When God Breaks Your Heart.

A few days ago I posted an entry about an exchange I had with Emily. You can read the full post here.

I didn't give her what she wanted so with an angry voice she quipped, "You're not a good Mommy".

The Lord is still revealing things to me through that story.

Yesterday, I realized I am just like her.

It's National Adoption Month and every November I think through our story.

When we were going through our adoption journey, it was a long season of waiting and heartbreak.

There were so many portal messages from the agency about our profile being shown and yet no one chose us.  Then there was the failed placement. I remember, just like my daughter, telling God that I didn't think He was being a good Father because why you would withhold something good from someone you love?

I know why now.

Timing. 

As I was reading Oswald Chambers', "My Utmost For His Highest" this morning, I was pricked by the last sentence of his entry. He writes, "If through a broken heart God can bring His purposes to pass in the world, then thank Him for breaking your heart."

Through our adoption journery God took us through some places where our hearts broke but I am ever so thankful because His purpose was Emily and Ezra. 

He is truly is good.   

Running and Hiding.

"You're not a good Mommy!",  she shouted from the dining room table last night.

You see, I was making her eat what I prepared and that wasn't she wanted so she was going to let me know.

I looked at her with stern eyes but a quiet voice I said, "Emily, that breaks my heart to hear you say that".

We've been reading her toddler Bible and when we read about The Fall, I always tell her that Adam and Eve broke God's heart. I want her to lean into the relationship with our Father and not obedience only put forth for fear of punishment.  I want her to know God loves and wants best for her and when we disobey, it makes Him sad.

What happened next caught me off guard. She got up, ran from the table, hid under an old record cabinet and cried.

Who told her to run from me? Who told her she needed to hide? Who told her to use cutting words with a piece of my life that I am always bringing to the feet of Jesus?

You and I both know exactly who.

It's the one who saw that Eve had a desire for the tree and her attraction to the thought of feeling powerful and coaxed her into disobedience.

It's the one who told her and Adam and Eve to hide from God out of fear. God had never harmed them but yet, for some reason, they were afraid. Someone told them to be.

In a matter of seconds, as this wave of the spirituality of the moment passed,  I approached Emily and told her to come out of hiding.  I picked her up and she collapsed into me, sobbing.  She said she was sorry and she didn't mean it. I told her that I love her and she never needs to hide. Nothing she says or does can make me stop loving her.   We hugged for several minutes and when she was calm I said, "I need you to go eat what I have made for you."  We hugged some more and then she ate her dinner.

Joke's on the enemy because, through my reaction to the exchange he meant to harm me with, I turned the tables. The Holy Spirit allowed me to take a flaming arrow lodged to discourage me and turn it into a holy moment to show my child what grace feels like. I was being a good Mommy. I don't get this parenting thing right all the time but this one made me kinda proud. I was proud because I believe, at that moment, I parented the way God parents us.

He sought Adam and Eve out, He seeks us out and it isn't because He doesn't know where we are. It's because He wants us to know we've been sought after. 

He doesn't condemn when our heart is still in pieces. He picks us up and we feel His love first. Kindness leads to repentance.

Then, when the tears are wiped away and our spirit is a peace, He guides us to go and live in the way He has prepared for us.

The liar whispered those hateful words that my daughter spoke and overwhelmed her with shame when she said them.  We have all been there in our own way, haven't we? We're enticed by choices outside of God's best, we give in and then quickly realize the damage we've done. Then we hide or we build our own walls. Left undisturbed, these walls or hiding places actually become graves because we've given up on the idea that Jesus wants us to have life and have it to the full.

I don't know where you're at and maybe this lesson was just for me but there is someone who desperately loves you. He died to hold you and His arms are open. Dear friend, fall into them.

From Shattered to Shining: Our Adoption Story

This morning, Emmy and I had the pleasure of selling cookies and lemonade at an adoption yard sale for some sweet friends of ours. Since we live in a new place, many of our friends here don't know the amazingly ordained story of our Emily.  Every time, I tell the details of our adoption journey, their mouths drop open and agree that only God could write something that beautiful.

