This is going to be a long post, but I'm going to do it anyway. We got our "Family News" letter from Focus on the Family today, and the story in it made me cry. I wanted to share it. It is a true story, written by a Focus employee, Paul Batura, about when he and his wife adopted their son. God is in the miracle business. (For the sake of saving space, I have changed some paragraph spacing, and noted where I have done so.)

"The Angel in the Whirlwind"

It was to be a summer like none other. It was to be the season when a dream came true.

Peeking through the curtains in Room 321 of the Sleep Inn Suites in downtown Edmond, Oklahoma, we could see that the humidity of another oppressively hot summer's day had already settled in. With nary a breeze outside our window, the only thing that seemed to be moving in the early moments of Thursday morning, August 4, 2005, was the teenagers outside our door. Shortly before sunrise, we were awakened by the sounds of these rambunctious travelers charging up and down the hallway, excited about their basketball tournament later that day. Normally, a wake-up call of this manner might strike me the wrong way - especially given how rarely we had found sleep these past few days. But not this time. Not today. My skin was as thick as the muggy morning air.

"Have at it," I thought, "enjoy your trip."    ¶That's because in a matter of mere hours, my wife Julie and I would officially become the proud parents of a beautiful baby boy.

Oddly, though, Julie wasn't pregnant and our soon-to-be son was already swaddled up on the bed beside the window, sound asleep. It may not have been the conventional manner of starting a family, but after considerable disappointment and heartache, the pieces had, at long last, fallen into place for us to become adoptive parents.

Well, almost all of the pieces had fallen into place.    ¶That's because in the adoption process, there always seems to be "one last step" or "one more thing" needing to be done to bring closure and finalization.

"Enduring the trials and travails of the adoption process is very much like a game," a dear friend told me, "but it's a game you have to play - because if you win - you win big!"

Turning away from the window and back to the cool air of our cluttered hotel room, my eyes met Julie's. Her gracious smile had grabbed me the morning we first met years earlier, but she had never looked more beautiful to me than right now. Motherhood suited her perfectly.

As the rest of the hotel began to come to life, we were giddy at the thought of bringing our first child home to Colorado Springs.  ¶ "If only the phone would ring with the good news we need to hear," remarked my wife.  ¶ That "good news" was word from the adoption agency's social worker that the birthmother of the little boy beside us had made her appearance before a judge and signed the necessary legal papers entrusting his care with us.

Riley's birthmother was a sweet and gentle 20-year-old single woman who had, for months, struggled with the decision of adoption. Surely she had heard the voices of those who advocated the seemingly simple "solution" of abortion - yet she had courageously rejected such course of action. Did the Lord want her to raise this child alone? This was the question she spent months trying to answer. In the end, it was only three weeks earlier that she had chosen Julie and me as the adoptive parents, throwing us into a whirlwind of last-minute preparations. Now, just five days after Riley's birth, all we needed was the assurance that she had finalized her decision by signing on the bottom line. It couldn't come soon enough.

We were told to expect news of the court's proceedings first thing in the day. But, as we waited for the call, the minutes added up to more than an hour, and our anxiety heightened. There was nothing we could do but wait - very much like we had done in the years that carried us to this point. Yes, we had prayed and we had planned, but now, all we could do was wait. It reminded me of the apostle Paul's advice to the Ephesians:  ¶ "Having done all, stand," he wrote.  ¶ In other words, having done all we could possibly do, what more could be done? We prayed and pleaded for patience.

"I'm going to take a shower," I said, silently hoping that by the time I turned the water off, this sweet little boy would officially be our son.  ¶ The distraction was welcomed, but the shower was cut short by the sound of the ringing phone.

"Hello?" Julie answered.  ¶ "Hi there," came the reply, "this is Wendy with Adoption Choices of Oklahoma."  ¶ "Oh! We've been waiting for your call," exclaimed my wife.  ¶ "Well, yes," responded Wendy very calmly, "I wonder if we might set up a time to discuss a few things in person?"

