“Would you like to keep my baby?” she said in her thick Ghanaian dialect.
“I would LOVE to!” I said, not knowing that she…she actually meant it.
She wasn’t really asking if I’d like to. She was asking if I would.
It’s breaks my brain…shatters it, to think of how a mother could lovingly come to the conclusion that the BEST case for her baby is to hand her to a stranger, but this…this is the scope of a mothers sacrificial love.
I was quickly told from a kind Compassion worker that I could under no circumstances, take the baby. That it would be an international incident. So I said, “We need to pray right now.” And we did.
We prayed for provision, food, water and long health for mom and her family. We prayed for them to see Jesus in a real way. We prayed for an education and for protection over her life.
We prayed for a sponsor.
Maybe, just maybe, we were praying for you.
I know…it’s hard. The problem…it’s massive and I want to run and hide, too.
But the love of God calls us to change that thinking…calls us to repentance.
To stretch out minds past the hard bone of our skulls and stretch our hearts past the cage of our ribs and set them free to soar and dream big dreams, impossible dreams.
To remember who God IS…a good Father, who seeing out disaster reached out and said, through Jesus, “Take my baby”.