Memorial Box Monday: We Made It!

This Easter, we spent a fabulous day eating, playing, and talking with some good friends. Somehow, the talk turned to our daughter's early years. She's only five, but 'the early years' seem like a lifetime ago.

Our first day with sweet Ellie began like all the others on our trip -- with tears. In international adoption, one thing you hope for and dread, all at the same time, is the tears. The tears come when the little one grieves what's behind and is confused by the new experience of life with family. Ellie cried when I first took her in my arms, but she quickly fell asleep.

That evening, in our hotel room, she smiled. She went to bed and fell promptly asleep and slept through the night. At breakfast the next morning, she was wide awake, content to sit in her high chair. We watched as the other families traveling with us stumbled into the restaurant, bleary eyed after a long night of tears from their little one. Some commented on how blessed we were. Others asked our secret. But our hearts broke. Our daughter didn't grieve.

That first year, Ellie amazed us in many ways, yet we worried. What others saw as endearing, we saw as signs of trouble. Sadly, we were right. One of the biggest issues was Ellie's struggle to eat. After 4:30 p.m., she simply couldn't. She'd cry, so hungry. I'd prepare her bottle, but she just couldn't take it. We both ended up in tears. Daily. And I put her to bed each night, exhausted and hungry. It was awful.

There were lots of other little signals too. Finally, someone saw what we did and understood our fears. We got help, speech therapy  to stimulate her oral senses and occupational therapy to help her absorb environmental information without completely shutting down. It wasn't easy -- she resisted "waking up." Those sensations would overwhelm her.

Now, Ellie does great. Occasionally, she gets really tired and falls apart a little bit. But we know to prepare her for new experiences long before they happen, particularly travel and new schools or teachers.

As we shared our journey with our friends this Easter, God whispered, "See. I answered your prayers for a healthy daughter." Exactly as we prayed through our adoption process, God provided. He didn't give us a healthy daughter that first day. He gave us a broken little girl. He gave our broken little girl two relentless parents with a great church family filled with prayer warriors. As I finish this post, sweet Ellie stands on a stool in the kitchen, pulling a cereal bowl out of the cupboard. She's preparing her own breakfast, no help required.

We've come a long way in five years!

To remind us of God's healing in our daughter's life -- and our answered prayers for a healthy daughter -- I am placing her therapy brush in our Memorial Box. Thank you, God, for answering our prayers, not in our time, but in yours. We look forward to discovering your plans for our sweet daughter.

Memorial Box Monday started at "A Place Called Simplicity." A friend of mine introduced me to it, and I love it! love it! love it!!! Memorial Box Monday provides an opportunity to remember all the good things God has done. Huge, gigantic things and little things that might seem insignificant. God's word is clear: "Cast every care on Me, for I care for you." (1 Peter 5:7).