By this time, I was scrunched beside my wife, my ear pressed up to the receiver in order to hear both sides of the conversation.  ¶ "Of course," answered Julie, "but why...is there something wrong?"  ¶ "I'd rather meet with you and talk about it," replied a downcast Wendy.

Our hearts were racing a mile a minute.  ¶ "If there's something wrong," said Julie, her voice cracking with emotion, "we need to know now...we can't wait...please tell us."

There was a long silence.  ¶ "Well," said Wendy, pausing in apparent pain, "Julianna has had a change of heart. She's decided to keep the baby. She would like him back. I need to come and pick him up."

As if on cue, the sky darkened, and the roll and clap of thunder rattled our window. At that moment, it seemed as if the sun would never shine again.  ¶ In an instant, our summer dream had turned into a nightmare.

My mind raced with the burdens we now faced. How could we drive home with an empty car seat and an automobile filled with reminders of what might have been? How could we face our family and friends who had planned a celebratory homecoming? Where had we gone wrong? What had we missed? Why would the Lord lead us to the edge only to leave us empty of both hand and heart?

Broken in spirit and our eyes filled with tears, we put down the phone and looked toward each other for the answers and explanations we both knew just didn't exist. We had hit rock-bottom.

"Can we call you back in a minute? asked my wife through her tears, "We don't know what to do."  ¶ And we didn't. This wasn't the way it was supposed to turn out! How could we possiby give back this precious baby boy whom we had fallen in love with in a matter of mere minutes?

I buried my head in my hands. I felt like George Bailey on the bridge in Bedford Falls come Christmas Eve. But, the fact was, there was no Clarence to save us. There was no angel to help find what now seemed lost for good.  ¶ Frustrated, I clenched my fist and bit my lower lip. Julie crumpled into my arms. And in the silence, we wept and said our goodbyes to our little boy. We had no recourse. There was nothing we could do. In the end, so it seemed, this was to be a story of a shattered dream and a broken heart on a dark and dreary day in the middle of a hot summer.

Getting to this Moment

What a difference a day can make. We had arrived in town, riding high, just five days earlier on the afternoon of Riley's birth. Julianna's family couldn't have been more supportive or friendly despite the awkward circumstances surrounding our presence. After all, they knew we came to receive the baby they all loved, and yet they loved us from the first moment we met.

Some longtime friends of the famly, a kind couple nicknamed "Aunt" Sue and "Uncle" Jim had even made the 12 hour drive from Colorado to show their support, this despite the fact that Sue was battling Lupus, suffering from a rare blood disorder requiring chemotherapy and currently struggling with the pain of rotated ribs. We had first met this gracious couple over a family dinner and were struck by the fact that non-relatives would sacrifice so many days of their schedule to just "be there" for the sake of moral and spiritual comfort. Indeed, this was a "family" that knew how to support one another.

As it was, throughout the week, we would cry together tears of both joy and sadness, but none more so than on the night we received custody of baby Riley. Under a moonlit sky, we met at the family's church for what the pastor called an "entrustment ceremony". In retrospect, there was no way we could have adequately prepared ourselves for the emotions of the evening. After all, how do you watch a woman lovingly surrender her baby even under the best of conditions? It was a wrenching ordeal.

"We will give this baby many things," said my wife to Julianna that evening, during the ceremony, through tear-filled eyes, "but you've already given him what we never could - life itself. Thank you from the deepest depths of our hearts."

Like many couples, we had long desired children, only to be met with a series of disappointments. "Just be patient," physician after physician counseled. Of course, this was easier said than done. We lost our first baby at 12 weeks. Then after two invasive surgeries over the course of a year, our doctor informed us that "success" was very likely. Yet, one month later, my wife inexplicably suffered a grand-mal seizure and we were thrown once again into a cycle of tests, procedures and consultations. More months passed. More disappointment. In desperation our doctor recommended in-vitro fertilization - an expensive and highly involved procedure. After mustering every last cent of our savings, we waited and prayed to hear the good news. But, it was not to be. We lost the two babies after only two weeks.

The night we received the bad news of the failed IVF, Julie and I cried together in one another's arms, listening over and over to a song whose refrain said poignantly and poetically, "Come to Jesus, come to Jesus." In the end, and really in the beginning, there was nowhere else to turn.

