By Reneé Wall Rongen
We will give ourselves continuously to prayer and to the ministry of the word.
~Acts 6:4
I watched our son envelop her in his arms as she sobbed. "It's okay, it's okay," he soothed.
She stepped back, looked up at him and, half laughing and crying, whispered, "These are tears of joy and answered prayers."
We will give ourselves continuously to prayer and to the ministry of the word.
~Acts 6:4
I watched our son envelop her in his arms as she sobbed. "It's okay, it's okay," he soothed.
She stepped back, looked up at him and, half laughing and crying, whispered, "These are tears of joy and answered prayers."
They both chuckled, lightening the moment. The ten of us surrounding the two of them mopped our tears too.
Drying her eyes, the woman held my son's hands and gave him a head to toe once over, as she had done eighteen years earlier, when she gave birth to him. This time he looked back at her with the heart of a wise, mature young man. As if the two were alone in the room, he said tenderly, "I hope you have no regrets, I have not a one. I am proud of you for choosing life for me."
Eighteen years earlier, my husband Tom and I were in the process of adopting overseas when a local adoption agency called. We anxiously submitted our profile to the seventeen-year-old mother. After combing through numerous prospective parent profiles, she wanted to meet us right away.
We walked into the agency, shook hands with our adoption counselor, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her sitting in a chair swinging her legs nervously. Her hands folded over her five-month pregnant tummy, protruding from her petite frame. Before our counselor could introduce us, I moved toward her. As if we had known each other a lifetime, I put my arms around her. We pulled away and her deep brown eyes met mine and we embraced again. Then she hugged Tom. The moment I feared would be awkward was comforting. There was an instant bond. We would be her son's parents.
A few months later I woke to the sound of the phone ringing at 12:42 a.m. Groggily, I mustered, "Hello?" Within three seconds and hearing the words, "She's in labor," I scrambled into my clothes, grabbed the two bags by the door that had been packed for three weeks, and quickly jumped into my car to drive the 100 miles. Luckily, Tom was working in the same city where I was heading. I ran back into the house and called him. Awakened from his sound sleep, he exclaimed, "I'll meet you there... Mom."
That word sounded foreign, yet right. The day we'd prayed for had arrived. Smiling, I hung up the phone, ran outside and began my travels into motherhood.
Fog hung low as I drove too fast that early March morning. "God, you have walked our journey and know what we have been through trying to start a family. Please get me there safely to witness the birth of my son." Then I prayed for the young girl in labor. "Please make this delivery as painless as possible for our young Tawnya. May she come to know our appreciation of her selfless love, letting us raise her son to be our own."
Driving along I was thankful for North Dakota's flat and straight roads. My head spun with excitement and fear. My pounding heart propelled me to the parking ramp of the hospital. I nearly leapt out of the vehicle and ran to the maternity floor. I found Tom sitting next to Tawnya as they talked and smiled. I gave our dear girl a squeeze and she returned the heartfelt hug.
The nurse came in, checked Tawnya, and told us she had a way to go. Tom left to get coffee and roam the halls and perhaps wrap his head around what was soon to come. I took his chair next to the bed, held Tawnya's hand and stroked it as she fell asleep. I felt concern, sadness and joy all at the same time.
I dozed off and woke to the nurse drawing the curtain around the bed. Soon she said, "It's time to push!"
The doctor swept in with a smile, took Tawnya's hand and spoke softly to her, then turned to us and declared, "Let's have a baby!"
Two hours later, a red, curly-haired, big baby boy was born and placed on Tawnya's chest. Tom cut the cord, then we stood back and watched as Tawnya stroked the baby and talked to him. Tom and I and the nurses all cried.
Then Tawnya placed our son into my arms.
Now I watched him, a strapping eighteen-year-old man, hug her again and say, "You gave me life and chose two incredible people to be my parents."
He stepped to Tom and me. The more he talked, the tighter we held him and each other. He continued, "I've had a life rooted in faith, family, and many friends. I have been blessed a hundred times over. My life has been an answer to all of our prayers."
Drying her eyes, the woman held my son's hands and gave him a head to toe once over, as she had done eighteen years earlier, when she gave birth to him. This time he looked back at her with the heart of a wise, mature young man. As if the two were alone in the room, he said tenderly, "I hope you have no regrets, I have not a one. I am proud of you for choosing life for me."
Eighteen years earlier, my husband Tom and I were in the process of adopting overseas when a local adoption agency called. We anxiously submitted our profile to the seventeen-year-old mother. After combing through numerous prospective parent profiles, she wanted to meet us right away.
We walked into the agency, shook hands with our adoption counselor, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her sitting in a chair swinging her legs nervously. Her hands folded over her five-month pregnant tummy, protruding from her petite frame. Before our counselor could introduce us, I moved toward her. As if we had known each other a lifetime, I put my arms around her. We pulled away and her deep brown eyes met mine and we embraced again. Then she hugged Tom. The moment I feared would be awkward was comforting. There was an instant bond. We would be her son's parents.
A few months later I woke to the sound of the phone ringing at 12:42 a.m. Groggily, I mustered, "Hello?" Within three seconds and hearing the words, "She's in labor," I scrambled into my clothes, grabbed the two bags by the door that had been packed for three weeks, and quickly jumped into my car to drive the 100 miles. Luckily, Tom was working in the same city where I was heading. I ran back into the house and called him. Awakened from his sound sleep, he exclaimed, "I'll meet you there... Mom."
That word sounded foreign, yet right. The day we'd prayed for had arrived. Smiling, I hung up the phone, ran outside and began my travels into motherhood.
Fog hung low as I drove too fast that early March morning. "God, you have walked our journey and know what we have been through trying to start a family. Please get me there safely to witness the birth of my son." Then I prayed for the young girl in labor. "Please make this delivery as painless as possible for our young Tawnya. May she come to know our appreciation of her selfless love, letting us raise her son to be our own."
Driving along I was thankful for North Dakota's flat and straight roads. My head spun with excitement and fear. My pounding heart propelled me to the parking ramp of the hospital. I nearly leapt out of the vehicle and ran to the maternity floor. I found Tom sitting next to Tawnya as they talked and smiled. I gave our dear girl a squeeze and she returned the heartfelt hug.
The nurse came in, checked Tawnya, and told us she had a way to go. Tom left to get coffee and roam the halls and perhaps wrap his head around what was soon to come. I took his chair next to the bed, held Tawnya's hand and stroked it as she fell asleep. I felt concern, sadness and joy all at the same time.
I dozed off and woke to the nurse drawing the curtain around the bed. Soon she said, "It's time to push!"
The doctor swept in with a smile, took Tawnya's hand and spoke softly to her, then turned to us and declared, "Let's have a baby!"
Two hours later, a red, curly-haired, big baby boy was born and placed on Tawnya's chest. Tom cut the cord, then we stood back and watched as Tawnya stroked the baby and talked to him. Tom and I and the nurses all cried.
Then Tawnya placed our son into my arms.
Now I watched him, a strapping eighteen-year-old man, hug her again and say, "You gave me life and chose two incredible people to be my parents."
He stepped to Tom and me. The more he talked, the tighter we held him and each other. He continued, "I've had a life rooted in faith, family, and many friends. I have been blessed a hundred times over. My life has been an answer to all of our prayers."
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