"Come And See What God Has Done"

I remember the day like it was yesterday. We had just sat through a goodbye ceremony that included cake, popcorn, soda and coffee, all of which were used for special occasions. We had spent the last hour watching the faces of about 20 little ones, ranging from the ages of 2-14, singing their hearts out, as we held back the tears. Next to us was the little baby boy whom we had just adopted, a mere 8 months old, being held by his birth mother, a mother who had made the difficult decision to give him up for adoption.

There are moments in life where words are just inadequate and this was one of them. As a couple who had experienced a long journey of infertility and was now about to embark on parenthood for the first time, we couldn’t help but feel all the feels. There were no words. Minutes later, we would find ourselves walking out to the van, holding the most beautiful baby boy, and at the same time walking alongside a mom whose grief was so tangible you could touch it. Once again, words were inadequate. 

Earlier that day, we had spent some time talking with the birth mom, expressing our hopes and dreams for this little baby boy, Biruk, whose name we had come to find out meant blessing. She also shared her own hopes and dreams with us, and we sat in the tension of so many emotions. Joy…grief…gratitude…fear…hope…love. At the end of our time together, Nate leaned over and said to me, “She has a necklace on. We should ask her if she would want to give it to us to give to Biruk someday when he gets older. You can give her the necklace you have on.” Of course my immediate response was to say no, not because I couldn’t part with my necklace, which my sister had given me during our adoption process, but it seemed so insignificant compared to the gift she was giving Nate and I in letting us raise her son. Nevertheless, we asked, she said yes, and we tucked it away as a gift for Biruk when he was old enough to understand. 

I remember sitting in the van that day, holding Biruk on my lap (no car seats in Ethiopia), attempting to hold back my tears and failing miserable, as I gently waved to his birth mom and we drove away. I had no idea if we would ever see her again or what our journey in the years to come would entail. I just knew that three years earlier, I had been face down on the ground fighting with God about dreams that felt shattered, a fight that would lead to a full surrender, a fight that would lead to that very moment in Ethiopia where we would drive away with a baby boy that would change our life. 

Fast forward 10 years. There have been so many times that I’ve not only thought about that moment we drove away, but so many times when I’ve thought about her. On his first birthday and every year after, at Christmas time when he came down to open presents, when I tucked him in at night or rocked him to sleep, when I watched him play baseball for the first time, when he lost his first tooth, and every single Mother’s Day. 

You see, while adoption is beautiful, it’s also complicated and messy at times. The tension between joy and grief is real. But here’s what I’ve come to learn. The Lord is constantly redeeming what feels broken. He continually turns ashes into beauty. He brings joy in the midst of mourning. And he’s takes our despair and turns it into praise. In September, our family had the privilege of traveling back to Biruk’s birth country of Ethiopia. Little did we know that God would open wide the doors for us to sit across from his birth mom yet again, another moment where words felt inadequate and emotions ran deep. But this time it felt different. On this side of the journey, I’ve literally seen how God has pieced together what has felt so broken to create a beautiful picture of his goodness and faithfulness. 

Over this past Christmas, I’ve heard Lauren Daigle’s song, “Noel,” several times. As I’ve heard the phrase over and over, “come and see what God has done,” I can’t help but think that’s my anthem right now. I’ve spent so many days reflecting on our family trip to Ethiopia this Fall, on our infertility journey, and the past 10 years of our life, and I am overwhelmed by all that God has done. My hope is that over the next few weeks, I’ll get to tell you some of the stories. I promise you, the journey is breathtaking and beautiful.