and everyone agreed. 

"We should call her Moses!" One of Rebeca's daughters said, because God had drawn her out of the waters this day. If she had been a boy, the name would have fit perfectly, but being a girl, we laughed and decided to look for another name. I thought to myself, Perhaps Miriam, Moses' sister. Or perhaps Grace because God said, "My grace is sufficient." His power is made perfect in her weakness, his power rests upon her, and when she is weak, he is strong. (2 Corinthians 12.9) 

She gulped down all her milk and then fell fast asleep. As she slept, we prayed over her. We thanked God for creating and preserving her life and for bringing her here to us. We thanked him for how he transforms suffering to victory, and we claimed victory and health and faith for this baby girl. We proclaimed scripture over her: God has counted the hairs on her head. He works for the good of those who love him. His grace is sufficient. 

We turned our thoughts to the mother and prayed for her. No one can understand her situation or comprehend why she did what she did, but maybe you would have done the same thing if you were in her shoes. That's why we prayed that God would do for her what he did for Hagar when she left Ishmael in the desert to die. The Lord opened her eyes to see a well, and that well saved both of their lives and changed their stories forever. May God open the eyes of her family so see that he is present and providing, that he sees them and loves them and cares for them. Maybe because of this, they will come to know him. 

After the prayer, Rebeca removed her head scarf to show us her half-done hair, and we all had a moment of comic relief. "Look at this!" She announced and we all laughed, including herself the hardest. "Because of this case, I hopped up at 2:00 this afternoon and haven't sat down since," she said around 8:00 PM. But that's just the kind of woman she is. 

The next day, I wanted to tell Rebeca about the name Grace for the baby, but I didn't get a chance until late in the evening. Just as I was about to bring it up, she said, "I had to give the baby a name today because they asked for it for her records. Her dagara name means "God protects" and her french name is Gracia. 

You see, God put it in her heart, too. Grace. Hers is a story of grace and will continue to be. 

This is what the infants in distress program is all about, and these are the situations where we see God work most powerfully. It's amazing to me that his presence and power are strongest when we are most humbled and desperate. Grace. His power is made perfect in weakness.