This is Sir Orville.

Six years ago I was in the process of helping Jonathan and Cori repatriate and move into their own apartment with their friend Justin in Greenville, SC. It was one of the most difficult periods of my life.

Once we finally secured an apartment, we had less than two weeks before I had to return to Mongolia, and a very meager budget to work with.

We had to stick with the necessities — mattresses, washing machine, sofa. Not on the list and things I had to say “no” to were things like a toaster, a microwave (God provided for those in a sweet way but that’s a story for another day) and certainly not ceramic pigs.

We were at Tuesday Morning, probably looking for a bargain like sheets or shower curtains. As was her norm, Cori wandered off and returned carrying this bright, teal-colored pig. I’m not sure I even had to say the “no.” My eye roll sufficed. Cori’s response was, “But I love him.”

Later that day I shared this with my friend Annette. She was going to be dropping by later and dropping off some things she had collected for them for the kitchen. We were in the moving in process and in walked Annette with bags of stuff and... a teal-ceramic pig.

He was immediately named Sir Orville and placed in a prominent place in their new home. Sir Orville became the user name for their WiFi.

He  was almost lost in a puppy scuffle, but Bernie worked some magic with glue and paint and she continued to have her place of importance in several rooms as she’s been moved from home to home.

He has seen more incidents involving the need for glue. Most recently, we decided to surprise Cori and bring him with us to Denver. In his fragile state, she didn’t have space in the car in her move.

Of course, as airlines notoriously manhandle luggage, Sir Orville arrived in three pieces. But once again, Cori’s dad took the time to lovingly restore him to his beaten down but not-destroyed persona.

I’m sitting in our AirBNB Easter morning waiting for Cori to come for breakfast and discover her pig. Today she will take him to his new home.

I look at him, in his beaten, battered glory and I am grateful for three things.

• My friend, Annette, who saw my mama heart and stepped in to fill a desire for my child I couldn’t fill.
• My husband, who has painstakingly worked to keep this treasure intact.
• The picture they are of a Savior, who through our brokenness and pain, restores us again and again so we can be a reminder to a hurting world that we are loved and treasured. That our scars are His scars.

Especially on this Easter Sunday, we don’t lose hope. We wait. We wait with hope knowing our fault lines and scars don’t detract from our beauty. They reflect Love.

So, thank you too, Sir Orville, for reminding me this morning that our beauty is not in our perfection but in the Love our scars represent.