Come And See What God Has Done...


Five years ago, Christmas morning, I sat around the dining room table with my family, struggling to choose joy in the midst of an adoption journey that had caused me to question whether we too would have kids sitting around the table one Christmas.  We had already been waiting two years to be matched with a child half way around the world, a child that we believed God had called us to be his forever family.  The match seemed no where's in sight.  That Christmas, if I would have described my life as a tapestry, the only description would have been a pile of messy threads in which I struggled to find a beauty.

Fast forward to this morning, five years later.  We are at the same table, with the same family, but this time with two new blessings that have allowed us to catch a glimpse of this unbelievable tapestry he's been creating of our lives.  The blessings have come from the other side of the world, one from Ethiopia and one from India, two littles who have changed our perspective on life, love, and the One who can do the impossible.

When Biruk arrived 4 years ago, we had no idea how much the journey would teach us about the God we had committed our lives to.  We learned about God's presence in the dark moments, about God's plans that far exceed our own, and about choosing a posture of joy despite the unwanted circumstances we would find ourselves in.  We learned to take bigger leaps of faith than we were capable of on our own, learned to surrender all hopes, dreams and desires fully believing God's were so much better, and learned that while life is unexpected with God...it's the best life possible.

This morning, my Father (whose is one proud Pop-Pop if you don't know it) gifted our newest little one, Madhavi, who has only been home a month, with this beautiful Hope Bowl, filled with Naan (traditional Indian Bread).  He invited each of us to break off a piece of bread, and to share something we are grateful for in this past year.  As I listened to my husband, sisters, brother in laws, cousin, nieces, parents and son, all share their stories of gratitude, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed.  We do not by any means have a perfect family, nor is each year free from pain and hardship.   But the deep seeded love for God that we have as a family, is undeniable.  It's what binds us, unites us, and keeps us believing that no matter where we find ourselves in the journey, he is a God who is creating something beautiful.

Over the Christmas, I have repeatedly heard the song, "Noel" by Lauren Daigle, play over the radio.  The song says this in  the chorus:


Noel, Noel
Come and see what God has done
Noel, Noel
The story of amazing love
The light of the world
Given for us
Noel


"Come and see what God has done."  Each time I've heard those lyrics this Season, I've found myself sobbing wherever I am.  Sometimes it's been in the kitchen as I've watched Madhavi eating her lunch, other times it's been on a run down by the beach, and sometimes it's been in the early morning hours when no one else is awake.  Madhavi's journey, much like Biruk's has taught me so much about this God who we continue to trust with our lives.  I've seen God's unconditional love transform a little girl, literally taking her out of a dark and hopeless place and bringing her into a world where love, laughter, and hope have changed everything.  I've seen God's generous provision, as an adoption process that should have cleaned out our bank account was provided for by friends, family, and strangers who we may never meet.  Most of all, I've seen God's beauty...in the smiles of cousins playing, in the warm hugs of aunties, pop-pops, and grammies, in the stories of thankfulness, in airport arrivals, in the incredible homecoming parties, in the outpouring of people just wanting to be a part of a little girl's journey that started on the other side of the world.

You want to know what God has done?  Just spend a few minutes peering into the life of a little Indian girl name Madhavi and a not-so-little-anymore, Ethiopian boy named Biruk.  The tapestry speaks for itself.

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