Her day came on August 18th. Five years old and full of life.
With no kitchen and daddy head down in the remodel, the day passed without much fuss or frolic. But still, we laid in bed and told her birth story like we do for all the children on their special day. And we giggled at how we stopped for a big breakfast in the city while contractions were increasing in strength and frequency. And we remembered how before we took that two hour drive, our family of five piled into bed together at 4:30am to savor the last moments of “just us.” And how we wondered what she would look like. And how she would change us. For we five had shared a lot together by that point. We had left home together. Discovered Uganda together. We had taken risks together in adoption and environment to be re-created by God. We were the Manry’s, and it was hard to imagine welcoming another to become one of us. She wouldn’t know our stories and all we shared up to that point. She wouldn’t know America and everyone we missed and loved. She would be separated in years from the others – not far, but farther than we had known before.
And then she came. All plump and pink and perfect. And it was like she had always been a part of us. Like God had written her into our family long before, and we were finally meeting her.
And receiving this darling baby girl was this divine fullness of all the life God birthed in our family through Uganda. She was the blessing of our faith, the fruit of our labor. And bearing her opened our heart to receive more.
It’s unsettling to have anything or anyone pierce through your normal, change what you know, re-create who you are. It takes a lot of grace to welcome change. But we’re so glad we did.
She has filled our life with laughter and little girl drama. She showed our family how to bind with whole heart to Ugandans, how to receive them as family. And this, I believe, is how Myles was born into us. From her love, from her open heart. For love like this is contagious. When you see it, you want to model it. When you receive it, you want to give it. When you give it, you can’t wait to give more.
Remembering her birth and all the joy that followed makes me want to always be open for more. More love, more children, more change, more stretching and growing for new life.
I encourage you to receive new. To reject the fear of change. To welcome what God has already written into your story, but you’ve yet to experience. This could be a job or a ministry opportunity. A calling toward greater responsibility. A yes to adoption, or a no to a sinful pattern.
When our now becomes too comfortable and there’s risk for complacency. Or when it’s taken from us through brokenness. Or it’s holding us captive. May God’s people show others how to welcome new life and new realities with grace and hope.
Surrender yourself to the one who walks before you and wants to lead you into the fullness of his will.