I’ve lived in Orlando for one week and two days, and in that time I’ve learned that one of the qualities God is developing in me this summer is patience. There are areas in life where I can be very patient… but being a patient driver is not one of those areas. I come from near Detroit, the automotive center of the world. Michigan drivers can be fairly aggressive, and this week I realized that I am one of them.

When I first started driving as a teenager, I hated it. I preferred reading in the back seat to driving the car, and I was a very cautious driver. However, by the time I reached my sophomore year in college, I spent at least an hour in my car each day driving to and from school (through a busy city), and my driving style had taken a dramatic shift. Instead of being the driver who drove five mph under the speed limit (to the chagrin of the ten cars stuck behind me), I was the driver who found myself stuck behind other slow drivers. Instead of sitting at a red light, patiently waiting for it to turn green, I was the one who counted the seconds before my red light would change colors.

One of the first things I noticed as I began to drive in Orlando was that the timing of the traffic lights is completely different than I’m used to at home. Instead of being able to time when it will be my turn to drive, I’m forced to simply relax and wait my turn. Also, the drivers here are much less aggressive than they are in Michigan. In Rochester (where my school is located), if you are the first driver in line at a light and you haven’t started driving within 1.5 seconds after the light turns green, you can expect to be honked at. In Orlando, I often feel like the first driver in line ahead of me pauses to simply admire the green light before he or she begins to drive. This has caused significant frustration on my part on more than one occasion.

I would like to develop more patience this summer, in more areas than just driving. I want to develop the ability to slow down. I am used to having a hectic schedule, devoid of time to simply move at a normal pace and really see the things in life that are happening around me. I want the ability to sit for a moment and admire the green light before I drive on.

As writers, we often see pieces of life that others don’t see… and I don’t want to miss those things because I’m so busy getting to the next place on my schedule or checking the next item off my to-do list. So, here’s to a summer of intentional green-light-admiring. We’ll see how it goes.

This has been a good week. Full? Yes. Kind of crazy? Yes. But, very good.

One of the highlights of my week so far occurred on Tuesday morning. My work team (the writers team) does devotionals together each week, and on Tuesday morning we met to discuss the last 100 pages of a book we’d been reading through. It’s called Hinds’ Feet on High Places, and I loved it. You should read it. :)

The story is an allegory about a girl’s process toward fully surrendering her life to God, and the book documents her journey. At one point in the story, the girl (whose name is Much-Afraid) has had a particularly difficult time with a portion of the journey. Traveling with a lame foot, she spent much of this portion slipping and stumbling, and she emerged from it covered in mud and limping. It was then that God (the Shepherd) showed up and reminded her of how beautiful, perfect, and graceful she is in His eyes. She questioned how He could see her that way, when she is clearly struggling. He answered:

“Much-Afraid, don’t you know by now that I never think of you as you are now but as you will be when I have brought you to the Kingdom of Love and washed you from all the stains and defilement of your journey? If I come along behind you and notice that you are finding the way especially difficult, and are suffering from slips and falls, it only makes me think of what you will be like when you are with me, leaping and skipping on the High Places.”

I’ve been processing the idea of what God sees when He looks at me for a few days. As part of our personal development training, the staff here had us each take an assessment called StrengthFinder. It was created to help individuals recognize their strengths in order to develop them and use them in the workplace.

One of my top strengths is called Developer. A Developer sees the potential in those around them, and wants to help develop that potential. Developers often miss where people are right now, and only see them where they could be down the road. One of the difficulties of this strength is that Developers are often very hard on themselves. Their constant desire for growth and positive change can leave them never satisfied with who they are in the present. They are often disappointed with themselves.

When I was reading the description for a Developer, I was floored. It described me exactly. It is so easy for me to see potential in the people around me, and yet I am often disappointed in myself and my own progress. Mentally, I know I’m always growing and developing, but when I look at my own life, it just seems so slow and gradual. It’s easy for me to be discouraged with where I’m at… and sometimes I wonder whether God is discouraged with me, too. In my own frustration with myself, it’s easy for me to imagine God thinking, She hasn’t learned this lesson already? She’s still struggling with this issue? How long is this going to take?

