I know miracles happen in adoption.

We were trying desperately to create our family. Living in university married housing, we were surrounded by pregnant women and little ones toddling around the sidewalks. Kids and the promise of kids were everywhere . . . except for in our home. One day an acquaintance in the apartment complex showed up with, not one, but two babies! As we all gathered round, she shared the miracles that took place as these babies found their parents. And indeed! Nothing but miracles could have created this family of four so quickly. Not long after, I was at work when in walked our colleague. She was beaming as her husband followed with his elbow bent, carrying a car seat that held a beautiful little girl. “Her name is Jessica. You wouldn’t believe the miracles that landed her in our home,” my friend shared with the group.

And then it was our turn. It had been years. We ached to add to our family, and more than once we thought it would happen. After a heartbreaking miscarriage of twins, a baby boy was placed in our foster care. He was adoptable, and we were smitten. Yet eight months later when parental rights were terminated, the news was relayed to us by our social worker that he would be placed in another home. I knew this was a mistake, I knew that we could convince them. Where were my miracles? How could this happen? 

It was during a meeting with our attorney that I learned valuable lessons about miracles. This pragmatic, generous man, who took our case simply because he believed in it (he was an immigration attorney and not fond of family law), turned my attitude around with one statement: “Social Services is not God.”

That’s right, I thought. We are doing all we can. If our son is meant to be in our family, God will take control and miracles will happen. And they did. It took two years, a lot of sweat and tears and prayers, and a whole lot of goodness from others. But it happened. The miracles came in many ways.

It was Friday afternoon, December 23rd, when our phone rang. Our attorney was on the line. “Merry Christmas,” he said. “The judge is opening the court house and we’re meeting there tomorrow to sign papers. Bryan is yours.”  Monday morning when we walked into our attorney’s office to pick up his bill, another miracle occurred. Instead of the thousands of dollars we expected, he charged us only for court costs.

Miracles do  happen in adoption. In fact, every child is a miracle. I found that when I turned my will over to God, trusting that His plan was best, that’s when the miracles unfolded. It still wasn’t easy. And we still struggled through more infertility and other trials. But the miracles continue to happen. Sometimes, I just need to open my spiritual eyes to recognize them.