Her life lasted about three short weeks. I don't know if she was in pain. I don't know if she could sense the love of those who cared for her. Was she conscious of a caressing hand, a soothing voice? Was she comforted by the presence of those around her? I don't know.
But she couldn't have been aware of the way she changed me.
She changed me?
How could she do anything? She was a little baby. She couldn't interact with anyone.
"Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength"--but she couldn't even talk.
"But God hath chosen the foolish things of this world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: that no flesh should glory in His presence." 1 Cor. 1:27-29
Weak, despised, abandoned, and almost forgotten--this was baby Grace. Yet God used her to send me a special-delivery parcel, gift-wrapped in heaven and addressed directly to me. Inside was a special dose of Jesus's love. I accepted it, not without a pang, because opening your heart to love also opens you to be vulnerable. It planted itself in my being and bore fruit--a greater ability to see as He sees, love as He loves, and give as He gave.
Now she is safe. She is warm and comfortable. She can laugh. She can run. She can sit on Jesus' lap and look into His eyes. She will never be cast out or rejected again. She will never be hungry or feel pain. Her life, though short, had a purpose, even if it was just for one random American girl in Haiti.