The time from our stillborn baby to the loss of our adopted baby was a period of blindly holding on to the invisible One. And He remained silent. It was a time of revealing who we were and what we truly believed about the God of miracles. It was a time of deepest honesty and daily attitude choices.
Getting to the point in life’s journey where we can no longer separate our will from His will is to arrive at a sea of peace. It is a peace the world cannot offer and a contract cannot guarantee. It is a peace far removed from a “wish list” and can only be described as supernatural. At this sea of peace our hearts whisper,
“My emptiness is Yours, oh God, to do with as You see best.”
Charles Spurgeon prayed it like this:
“Lord, if what I ask for does not please You, neither would it please me. . . . ‘Not as I will, but as You will.’”
It was two weeks before Christmas, and we could hear excitement in the caller’s voice: “Rod, Donna, a baby is about to be born, and the birth mother would like to meet you.” Rod and I looked at each other and smiled. We were not flooded with emotions or reactions—simply a prayer: Not our will but Yours, oh God. Our emotions were no longer ours; they belonged to Him. Rod thanked the caller and assured him we would ask God what He thought we should do.
One week passed; we were silent. And then another call came, this time from the birth mother. “I know you don’t know me,” she began, “but I know your story, and I believe you are to be the parents for the baby I am carrying. I was wondering, would you be willing to meet me?”
The following Sabbath afternoon we sat in her living room as she and her husband shared their journey. After the birth of their third child, their marriage had crumbled and he had left for another woman. It wasn’t long, though, before his life made a drastic change. He answered the doorbell one evening to an unknown visitor, and soon Bible studies began.
The Word of Life changed his life, and the power of reconciliation took hold of his heart. Soon he returned to his wife for forgiveness and found her pregnant with another man’s baby. They looked down the road and realized that the baby she carried would grow up with less opportunity than their three daughters, and they wanted more for the child.
The tears streamed down my face as I sat in admiration of her. I wept as I realized that in God’s plans, no situation is a surprise to Him, no experiences are wasted, and no one loses; everyone wins!
Holy words became flesh in my heart: “While you were still in the womb, I knew you” (Jer. 1:5, paraphrase).
God was orchestrating a family. We could see her fingers and toes in the sonogram, but God could see her inward parts: her character, her gifts, her needs. And He knew exactly the family tree that would be best for her.
A few weeks later, we arrived at the hospital as tiny Tawnya Marie was being transferred from the delivery room to the nursery. Meeting her was like . . . well, it was as though I had experienced a moment of heaven when everything will be perfect.