I’ve imagined this day over and over. Dreamed how it would feel to savour this moment. Maybe it shouldn’t have, since I’ve had years to think about it, but it’s taken me by surprise. And now the day is finally here! It’s actually happened! The endless waiting, the pain of wanting to grow our family, the countless tears and sleepless nights, the worry and uncertainty of the tumultuous road that is foster care and adoption – it’s finally over! And just in time for Christmas, we have been given a tremendous gift – make that two gifts! We just signed adoption papers for both of our littles!!!
It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost four and a half years since we started down this path. And now that we have arrived at this moment – the realization of what we have hoped and prayed and agonized over for so long – it feels surreal. The shock. The wonder and elation is overwhelming.
Three years ago to the day, I posted The Awaited Child, writing of an early Christmas gift, a brand new baby placed in my arms. I wrote of how this little child made me see Christmas in a whole new light. Amazed at the thoughts, the emotions, that the baby I held evoked and meditating on the parallels of how a people who waited for centuries might have felt at the arrival of their hoped for Messiah. I wrote that I had never felt closer to the manger before. And it was true.
There were probably hundreds of questions swirling through their minds on that night, but how to comprehend that the Answer to the questions of the universe lay nestled in the hay before them? What must Mary have felt, as Jesus was laid in her arms? Did the magnitude of her call overwhelm her? And what of Joseph? Called to adopt the Son of the Most High as his own, to raise him in the nurture and instruction of the Lord. Was the weight of the newborn in his hands, the Hope of generations, symbolic of the weight of responsibility that fell on his shoulders as the realization of the Promise took human form? Or did they both lean hard into the words of the angel, “For with God nothing will be impossible”?
I have been pondering these things, throughout this season of Advent, and as our adoption day has crept closer. That I have been called to share in the shaping of these two little lives; that I have been given the honour of bearing the name “Mama” to them, to share in their joys and to weep with them in their sorrows, is… I don’t know if there are actually words that can embody what I feel right now, but I can say that it is incredibly humbling and exhilarating and breathtaking and terrifying – all that the same time.
This year I find myself drawing near again, the stable door open, a baby’s hand beckoning. Drawing near humbly. Reverently. Awestruck at the unfolding of the Christmas story again. And this year, I come holding the hands of two little rambunctious boys, precious blessings from the Giver of good gifts, entrusted to my care. And I sit by the manger and try to take in the enormity of it all.
But as I draw near, marveling once again, I come holding another reality as well. A much more sombre one. One that reminds me that as I approach Christmas with the joy of forever in my heart, there are two other families that must face this season of festivity with the finality of a closing chapter. Empty arms and broken hearts, dreams shattered, hope snuffed out. To them forever means something entirely different. This reality lays heavy and I grieve with them, respectfully making space in my celebration to acknowledge these losses.
These reflections and feelings have the potential to overwhelm with despair. To cry out with “whys”. To rail in anger at the unfairness. The darkness closing in to suffocate us in our broken world. And then it hits me, like a lightning bolt out of a dark sky. It was into this very brokenness, this separation, this hopelessness, that God reached down and placed His greatest Gift. To shine Light into the darkness. To give strength to rise another day. To bring beauty from the ashes. To show that we were not abandoned in our loneliness and loss. To bring joy to lift the shroud of mourning. Emmanuel. God with us. The Incarnation of Hope.
For unto you is born this day…
It is this unshakable, immovable Hope that I cling to now. Gripping the sides of a manger bed, gazing into the face of the Christ child. Believing that the broken things that have brought us to our knees in this sacred place will be fashioned in the hands of the Master Craftsman for His beautiful purpose. And recognizing that this is not only an end, but also a beginning; an invitation to create with the Creator. Trusting that the grafting together of family trees that would otherwise never have been connected can blossom into something more beautiful than I can imagine. A picture of what our Saviour did for us when He grafted us to Himself on His own tree.
I know that if we allow the deep work to take place, the digging out of the thorns and weeds that are rooted there, submitting to the pruning and the grafting, that God can cultivate a garden that reflects the brilliance of the Son. One that bears witness to the Hope that is within us. Hope become flesh, so real, so present. So, that we in turn become the incarnation of that hope to the world around us.
I don’t know why God chose us to be part of the stories of these two little boys and I routinely cycle through feeling woefully inadequate, overwhelmed by it all, and humbly in awe of the honour. But, I do know that despite the fact that I will fail along the way, He has placed me here to shine the Light of His Love to those around me. And when my lantern glass gets cloudy (because it does), His Grace restores clarity and purpose, His Spirit leading me back to His call, when I say “yes” and take His hand to get up again. This Christmas, I pray that Hope shines through, as we celebrate with “exceedingly great joy”, while acknowledging the loss and grief that is also a part of our story.
This Christmas, my heart is full to overflowing. Words fall short, but we appreciate all of you who have surrounded every part of our journey to this point in prayer and supported us in so many tangible ways over the last few years. We hope that you will continue to journey with us as we begin this new chapter in our lives. We love you all!
Now, as we near the day we call Christmas, taking another step towards the end of this year, I want to issue both an invitation and a blessing. For those who have not yet come to know the Hope we celebrate, Jesus Christ, come to earth for you, I want you to know that He waits for you. If it seems your hope has dwindled and the darkness is closing in, His hand is extended, an invitation to draw near, offering Himself as Hope and Light in the dark. And for those of us that do know Him, I pray a blessing: May we go into the New Year, with the Light of Christ ablaze in our hearts, reaching out, as the very the hands and feet of Christ in the flesh, becoming the incarnation of Hope to a world so desperately in need of Light! May Christ Shine brightly upon you.
The Incarnation is the ultimate reason why the service of God cannot be divorced from the service of man.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Merry Christmas, Everyone. See you in the New Year!
Of Shattered Things 