At the beginning of our adoption journey, Adam and I prayed a lot. We knew that China was only a special needs program and we had to pray and consider what special needs we felt capable of parenting. It was really hard. As we checked our “No’s,” I knew that other people would check the same no’s and my heart hurt so bad. But I thought I was just being honest with my limitations. I know myself, and I know my heart, and I know that grief and pain crack me wide open. I thought I was being honest about what kind of child I could be the best mother to. We were open to mild to moderate needs, either completely repairable, or those needing ongoing treatment. When we read our son’s file, he was a perfect match for us. We prayed about it, A LOT, and knew God wanted us to say yes to being his family. And then, we brought him home, head over heels for our fast and furious little boy, and my world and heart were shattered. Because God put me in a role that I never would have put myself in. God threw me right in the middle of a situation that I normally would have run fast and far from. And I didn’t know if I could bear it. The crazy thing? If I knew everything I know now, I would say YES a million times over to Isaiah. I would run for him, with wide open arms and a terrified heart. And most days, I rest on that. But tonight, I’m scared. Scared of what the future holds. Scared I won’t be the mom he needs me to be. Scared that God put me on a path that my heart can’t handle. But you know what?

It doesn’t matter what kind of a mom I think I am or who I think I was created to be; God knit me together and knows me more deeply than I could ever know myself. And for some reason, this is the path He put me on. I don’t understand it and it’s so full of unknowns. I’m terrified. But I’m desperately clinging to His promises and my knowledge that He is steadfast and faithful. There are times, like tonight, when MY faith wavers, but I continue to put my hope in HIS faithfulness, not mine. And cry out to Him, tired and full of sorrow and fear, and ask Him to redeem this broken faith, this broken heart, in this moment. And ask Him to hold our sweet boy with strong arms when I falter. And ask Him for the grace to walk this path He’s put me on in the way that He wants me to. Tonight, all I have is a broken, weary hallelujah, but sing it I will. I will sing His praises even when my arms fall and my tears overflow. Even when my voice cracks and I can’t quite finish. And I will rest in His faithfulness and trust that He holds us so mightily in the moments that we can’t hold on anymore.

Sweet, brave boy, I watched you as you slept last night, peaceful little angel face curled up in your footed pj’s because you always get cold at night. I’m so glad that I’m starting to know these little things about you, these things that only a mama would know. While I watched you, I kept thinking that tonight is the night before your first birthday with a family, the last night you’ll ever have as a 2 year old, and the closing of the last year ever that we weren’t your family. Today is your first birthday with us and we will always be your family. You have changed our lives so much in a short amount of time. You have fit so seamlessly into our family, it feels like you’ve been our son forever. If you were scared, timid, distrustful, and reserved, I wouldn’t blame you a bit. But you’re not. You stormed into our family full of laughter, and fun, and you love us all so big and without holding back. It amazes me.

On today, I can’t help but think of your first 2 birthdays without us and wonder what they were like. Were you celebrated? Was it a special day? My heart is heavy with unknowns that will never be known, questions that will never have answers, and 2 1/2 years that will forever be lost to us.

And I’m thinking of your very first birthday ever, the day you were born, and your birth parents, the mother who carried you for 9 months and gave you life. I’m so so grateful that they did. And I wonder if they think of you every year on your birthday. I wish they could know that you’re with us on your birthday this year. And that you will always be with us on your birthdays. And that you are so loved and so cherished, and that our family is better with you in it. I wish they knew how full of life and love you are, and that we will do anything for you. But I know that they can’t.

So on this day, this day that we celebrate YOU, my heart is overflowing with sadness and joy. Sadness at what you’ve lost, sadness at the years we’ve lost; but so so much more joy. Joy that you were born. Joy that you are our son. Joy that we get to celebrate you not just today, but every day.

We love you so much little man.

If I’m honest, most days I feel like I’ve failed in some ways- the house wasn’t clean enough, I wasn’t present enough, I snapped at someone, my heart didn’t feel like serving . . . A lot of days, I can tend to wallow in it. Lament at my lack of discipline, grace, patience. But what if I didn’t do that? What if I welcomed these moments as a reminder of how much I NEED God’s presence daily? What if I used these moments to lean harder into His empowering grace? What if I embraced these moments as reminders that I CANNOT DO THIS ALONE? I will never be enough. I’m a (redeemed) sinner and I’m reminded of that daily. But my days don’t have to end there. My days don’t have to end in my sinful failing. I can instead look to the Lord who graciously LAVISHES us with His presence and doesn’t leave us at sinful failure. He refreshes us with His Word when we lean into Him; He fills our gaps when we acknowledge our inability to “measure” up; He lifts us up on wings like eagles when we are honest about our fatigue and rundown heart. He didn’t just save us then leave us. He is with us daily. In the hidden moments, the shameful moments, and the moments we choose to turn back to our need for Him.

What if today we choose to say “Lord I need You. I need Your presence. I need Your grace. And I need Your strength. Because without You, my heart fails at these every time.” What if today we used our shortcomings as a reminder of our deep need for His daily grace in our lives? What if today we gladly acknowledged our weaknesses as moments that His glory shone through?

I want my kids to know that I can’t do anything alone but only with Christ who strengthens me and holds me close and is ever present in my shortcomings. I want my kids to know that though I most certainly fail them sometimes, He never will. And I want them to know that He will exceed every expectation they have because He is faithful and His promises are true.

Thank you lord for new mercies every morning, strength throughout each day, and grace afresh every night. May I rely on these, and not myself, every day; and may I rejoice that my life can be a daily witness to Your strength over my failings.