On April 5th of 2013, with water pouring over me, I thought of promises made and promises yet to be kept. I wondered what God could possibly be doing in it all. Then out of nowhere, a deep pain came and the quiet words.
Showers are my place to think. Today, it was my place to wrestle with God. As I sat on the shower floor and pleaded with God to make me a father He said, “You already are!” He told me, “They lived. They existed. They are your children. All of them.” However brief it was, they lived. They were sons and they were daughters.
I can’t really explain to you in sufficient words, but I was overwhelmed by love for them. And as if to wash away the sadness, I was filled with joy that I would, indeed, one day meet them.
So here is the letter I wrote to them that day, written for the in between:
I wish I could have seen each of you. I wish I could have held you in my hands and kissed your tiny fingers. I wish I could have seen you play and heard your laugh. I dream of seeing you walk and learning to run. I see so many things that could have been, but they were not. For some reason, God chose your mother and me to be your mother and father. I don’t know what purpose it was, but I’m glad and overwhelmed with joy that God chose you for a purpose, however small. He chose you for a purpose which I can’t yet see. It was not to live life as many others do, but it was to live just the same. It was brief, yes, but not empty.
I saw a table, set for you, for us. Seven places set so far. You see, God said we will meet someday. When we do, your mother and I will tell you stories and laugh, not as parents, but as close friends! I can’t wait to see your faces and your smiles. I can’t wait to hear your voices. I hope you can see ours now. Your mother is so beautiful, with a smile to lift an entire room. She hurts for each of you, with a love so deep, that most will never know it. But that’s just it, she loves you!
You were each a gift. Some of you were gone before we knew you were there, but we felt the loss just the same. And though it hurts, just know, we are grateful that we were chosen to be your parents.
No matter how brief, you are my sons and you are my daughters. I love you. And I can’t wait to meet you.
—
Your earthly father
Now, months later, I see God had granted me another promise. He said that I would have children again. I see now that I have been taken into family after family and called their own. I have been given children to care for, if even for a day, as if they are mine. I see children at church that run to me with arms open. I teach others as we discuss their discovery of their new found faith.
God kept his promise. Now I have more kids than I ever imagined. It just wasn’t quite how I imagined it. For such a promise, I am content and I am grateful.