To You She Looks Imperfect

'I know what you are thinking. You need a sign. What better one could I give than to make this little one whole and new? I could do it; but I will not. I am the Lord and not a conjuror. I gave this one a gift I denied to all of you - eternal innocence. To you she looks imperfect - but to me she is flawless, like the bud that dies unopened or the fledgling that falls from the nest to be devoured by ants. She will never offend me, as all of you have done.

She will never pervert or destroy the works of my Father's hands. She is necessary to you. She will evoke the kindness that will keep you human. Her infirmity will prompt you to gratitude for your own good fortune. More! She will remind you every day that I am who I am, that my ways are not yours and that the smallest dust mote whirled in darkest space does not fall out of my hand.

I have chosen you. You have not chosen me. This little one is my sign to you. Treasure her!'

From Morris West's The Clowns of God

Beth - 1986