There is a beautiful, purple-blue summertime flower called chicory or “blue daisy.” It’s actually a weed, not a flower (but it is beautiful). It blooms when the weather gets hot, and has a special talent: it grows in unexpected places. Like a crack in the sidewalk. Or along a chain-link fence. Even on the side of dry, dusty roads. It’s as if the weed puts its hand on its hip and says “You think you can stop me? Just watch this!” And then it grows like crazy. All over the place. Beautiful.

I think God is like chicory. Nothing can stop God from getting his love to you. In fact, it’s Jesus’ special talent: he can always find a way—sometimes an unexpected one—to meet you with his love.

Can you guess how I know this is true? Because it happened to me.

My story starts with my father. Daddy was a tailor, a person who makes or fixes people’s clothes. He was very successful too, and big companies—even the Niger National Army—asked Daddy to make their clothes for them. When I was a young girl, my daddy became very sick one day. One of his legs suddenly lost all its strength. We didn’t know why, but it got smaller and weaker. And he had terrible pain in his leg too.

Daddy tried everything to heal his leg—all the best doctors, all the best medicines. When there were no more medicines or doctors to try, Daddy tried prayers. We were a Muslim family, so he prayed Muslim prayers. But that didn’t work either.

Daddy paid lots and lots of money to heal his leg, and prayed lots and lots of prayers … but nothing worked. A whole year passed. Finally, Daddy’s friends and family said to him, “Someone must have used bad magic on you. There is no other explanation.” They thought “bad magic” had strong power over a person’s body. “You should just give up trying to get better,” his friends said.

A few days later, our neighbor, Boubacar, knocked on our door. All year long, he’d seen my daddy in pain. “Why don’t you just try Jesus?” he asked. “I think he heals people sometimes.” Just try Jesus? That was unexpected. Boubacar sometimes talked about Jesus, but he was a Muslim and didn’t believe Jesus was God. Still, Boubacar gave us the name of a Christian pastor who would come to our house to pray for my daddy. That was unexpected too! How did Boubacar know a Christian pastor?

Daddy’s leg was hurting worse than ever. He didn’t want to call the Christian pastor, but he was desperate. Finally, Daddy asked the pastor to come. When he got to our house, he prayed, “in the name of Jesus,” and the pain in Daddy’s leg went away right then and there.

This was very unexpected!

Later that week, Daddy said to me, “Come on, Fatouma! We’re going to that pastor’s church. I need to know more about this Jesus who healed me.” We walked a very long way. Daddy’s leg was still weak, but the pain was gone. We went to church that day and the next. And the next. Day after day.

And then one day at church, something happened. All of the sudden, we knew Jesus wasn’t just a “name” to use for healing. He was a real person. But not just any person—he was the ONE who had made the whole world. He was the FIRST, before everything else that ever was. And he was there with us—JESUS.

Together, Daddy and I knelt down in that church. We told Jesus we loved him. I was nine years old. As we walked home, suddenly Daddy started shouting, “Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus! Hallelujah!” Daddy showed me his leg; it was thick and strong and healthy again.

That was unexpected!

Ever since that day, Jesus’ love has been growing and growing in my heart. Today, I am the pastor of a church called Vie Abondante, which means “abundant life” in French. I love to invite people to “just try Jesus.” Then, I watch as he grows his love in their hearts like crazy. Abundantly. All over the place. Beautiful.