Redemption is a beautiful concept. To take something, or someone,
that was lost or broken or hurt and saving it or them. I can’t think of
redemption without getting some tears in my eyes. I love the idea of something
or someone being saved, being rescued. Maybe because I can so deeply relate to needing
redemption.
I have had several moments in my life when I needed saving.
Quite frankly, I need the redemption of Jesus daily. But some seasons stand out
as a having a moment of redemption. When the darkness became light. When the
valley path started rising to the mountains. When beauty rose from ashes and tears.
Today is a day where I celebrate redemption.
It was eight years ago today that I became a mom.
It wasn’t at all the way I expected, but it was the path we came
to be on. The path that led to redemption.
In fact, my plan, after a battle with infertility was to
give birth on February 22, 2012. I had finally gotten pregnant in June the year
prior and this was my due date. Until it wasn’t because I miscarried. Again. The
events following that miscarriage showed us that the path we were to take to
parenthood was the path of adoption.
The path of infertility and adoption was one of my lowest valleys.
It felt dark. It felt lonely. It felt stagnant.
And then came the redemption. The saving. On the very day I
thought I would give birth to a baby; one was placed in my arms. I felt the
saving. I felt the weight of the darkness start to lift. I started to see the mountain
path. My world had felt upside down and this little boy was turning it right side
up again. I was a mom for the very first time.
The light was dawning and would continue to get brighter in
this corner of my life. Parenthood would prove to have its own challenges (of
course!), but my season of longing for a baby was redeemed. There was beauty
rising from the ashes in my soul. My tears were tears of joy in the morning.
Adoption is considered a triad relationship: the child, the birth
parents, and the adoption parents. We had a blessed opportunity to spend time
with Isaac’s birth mother in the days before and after Isaac’s birth. We heard
her story. We listened deeply. We cried with her. Yet, there was redemption. I
don’t share her story or the beginning of Isaac’s story because they are not
mine to tell, but I can say that the moment he placed was in my arms, there was
a lot of redemption in the room. How could a mom not think about the woman who
gave birth to her son on his birthday? She was first on my mind this morning.
She gave me a gift. A gift of redemption. I hope she still feels redemption,
too.
I love celebrating Isaac’s birthday. Today he opted to spend
the day at home with his family playing with Legos. I am listening to him banter
with his brothers as I write this. The story wasn’t at all what I expected when
I wanted a baby. But this story has redemption and I wouldn’t trade it for
anything.
