Giving Her Back

She came to us on a cold January day, skies pregnant with the threat of ice storm, both of us flat on our backs, victims of flu.  We had waited, and begged, and pleaded with God, my body betraying us every twenty-eight days, the enemy whispering, "Maybe you're just not cut out to be parents."

I slammed doors,  I ate too many Reese's peanut butter cups.  I cried to friends.  One friend said (in the way only a true friend can), "You idiot.  (My husband's) sister works for Bethany Christian Services.  Why don't you give them a call?'

We did.  We filled out forms, We interviewed.  I worked long hours at a job I hated and saved every penny for the adoption fund, wanting nothing more than to stay home and dig Cheerios out of the sofa.

Just before Thanksgiving we received word that we had been approved, that we were no more likely than most to inflict severe psychological trauma on a child. We celebrated and made plans to start working on the baby's room after the holidays.

Our church had invited our social worker to come and speak about the work of Bethany on Sanctity of Life Sunday, January 20th.  My plan was to tell her then that the beloved Swede would be out of the country for two weeks, traveling to Germany for work.  Not that we thought she would be contacting us about a baby any time soon.

I did call, though, and she called back and said, "There's a little girl who wants to meet you."  We said we couldn't possibly.  We had the flu.  The father-to-be was leaving the country.

We got our first lesson in parenting--It's never convenient.

And so we met.  We tried not to breathe flu germs on her.  She looked deeply into my eyes and burped.  We brought her home.  Our church family had filled our home with bags and bags of baby clothes and toys, furniture that needed to be assembled.

Grandma arrived.  Dad left for Germany, too late to cancel his trip, but also giving him opportunity to wrap his brain around what had just happened.  I started trying to figure out how she worked.

Grandma and I took her to church the next day, that Sanctity of Life Sunday.  I strapped my baby girl into a car seat and drove through the ice storm, terrified.  As we walked in the pianist played, "Jesus Loves the Little Children."  Dad came home from Germany bringing her a very special dress:

And she's been Daddy's little girl ever since.

And now another man has won her heart and her hand, and her daddy is preparing to give his little girl away on another cold January day.  (Please Lord, may I humbly request that we not have another ice storm?)  And I'm going to be Mother of the Bride.

And I'm so going to rock that.

So we offer her back to the One who gave her to us, thankful for the privilege we have been given of raising her, of delighting in her; thankful for giving her a young man who loves her and loves Jesus and who also has a godly heritage.  We give thanks.  We give thanks.

(By clicking on the link below, you can see others who have joined the Gratitude Community, counting God's gifts and giving thanks)

:

379. Our baby girl

380. Grace in her life

381. Grace in all the mistakes we made as parents, filling up where we are lacking.

382. Adoption.

383. The work of Bethany Christian Services.

384. The joy of being her parents.

385.  A birthmom's courageous, life-giving, sacrificial choice.  May she know your grace and peace, Lord Jesus.  Bless her.

386.  Memories we made

387. A young man who loves Jesus and loves her and honors her father.

388. The joy of celebrating the marriage of Ethel’s daughter.

389. The uncertainty of knowing what is going to happen with ring bearers and flower girls.

390. Hearing joy in our pastor’s voice as he celebrated the covenant marriage ceremony.

391. Dancing with joy and with feather boas, celebrating God’s abundant goodness.

392. Getting to be Mother of the Bride!