My baby's smile

So I keep seeing my baby's face. When I wake up, as I'm driving to work, just before my head hits the pillow. And I confess the image isn't entirely clear, because I can't tell if it's a boy or a girl. I can't tell what the eyes, nose, or chin really look like. The only concrete thing I see is an ear-to-ear smile that could light up a city block. One of those smiles that speaks a story of pure joy, of peace, of being home. And I'm not sure why that's the only thing I can see, but I like it. I like that it's there with me through this maze of paperwork, background checks, and parenting courses. I like that it's there with me as I'm waiting...and waiting...and possibly waiting some more.

But there's something more - I think my baby's smile shining through the otherwise hazy image in my mind is like our lives, like this whole adoption process. Things get so blurry, so undefined, and it's so difficult to see the big picture. Russell Moore, in his book Adopted for Life, says this: "God often doesn't explain his providence to us, past or future. He asks us to trust him, to endure, and to know, in the words of the old gospel song, that we'll 'understand it by and by.' Sometimes, though, he grants us a glimpse in the middle of it all of how he's silently working toward something joyous." I think my baby's smile is that glimpse. And I feel blessed that as we jump over these hurdles, as we wait to see God's perfect timing and His "big picture", He is giving me this glimpse in the middle of it all as assurance that He is silently working toward something profoundly joyous. Because to be honest, I don't think I can even get my mind around the overwhelming, soul-stirring, world-altering joy I will feel when I finally see my baby's face in all its sweet splendor.

Love you guys,

Dan