I was seven days late.
It’s only happened twice in my life. The other time was three years ago. The week before our foster son came home.
I woke up every morning, believing the “in due time” had finally come. That after all of these years, it was our turn. I was certainly going to see my belly start swelling in the next few weeks. I had calculated the due date and thought through every way I would tell my husband, family, and dear friends. I had imagined the look on their faces, like the ones standing around Lazarus’s grave.
Even after all the hoping and all the disappointment, I knew this new season our family has stepped in, has looked so different from the old ones. He’s doing a new thing in us, something He’s never done before. And hope never puts us to shame (Romans 5:5), so I wasn’t afraid to hope. Because my hope isn’t in a miracle, it’s a person, my Jesus.
This was the third test I took that week. All the other ones said the same results. But I wasn’t going to believe it wasn’t true, until I knew. And I knew on day eight.
Right before we looked at the test, Brandon said to me, “You know this doesn’t change a word out of God’s mouth about this.” And I knew that. Still do.
The Garden is serving someone you know.
It’s the girl sitting on the same row with you each Sunday. She’s the girl in the next cubicle over. The cousin you love but only see a few times a year. The teacher who pours out her life into your child. The lady sitting on your board. The woman on the other end of the conference call. The girl on your worship team.
Our house isn’t fancy. Honestly, it’s nothing to blog about. I laughed out loud when three lifestyle and home bloggers wanted me to join them in this series. I love our house. I think it’s pretty. But it’s definitely not going to be one you would find in a magazine.
But our home. It’s different. We’ve spent the last several years learning about home. Making our house a home, learning what it means to be home, and the people we would find there. I think it’s true for most Mamas, but the older I grow, the more home means to me.
There’s a man in the New Testament with a withered hand. Jesus told the man to come to him, to stretch out his hand. Jesus didn’t touch him or pray a special prayer. He just told him to come near and to stretch out his hand. The man had a choice. He could stretch out his hand or keep it held close to him, unchanged like it had been. But he did it. The man stretched out his hand and he was healed.
Last summer, Jesus told me to stretch out my withered hand.
He had answered my prayers of becoming a mother. The stories of how my children came home to me are nothing short of miracles. Both of them. They were divinely placed in our family. I love them both more than life itself. And my greatest fear in sharing this story is that one day they might think they weren’t enough. Because that is farthest from the truth. They made me a mama. Being their mama is my greatest delight. It’s my highest calling. It’s my absolute joy. They are mine. Adoption changed me. It changed Brandon. It changed our family forever. It’s so dear to our hearts. And we hope to adopt again. The issue isn’t with having a baby, although we do want to have more children. The issue is that I keep coming to my Father as His daughter asking for healing.
I have two beautiful children. They are both answers to hundreds of prayers. I remember watching mamas put their babies in car seats at the grocery store and wishing so much that one day I would get to do that simple thing. My kids at school would sometimes slip up and call me “Mama.” They would cover their mouth real fast and with a wide grin, say, “I mean, Mrs. Satterfield.” But hearing someone call me “Mama” was a longing that stretched to the depth of my heart. Now, every morning I wake to that sweet calling. That name echoes through the baby monitor that sits on my nightstand.
Their stories, the way my children came home to us, are nothing short of miracles. The very same night we decided to start our adoption journey, a man from our church whom we had never met, gave us a check for 10,000 dollars. This was one of the many miracles that brought them home. I still tear up thinking about how God calmed every one of our fears and supplied all of our needs. He sets the lonely in families and when He does, years of brokenness fade into beauty.
He has answered my prayer to be a mama in the most beautiful story. I love all of the parts. I can’t imagine our family without those two precious ones sleeping upstairs. This what I’m about to tell you isn’t about them. It’s about another prayer that I’ve prayed for years, that God still hasn’t answered.