While I was driving back to work from our team devotionals this week, the words the Shepherd told Much-Afraid hit me like a ton of bricks. “Much-Afraid, don’t you know by now that I never think of you as you are now but as you will be…” When God looks at me, He doesn’t see who I am now. He sees who He made me to be. Who He knows I can be. I needed to hear that.

My Developer’s mind can wrap itself around that concept so well, and I found it so comforting. Just as I look at others and see them within their potential, God looks at me and sees me within my potential. He doesn’t get stuck over where I’m at in the journey now, even if the journey is hard. Maybe I’m covered in mud and limping like Much-Afraid was, but that doesn’t matter. When God looks at me, He sees the woman He made me to be.

Like I said, it’s been a good week.

When I woke up feeling ill on Wednesday morning, my housemate made the necessary phone calls to get me excused from our activities for the day. Another friend made me tea with honey, and in the early afternoon my mentor for the summer called to see if I needed to go see a doctor. I decided to try to tough it out, hoping that if I rested for a day I’d be feeling better.

I made it in to work on Thursday morning to get some deadlines met, but was still feeling pretty sick. Before long, my sweet co-workers were helping me find a nearby urgent care, bringing me chicken soup, and sending me home to sleep for the afternoon. Friday brought more of the same. I made it in to work for the morning, and then went home to sleep for the afternoon, missing our outreach event that evening as well.

This being sick business frustrates me. I like to do my own work and carry my own weight. If life was seen as a giant rock-climbing wall, I’m realizing that I like to be the climber who can reach down and give someone else a hand, not the climber who needs two extra hands and someone shoving from below to make it to the top. I like to do things on my own.

I’m coming to realize that I do this in my spiritual life as well. In my small group this past week, we were asked if there are things we do that increase or decrease the Holy Spirit’s influence upon our thoughts or actions. Immediately, the first thing that came to my mind was my desire to do things on my own. If I am stubbornly relying on my own strength, the Holy Spirit cannot influence me because I am simply not willing to receive His direction. I have to be willing to give up control, get out of the way, and rely on Him before He can act.

So, here’s to learning to give up control this summer. Learning to lean on those around me, to take the hands that are offered when I’m tired and can’t make it by myself. Learning to step out of the way and let God work.

To read more from Emilie and hear about how God is working at her summer writing internship with Campus Crusade for Christ, visit her blog here: emilievinson.blogspot.com/

Today was my first experience with on-the-street (or on-the-beach, as the case may be) evangelism. To be completely honest, evangelism was the portion of this internship that scared me to death. Really. But, this is also an area where I really wanted to grow over the summer.

It doesn’t seem like sharing my faith should be that hard, right? I mean… why wouldn’t I want other people to know that God loves them, and wants to have a relationship with them, and can heal their brokenness? Why wouldn’t I want other people to know the hope that comes from knowing God has a plan for their lives? It seems like it should be easy.

But it’s not. Perhaps it is for some people… but it never has been for me. I find much fear inside myself when it comes to sharing my faith with others. Fear that they won’t be ready or willing to hear me. Fear that I’m not quite qualified. Fear that they’ll ask a question or bring up a point that I have no answer for… or am still working through myself. Fear of what they’ll think of me in the future… that it will make the relationship awkward.

Honestly, though… the gospel offers so much hope, and despite my fear, I should want to share it. So, this morning, after about an hour and a half of training on how to use two different evangelism tools, myself and the rest of the summer interns drove to Cocoa Beach to start conversations and share our faith.

We went out in groups of two, and I walked with one of my housemates who already had some experience in sharing her faith. During our time walking around, we had the opportunity to sit down with one woman and talk with her for a while. We used a tool called Solarium, which uses images and questions to transition more naturally to a spiritual conversation. This woman clearly didn’t have a relationship with God, but was also not at a place where she was ready to talk about the possibility of one. However, it was good to talk to her, and I’ll be praying for her as she comes to mind.