So if you haven't followed our blog for the last 4 years or you just love hearing about how Jesus works all things for good, grab a snack and I'll share my favorite story, the story of Emily.

It was this exact week, 4 years ago when my world shattered.  We had waited and waited through the adoption process, had been matched with a potential birthmother, went to appointments, met family and began our plans to finally be parents.  Four years ago this week, my dream came to a screeching halt. I wrote about it here. I was so broken. I still remember the pain.

My heart started to harden. I remember telling God that I didn't think He was being a good Father. Why was He withholding when everything is at His fingertips? That was in October.  Pay attention to that date. 

Thanksgiving was blur because I wasn't thankful at all. My Grandpa who I dearly loved was in his last days and Sully was traveling a lot playing drums. My soul felt like the gray of winter. I sat at a Christmas Eve service, crying and being so thankful that it was dark in there so no one saw me. I was hurt and I felt overlooked.

On my way to say goodbye to my Grandpa, I listened to Ann Voscamp's A Thousand Gifts. In her book, she expresses this idea of open hands to whatever God gives and to practice giving thanks even in the hardest times.  I cried as I drove and opened my hands with our journey. I finally resolved in my heart that God and eternity with Him had to be enough, even if I was never a mother. I finally felt at peace. This was in December.

We said goodbye to my Grandpa and he met Jesus face to face. I left the hospital with my sister and Sully. When we got to the car I said, "Maybe Grandpa will tell God to send us a baby?" 

You won't believe me, but I have witnesses. Two minutes later, Sully's work phone rings and he sends it to voicemail. We listen and it's a girl, expressing through tears that she would like to make an adoption plan and got our number from someone at the hospital named Kristy Branson. Two minutes!

Here's the catch, I didn't know anyone named Kristy Branson and I didn't know anyone that worked in that part of the hospital. Naturally, I went to Facebook and looked up Kristy Branson. We'd never met. I connected with her and she was surprised.  You see, it was now December and she met that girl at the hospital in October. Guess when?  Right after I wrote the post about our failed adoption. We lived in a small town so a friend of a friend shared it. She read it and then picked up a PRN shift in the ER. For the non-nurses, that kinda means like "as-needed".  Kristy got called into a room that wasn't her patient and as soon as she walks in, the girl says, "I would like to make an adoption plan, do you know anyone?"

Are you following this?! In October, my world is crushed and I write about it. A friend shares it and this Kristy woman sees it. She is touched by it. Goes into work and then gets called randomly into a room where someone asks her if she knows anyone wanting to adopt. CRAY.  Kristy didn't have our number but she knew the place where Sully worked, so she gave the girl that number.

She didn't call....until December. Right after I say, "Maybe Grandpa will tell God to give us a baby?".

Divine, y'all.

I shared with my sister what was going on and she said, "Wow, if that works out, thats going to be an incredible story."

It would be an amazing story even if the story ended there. But it didn't.

March rolled around and it was time for Emily to make her entrance.  We get the call and head to the hospital. Let me just lay out what we were met with once we got there.

-The doctor who delivered Emily? An adoptive mother.
-The nurse that helped our birthmom through the delivery? She was adopted.
-The nurse that took care of Emily? Emily Ann. No E. The SAME NAME we picked out months before she was born.
-Emily was born on my Dad's birthday, once again connecting her to my Grandpa.

I could not have written a better story.

I am so thankful that the Lord closed one door so that I could walk through the journey of bringing Emily home. I will never doubt she was meant for us and I will never doubt God's hand in all of it.

As long as I live and as long as people will listen, I will tell the story, my favorite story, of what God has done.

My heart was shattered to make way for Him to shine and I am so thankful.

Mini Me vs. Mini He

I've always loved to write.  A Young Authors award in 4th grade may be my highest writing accolade but I'll take it. 

Published writers are always encouraging aspiring writers to spend large amounts of time to bringing words to life.  I wish I could do that.  

I write when prompted by the beauty or tragedy of a moment.. 

