In five days

In five days I'll meet my daughter for the very first time. I've played the scene in my head countless times over-- what will she be wearing? How big will she be?  Will she be nervous? Curious? Excited? Scared? Will she cry? Will she understand at all, and will I absolutely melt to pieces when I see her beautiful smile first hand?  I think that answer is YES!

My girl is three years old... and by God's amazing grace... she'll have a family in five short days!

A family-- where love abides.  Forever.

Yet as I sit and pray for our meeting next week, I can't help but ache for one other person.  An awfully special someone-- a woman who will never know of our gathering.  A woman I'd love to meet one day, if only to tell her that the wee babe she birthed is safe.  And warm.  Held.  And loved.  Yes, my heart grieves for our little one's birth mother.  I simply cannot imagine...

Years ago, when I'd let my mind wander and ponder the reality of abandoned children in faraway places-- long before I ever knew the Lord had hand-picked a special one just for us-- I struggled to find sympathy for any of their mothers.  How does one give up her child, after all?  But the more I've read, the more I've learned.  And the more I've learned, the more I've come to realize that giving up a newborn baby simply HAS to be the hardest decision any mother could possibly ever make.  Because for 9 months... that wee one tossed and turned and kicked and grew within her... and try as she might, true love grew.  Surely, it grew.

Still, she made a choice.  Most likely an excruciatingly difficult choice.  A choice driven by the need to please those of this world.  Set in motion by those who simply don't regard life-- precious and perfect life-- as a gift from our loving and gracious Lord.

Was it because of the cleft?  That chasm that screamed of fault and flaw and curse?  Or did she simply know-- deep in the depths of her soul-- that maybe... just maybe... another would rescue her wee babe and provide far more than she ever could?

She cared. Surely, she cared.  And perhaps even silently wished (prayed even?) her little one would survive.

So yes, my heart grieves for the woman who gave our girl life. She will never know that her baby is safe.  And loved.  Cherished and valued.  Home.

So today I pray for her as well.  That she may know the Love of the Savior, who surely turns darkness into light, and in His arms, find true healing and rest.

The light shines in the darkness, 
and the darkness has not overcome it.
John 1:5