The day was June 8. I remember the day because it was the eighth day of the sixth month, and when six and eight meet, miracles can and do happen, godly miracles. The number six represents man, while the number eight represents infinity, which is a characterization of God. We expected that she would have a golden glow because everyone born of God with a mission and purpose of the highest order generally has a glow of between ten inches and ten feet. By comparison, Martin Luther, the German theologian, reportedly had a five inch aura. This baby had an aura that was at least five feet extending from either side of her tiny frame. She was light, the personification of "God is light." Her golden hue was like the sunshine on a rainy day. She was brown-skinned, not what many expected, but all we cared about was the light. We knew she was God's promise fulfilled. She was our hope. She was our future.
She didn't know it then, but all of us would have our eyes fixed on her for the next few years, wondering when God would reveal himself through her. It was a long journey, much longer than any of us had anticipated, but I am proud to say she held fast to the high honor and esteem in which many of us held her. I personally asked the universe to tell us if she ever strayed from God, so that we could remind her of who she was. We weren't going to allow Satan to steal our hope. We would fight to the end if necessary, at least I knew that I would. She never strayed. I know because the universe never had to call on me for assistance. I know because her golden glow became a multi-colored coat of light, and then a robe of blazing white. I know.