I write when given inspiration by the Spirit. 

The timing isn't always convenient. 

So in my phone, lives voice memos and notes of inspiration because you can't blog while you're driving. #safetyfirst #handsfreegeorgia

I felt a prompting this morning, a wave of inspiration came and it looked like this. 

If you've follow my social media, you have been inundated with pictures and videos of my silly little Emily.  I even made a profile for her videos on Insta (@emily_ann_says) so I could catalog it all in one place.  I have received so many messages about her charisma and spice. 

One message in particular came from another adoptive momma. Knowing she would understand I began to share with her about adoption. I told her that I over share and don't care because I am so amazed by her. She doesn't have my DNA but man, she holds my heart. 

I am surprised at this little entertainer she is becoming but I am not sure why. 

If you know me, you know I am a nut that doesn't meet a stranger and I have a flare for the dramatic. I LOVE to make people laugh.  

That is Emily, hands down. 

Yet, I find myself wondering in amazement about how she could be so funny and where she gets it from?  Was her spice knit together at the same time as the color of her eyes or is she a reflection of me, the person God graciously chose to raise her? 

As I drove, I thought a lot about her birth mom. I don't share much about Emily's family of origin because it's her story to tell but I always wonder what she was like as little girl. 

What parts of who Emily is reflect the home she is living in or the woman gave her life?

I questioned the same for myself. 

At certain times in my life, I find myself reflecting the one who gave me life and then other times I find myself reflecting the one who seems to rule this "home" we're living in temporarily. 

I pray for more times when my heavenly Father looks down and says, "Yes, that love in her heart for.....she got that from me". But if I am honest there are times when I act in such a way that I am not reflecting the one who gave me life. 

You see, it really is nature vs. nurture.  We're all born a little broken and a little prone to wonder, Lord I feel it.  I didn't get to chose that. My nature will constantly pull me in a direction that says, "God doesn't know best."

But I do get to choose what I nurture and who I emulate.  

I choose my spirit and I choose Jesus. This is what I hope Emily gets from me. 

Which do you choose?

While I would LOVE for Emily to be my mini me, I'd being doing the job wrong if she's not a mini He.  

Maybe I am giving her humor and personality but as the words of the hymn I sang to her last night  go, 

Give me Jesus, Give me Jesus.

You can have all this world.

Just give me Jesus. 

Back To Hell

I've had some words lately...Okay, who am I kidding, I have always had words. But lately, I have felt the need to put them out there even if its unpopular or raw.  I've shared about mom guilt, active shooters and mantras I disagree with.

This Ford/Kavanaugh story is no different. People, I really tried. I wanted to stay out of it, if only for self-preservation. The public discourse is heartbreaking. I've heard it said that every time new allegations arise of a public figure, in a way it revictimizes those who have been abused or assaulted.  In a way, it can take the victim back to the moment they felt helpless or objectified.

I wasn't there. I don't know who is telling the truth. I don't know their story but I know my story.

What "they" say is true. For those of us who have walked through things that you wouldn't wish for your children, will all agree. For many, this situation is bringing up past hurts or highlighting scars that haven't been thought about in awhile.  

If we were sitting down for coffee, maybe I could share all the details. But I can't write them and I don't want to. So instead of words like abused, assaulted, taken advantage of or objectified, I am going to use the word hurt. That word represents situations ranging from degrading, demeaning words to awful actions.

I was "hurt" in Elementary School by a peer. 
I was "hurt"in Middle School by someone older than me.  
I was "hurt" in High School by someone I trusted.
I was "hurt" in College by a coworker. *I actually told a female manager and she blew me off. Let's do better and expect better, ladies. 

For the last 15 years, I have not thought about these things daily. But lately, I can't shake them because, social media.  Recently while getting ready, I was thinking through the ways that I have been "hurt". That rabbit trail led me to the dark spots I have been in even by my own choices. I found myself appalled by it all, ranging from sad to every shade of mad.  If you knew me than, you would have never thought, I'd be a pastor. 