While we were on our way home this evening, I was really struck by the sheer volume of people there are in the world who are lost and hurting, and who need God. Our team of 25 or so spent the afternoon on one beach, and the majority of the people we talked to did not have a relationship with God. Several of them were going through difficult circumstances in life, and were clearly hurting. And that was just a few of the people on one little beach near Orlando, Florida.

Though I didn’t spend my afternoon leading throngs of people to Jesus, I felt like I left the beach with a little better understanding of why it is so important for followers of Jesus to be open and share their faith. There are so many people who need to hear, and that is how I want to live my life. I want to always be available for God to use me to reach others.

To read more from Emilie and hear about how God is working at her summer writing internship with Campus Crusade for Christ, visit her blog here: emilievinson.blogspot.com/

I step outside on a frigid winter morning, wrapped safely in my wool coat. I exhale and my breath floats on the air in front of me. The rising sun makes each falling snowflake shimmer and sparkle, and for a moment it appears that the air is full of tiny diamonds. Wonder.

I sit on the floor and carefully remove each figurine in the nativity scene from the box it has been packed in since last December. Shepherds, Wise Men, angels with their delicate wings. Mary. Joseph. And last of all, the Baby. The Baby from whom everything began. Wonder.

I hold a new baby safely against my chest. I see his tiny fingers and toes. His downy hair and wrinkly skin. His bright eyes. I feel the rhythm of his lungs and the beat of his heart against my own. I wonder what Mary must have felt as she held the Baby Jesus in her arms that morning. Wonder.

I race from store to store, finishing last minute shopping. I lock myself in my room with wrapping paper, scissors, and tape, preparing each gift to be given away. I anticipate the faces of those I love lighting up with joy at the gifts they receive. Wonder.

And finally, I can simply be. All is ready. All is waiting for Christmas morning. But tonight I sit curled in a blanket, watching the sparkling lights that spiral around the tree. Tonight I listen to Christmas melodies play softly. Tonight I hold a warm cup of tea and smile at the family that I love. Tonight is simple. Tonight is love. Tonight is Wonder.

Love. There is love that is offered… but is not deserved. There is a loyalty that cannot be broken. There is love that gives freedom. Love that allows us to let go of our faults, with the assurance that our Lover chooses to forget them as well.

That Love came simply. It arrived in a manger, in the midst of cows, and sheep, and hay. A baby boy. A baby boy who laughed, and cried, and smiled, and suffered, just as we do.

The Mighty King, who became a humble child. The humble child grew to become a man. A Man who loved. Who gave love. Who healed with love. Who sacrificed out of love. Who was love.

This was the Child whose birth we now celebrate year after year. Jesus came to earth. We didn’t deserve Him then, and we don’t deserve Him now. But still He stands, offering this love to us. Love that forgives. Love that heals. Love that changes. Love that wraps around our hearts, and our lives. Love that we can accept and return.

This Love is bigger than we can comprehend. It is given by a God who cannot be contained by human thought. His love extends past the edges of our minds, our imaginations, and our hearts. It never ends, just as He never ends.

Love. Simple. Undeserved. Wonder.

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart…”

Mary rested, curled up against Joseph’s side. She was truly exhausted. Next to her, Joseph’s breathing was deep and even, and he slept with one arm wrapped around her protectively. After delivering her firstborn son, the muscles in Mary’s body seemed to object to every movement she made. They groaned as she snuggled closer against Joseph’s chest, but she ignored them, shifting slightly so she could watch her sleeping baby.

She took in her birthing room. A cave. Where animals lived. The air smelled of manure and urine; there was hay strewn about the dirt floor and piled against the walls. Cows and sheep and goats had witnessed the birth of the baby. Her baby.

After the delivery, when the baby finally drifted off to sleep, Joseph lined the animals’ feeding trough with hay, and Mary settled him snugly in his makeshift bed. Jesus. She mulled over the name in her head. The supernatural events surrounding His birth. How much had happened in the last months!

