Don’t Wait Alone
Yesterday, our church celebrated its 25th birthday. The service was a series of stories, testimonials, and interviews with people who have been part of our church over the years. Awesome day! Through it all, the concept of family and community kept coming up. This felt fitting, as the people in our church are family to us. We've experienced so much life in the 12 years of being part of our church, which flooded my mind as I sat there.
One particular memory stood out. It's a story that I don't often share. I had an inkling to write about it, but I was unsure. Then, something happened. Or rather, someone happened. My friend Suzanne was on stage sharing about her journey. She ended her story with three powerful words: "Don't wait alone."
Sarah and I started trying to have a child when we were right around 30. We had been married for a few years at that point. Those first few years of marriage were spent traveling, paying off debt, enjoying being together, and learning how to be husband and wife. Then, the day came when we knew it was time to have a child. It's a pretty simple process, or so my fifth-grade science class taught me. Our reality was anything but simple.
After about nine unsuccessful months, we started getting worried. That began a brutal series of medical consultations, tests, procedures, and suffering. We were in our early 30s, facing a fork in the road. The fork wasn't medical...it was community. We were surrounded by countless people who loved us dearly, yet we were suffering in silence. This was our fork. We could either a) continue to bear this weight alone (while people would likely talk behind our back), or b) allow others to carry some of this weight and be there to support us. We chose the latter. We chose transparency.
What came from that experience was absolutely life-changing. We were in the midst of the most painful season of our lives, yet experiencing the beauty of true community. We suffered, but we weren't alone. Every step of the way, people were there to pick us up when we couldn't.
One of the most powerful moments of my life was sitting through service on Father's Day, just two days after losing a child that would have made me a dad. It was arguably the worst day of my life. I could have stayed home and hid, but I needed my church family.
Family cuts both ways. On the one hand, they are there to mourn with you, but on the other hand, they are there to celebrate with you, too. Just four months later, we became parents to two beautiful baby boys. Our church family was right beside us, celebrating like it was their own. I couldn't believe how happy everyone was. It was almost like these children were theirs......and in a way, they were. It's a true love I hope my kids someday recognize.
"Don't wait alone." You got that so right, Suzanne.
Today is the 7-year anniversary of bringing those two little 4-week-olds home. It’s typically called “gotcha day” in the adoption world, but we just call it the day we became a family. We will celebrate by sharing pictures, videos, and stories with the boys. Oh yeah, and maybe some treats. Below is the first photo taken after bringing the kids home on that crisp October 23rd morning.
