It’s a tiny little red dress with a little white onsie, long sleeved with red flowers printed on it and little bow details at the shoulder and cuff. It’s adorable. The still intact price tags say it’s for a new born. It needed to go to a baby who could wear it now, this month. Next month it will be too warm for long sleeves here.

My neighbor brought me this dress. He found it in a gift bag sitting next to the dumpster. Whether it was left there by accident, or on purpose we’ll never know and in a complex this size, there is no way to find out who the original owner is. He thought I would know someone who could use it.

I didn’t, but I held onto it anyway, looking for a home for this little dress. I kept wondering last week why I left it sitting out instead of tucking it away in the giveaway bag I have in the storage room. I couldn’t shake the idea that this dress was meant to bless someone in particular.

I asked friends with friends who have babies. I tried taking it to church this morning because I know that there are people going to Mexico in a few weeks so I thought maybe they’d need it. I tried to give this dress away to everyone I could think of and no one would take it. So I prayed, “Help me find someone to give this dress to.”

Tonight I ran out of the house with the Baby in a sling to throw some loads of laundry in the dryer. I passed some people getting out of their car. I wouldn’t have payed them any attention except that I heard the woman telling the man that it’s easier to carry the car seat by the handle. Something about that caught my attention. I mean, I don’t tell my husband how to carry the baby seat, that’s kind of old hat for us. So I glanced over and caught sight of the tiniest little pink bundle I have seen in a very long time nestled in that car seat, and I saw a mommy getting very carefully out of the car and moving ever so slowly.

They were bringing their 4 day old baby girl home from the hospital. She was born by C-section, thus the painfully slow dismount. I knew what to do with the dress. So I ran home and packaged it up and delivered it to their door. (I asked first.)

And because I now can’t shake the feeling that there is a greater reason that I wandered out in that 3 minute interval between their car and their front door to meet them, I’ll wait a few days and then take some food and an offer of friendship and see if it leads any where. I know how frustrating those weeks after a C-section can be when you’re not supposed to lift anything and you’re not supposed to vacuum and you can’t really go anywhere without pain and it feels very confining. Perhaps she’ll need some help.


It was time to leave church and go home. I handed the Baby to the GH and went back to pick up a sweater while he and the kids walked to the car. I looked back to see them all walking together. The Boy was running ahead and jumping as he ran. The Girl had her daddy’s hand clutched tightly in both of hers and was laughing up at him while hanging on his arm, literally. And there in the middle of the pack, toddling along in her little white and red dress, head down, intent on her feet, was the Baby keeping up with the rest of them.

Then the Girl reached out and held the Baby’s hand they walked to the car together. I could hear the excited laughs as I followed behind, enjoying the antics of my little family.

I’ve got to stop calling her the Baby soon, she’s one of the kids now. Any ideas?

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