Found in Him

Nicole Johnson compares the love her daughter has for each one of her dolls to the love God holds for each one of His uniquely, perfectly designed children.

Named and Treasured

Her name is Chelsea, and she is Barbie’s younger sister. She stands about four inches tall, has brown, shoulder-length hair and wears a short purple dress. She is one of many — exactly how many I’m not entirely sure — but I’d guess my daughter’s doll collection is nearing triple digits. As a matter of fact, there are probably five Chelsea dolls in the group, though some have blonde hair and some brown, which has always puzzled me being that technically, in Barbie land, they are the same person.

Choose any doll from the bin and my daughter will not only tell you the doll’s name, but will also tell you when they “first met.” Some she has met at Target; others joined our family after a trip in the Amazon truck. Several have arrived throughout the years on Santa’s sleigh, a few were hidden in her Easter basket, and many moved in with us on her birthday.

I have called you by name: you are mine. (Isaiah 43:1)

No matter how long a certain friend has been part of the family, every time she picks one up to “visit with,” it feels like their very first meeting all over again. Each one is as special as the next, and I often tell her I’d be more than happy to live as one of them with the love and attention she so generously gives her crew.

My daughter is now 15, and yes, she still finds great joy in spending time with her dolls. Born with Down syndrome, it took Mary significantly longer than her peers to develop her language. It’s been clear from the start that her relationship with her dolls is therapeutic. In their presence, and on her terms, she is always understood, always deeply loved, and always has their undivided attention. With them, she is free to be fully herself — no pressure, no pretense — everything she was beautifully made to be. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Several weeks ago, Chelsea went missing. Mary called me up to her room and asked for help finding her. We searched through the mountainous pile of dolls on her floor a few times, but her little buddy was nowhere to be found. We expanded the search area to both cars, Nana and Grampy’s house, closets, and even places that made no practical sense—-hoping that, somehow, she had been misplaced there.

Now, nearly two months later, Mary still brings up Chelsea in conversation, speaking as though her little friend has simply been on an extended vacation and is sure to come home any day. It simply doesn’t matter that she has 99 other dolls ready and waiting for her attention. Things are just not right in her world when one of her own is missing.

Called and Chosen

My name is (insert your name here). I am one of many — exactly how many changes with the steady rhythm of life and death, the circle both beautifully and tragically unending. There are many who carry my same name, yet somehow I remain entirely unique, necessary and chosen.

Single me out from among my many brothers and sisters, and He will tell you not only my name, but the exact moment I first became a thought in His mind. In that very moment, I became irreplaceable — unmatched in purpose, dignity and worth. I was created with intention and made wholly unique — no better and no worse than the design of my brothers and sisters — just perfect for me, plain and simple .

I’ve now walked this earth for (insert age here) years, yet every time I stop for a visit with Him, He responds as if He is welcoming me home from some long, extended vacation. With each encounter, I am made new. In His presence, I am always understood, always deeply loved, and always given His undivided attention. With Him, I get to be fully and completely me — no pressure, no pretense — everything I was beautifully made to be. Nothing more. Nothing less.

There are times when I lose my way and am hard to find. It could be moments, days or years. There is just so much out there to navigate and it is so easy to lose myself in the endless offerings of this world.

You’d think I wouldn’t matter so much to Him with so many others to guide and love. But I feel it in those moments I remember to pause, lose myself to this world and rest in Him. His joy in my homecoming makes it plain — things are just not right in His world when one of His own is missing.

“If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them goes astray, will he not leave the ninety-nine in the hills and go in search of the stray? And if he finds it, amen, I say to you, he rejoices more over it than over the ninety-nine that did not stray. In just the same way, it is not the will of your heavenly Father that one of these little ones be lost.” (Matthew 18:12-14)

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Copyright 2026 Nicole Johnson
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