Yesterday, I walked home from church: Just me and Maliya. As we walked, she told me about a story her teacher had told her. How his mother had been born in China, and had to be hidden in a wall, as a baby, so that she wouldn't be killed. How she got sick, and the fever grew so bad that her eardrums burst, leaving her deaf. She told me that it was actually a good thing that she was sick, though, because it made her sleep so much that she didn't make noise and get caught. After she told me this story, she and I talked about how, sometimes, trials are secretly blessings in disguise.
When we got home, she said that walking home was a trial, because it was hard, but it was really a blessing, because she got to talk to me.
Heart. Melting.
