I’ll do my best to share these events as accurately as I can. This is my recollection of it all but it is His story.  Each one of our lives and the events unfolding therein are His stories. The wondrous part is that our life stories and God’s purposes therein, will be revealed one day on the hillside of the New Jerusalem.  For those of us who have received Jesus Christ as Savior, what a beautiful love story that will be! How exciting it will be when we hear how He wooed and won each of our hearts! How He gave all He had to rescue us from the kingdom of darkness and then swept us off our collective feet and landed us safely in paradise. What a story time that will be! But until that day, and as astounding as it is, occasionally in the here and now, God parts the curtains of Heaven and gives us a glimpse of the story He has scripted before it ever unfolds.

For what I’m about to share with you today--I’m stunned afresh--almost daily that He let me in on His plan. God placed a bookmark in the present chapter of our lives, thumbed ahead a few pages, then leaned down from the Heavens and read aloud from His text—graciously allowing me a foreshadowing of the events that would come to pass exactly as He had penned them in His manuscript long before time began.

I marvel at the Lord even now as I fondly recall those 2 A.M. feedings--they were among my favorite times with her. The rest of the world was fast asleep leaving just me and her all alone. Holding her, feeding her, pressing tiny kisses on her sweet little face--savoring each precious smile and soft cooing--tranquil, tender, nurturing moments--forever etched upon my heart.

One of those nights in particular stands out bright and clear in my memory—like a tiny, twinkling star. While swept away in the rapture of the moment with her, a wisp of a poem fluttered past my heart. “The ones you love, here only on loan. Always to cherish, but never to own.” The words caused a moment’s pause and then I brushed them aside as an unwelcome intrusion. Being able to nourish her and watch her sigh with utter contentment, trust and peace as she drifted off to sleep in a land of beautiful dreams was magical.

Regardless of how hard I tried to remain in the sweetness of that moment, the poem relentlessly tugged at my heart. I reluctantly returned a sleeping Candace to her crib, placed one last kiss on her rosy cheek and covered her gently with her favorite pink blanket. I rummaged around until I found a pen. Then jotted down the poem on a small piece of paper and tucked it away in the back of her baby book. I couldn’t have imagined then the significance of that little poem. Nor could I have appreciated the graciousness the Lord. He was gently preparing me even then. In all honesty, that poem dissipated from my consciousness the instant I lay my head on my own pillow that night. The awesomeness of it did not hit me until I discovered it tucked in its hiding place twenty years later. But when it did hit me—it was staggering. I stood frozen, unable to blink—unable to move. Tears filled my eyes; my hands began to tremble as I held the crinkled piece of paper. My eyes tried to perceive the words my hand had written that night so long ago. I read them and re-read them. I could not believe it. The poem dropped to the floor and I just stood there, in amazement before Him for the longest time. Slowly, the realization began to seep in to my stunned heart. My thoughts swirled. “He knew. He knew back then. He knew then how her story would play out”. Then I laughed at myself, “Silly me, of course He did. He’s the Author of her story, after all.” Even though He had whispered it in my heart…I had been clueless.