She wanted another son. She and her husband already had one baby but struggled to conceive another. They chose to adopt. And so she waited. She dreamed. Then, she waited some more. She fought hard against insurmountable odds that culminated to a dark and hopeless hour last week when it seemed they would never be allowed to bring him home.
Just when it seemed she might have to let him go, they received the email that changed everything. Contrary to all they thought would be true for them, they prepare to leave on Friday for a trip around the world to bring their little boy home.
Last night, I attended her baby shower. I sat in her sister’s living room and watched as she opened packages of hope and happiness disguised as tiny boy clothes. She was giddy and overwhelmed, helpless to hide her tears of relief.
I couldn’t keep my eyes from settling on the photo hanging behind her of the son she was preparing to meet. A dark haired boy with a wide, toothless grin. He is an orphan destined to remain so unless someone, somewhere fights for him.
Not because he earned it. Just because he is.
The heart of a mother reflects the heart of God like nothing I have ever seen. Her love is no less passionate or fierce whether that baby is growing inside her own body, born of a woman on the other side of the world or born only in her heart as she struggles to conceive. A mother loves her baby without condition or expectation. She will wait any amount of time, travel any distance, fight any battle.
A hero indeed.
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