But then I was reminded of the words I heard from a fiery southern woman this weekend as she spoke at her son's funeral. Speaking about lies or things that are meant to harm us she said, "We need to pray and send that right back to Hell, where it came from!" 

You see, this whole highlight of abuse in the news was taking me back to the times of hell in my own life. The times I felt alone and separated from God. So at the advice of the bold, grieving daughter of Christ, I claimed that I was made new and sent those memories straight back to hell. 

My "hurt" was a strategy that Satan tried to used to harm me. But y'all, my Creator is a Master Restorer. This week, I taught about Revelation 21, you know the amazing part when God makes everything new and "everything sad comes untrue"(Sally Lloyd Jones).

But did you know friend, that our hearts can be made new right now.  I was so shocked when I was recalling the past because when I look back, it doesn't even feel like my life.  Shoutout to Jesus and EMDR Therapy.  

2 Corinthians 5:17 makes a beautiful promise. "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come."

So there's my new mantra y'all.  When I am reminded of the harmful choices of others or the mistakes of my own, I will send the enemy scurrying when I claim, "Behold, the new has come".

Girl, Wash Their Feet.

There is a super popular book out right now, making the rounds through Christian circles.

From what I can tell, it's giving a voice to many who have seen themselves as less than and believed lies about themselves.

From what I can tell, the author would be a blast to hang out with and I bet we'd have a good laugh.

But, from what I can tell, the book falls short of what really helps someone feel whole and see themselves in light of how the Creator sees them.

But, it's not just this book.

The enemy has taken this idea of rest in Christ and hijacked it, labeling it "self-care".

Self-care should be things like eating well, sleeping well, making time for friendships, exercising and laughter. These are good things. This is being a steward of the life God gave you and being your healthiest to bring the most glory to Him. This sisters, is good and holy.

But that isn't what "self-care" has become. It has started to rear it's head with this manta, "Do what is best for you.''  Some authors/bloggers/personalities have actually said, "You should be the first of your priorities" or "You are meant to be the hero of your own story"

Sisters,  please tell me we know better than that.

I would have thought by now, that the enemy would have gotten some new material. Yet we find him using the same lie he told Eve in the garden. It's that whispering that God doesn't know what is best for you. You need to seize and take hold of what you want. 

I am calling a foul on all of it because it is a lie.

If you are the first of your priorities, your life will be incredibly empty. Who wants to be friends with someone who always puts themselves first?  We have met those people. We see them on TV.  Wall Street, Men who take advantage and women who backstab. But hey, they were just making themselves the first priority.

If you are the hero of your own story,  you're selling yourself short. 
The Creator who hung the stars, split seas and brought dead to life wants to be your hero and you are taking the bet on you?  Last time I checked, I am a hot mess that does my best to love my tribe hard and serve people but I still fall short. EVERY. TIME.  If I am holdin' out for a hero, it ain't gonna be me.

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Don't worry, I am about to get off my soapbox.  But if you're still with me, I just want to tell you that I have been at the end of my rope. I have cried in the fetal position at night, crying and speaking the name of Jesus because my world felt so dark.

Washing my face did not help.

Jesus saved me. His words told me to press into Him and His heart. I committed scripture to memory, that was my "vision board", I sought out spiritual mentors to lift me up and I served people. I got up and went to work and I taught kids about a loving Father who is with them even when they are scared, sad, lonely and afraid.

Jesus was carrying the weight of the world on His shoulders and yet He knelt to wash feet.

If you are struggling, I promise you as counterintuitive as it seems.....Girl, wash their feet. 

Jesus truly wants more for you than you. His heart is for your eternity, not your entertainment. If we are the captains of our own ships, we will crash every time. Let Him be you anchor in times where you feel less than, overlooked and undervalued.  He sees you, He loves you and He wants you forever. Cue Lauren Daigle's new album, "Look Up Child"

You know, He had a vision board too and He willingly was hung on it because, you... in eternity...with Him. That's the vision.

I Want To Be All The Things

I want to be a devoted follower of Jesus.

