Let the Children Come…

It was so comfortable. Having the necessary funds to bankroll college for our two daughters set aside before they were even in kindergarten gave me tremendous freedom with our finances. All we had to do was let a meager interest rate do its work for the years that lay ahead. 

As we discussed whether we were ready to ‘try’ again for another baby over the course of 18 months, the idea of adoption kept resurfacing. I was more reluctant than my husband (I enjoyed pregnancy and was incomprehensibly undeterred by record-breaking weight gain). I was, however, deterred by the inconvenience, uncertainty and expense of adoption. Eventually, I offered a flippant willingness to pray over it. And I did. (Sort of.)

During a brief family vacation about a month later, I began to study in preparation for teaching Mark 10. As I read, the Holy Spirit began to press on me, nudging me with each section of the chapter.

Let the children come to me.
I know, Lord. I want more children. But I want to give birth to them.

Sell all you have and give to the poor.
But these monies are what will put my daughters through college. You don’t want me to give that up, do you?

And Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.”
But we’ll have to leave the girls behind to travel for lengthy periods of time for adoption. And other people are counting on me, too.

My excuses were frail when held out before the Lord, whose Designs I am bound to in obedience and love.

• Who was I to decide how (or if) my family grew?
• Was I so important that my life couldn’t be interrupted when my Lord graciously stopped for all who needed Him?
• What right did I have to deny a child the blessing of a family in order to preserve getting an education for another?

Humbled and tear-stained, I told my husband that now I, too, felt compelled to adopt. We returned home and began the process immediately.

Copious amounts of paperwork flooded my desk. Fees and expenses waged an assault on our savings. Over time, as I wrote check after check, I ceased to view the money as belonging to my daughters for their future education, and began to see it as God’s lifeline to our sons, the umbilical cord tethering us together as a family.

This money was never mine. It had always been God’s. I had earmarked it for college. He had marked it with the name of two sons then unknown to me. I wanted to give my girls the best education possible. He wanted to give two boys family.

After a 12 month paper pregnancy, we brought them home. Our daughters survived our three-week absence. Employers and ministry companions managed to carry on without us (imagine that!). Our means for paying for college today are considerably less than they were. But given the choice of two fully-funded collegiate educations, or two fewer orphans in this world, I’d make the same call every time.

And the most beautiful part of it all? So would my girls.

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You may not feel compelled to adopt; it’s not for everyone. But I encourage you to come alongside the orphans and widows of our global community — in prayer or some other fashion. This is what James 1:27 requires of us.