In the deepest part of winter, life doesn't look like growth; it looks like survival. Nature (and time) seem to stand still, inviting every living thing into a place of quiet. A place of slowness. It feels like death. It feels never-ending. But this is exactly where a miracle begins to take shape. Just when we think the light won't return, and the days could not be colder, the thawing begins. It's gradual at first, almost unrecognizable. Until one day, you realize the miracle was coming all along. The life that was once dormant is suddenly, vibrantly awake.
I have watched this same miracle unfold before my eyes in the life of a beautiful 4-year-old girl named Blessing.
After being abandoned at nine months by her birth mother, Blessing has been raised by her grandmother-a strong, loving woman devoted to seeing her granddaughter thrive. However, as Blessing grew, the weight of the care she required became too heavy to carry alone.
Enter: Finding Joy Zambia.
When she arrived at Finding Joy, the physical realities of Cerebral Palsy and severe malnourishment had narrowed her world down to the quiet, exhausting work of survival—a weary silence where her light was buried deep beneath the weight of just staying alive.
Since my arrival in October, I have literally watched this girl come back to life. In those early weeks, there were times I would visit Finding Joy and she just seemed to be far away; her body was there, but her spirit was still fighting a quiet battle. In those moments, it felt as though the light in her eyes was tucked away - just out of reach. But lately, much like the ground softening after a long freeze, what was once dormant is unfolding.
It turns out the girl whose smile lights up the room today was bravely weathering winter all along. Now she smiles and 'talks' during circle time, loves dancing, and has met physical goals that seemed nearly impossible months ago. People who see pictures of her ask, 'Is that the same child?'
The answer is yes. She is simply the version of herself that was hidden under the frost for far too long. To stand in her presence, to hold her so she can dance with her friends and smile like any other four-year-old child, is to be on holy ground. I have witnessed a miracle.
To know Blessing is to know God is still in the business of redeeming stories. The hard-fought light in her eyes is a reminder to me that miracles are coming-even in the dead of winter. What a gift to witness miracles like this every day. May you have eyes to see the everyday miracles in your own life today.
I split my time between two roles at Special Hope Network. Director of Finding Joy and Director of Data. One allows me to spend time with some of my favorite kids. The other allows me to analyze the effectiveness of programs across Special Hope past and present and make informed decisions about future programs. (And stare at computer screens and color-coded spreadsheets). Obviously, pictures of one role is FAR more interesting than the other. But if you want to see a color-coded spreadsheet that has a script running to analyze data, feel free to reach out. :)