I want to be a servant-hearted wife.

I want to be an intentional mother.

I want to be an impactful pastor.

I want to be healthy in my mind and body.

I want to have thriving friendships.

I want to be all the things.


All of the above are good. All of the above are ordained. All of the above are callings and all of the above have an eternal impact.

But if I am strong in one area for a time, something else seems to suffer.  It's like they are all constantly in conflict with one another.

I think it's a season, but maybe not.  Sure, I have toddlers. But while their physical needs of potty-training and  The boo-boos take time, it's nothing in comparison to the issues of the teenage years. So the season will look different but the emotional attention will only increase.

I ask God weekly, to show me which one of the things I should stop or give less time.

Update: silence. Well, that's not entirely true. It's not been complete silence. If anything, it's, keep going. 

And so I carry on with an unbalanced amount for these each week. Some weeks I am the most devoted follower of Jesus and some weeks I am the most intentional mother. However, those are the weeks, I don't take care of myself or feel like I am not going above and beyond for the church. Then there are weeks where I am a devoted wife/homemaker and an "all-in" pastor but my kids just see my working. Housework and ministry "work" looks the same to them.  I had a moment this week where someone said, "you and my wife should hang out". To which I replied, I'd like that but I don't have time for friends".  Not okay. Sure, I could make time but then its time away from Sully, or kids, or self-care or .......

Usually, with this blog, I share some devotional truth that the Holy Spirit has given to me but I don't have one this time. Actually, I am hoping you do.

If you feel pulled in 7 eternity-impacting directions, how do you manage it?

Help a girl out.

Holding A Miracle.

Two years ago today, I experienced one of my Top 3 favorite moments of my life. I experienced a day I never thought would be part of my story.   At about this time, I was sitting at Williamson Medical with my favorite people waiting for Ezra to arrive.

If we're new friends, you might not know.

You might not know that we didn't think we could have kids.  You might not know about our failed adoption and how awful that was. I will always remember the burn my eyes felt from the tears.

You might not know about the amazing story of when we found out about our birth mom.

You might not even know the beautiful picture God painted at Emily's birth.

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So there I was at the hospital, wanting to come out as unscathed as possible. My goal was simple, not die.  I have always been terrified of birth and actually never mourned the idea of no delivery when we were waiting for children.

God did so much more than allow me to "not die".

It was about 7pm, everything was prepped and the worship music was going. "Unstoppable God" was playing when my boy entered the world.  My favorite line of that song is, "impossible things in your name will still be done".

On paper, it was impossible for me to be in the place I was that evening.   They handed my son to me and I was overwhelmed.  I held him and all I could utter was, "Thank you Jesus,  I praise you, Jesus".

 I have never felt so close to God in my entire life.  Through my body and into my hands I experienced creation.  Here was this tiny soul, entrusted to me that didn't exist before.  Ezra had been handcrafted and brought here by the power of God and I was holding that in my hands. 

The nature of our Creator was in my hands. 

                                     

I can't believe this baby miracle is two years old today. I feel like someone has hit the fast-forward button on my life.

Nowadays there is much less time holding our miracle and much more time spent chasing, wrestling and FEEDING (but for real, how can he eat so much?) our miracle.

When I was waiting with empty arms, I was so mad at God.

But, oh my word, I would have missed out on the incredible beauty of the moments I experienced when both of my miracles came into the world.

So happy birthday to my boy that it is a living reminder that God is still in the business of doing the amazing. God is still in the business of creating and God is still in the business of doing far more than we can ask or imagine.

In the words of my girl AV,

eucharisteo

More Than A Party

Last weekend we celebrated my sweet boy turning two. My boy loves balls so naturally, we had to go big with that. 

Part of me wishes I had a taken more photos with the exact right lighting and composition but toddlers are fast and I wanted to be in the moment.

What a sweet moment it was.  I had planned for us to be outside playing for a good chunk of the time but after a short time outside, a storm popped up and drove wild children with whistles into my house.

It was packed. It was loud. And I loved it.

