Eight Month Musings

When our son, Noah was born to Heaven, we were overwhelmed with graciousness by those who love us. Though we had not shared our news of a coming baby, those who knew me well, recognized I had been way too quiet, way too long. It was evident in looking at me that I was not just overindulging on oreos, however, in kindness and respect, most allowed us our privacy. There was speculation, but no one pried. On the sad day when we arrived home from the hospital, friends dropped by with meals and gifts, cards came, calls came, all of which were appreciated. The news of what happened to our family traveled quickly to family and friends. It was comforting to be surrounded by such love. I prayed A LOT during that time and knew God would carry our burden. I prayed for a sign, any sign, something to guide my steps.

Then the box came.

It was an ordinary brown box, from P*ttery Barn, no less, and I knew it had some pumpkin placemats and a small doll for Emily inside. Yet, when I opened it, there on top of the packing peanuts was a neatly packaged crib sheet, a boy's crib sheet, with trains and cars and planes scattered about. I did not order this. Of course it set into motion a flurry of tears, but I took it to be a sign.

A few months later, we would make the decision to adopt and we completed our paperwork requesting to adopt a little girl from China. I purposely left the crib sheet out and referred to it often, wondering the message that it held. I obviously assumed it meant a little boy would join our lives, but as we completed the last of the seemingly endless paperchase, I decided to put the crib sheet away. As I dug through the linen closet last Christmas searching for a doile (a particular doile), I unearthed the crib sheet once again. In my sadness that our cherub was not here, I decided that it represented hope, even though our referral was not yet received and we'd celebrate one more holiday without our fourth family member, I had hope. I tinkered with the idea of placing the crib sheet in a missions bag, but I found I could not part with it. I gently tucked the sheet (still wrapped) back in the same spot.

At some point this year, the crib sheet would yet again cross my path and as I stood staring at it, it hit me. Planes, trains, automobiles - we'd have so far to travel to bring home our miracle. And there it was...looking back, it was a sign of things to come - a journey, one I would not trade, ever.





So, on this eight month anniversary of Hannah arriving home to us forever, I focus on the journey, getting to this place. Our shiny, happy Hannah blossoms more everyday. I love her fiesty side and yet, she challenges me daily. I love that she asks for kisses now and hugs us with all of herself. Her giggles are priceless. I loved her long before I ever knew what her face would look like. God knew her and He knew the plans He had for our family. His timing had to be perfect to complete a journey such as this...

"Thank God for this gift, His gift. No language can praise it enough."
~ 2 Corinthians 9:15