Joseph snored softly next to her, and Mary’s mind drifted back to the very, very beginning. The day Joseph had picked her. Well, he’d asked her, actually. But, of course she’d said yes. Joseph was an honorable man. He was a hard worker, and he was strong. But he was also gentle. Those two qualities could be difficult to find together. What girl wouldn’t have said yes? In the shadows of the stable, a sudden grin lit Mary’s face. Poor Joseph had no idea what he was getting into when he’d asked her to be his wife.

And so, they were engaged. She was looking forward to their wedding. And then one day… in one day, everything changed. Forever.

She’d been working, just like any other day. She was a hard worker. But on that day, her work was interrupted by a visitor. Well, visitor wasn’t exactly the right word. The man was a messenger from heaven, and he had nearly frightened her to death. After all, seeing messengers from Yahweh face to face was just a tad out of the ordinary for a teenage Jewish girl.

But the words the angel spoke to her were even more out of the ordinary. “You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus.” Mary’s eyes slid shut as she remembered that sentence. The words that had turned her life upside down. And yet, she could not remember the effect the words had had on her life without remembering the supernatural sense of peace that had settled over her heart after she’d heard them.

Yes. This was her purpose. This was the life Yahweh had called her to. That much was absolutely clear. Never mind that it was humanely impossible. Never mind that she was a virgin and had never been with a man. If this were Yahweh’s design, then it would come to pass. Of this she’d had no doubt. And so, she’d said yes.

“I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.” With those simple words, Mary’s life was forever changed. Even as she rested in the stable, her eyes fixed on her baby boy, she had yet to understood the magnitude of her choice. The impact had been obvious up to this point. Very soon after the angel’s visit, she had traveled away from home to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who, the angel had informed her, was also expecting a child.

The visit was a marvelous one. The Holy Spirit had informed Elizabeth about Mary’s pregnancy… and Mary was sure this visit would be the last time she would be able to visit family comfortably. She was not far off in her assumption. After staying with Elizabeth for 3 months, her pregnancy was beginning to show. A pregnancy her family was unaware of. A pregnancy that would be regarded by all who knew her as infidelity to Joseph. But, unable to put it off much longer, she’d headed home.

At the memory of the days surrounding her return, Mary quickly shut her eyes… but not before a few rebel tears escaped and ran down her cheeks. She sniffed quietly. The words that had been thrown at her upon her return seemed to be permanently imprinted in her mind. The accusations. The questions. The explanations she’d tried to give. More accusations. The looks she’d received.

“Why the tears?” Joseph asked softly.

She quickly brushed them away, and looked up at the man who had been through so much with her. His eyes searched hers.

“I was just remembering,” she answered. “I was remembering the days after I returned from visiting Elizabeth.”

Joseph gave a dry chuckle. “You mean the days your father considered beheading me?”

“Beheading you?” Mary giggled. “It was I who was going to lose my head!”

They were exaggerating, of course. But the implications of Mary returning home carrying a child in her womb were serious, indeed. Her parents had pressed her, questioning her over and over. Who was the child’s father? Where was he? Had she been raped? And her answers, though truthful, had not exactly reassured them. How many women who bear children out of wedlock claim to have been supernaturally impregnated? That’s right. Not many.

She’d been quick to clarify that Joseph was not responsible, hoping to avoid involving him in her shame. And it would have worked, had her heavenly messenger not paid him a visit as well. Still unsure of Mary’s story, Joseph had planned on divorcing her discretely, hoping to avoid bringing her more public disgrace. But before he had done so, the angel visited him and explained what was going on. The angel left him instructions, which he followed – he took Mary home to be his wife.

Soon after, Caesar Augustus issued a decree. A census was being taken of the entire Roman world, and in order to register, each family had to return to its own town. Joseph was from Bethlehem, about 80 miles from Nazareth. And so, they had traveled…

Mary reached up and placed her hand on Joseph’s cheek. “Thank you for bringing me with you,” she said softly. “I know the law didn’t require me to be here, and I know I slowed you down. But thank you for not leaving me in Nazareth.”

Joseph smiled. “I wouldn’t have left you behind for anything. I would have missed the birth of our baby, and I would have missed you. Too much.”

“Do you think people will see us any differently when we get home?” Mary asked.

