I found myself in the hospital today. The same hospital that Xander was born 3 years ago today. The memories and emotions of his birth and placement swept over me. The walk from the car to the hospital, the smell of the hospital, sitting in a meeting…there was a likeness there reminiscent of those 4ish days we spent coming and going from the hospital. The days between Xander being born and being placed with us.
Those days. Never have I experienced such days where the outcome was more out of my control. The plan…the plan was this beautiful 7 pound 12 ounce baby would be called my son. The plan was we would walk out of that hospital 72+ hours after he was born filled with joy and excitement….
The reality was…at that moment he wasn’t “ours.” While He had captured our hearts…
He had also captured his biological family’s hearts…
And they had captured ours.
Those days. Those days in the hospital loving and pouring out on a family that were virtually strangers….they were hard. There wasn’t time for “surface” talk or “peeling the layers of an onion” in a get-to-know-you-conversation. Time only allowed for complete vulnerability.
I reminisced on those days today. Ruminated on them.
I had a vision.
I saw a hurricane. As I looked down, from above, the trajectory of the hurricane was clear. It was fierce and powerful. Controlled but uncontrolled. It’s path of destruction was wide and long.
But in the middle…in the middle was a calm. A knowledge of what was going on and what was to come. A breath of freedom, peace, and grace. It was as if the hand of God had reached into the middle of this storm and created a moment, if even for a minute, of clarity, of victory, of grace. In the middle of this storm…one he didn’t create or want or hope for….He was there.
He was there.
In the storm.