I thought of another Bible verse I had memorized:  “I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten.”  God was doing that in my life, giving back the years I had lost because of my sin and rebellion.  He had done it in several areas already.

Having made the choice to have five abortions, I lost the opportunity to ever have children.  Yet God had blessed me with many spiritual offspring—like “my girls,” Kelli, Nicks, Morgan, Nina, and Michelle Murillo.  He’d given me an inner-city family—Margie’s family—complete with a namesake, Little Lori. 

Margie had been pregnant with her eighth child when we met at the Fashion Share.  Margie had accepted Jesus as her Savior and the church had outfitted her with maternity clothes and accessories.  Two months later I was in the delivery room when her baby was born.

My mind drifted back to that occasion, December 6, 1990…….

Scrubbed and gowned in hospital greens, I stood by Margie’s side and watched the doctor cut open her abdomen.  It was extraordinary, looking down and seeing a person inside of another person, and I was overwhelmed as the doctor reached in and brought out a baby girl in his hands.  C-section babies are beautiful.  Their heads are perfectly shaped because they haven’t gone through the trauma of the birth canal.  This tiny little girl with a full head of black hair yelped and gulped, filling her lungs for the first time outside her mother’s womb.  I was awestruck.

The anesthesiologist brought Margie around quickly, and the doctor presented her with a brand-new daughter.

“What do you want to name her?” he asked.

Margie didn’t hesitate. “Lori.”

“No! You can’t do that,” I said.  We had never discussed it.

“Yes,” she said.  “I want to name her Lori.  I don’t ever want to forget what you’ve done for me and my family.”