It was a Sunday morning and she was visiting our church— a beautiful older black woman.
She was standing in the foyer talking to my husband, who had our youngest Haitian-American son in his arms. My husband told me later that this woman and been waiting for me because she especially wanted to meet me.
Our family was in the first months of having our new boys home.
It was a heavy time.
My heart was so weary and burdened.
As I walked up to this woman who radiated compassion and understanding, she stretched out her arms to me and drew me into a tight hug as she whispered with firm conviction:
“Good job, mama.”
I cannot describe the great extent at which those words touched my heart. I carried them close for many months to come, drawing them back to mind in the harder times, on the harder days.
The remembrance of those words, “Good job, Mama,” would often bring stinging tears.
I was in awe of the love of God in sending this woman to minister so deeply to me with a hug and an encouraging word.