9 years ago, I attended a Steven Curtis Chapman & Michael W Smith concert with my dad. The tickets had been an anniversary present from Josh and, well being the secular music fan he is (ha), he opted not to go and so I brought my dad. We were big into the tolerable Christian music scene anyway.
The seats were terrible. Josh had snagged a great deal by buying seats with an obstructed view. My dad didn’t mind so much as he got to stretch his legs out in the aisle.
At some point during the concert, Steven (because we’re on a first name basis) began to talk about the loss of his daughter, Maria, and about the work Show Hope was doing. He said that if there was anyone in the audience interested in child sponsorship to raise their hands and an attendant would come and provide them with information. I didn’t. Dad did.
Dad glanced at the information and handed it to me. And I absorbed every ounce of it. And I went home and told Josh that we needed to sponsor a child. Right now.
And somewhere along the line one child turned into two. Then three. Then 10. Then 14.
And somewhere around child 14, I began to feel it in my bones that God was going to build our family through adoption. I was certain. Children matter. These 14 children had taught me over and over that children matter.
And here we are, one 6 year old child asleep in her loft bed and one little guy on the way.
What if Josh had been the one to come to the concert instead of Dad?
What if Dad hadn’t raised his hand?
What if he hadn’t handed the pamphlet to me?
Ultimately, I believe God would have made his purpose known to us some other way.
But in this way my Dad is always tied to the story of my heart. He is forever the spark that lit the flame.
I miss my dad fiercely. I had a come-apart several weeks ago when our pastor said the word “cantata” during the sermon and I had to step out of the sanctuary to go cry in the bathroom. I had a come-apart the next week when the choir sang. His absence is felt every day. And it seems to get harder than easier.
And I look at Victoria and I see him. He is tied to her. Forever. He is always, always part of the story. And because he’s part of her story, he’s part of Ben’s story. And part of the story of every child that will come into this home.
There are no words to describe what a joy that is.
