God of the Bracelet.

Growing up, I was not allowed to wear jewelry or nail polish (at least not until my youngest sister started demanding both).

My cousin, Penina, who was much older and lived with us, had beautiful bangles. I asked her frequently if I could wear one. #Thread

One morning, probably tired of my pleas, she gave me a bracelet. I could wear it for the day, but I needed to return it in the evening, when she got home. It was beautiful, gold-colored, with pretty,precious stones lined up neatly on the outside. My six-year-old heart was elated.

I instantly put it on my little hand and went outside to play. It was too big. That was fine.

A few minutes after I returned to the house that afternoon, I casually glanced at my hand. To my horror, the bracelet was gone. I remembered Penina's words. What would I tell her?

She had trusted me. She would never give me a bracelet again. Most importantly, how would I explain it to her? I began to search frantically for it. And then I realized I would not find it without help.

At my wits' end, I tearfully begged God to help me find the bracelet.

I flung the front door open and ran outside, heart pounding, tears threatening to flow, past Door 5, to the space outside "kina Rashid's" house where we had been playing.

There was no bracelet. I began to run back, wondering what I would do. I must have been mumbling a prayer..

..to myself.

As I ran back past Door 5, the door opened and Julie threw something at me. "Here is the bangle you're looking for," she said, and banged the door shut.

I picked it up, grateful beyond words. I remember the relief to this day. I had found the bracelet.

I had escaped Penina's disappointment and wrath. From the bottom of my heart, I thanked God for His deliverance. My gait now easier and more joyful, I skipped back into the house and kept the bracelet safely, awaiting Penina's return.

When I tell you I love God... #TheEnd