I have a stuffed bunny that was given to me on the morning of my third Easter. I remember waking up and discovering the little white fluff ball nestled among the candies and chocolates in my basket. ‘Twas the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

I named him Twinkle.

I snuggled with him at night. I would wrap my arms around him as I fell asleep. He fit perfectly under my chin.

I took him along for show-and-tell in Ms. Anderson’s first grade class.

His arms were tied together with a little string, and my little wrist fit between his arms. So I would wear him as a bracelet and pretend to ice skate with him around the living room. I cried the day the string broke.

Nineteen years later, and he is still mine. His coat is weirdly yellow and matted. His nose was lost in a gruesome dog fight. His left ear is hanging by a thread. But I still love him.

There is nothing about Twinkle that is valuable. He wouldn’t even be worth 25 cents at a garage sale. But I would sell him for nothing less than a billion dollars because he is irreplaceable in my heart.

God doesn’t love us because we are valuable. We are valuable because God loves us. Everything about us flows from that.

Grace and peace,