All the way from a Spartan king’s defiant cry to his enemies in 480 B.C.--yes, from Texas’ 1835 Battle of Gonzales--to me in Waco’s Olive Garden, here it is: Another miraculous vignette -- this time, God’s Garment of Praise! Last week I stood just inside Olive Garden restaurant, waiting with no small measure of excitement for a long anticipated connection with my grandson Larkin. Although the storm raged persistently outside, my anticipation calmly settled into a sweet peace in those few minutes. And speaking of sweet, I looked down just in time to see a young girl, probably six or seven, whispering upward to me: “Are you a real person?” And from behind a pair of tiny blue-framed glasses, the child gazed intently to hear my reply before her family led her away to a table inside. “Yes,” I answered. And then she was gone. Okay. Now here’s the disclaimer from my sister: “Kay, what were you wearing?” The white-denim outfit with metal fringe? And a wide-brim western hat? It was merely a garment chosen to celebrate Larkin’s reunion with his Kaki.All that, though, just to share the takeaway: The child’s query immediately spun me back to a most meaningful--I’d even say treasured--day in my own childhood. As Mother and my sister and I started to disembark a New Orleans train one summer day, I stared straight up into the smiling face of a startlingly-beautiful African American lady next to me.. I was more than enthralled by a mysteriously-strong aura of love that came from her smile--and by the striking red suit she was wearing. In mere seconds I seemed to take in a strong but silent feeling of joy that seemed to come down from her and into me. As shy as I was, I asked Mother for permission to give this inexplicably radiant lady my most valuable possession--the small red New Testament in my hand. Mama said yes; the lovely lady received it with a radiant countenance like I’d never seen. And then we were gone. While I wasn’t yet a Christian, I left that morning filled with Something Sweet which I treasured but didn’t understand. After the Olive Garden experience, I lay in bed that night pondering the two “little-girl” encounters that seemed so very meaningful. And then God’s Interpretation came swiftly.I had given that other “real person” on the Louisiana train my little Bible. But this autumn night, I imparted to the curious little child a desire for Christ Jesus. Imparted to her the spiritual gift of seeking God and finding Christ. Perhaps I had, in a matter of seconds, sewed into her spirit the desire to know Jesus. Someday--yes, That Day--will I see those two again? The emanant believer whose garment of praise generated my desire to be like her? And that little girl who somehow recognized Christ’s Joy living in my own heart?