Miraculous

Like most of the adoption community, I've had the privilege over the last week or so to be praying for little Teresa Bartilinski and her family. It's been a lot of waiting, for them, for those of us loosely connected to them through the red threads of adoption, and for the world who is now watching. The waiting has given me much time to think while praying. Little Teresa's journey to her forever family is miraculous.

Her life since coming home, battle after battle to get some weight on her, to keep her levels stable, to keep her healthy and virus free, to live a normal childhood in the midst of it all. It's all miraculous.

In the midst of it all, our own family was doing some waiting last week. My sweet little nephew, Kilian Edward, was due to make an appearance and when we got the news that labor had begun, the waiting felt intensely difficult. Hours dragged by and I swear that June 19th was the.longest.day.EVER. I was praying and checking my phone incessantly, waiting for something! anything! that would let me know he had safely arrived and that my sister-in-law was recovering well.

The call finally came and the details were sparse at first but really, who cares about details when there's THIS FACE to gaze at instead?!

Later in the week, I finally snuck some time away to talk with my brother and hear all the details that I'd been  wanting to know. And as my brother told Kilian's birth story, I was consumed with gratitude. His entry to our world, to our family, was challenging. Even slightly traumatic - especially for my brother and my sister-in-law. His arrival is miraculous.

Something the doctor said to us early in the process of studying Mei Mei's needs came to mind while my brother was sharing.... the interventions in the early two or three days of Mei Mei's life, before she even made it to the orphanage likely saved her life. Her arrival at the orphanage, her survival despite the harsh conditions under which she spent her first two weeks of life, her overall general good health while we waited to get to her and bring her home. It's all miraculous.

Every single one of these children are such miracles. No matter their birth story. No matter their journey to our homes. No matter the normalcy of their arrivals. Or the trauma they have endured in the getting here. They each are miraculous.

I'm certain that I'm not the only one guilty of forgetting the magnitude of these tiny (and not so tiny!) miracles that walk around our homes, begging for more popsicles, poking their siblings, and leaving dirty socks on the floor. I'm sure that the busy-ness of regular life takes over for all of you as it does for me. And the glory of this calling of parenthood is lost in the grime and the guts of the job. The demands of the daily-ness of it all cloud my vision all too often. The events of this past week have lifted my head and slowed my pace. I'm drinking in these moments more than I did last week. Are you?

While you are joining the rest of us in praying for yet another miracle for sweet little Teresa, stop for a moment and intentionally enjoy the awe of the little miracles in your own home. However they got to your arms, it's miraculous. They are miraculous.