“Maybe,” Joseph answered. “And maybe not. Either way, this is the course Yahweh has set our lives on, and we’ll continue on it regardless of what other people think. Yahweh’s people often misunderstand Yahweh’s servants, but true servants don’t give up. We won’t either.”

The couple sat in silence after that, each pondering the events that led them to this point. This path of life. This baby.

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart…”

The baby’s due date was in the middle of June. Ben and Rebekah left five days before the scheduled date, with plans to take their time driving to Colorado. After stopping to visit friends in Indiana and driving nine hours the next day, Rebekah’s phone rang just as they were ready to pull over for the night. The call told her that the baby’s heart rate was low, and that the birth would take place the following morning at six a.m.

Together, Ben and Rebekah drove another nine hours straight. They arrived just as Rebekah Elizabeth was checking into the hospital to be induced. Exhausted from their 18-hour trek, Ben and Rebekah stopped at a cottage they were renting for a few hours of sleep, and then headed straight to the hospital.

“As soon as I walked in the room, she started crying,” Rebekah said. “She was so excited to see me.”

The baby boy, Tyrus Lee Pinchback, was born on July 16, 2009. He weighed 7 pounds, 4 ounces, and was 19 ¾ inches long.

“When they put the baby on her, she just kept looking at me, and she’s like, “Isn’t he the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” Rebekah said. “It was like we were all just celebrating this precious miracle baby. I wanted her to hold him first, and she wanted me to hold him first. It was just a God thing. There was so much love, and we were just in awe of this incredible baby.”

Ben and Rebekah stayed in Colorado for three weeks after Baby Ty’s birth. They spent their days visiting with Rebekah Elizabeth’s family and the birth father, and giving little Tyrus and his birth mother as much time alone together as they could before the journey home.

“Rebekah (Elizabeth) once told me that the best gift she was giving Tyrus was Ben,” Rebekah said. “She would have been (and is) a great mother, but she wanted baby Ty to have what her other four children don’t… a dad. Rebekah sacrificially chose an adoption plan for Tyrus because she loved him more than herself and desired him to have everything in life that she wasn’t able to give. I don’t think there could ever be a greater display of love.”

Through the journey of adoption Rebekah and Ben have traveled together, the biggest lesson they learned was God’s faithfulness. They’d prayed for a child for years. Though the answer didn’t come they way they expected it would, God heard, and He did answer.

“There was no faith left at all,” Rebekah said. “And in all of that time, when I was faithless, God was completely faithful.”

“It took holding Ty for the first time to see God’s faithfulness (even though it was always there). Without Ty, I would not have learned the lesson I did. God doesn’t have to prove himself to anyone, but he used our whole situation to show himself to our family. I’ve experienced his love in a way I never have before and Ty is my little rainbow – my promise that God never forgot. A promise I will remember all the days of my life.”

During the next round of the adoption process, Ben and Rebekah went through an intimidating home study evaluation, series of interviews, federal and criminal background checks, fingerprinting, and full physicals.

“We weren’t prepared for how hard it was going to be,” Rebekah said. “If they did this for every parent, people wouldn’t be allowed to have children. It’s just that crazy.”

The whole process took four months. On August 27, the agency put them into the pool of families waiting for a child. That date marked another season of waiting.

The 27th of each month was anticipated, as Rebekah waited for a phone call telling her how many families had looked at their profile at the agency. For the next five months, not one family did.

“Now when I look back, it doesn’t seem that long,” Rebekah said. “But in those months, it was so hard. We had just lost our hope… We felt like this was never going to happen.”

One Sunday, in early January 2009, Rebekah sat in church with Ben. “Lord,” she cried, “I have nothing left to say. I have nothing left to give.”

“I couldn’t even argue anymore,” she said. “I was so exhausted. I was just sitting there, and I felt like this empty shell. And I heard the Holy Spirit whisper to me, I am faithful.”

January 27, 2009 rolled around. This day marked nine long months from the day they had decided to adopt.

“I woke up with a heavy heart on Tuesday, January 27th,” Rebekah blogged, “and on my drive into work, I questioned God for the umpteenth time, on what the heck he was doing. I bitterly threw out, “the least you could do is have the agency call, today… give me some sign of hope.” I reminded him that every other woman would be having her baby, today.”

