Last Saturday night: worship service at the City of Youth. One hundred and fifty or so children who call this place home fill the chapel. Throw-away kids, abandoned, exploited. They all have scars of abuse on the inside; some wear them on the outside.

And then Gleice walks forward from the back row, takes the microphone from Pastor Derli, bows her head.

“God, thank you that I am perfect in Your eyes.”

Yeah.

God, make her perfect in my eyes, too.