20 years old. Alone. The weight of black iron sin on my shoulders. Satan’s chains around my body. My tear-soaked face nearly touching the floor. I declared to God that if He was real, He should show me now. I was ready to give up my life, be it to death unless He would take me. I began to pour out my heart to the God I had heard of all those years before. My head kept telling me I was too far gone, He could not forgive me, but my mouth kept moving as I laid my life out before Him. That day death lost. Jesus won. My chains broke off and He lifted my head. My tears turned to joy and I was born again. New life, a second chance.
26 years old. I nervously watch as people enter my home and leave with my stuff. I sell my car. I sell my bed. I quit my job. He had asked me to do the impossible, to follow Him and start a children’s home.
He told me not to raise funds, worry of support or the backing of big missions or churches. He told me to focus on Him as He would raise our funds, He would back me. He provided me a strong husband and supportive families. He has provided the funds to build the home and He touches the hearts of believers to stand behind us, support us, even to come and work with us. He has done it all, not me, Him.
And at 30 years old I look out my window at a big, beautiful home called Casa Gloria that sits high in the rain-forest of Guatemala. In just a few months the judges will begin to send us abandoned babies and unwanted children. And we will gather these babies into our arms and humbly introduce them to their Father who will restore them and make them whole, just like He did for me. And the glory with which He knit them together will all be given right back to Him.