At lunchtime, Rebekah saw she had a voicemail from Ben. It said, “Honey, call me back right away, the agency called.” I am faithful.

The situation was unlike any the agency had ever dealt with before.

First, the birth mother who had chosen Ben and Rebekah was not even registered with their agency. She stumbled across Rebekah’s blog, and knew in her heart that they were the family God had made for her baby. I am faithful.

“I clicked on the link and as soon as their blog came up I started jumping up and down,” the birth mother wrote. “I KNEW it was them. I started reading and it only confirmed that it was.”

Second, the birth mother’s name was Rebekah Elizabeth.

“Yes, you read it right,” Rebekah blogged. “I’ve met two people my entire life that spelled their name the same way as mine.” I am faithful.

Third, Rebekah Elizabeth lived in Colorado, and the Pinchbacks were working with a Michigan agency. I am faithful.

The entire situation involved much risk. The two families were matched in January, but Rebekah Elizabeth didn’t give birth until June. During those months, Ben and Rebekah were removed from the waiting pool at the agency, and were aware of the fact that a birth mother had the right to change her mind at any time through the process, even up to eight weeks after the birth.

“That was really scary to me,” Rebekah admitted.

The birth mother wanted an open adoption. Currently, the most common form of adoption is semi-open. In semi-open adoptions, the family and the birth mother meet once before the birth if possible, and then exchange pictures and letters four times a year until the child is 18. However, all communication takes place through the agency, and neither party ever exchanges their last name or address.

Anything above semi-open is considered an open adoption. Though they took it slowly at first, the two Rebekahs soon learned they had much in common. Within a month they were talking regularly on the phone, and over Easter, Ben and Rebekah traveled to Colorado to meet Rebekah Elizabeth, her four children, and her family.

“None of it was ever awkward,” Rebekah remembered. “We flew there, and as soon as she opened the door we embraced, and we both cried.”

She blogged about their visit after it had ended: “Love is a funny thing. In its presence, the world doesn’t exist and when your heart morphs back to reality it’s changed for the better. One of Rebekah’s daughters kept hugging me throughout the day. As we snuggled close in a double-seated go cart, she leaned her head on my shoulder and whispered, “I’m so glad you’re part of our family, now.” As I choked back tears, all I could muster was, “Me too.”

Read more about Ben and Rebekah’s journey tomorrow in Miracle Baby - Part 3

Today. January 27, 2009. This day marks nine months from the day the decision was made, the hope rekindled. And yet, after all the hoping, all the waiting, all the heartache… today feels like the end.

Let us go back to the beginning of the story.

It’s a story of love and pain, of faith and heartache. It’s the story of a Rochester College employee, Rebekah Pinchback. She has worked at RC for just under two years, and is currently the Office Manager for Academic Services. But, back to the story.

In June 2002, two high school sweethearts, Ben and Rebekah Pinchback, were married after dating for four years.

After about two years of marriage, the desire to grow a family surfaced for the couple. For the first few years, they tried the old fashioned way, without medical intervention. When it became clear that something was wrong, they worked with an infertility clinic for another year and a half.

“The last thing we did before we walked away was insemination,” Rebekah said.

For weeks leading up to the procedure, both Ben and Rebekah were monitored through countless appointments. For the insemination to work, everything had to be just right.

“Finally, the day comes,” Rebekah remembered. “And on the day that we were getting inseminated, everything was perfect. I never even entertained the idea that it wasn’t going to work. And so then when it didn’t work, a couple weeks later, it was devastating.”

Within days, the endocrinologist called from the infertility clinic, ready for them to come back in and figure out a new plan of action. But they had reached a point where enough was enough. Knowing they couldn’t go through any more infertility treatments, they walked away.

“From October to January was probably the darkest time in my life,” Rebekah said. “We weren’t talking about adoption, and so for us, there was just no hope.”

In January 2008, she began to bring up adoption. At the time, Ben was completely against the idea.

