Oh, Ally.

Our oldest daughter inherited her grandmother's name, Althea. My husband's mother passed away one day while Tim sat in his seventh grade classroom. Her death rocked his world and his faith. So, when our first daughter entered the world, he used his beloved mother's name as a tribute to her life. Her legacy consists of countless friends sharing testimony of her deep friendship. She seemingly lived for the sole purpose of caring for others and building relationships to benefit the kingdom of heaven. Knowing her son, I believe that.

Althea, 13, also hears testimony of her grandmother and appreciates the "vintage" name she's been given. Ally is independent and confident. Adventure intrigues her, so our trip to Haiti left her with a longing for that land. Even after contracting "the Haitian sensation," she ate up every minute in that country. When it came time for us to return home, she was begging to stay the rest of the summer (all while I was dreaming of what I'd buy first at Wal-Mart). Poverty didn't scare her. Loss didn't scare her. She embraced the land and culture. And it followed her home.

The Fall time for her was also busy. Somehow, though, she managed to pick up a book in our church library entitled Kisses From Katie by Katie Davis. Perhaps the brown faces on the cover reminded her of the faces she touched in Haiti. Perhaps Katie seemed like a grown up version of who she wants to be. For those reasons and probably more, she began to read Katie's story.

I haven't read the book, but Ally was taken. She summarized chapters for me and talked about it often. The story involves a young girl moving to Africa and caring for orphans until one day she adopted one. And then another, and another, and another until she had thirteen daughters. Ally continued to share Katie's inspiring story with me until one day, she was moved to action. I remember her coming downstairs from her room to show me what she had just read in her book. She said, "Mom, did you know that if 8% of professing Christians would help an orphan, there would be no more orphans?!?!"

I questioned her immediately, "Are you sure it doesn't say 80%?"

"No, it's right here, Mom." She said, showing me her book. "I want to help. I want to be part of that 8%."

"Sure," I added quickly. "Yes, we should pray about that." That was a good response, right? One can never go wrong with prayer.

"Well," she came back, "I don't know what there is to pray about.  God commands us in James 1:27 to care for the orphans."

Ouch. Of course he does. Why do 13-year-olds spotlight so plainly what I strategically undervalued?

"Yes. You are right. God tells us to care for the orphan and the widow, but if we are serious about helping orphans we are really gonna need to start praying how that will look."

That satisfied Ally and she stuck her nose back in that book and wandered upstairs again.

Oh, Ally. She had done it now, said what was true and I knew it. Tim didn't need convincing, he felt God's gentle nudge to keep exploring ways to help orphans. But I was dragging my feet, mumbling my excuses, and praying my neat, safe prayers to avoid risk. But, here, Ally blatantly pointed out the truth and confronted me with it. And I had agreed to pray about how we would help. Yes, she had done it now, because I know the power of prayer and I knew things were about to get very interesting.