“Any news?” This has been the question we have received over and again since that glorious day that we became a waiting family. More recently the question has morphed into silent, inquisitive glances- faces graced with a hint of sympathy. This wait is hard. To be candid, I don’t love these interactions. This sentiment doesn’t stem from pure annoyance at the constant questions. If anything, these quick conversations remind us that we are not forgotten in this wait. What bothers me is the reality that these “check-ins” don’t allow for me to communicate the reality of what we are experiencing at this stage of our adoption. Let me reiterate, this wait is hard. I am grieving over and again the loss of control over my entry into motherhood. But the wait also holds profound meaning. Daily I am confronted with the question: Do I really believe that God will do what he has promised? The “promise” is not that one day we will hold our son or daughter in our arms. The promise is that one day our mighty God will make right all those things that aren’t as they ought to be. The fulfillment of this promise is the victory over death, over cancer, over dysfunctional relationships, over poverty, racism, and fatherlessness. One day we will fully experience our own Heavenly adoption. We will be brought into a family whose ties never have to be broken. Pity is not an appropriate response to our state as a waiting family. We are experiencing new depths of the Father’s love. We are gleaning a new understanding of overwhelming grace. A few weeks ago I had my first baby shower. A body of people who have already given so much to us chose to give even more. Family members drove for hours to be present- to show their support. But, the most impactful part of the shower was the time of prayer that we shared. These women acknowledged the loss and fear I was feeling. They also validated the very real trauma that the birthparents will endure. They asked for mercy over all circumstances of the adoption. They prayed protection over this unborn child. This was a profound picture for me of living out the call to fellowship with one another. These women sat with me, joining in my lament. We grieved together that things aren’t yet as they should be. But we also vocalized our shared faith- that God has the power to do what is promised. My prayer is that as waiting parents we wouldn’t miss the weight of this step in the adoption process. This child is not our own. Nor are they our ultimate fulfillment. Their life, however, absolutely symbolizes a severe mercy. We are the unworthy recipients of restoration. We are but humble witnesses as he “gives life to the dead.” We are all waiting, my friends- to be loved, to exist in a world with racial and gender equality. Our yet unfulfilled hearts long for purpose, prosperity, healing, deliverance from our psychological afflictions. Yet the baby has already been born unto us. He came despite our blind attempts at self-fulfillment. He offers the resolution. He died to bring us home.