We were deeply rooted at WellSpring. We built our life there for close to a decade. We got engaged there, married there and brought our babies home there.  Rooted.

For the first several months here, I felt like I was Dorothy waking up from Oz and trying to find counterparts for my WellSpring family. I would see remnants of my Carrie in people or try desperately to find another Scott. I found someone I can roll my eyes with and that made me think of my Becky. I even found someone who talks exactly like Jodi Barnhill, y'all.  People, I even miss my doctors. Who does that?

But none of it is the same and if I am outright honest, which I always have been on this blog, I struggle with that.  I miss my people.  Even writing this, my eyes water and my heart flutters.

But last weekend was a turning point.

I felt rooted.  I looked around and saw all these people that have blessed my heart so much and I never would have met them. I would not have Margie, who has a heart of gold and tells like it is(P.S-She is a huge blessing to Compassion Christian Kids). I wouldn't have Maggie, who walked almost the exact same journey of waiting, adoption loss and finally bringing adopted children home, 7 DAYS after I brought Emily home. Same year.  There wouldn't be Denise (also the counterpart to Kelly G), who has been so open and loving and can see my sass and raise it. I wouldn't have Catherine and Dylan that will put on the janky Moana wig when my three-year-old asks them too.

This weekend was more than a party.

It was a reminder that we are blooming where we have been planted, we are loved and that the Church around the world is really just a group of friends in places we haven't met yet.

I miss my WellSpring people but I also love my Compassion fam.

And I guess that's one of the beauties of Heaven. I will have them both.

And Jesus.

That will truly be more than a party.

Pillow Fights to Firearms

Tonight I was having a pillow fight with my soon to be three-year-old. The sound of her laughter filled our entire home.  As I was watching the twinkle in her eye and the joy on her face, I found it hard to breathe. My mind filled with thought after thought about the most recent tragedy in our country.

What if she lost her life to an active shooter, would I remember this moment and that look on her face? Would I remember the sweet sound of her little body booming with giant laughter?

Which moments are those mommas clinging to right now? What do I not want to miss? Oh, those mommas! Their toddlers turned into teens who lives were taken.  Does your heart ever stop throbbing?

What happens to pillow fight type moments, ya know the ones as a parent that make you overwhelmed by the beauty of your child when they are cut short by firearms?

I imagine I would want to remember them all. I'd keep my eyes closed until they were closed for good if it meant I could see them more clearly.

And what about the shooter? Did no one hold his tiny fingers? Did anyone treasure him before he terrorized them? How do you go from a child that pillow fights to an adult that takes lives? 

Sure, I have thoughts on gun rights and strong feelings about mental health but neither of these makes evil go away.  I am not suggesting we throw our hands up in defeat but I want to be realistic about the solution.

You may say my thoughts and prayers are trite but I don't care, I am going to say them anyway.

 There is no denying that the scenes are pure evil. Can you have evil without good?

My only hope is that there is One that gives good light in this darkness. He promises that one day He is going to mend broken things and the light will shine in between.

I pray that my children will fall in love with that good light, Jesus, and I won't have to close my eyes to see the joy on their face or hear their laughter.

A Few Good Men

It seems that a new allegation of sexual abuse hits the media every.single.day.

I wish I could say I was shocked each time I read the story. I am not. In fact, my own journey has contained some #metoo moments and I am thankful individuals who have been objectified are saying that time is up.

Last night, we watched Kesha's emotional Grammy performance. She sang a song about overcoming past hurt. When I woke up this morning, I was reminded of my past hurts. Hurts that I am not comfortable sharing in this context but they are there.

But I was also reminded of something else.

A different group of men.

A group of men that saw past my gender into my spirit and supported me. Men who encouraged me, men who provided opportunities without solicitation and men who coached me.

There are some real bad eggs out there but there are a few good men still out there. Turns out not all men are creepers.

I am who I am because of the men.

Men like my Dad, who is the ultimate prayer warrior and encourager.

Men like Nate Bush, who led camps and then gave students like me a chance to be on worship teams and leadership groups.

