Jun
29
52home
Filed under Biblical Womanhood | 52home 3:09 p.m. Thanks, Mike.
“Waiting on God isn’t about the suspension of meaning and purpose. It’s part of the meaning and purpose that God has brought into my life. Waiting on God isn’t to be viewed as an obstruction in the way of the plan. Waiting is an essential part of the plan. For the child of God, waiting isn’t simply about what I’ll receive at the end of my wait. No, waiting is much more purposeful, efficient, and practical than that. Waiting is fundamentally about what I’ll become as I wait. God is using the wait to do in and through me exactly what He’s promised. Through the wait He’s changing me. By means of the wait He’s altering the fabric of my thoughts and desires. Through the wait He’s causing me to see and experience new things about Him and His kingdom. And all of this sharpens me, enabling me to be a more useful tool in His redemptive hands” (emphasis mine). Paul Tripp
We’re still waiting for the phone call that we are going to be parents again. In the meantime, I’ll bring you up to the present in our adoption story.
For us, adoption was actually an easy decision. Once we determined that our desire for more children was from the Lord—but that it wasn’t wise for me to give birth to more children—adoption was simply the next step.
Within days of beginning to pray about adopting, several women separately came to us and told us they had been praying for us of late and wondered how they could pray more specifically. Their kindness was yet another reminder of God’s personal care for our little, but expanding, family.
We continued to seek counsel from family and close friends in our church—all of whom were very supportive and excited for us to pursue adoption. But once we had decided to adopt, there were a whole host of other decisions to be made: domestic or international, agency or private, boy or girl, infant or toddler or school age child? So we widened our circle of counselors, contacting friends near and far who had adopted or who had some connection to adoption.
Janelle first threw out the idea of adopting kids close to Jack and Tori’s age and the more we thought about it the more excited we became. Having all our kids close in age would allow us to do things together as a family instead of our attention being divided between older and younger children.
As we asked around, one particular international adoption agency kept coming up. Everyone had wonderful things to say about their love for God, heart for orphans, and commitment to integrity. We concluded this was the right agency for us.
On a getaway for our tenth anniversary we got the first of what we hope will be several more happy phone calls: we had been accepted by the agency and were beginning our adoption journey. We couldn’t have received a better anniversary gift.
When we reviewed the countries available through this adoption agency, we first thought that one Asian country in particular was the best fit, but after a few months it became clear that there were some practical hurdles for us—specifically the uncertainty of being able to adopt two older children at the same time. Our contact at the adoption agency confirmed what we had already begun to think, that we should pray about switching to Ethiopia. “Take the weekend to pray” she encouraged us.
In God’s kind providence, we had already invited dear friends over to lunch, along with their four children whom they had recently adopted from Ethiopia. When we planned the lunch, we didn’t know we would be considering a change in countries. But God knew.
Our friends’ wise counsel, and their beautiful, joyful, children only served to increase our faith and desire. And the strong support from our families provided further encouragement and confirmation. We applied for the Ethiopia program, and began the paper-chase.
So that brings us to the present. Waiting. I sit each morning in my blue chair to meet with God and I see our family picture on the wall across the room. I try to imagine two new faces there. God-willing, soon.
Hear Dad preach live at the final session of the Resolved conference tonight at 7pm PST. Or listen to the recorded audio at resolved.org
Read Kevin DeYoung’s advice for Christians on how to talk to one another about secondary issues (say private or public or home school) in his article “All Out of Whack.”
Watch David Powlison’s biblically tender answer to a woman’s question: “As a Christian woman, how do I think rightly about recurrent miscarriages?”
Wrestling with an Angel: A Story of Love, Disability, and the Lesson of Grace
by Greg Lucas
“I didn’t want to read this book. I knew these tear-stained but hope-filled pages would jostle me out of my comfort zone and shake me up. C.S. Lewis wrote that he paradoxically loved The Lord of the Rings because it ‘broke his heart’—and Greg Lucas’ writing does the same for me. And it’s for that reason that I heartily commend this book—especially for dads. This is just the book many of us need to taste afresh the goodness of God and the grace of the gospel even as we long for the day when this broken world will be made right.” —Justin Taylor
This series on mothers of disabled children allows us to introduce you to some of our heroes. These women lavish their disabled children with love and care. Yet, very often their children are unable to thank them—in words anyways. So we want to say “thank you” on their behalf.
Today I want you to meet Irene—another one of my heroes. Irene served as my husband’s secretary before she married Jeff, and this dear couple have been faithful members of our church for many years. As with Diane, there is so much I could say about Irene, but I’m going to let my good friend Charlotte—who has observed Irene up close for many years—introduce you to this godly woman.
“What Irene Taught Me”
I’ve known Irene Herbert for almost 20 years but we were not close friends at first. She married five or six years before I did and had her first baby about a year later. Her precious firstborn, Bethany, is fifteen now. She has never walked or talked. She is fed through a tube in her stomach. She has several seizures on most days and sometimes she drools. Irene and her husband Jeff love Bethany passionately. They have taught their five other children to love her like that. I didn’t understand that love at first, but when my child, Valerie, was born with Down Syndrome, Irene taught me how to love Bethany too.
Irene has a tenacious belief in God’s sovereignty and in His word. She has always considered her daughter to be a precious gift from God, fearfully and wonderfully made. She beams whenever Bethany focuses her eyes on Irene’s face, even for an instant. “See how she knows me,” she’ll say. Though I usually can’t see much difference in Bethany on any given day, I know Irene can. She knows her child. Irene taught me to see Valerie like that. A precious gift, made in the image of God. She taught me that even when others don’t understand Valerie, I can. Watching Irene taught me that God helps mothers like us to see things in our children even when no one else can.
Irene doesn’t compare Bethany with any other child. To Irene, Bethany is complete the way she is. Though she has many serious limitations, Irene doesn’t consider her to be less “human” or “worthy.” Irene accepts Bethany’s disabilities and rejoices as she sees God’s hand in every tiny step of progress. She sees her other children that way too. Irene is keenly aware that all growth comes from God and she is grateful for evidences of grace in any of her children. She has taught me that comparison is so unwise. She’s taught me to love Valerie as God has made her and to delight to watch her grow on the unique path he has given her, and to do that for all of my children.
Though Irene sometimes wonders why God made Bethany the way she is, I have never heard her charge God or demand an answer. She doesn’t complain about caring for Bethany, bathing, dressing and diapering her. Recently, Bethany’s health began what may be a slow decline. Last month she spent several weeks in the ICU. Irene spent many nights at the hospital serving and praying for her child. “I know one day I’ll have a conversation with her,” she told me. “One day she and I will be in heaven together and we’ll have so much to talk about.” Irene has taught me to have an eternal perspective. This is not all there is, it’s just all we see now.
—from the archives