“I think a lot of it is because we had gone through so much,” Rebekah said. “I mean, it is such an emotional process when you’re trying to do something that everybody else can. I think he just couldn’t even entertain the idea.”

During this time, Rebekah prayed that God would help her deal with the situation, whether that meant changing Ben’s heart toward adoption, or helping her to be satisfied with no children. She and her best friend began to pray together weekly, not only for a baby, but also for their families.

“We prayed for a full month,” Rebekah recalled, “And at the end of the month, one night we were laying in bed and Ben said, ‘Okay, I think I’m ready to adopt.’”

That was April 27, 2008. By April 29, they had submitted their application to an adoption agency, and Rebekah started a blog documenting their journey. (You can visit it at www. rebekahpinchback.blogspot.com)

Read more about Ben and Rebekah’s journey tomorrow in Miracle Baby - Part 2

The day was damp and gray. A woman pulled up in front the building in a small gray car that matched the sky. She moved toward the door with an impatient step, her arms full of a portion of the paperwork she’d been going through for months. It never seemed to end.

She was ready for it to end. Ready for the day the last form would be signed. Ready for the day the preliminary process would be over and the real waiting could start. Ready for the day the call would come telling her there was a baby waiting for her who needed a home.

She pushed open the door and stepped into the adoption agency’s waiting room. It was empty, except for one other person. He sat where he could watch the door leading to the interior of the building. He looked very ordinary at first glance, but he raised his eyes when the woman walked through the door. His eyes reflected her own. They were clearly kind, but they ached with the pain that comes from months and years of waiting, hoping for a child.

She knew, because her eyes reflected similar pain. In her heart, she knew she was born to be a mother. Every fiber of her being knew it. Her husband knew it. Her family knew it. Her friends knew it. And yet, she was not born to bear children. Her body was not made to carry babies. But the destiny of motherhood still called.

And so, she filled out the pages and pages and pages of paperwork that somehow proved she would be a good parent, and she waited. And she waited. And she waited. With the waiting, the love she carried in her heart for the child that would one day be hers only grew.

The man’s story was similar… but different. He shared the pain she felt. He understood the wear and grind of endless waiting. He knew the ache suffered not by arms that had strained too much, but by arms that had been empty for too long. He felt the overwhelming grief that sank in when the reservoirs of love contained in his heart seemed to overflow and run through cracks in the floor because he had no one to give it to.

But, unlike the woman, he was not waiting for one child. He waited for many children.

Adoption has been on my heart a lot lately. It was not something I gave much thought to until I stumbled across the blog of a woman who works at Rochester College. She and her husband just completed an open adoption this past summer and are now the proud parents of a beautiful baby boy. I had the privilege of sitting down with her a few weeks ago and hearing her story face to face. It is truly amazing. It is full of love and pain, of heartache and faith. It is full of God’s faithfulness. As soon as I am able, I will share her story with you.

I began to think of all the people I know who went through the adoption process, or are going through it, or even considered going through it. There are more than I realized. After hearing one remarkable adoption story, I was floored. The couples who go through this process are truly heroes. They are. They wait, sometimes for years, to become parents. They pour out their time, their money, their patience, their love, waiting for the day they can finally hold a son or daughter in their arms.

But finally, tonight, I realized that God does the same thing. He waits, sometimes for years, for a child to come to Him. You. Me. Sometimes the adoption is finally over, the child home and safe in His arms… and then the unthinkable happens. The child chooses to walk away.

After glimpsing the pain and heartache that human parents endure as they wait for the joy that an adopted child brings, I can’t imagine what such a blow would do to their hearts. With that real-life example freshly imprinted in my mind, I truly can’t imagine what the same blow must do to God’s heart.

Many times, in God’s case, the child will eventually come home. But still. It is so far beyond my understanding to grasp how much love He must carry in His heart for each one of us to be willing to go through that pain over and over and over again.

I don’t know whether or not adopting children will be in God’s plan for my life. But the picture of adoption has given me a greater understanding of the depth of God’s love for me.

In spite of pain, in spite of waiting, in spite of heartache, the love He carries in His heart for His children knows no limits. It never ends.