Men like Patrick Snow, who saw a call on my life for Children's Ministry before I even knew what it was.

Men like Brent D'Altilio, who married my best friend at a young age but let me have a front row seat to what a good husband looks like.

Men like Chris Booth, who took time to invest in me as an intern and really taught me how to be effective in practical ministry.

Men like Andy Hudelson, who took a chance on a young college graduate without a resume full of experience. Andy never limited me because I was female.  He gave me a platform to create and preach. Yes, I said the "p" word. Andy only ever did things that would make me better. Andy walked the fine line of boss/pastor/friend in the best way.

Men like Shaun Groves, who was vulnerable enough to share in his struggles. When I walked through my own anxiety/depression journey, his openness was a huge part of my healing.

Men like Brian Seay, who took the role of elder very seriously. He advocated for me for 8 years, prayed for me and spent time walking me through what Biblical discernment looks like. So thankful.

Men like my Husband, Sully Cook, who have loved me unconditionally. This man has seen me at my worst and loves me still. This man is an excellent father who always got up in the middle of the night and never felt like parenting was only for me. This man makes me laugh often and we are truly partners. And, dang that boy can play the drums!

To the men on this list, I am forever grateful.  What may have seemed like your standard mode of operation made a huge impact on me.  In a world that seems to be full of darkness, you men have been light in my life.  Thank you.

Sure, I have a list of men who have hurt me but they have not made me. Jesus used the friends above to establish who I am today.

If you haven't found any men like that in your life, I pray that you do.

They are out there.

Oh, and when you find one....thank them for being one of the good ones.

The Story of Me

Emily turns three in a month.

I have been really intentional about talking to her about adoption. We show her pictures of her birthmom and talk about how we prayed for her.   Children's books are super helpful with explaining adoption to your kids. There is one book in particular that Emily really loves. It's called "The Tummy Mommy"  by Michele Madrid-Branch

In the book, there is a wise old owl that helps the pregnant young woman and the family with empty arms.  I will read it with Emily and sometimes she sleeps with it.

This morning, I was telling her that I loved her so much and I am glad that God gave her to me. 

This was the conversation that followed:

E: "Yeah, the owl just bring me because your belly not worked." 

M: "Well, God brought you. The owl in the story represents God."

E: "Yes. Can you tell me the story of me?"

I don't know if I have a word for surge of emotions I felt when she asked that question. 

 How do I even begin to explain the 3-year journey to her? How do I tell a toddler about all the miraculous ways that God ordained her being in our life, in the five minutes I have before walking out the door? I replied with a shortened version but that question was burned in my brain. 

The story of Emily knocks me to my knees and is my constant reminder that God is present and working on our behalf even when we don't see it. 

As I was driving to work, I thought about the story of her and what I would like to say. So one day, when she has moved past learning her alphabet and counting to 10, she will hear the story. 

My darling Emily, 

The story of you is a story of the goodness of our loving Father.  Our Father is El Roi, which means "God who sees me".  Emily, God saw two women in very different places with two very different prayers and God used you to answer both of these women.  God saw me, your mommy, as I wept and prayed for a child. God saw me and showed me grace when I was angry with Him, that I didn't have you yet. God saw me when I doubted His goodness, and He still answered me.  God saw your birthmom when you were in her belly and was filled with compassion for her. God saw that she was in a place over her head and needed Jehovah-Jirah or the God who provides. You see Emily, your birthmom wanted you to have a life full of love. She wanted you to grow in a home where you would thrive. She wanted to give you everything so she had to give away her everything.  Emily, God also saw you. Remember, He was the One making you. He made your tiny heartbeat as you became my heartbeat. He crafted your gifts and passions. My daughter, the story of you is as story of fulfilled promises of scripture. Promises that you are wonderfully made, that God has a plan for your life, my life and your birthmom's life. Promises that God is a Father from which every good and perfect gift comes. Emily, your life is a good and perfect gift.  You are my answered prayer and my fulfilled promise.  The story of you, my darling, is my favorite. 

<3