Monday, September 22, 2014

Grace Upon Grace

Her name is Grace Kisakye.

Her name is Grace G r a c e.

I’m standing in church with this tiny bundle of Grace in my arms, her beaming Mama by my side. We’re singing in Luganda “Thank you, Jesus.” Over and over again we raise our voices in unison “Webale, Yesu” and Grace stirs in her sleep. Her Mama smiles at me, and I’m looking at God and wondering at His love. September rain patters on the tin roof of my church home and I gaze into His eyes.

Stitched into my story is so much of His grace, that it cannot even be my story anymore. Here I am, a twenty year old girl in a flowered dress, wide-eyed and unprepared, moved 8,596 miles to Uganda. I have a home here. I am singing my adoration in Luganda, dreamy baby in my arms, surrounded by strangers-become-family.

Only that this must be His story, and I am a small part. 

Mama Oliver, Mama Hope, Mama Sarah, woven into each broken story is grace upon grace. Before my eyes, a sixteen year old girl is walking from sorrow into joy. A daughter of the King is coming to know a Love that asks for nothing in return. A widow is rejoicing in the birth of her son, death to life. Saints around the world are loving and praying for these three tiny Ugandan babies entrusted to us. With every soul and every day, He is whispering His grace, painting His love.

Grace upon grace.

These days are not our own. They are pages of one long winding story. The Story.

His Story. 

What Love is this? 

A Love that knits into each heart a longing for something more. A longing to find ourselves, not in our own broken mess, but in the greater story of The Cross. When we look deep into His Grace Eyes, Peace is written over our brokenness and Love casts out fear. We become less and He becomes more.

Father, anything. Anything that You ask of me, if only Your story would be furthered with my days.

Grace upon grace.

Friends, I ask you to sit down today with a pen and paper. Recount your story, and look for the grace. And as grace piles up, grace upon grace, and as your eyes well and your heart floods, worship. Worship Him for the hurting and the dancing and everything in between. Realize that woven into your story is so much grace, that the story must not be yours at all. Only His.

At Uniquely Woven we have the great joy of walking with Mamas out of darkness and into light. To find out more, to donate, to walk with us…visit

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