At 18, I was given one hour with my newborn daughter before she was taken away. I whispered “Grace” into her ear and prayed that name for 53 years—until a woman walked into my church wearing the hospital bracelet that still carried it.
THE NAME I WHISPERED In 1972, I had a baby at a church home in Albany. I was eighteen. I wasn’t married. And in those days, that was enough …
At 18, I was given one hour with my newborn daughter before she was taken away. I whispered “Grace” into her ear and prayed that name for 53 years—until a woman walked into my church wearing the hospital bracelet that still carried it. Read More
