A time of preparation. Of waiting. Of anticipation.
For unto you a child is born. Unto you a son is given.
It is a precarious thing, this waiting. Two Christmases ago we waited. Waited on a Word from God that said yes, go, I am calling you to this, your family to this - home study, paperwork, adoption agency, financial leap, personal leap, Africa, a son. A time of preparation. We didn't know who or when or how. Only the promise - For you have done marvelous things, things planned long ago (Isaiah 25:1).
Last Christmas we waited. Waited in the agony of labor and anticipation of coming. We knew his name. Bits of his story. Bits of his struggle. When would we go? When would he come? No news. Worrisome news. Hope and then disappointment. Not us. Not yet. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful (Hebrews 10:23).
This Christmas we see the promise realized. A son is given. A family shifted and reknit. New colors, strands, personalities into a tapestry of hope and a future. Into forever. Joys and trials and blessings and struggles and perseverance and love. We see his face, hold his hands, delight in his smile. That which was promised. Not one word has failed of all the good things that the Lord your God has promised concerning you. All have come to pass for you; not one of them has failed (Joshua 23:14b).
And we light our candle and prepare for the Child and retell the stories of promises kept and hope renewed and futures reclaimed and families reknit. And we wait.
I love your writing. I feel as if I have been given the rare privilege of eavesdropping on your family as God is working in it. I just love it, my dear friend.
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