In minutes song was over, and life went on. I wiped my face, picked up my courage, and marched forward—sincerely hoping God did indeed have a plan in mind, hoping as well that He would be faithful to His promise that He has not given us “the spirit of fear; but of power and love.”

Over course of next month, slowly but surely my daughter did gain weight. One agonizing gram at a time. At one point we even threatened to stuff her diaper with quarters (each one gram) so that she could get to magic number—1812 grams—4 pounds, so we could take her home. Although at time it seemed like an eternity, in retrospect it doesn’t seem like it took all that long. Two months to be exact. A full month less than doctors had warned it would take. Then one cloudy September day we got to take our perfectly healthy baby home for good.

Less than a year later, I stood with my baby girl in my arms in that same church, and suddenly that familiar music started once again. “Be not afraid… I go before you always…” I looked down at my beautiful girl, and tears started rolling once more. Hugging my baby to me, I could only sing with my heart because tears choked out words.

Even today seven years and a hundred scraped knees later, when those notes play together, I am reminded to depth of my soul that God is indeed here with me. In my most terrifying moments, He is by my side. More than that, He can see other side to what I can’t, and He knows that in that moment things will be all right. And so, as a wise man once said, “All I have seen teaches me to trust Him for all I have not seen.”

Because of one wonderful, talented person whom I’m sure I will never meet, I now understand that we can all “Be not afraid…”