My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
~ Psalm 139: 15-16
Two Septembers ago I held little Mustafa, infant son of my Muslim friend Ameen, in my arms. His glistening brown eyes and curly black hair demonstrated the Bedouin heritage of his ancient village of Tekoa. Four months later in Chicago, I was snuggling with Evelyn, our first grandchild, on the day of her birth. I sat in wonderment at how different these two children’s lives would be.