Every Life Marked by Grace
I've only given the reader a small snapshot of my life. I don't want to presume that my entire life is all that fascinating but it does seem that my life like everyone's has been marked by undeserved kindness coming from God's hands. Sometimes that kindness is very obvious and praising God for it comes easily. Other times that kindness does not seem at all kind. For those moments only the gift of time can reveal the blessing God has given.
Steve was in seminary when we realized starting a family was not going to be easy for us. We did not have much money and so we only did the budget fertility workup. Seminary was full of young families with many babies and toddlers. Many times I was painfully aware that we didn't fit in as the young moms would chatter about their children and I would have nothing to add. Regularly someone would feel the need to question me about our lack of children. I would either tell them my whole history or cut them off with a brief prepared comment.
A dear woman who probably had no idea how painful her words were, said, " It's fine that you didn't have children while Steve was in school but now that he's graduating you'd better get busy." She was like so many people who viewed parenthood like one big vending machine. To succeed all anyone has to do is put the coins in, push the buttons, and out pops the object of desire. Scripture clearly states it's God that opens and closes the womb. Man is arrogant when he assumes all he has to do is state his desire and it will always become his.
Some time after our move to California, Steve heard an ad about an introductory meeting on adoption being held by the county. We attended. Since we were certain we wanted to at least start our family with a baby it looked like inter-country adoption was the only choice we had. Korea was the only country that was open at the time. Soon we were filling out forms and scheduling the interviews with the social worker.It was June . We had been approved and now we were waiting for pictures of our little girl. We knew she would be Laura Elizabeth,( named after both mothers) long before we ever saw her image.
Steve had just left for the east coast for a church meeting. I was working at the bookstore that day when I answered the phone. It was the social worker. She had Laura's pictures. This wasn't the way I had dreamed it. A friend from church took me to get her pictures. That night after a brief phone conversation with Steve, I took the pictures I had been given and placed them into a small photo album. It was impossible to grow tired of looking at our little girl's face. When I went to bed I kept the light on and the pictures close so whenever I woke I could instantly look at them. Small black and white snap shots colored my life in brilliant hues. Although this was different how could giving birth be any more exciting than our adopting Laura?
Our waiting wasn't over. It took 5 months for the way to be cleared for the next phone call. It was in November when the call came that Laura would be coming the next day. Friends and family welcomed her with open arms and rejoiced with us.
A short time passed and we decided to start the process again, this time for a son named Christopher. Laura had come from Seoul, and Christopher would come from Pusan. A year had passed since we had received Laura. We were told Chris would not come until after Christmas. My in-laws came for a visit. My father-in-law helped Steve paint the outside of the house so that task could be out of the way when our son arrived. December 12 they were painting the house when the social worker called. The next day the plane would arrive with Christopher. Instead of the satisfaction of a finished painting job, my father-in-law became the first person to bond with his grandson. Chris whenever possible clung to his grandfather and and chose his father only as a last resort. He resigned himself to my help only when his grandparents flew home, and his father was at work.
My family had a tradition that my mother knit Christmas stockings each one with the person's name across the top. I told my mother not to worry about getting the stocking done because he would not be there. She only knew the certainty of my message and nothing of the surprise phone call to come. The stocking arrived at our house in plenty of time to fill with little gifts for our new son to unwrap on Christmas morning. This was just one more sign of God's grace. His grace had upheld us during the painful years of infertility, the uncertainty of the adoption process, the joy of becoming a mom, and all the sanctifying work from parenting.
Steve was in seminary when we realized starting a family was not going to be easy for us. We did not have much money and so we only did the budget fertility workup. Seminary was full of young families with many babies and toddlers. Many times I was painfully aware that we didn't fit in as the young moms would chatter about their children and I would have nothing to add. Regularly someone would feel the need to question me about our lack of children. I would either tell them my whole history or cut them off with a brief prepared comment.
A dear woman who probably had no idea how painful her words were, said, " It's fine that you didn't have children while Steve was in school but now that he's graduating you'd better get busy." She was like so many people who viewed parenthood like one big vending machine. To succeed all anyone has to do is put the coins in, push the buttons, and out pops the object of desire. Scripture clearly states it's God that opens and closes the womb. Man is arrogant when he assumes all he has to do is state his desire and it will always become his.
Some time after our move to California, Steve heard an ad about an introductory meeting on adoption being held by the county. We attended. Since we were certain we wanted to at least start our family with a baby it looked like inter-country adoption was the only choice we had. Korea was the only country that was open at the time. Soon we were filling out forms and scheduling the interviews with the social worker.It was June . We had been approved and now we were waiting for pictures of our little girl. We knew she would be Laura Elizabeth,( named after both mothers) long before we ever saw her image.
Steve had just left for the east coast for a church meeting. I was working at the bookstore that day when I answered the phone. It was the social worker. She had Laura's pictures. This wasn't the way I had dreamed it. A friend from church took me to get her pictures. That night after a brief phone conversation with Steve, I took the pictures I had been given and placed them into a small photo album. It was impossible to grow tired of looking at our little girl's face. When I went to bed I kept the light on and the pictures close so whenever I woke I could instantly look at them. Small black and white snap shots colored my life in brilliant hues. Although this was different how could giving birth be any more exciting than our adopting Laura?
Our waiting wasn't over. It took 5 months for the way to be cleared for the next phone call. It was in November when the call came that Laura would be coming the next day. Friends and family welcomed her with open arms and rejoiced with us.
A short time passed and we decided to start the process again, this time for a son named Christopher. Laura had come from Seoul, and Christopher would come from Pusan. A year had passed since we had received Laura. We were told Chris would not come until after Christmas. My in-laws came for a visit. My father-in-law helped Steve paint the outside of the house so that task could be out of the way when our son arrived. December 12 they were painting the house when the social worker called. The next day the plane would arrive with Christopher. Instead of the satisfaction of a finished painting job, my father-in-law became the first person to bond with his grandson. Chris whenever possible clung to his grandfather and and chose his father only as a last resort. He resigned himself to my help only when his grandparents flew home, and his father was at work.
My family had a tradition that my mother knit Christmas stockings each one with the person's name across the top. I told my mother not to worry about getting the stocking done because he would not be there. She only knew the certainty of my message and nothing of the surprise phone call to come. The stocking arrived at our house in plenty of time to fill with little gifts for our new son to unwrap on Christmas morning. This was just one more sign of God's grace. His grace had upheld us during the painful years of infertility, the uncertainty of the adoption process, the joy of becoming a mom, and all the sanctifying work from parenting.
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