March 24th. It's another anniversary. Five years ago I raised my right hand before the judge and declared that I would take these two children as my own, that I would love and care for them.
Excitement reigned, while deep within, Daniel and I knew it was a big step, one we knew we could never follow through with apart from the richness of the ultimate Father. I still see Daniel standing there, saying yes to what awaited him as a father. In the months prior, when we had waded through stacks of paperwork and signed documents, we did so in simple obedience to what we sensed the heavenly Father leading us to. It did not look like the easy route, but it was the route we wanted, as His route is always best.
Daniel and I took our seats with immediate family and several close friends who had come to support us that day. As the judge pronounced the petition to be granted, everyone clapped. It was true and it was sealed — forever.
In the days to come, life resumed much like it had up to that point, yet there were added joys. When traveling with the children, there was no additional paperwork, there were no extra doctor visits, and when we were asked if these were all our children, we knew in our hearts they would be ours to keep. If someone would ask Daniel which were adopted, he would answer with something like, "They are all ours," or "We are all adopted" — by God.
As time rolled on, we met with questions that left us searching for answers. One comment Daniel would make from time to time was, "Why not learn from those who have already walked this way with success?!" As a family, we all made that never-to-be-forgotten, all-night, 11-hour trip to visit the Razvi family, who mentors adoptive families. Together we listened and eagerly learned from those with more experience.
The tears roll, even as I write. The goodness of God kept hidden what was around the corner.
Fast-forwarding a year and eleven days, I see myself in a big city outside a huge hospital. There was only one thing I had in mind as I sprinted for those big glass doors — get me to Daniel's side!
Hours later I was admitted into his room. It was Daniel, but oh! "I'm here, Daniel, it's me." I held his hand and watched intently for the slightest sign that he knew I was there. I was thrilled when I could tell he heard. An hour later I was ushered out of his room, where I crumbled in the waiting room — another surgery to find where the bleeding was coming from, little hope of survival. Food was hardly an option; my body screamed for water, so I kept guzzling it. After a bit we shuffled downstairs, where I met our dear children. When they showered me with questions about Daddy, all I could say was that I did not know what would happen, but God did, and He would do what was best. At one point a strong urge came that we needed to move on. The distressed children were sent home with Cousin Judith and Owen. I had just entered that little waiting room when the doctor and a nurse came in and simply said, "We did all we could. He's not going to make it."
There was only one thing on my mind — I had to go see him, now! "You may have another three minutes," the doctor stated.
Dad stabilized me on the short walk to his room while Mom stayed with Baby Joshua in the waiting room.
By his side I poured out all the love I had ever known; it was my last chance, and I took it. I thanked him for all he had ever done for the children and me. I told him I forgave him for anything he had ever failed at and apologized for any of my own failures. "Daniel, it is okay, you may go now. The children and I will be okay. It is okay for you to go be with Jesus." Sheer exhaustion permeated my being. I glanced up to see more family members join, for which I was thankful. The three minutes were long gone — by now it had been over 30 minutes. Thank you, Lord, You knew what we needed!
Today, four years later, I see a hand of divine love standing with us. When the going has gotten tough, I would sometimes again whisper, "Daniel, it's okay, you may go." The same strength that flowed through Daniel those years as he braved his responsibilities as a husband and father is available to us today. Yes, surely God is still a Father, and in our home He continues to provide strength and answers none could have found on their own.
As we reminisce on that day five years ago when the adoption was finalized, I keep thinking of the celebration party we had that night. It was probably one of the best times of my life. Family and friends gathered in our shop where we had a feast together, sang songs, and had activities for the children. The theme we chose was balloons and puzzle pieces, based on how God's goodness places the pieces of our lives together. On the large three-tier cake were the words, "Our missing pieces have come together." That evening Daniel shared bits of our journey and how things got pushed back various times throughout the waiting period for the actual adoption to go through. Things looked quite bleak at times; nonetheless, in God's perfect time, it all came together! The wait, the anguish, the unknown — it made things so much richer in the end, and perhaps got us ready for the days to come.
This week I'll share a simple children's recipe on behalf of the children who were adopted. One of our family friends came that night with a tray of rice crispy treats, which we placed in the children's food line. Wish you could see the setup we had, with mini tables for the children, and hear them all sing together. Children have their own sense of innocent preciousness, don't they?!
Today, wherever you find yourself, the Ultimate Father still reigns. Take His hand — He cares.
Rice Krispie Bars
¼ cup butter
4 cups marshmallows
6 cups Rice Krispies
Melt butter in a large saucepan over low heat. Add marshmallows and stir till completely melted. Remove from heat, add Rice Krispies. Stir til well coated. Spread evenly into buttered 9 by 13 inch pan.
Optional: Sprinkle with sprinkles and cut into various shapes with cookie cutters.
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