Peace and joy

Last Monday, when I stood at the Moxie with Kris, file of “a girl” in hand but not “the girl” we have been holding out hope for, I did not feel any peace. Nor joy.

And doesn’t she deserve that? I wondered. Shouldn’t that be part of her story? How happy her adoptive parents were to get that first look at her? Not deflated, defeated.

We passed on the file.

Later in the week, our social worker asked if she could send my contact info to a family considering a child with albinism. I sent the mom links, answered questions. Then I ventured to ask if the file they had bore the same code name as the one we’d looked at. (The childrens’ Chinese names are not to be made public until letters of approval are in place.)

Indeed, I was emailing the mom-to-be of the same girl. Today, she sent me a link to their blog. (Emphasis mine.)

After receiving "the call" from our social worker, imagine our surprise when we opened our referral file to see a beautiful two-year-old little girl with downy blonde hair and what appears to be blue eyes. …

we’re overcome with thanksgiving and joy to announce that her forever home will be with us. ...

He once again has done “exceedingly and abundantly more than we could ask or imagine.” (Ephesians 3:20-21) The sense of peace and joy we feel is overwhelming!

I nearly cried when I read that. The Happy Cry. Because yes. That.

(Our story still being written on pages we cannot see...)