Meanwhile, our Sunday school class comprised of couples our age continued to celebrate the announcements of expectant mothers almost on a monthly basis. At one point, nine of the women in class were pregnant at the same time, eliciting a crack from a father that "there must be something in the water!"  ¶ We laughed, but unfortunately, Julie and I were drinking from the same tap.  ¶ And so, for four long years, our house remained quiet during a time we dreamed to hear the pitter patter of little feet.

"Have you ever considered adoption?" asked my friend Marlen, just two weeks after the failed IVF procedure.  ¶ The fact is that we had - but the costs associated with it intimidated us.  ¶ "My wife and I know a family whose daughter is thinking about placing her baby up for adoption," said Marlen. 

That evening, I arrived home and shared the news with Julie.  ¶ "Are you kidding?" she said, wide-eyed. "This is just what we have long fantasized about...remember? We've said, 'if only we knew someone who knew someone who wanted to give us their child?!' "   ¶ I remembered.  ¶ "For this to happen," she had said, "we're going to need to have an angel sitting on our shoulder."

Waiting for the Knock on the Door

But our thoughts of the past seemed to hold little comfort for the pain we felt at the present time in our hotel room. Red-eyed and worn out, we phoned our family and close friends to ask for prayer. Shortly after the last call, my cell phone rang. It was my boss, Dr. James Dobson. His assistant had told him of our predicament.

His voice laden with emotion and an obvious lump in his throat, he asked for the details of the morning. For months, he and his wife, Shirley, had been walking beside both Julie and me, supporting us with prayer, counsel and favors too numberous to mention. As he spoke, his compassionate spirit was evident.   ¶ "Paul, I can only offer two thoughts right now - the first is a word of counsel and the second is in the form of a question. First, please do not try to answer the question of why the Lord is putting you through this. To do so will only tear you and Julie apart. The Lord is in control and He knows what He is doing. Trust Him."

"Yes," I said weakly.  ¶ Then he asked, "Tell me if Julianna has a good relationship with her mother?"  ¶ "Oh yes," I said, "they're very close."   ¶ He continued. "Nobody knows the heart of a young woman better than her own mother. I would encourage you to try and talk with her mom and find out if there is any room for discussion or if she can offer any assistance."

Then Dr. Dobson prayed for Julie and me, tearfully asking the Lord to intercede on our behalf. He also prayed for Julianna, who was obviously going through a very difficult time, too. With that, he asked that we keep him informed and said he and Shirley would continue to be in prayer.

Dr. Dobson's suggestion that we call Julianna's mother struck me as a dose of wishful thinking, but we immediately called back the agency and asked if we could speak with her mother before they came to pick Riley up. Furthermore, we said, we'd prefer to relinquish Riley to a family member and not an agency representative. They made no promises, but said they would ask the question.

Few can imagine what it's like to know that a knock could come on your door at any moment to take "your son" away.  ¶ As we waited for the inevitable to happen, we sat on our bed and passed Riley back and forth every few minutes. Our tears fell on his bald head like the rain drops outside on the widow's ledge.

"We thought we'd have a long time to tell you the story of the night you came into our lives," I said to him, his eyes blinking at the sound of my voice.  ¶ "But we better tell you now," said Julie.  ¶ And so, we began to tell him about the road that brought us together and the family trip that ended even before it really began.

Midway through our conversation, our hearts jumped at the sound of a ringing telephone. There was a lump in my throat as I answered, thinking that it was the agency calling to say they were simply delayed.

"Uhhh...hello?" I answered with great hesitation.  ¶ "Paul!" exclaimed the caller, "this is H. B. London. I've just heard the news. My heart aches for both of you. I am so sorry."  ¶ Dr. H. B. London is Dr. Dobson's cousin and serves as a vice president at Focus on the Family. He has been a pastor for over 40 years.  ¶ "Thank you," I said, not really feeling up to talking, but somewhat grateful for the diversion. "It's been a terrible day. We're just trying to get through it."

"Please remember, Paul," he continued, "that nothing is impossible for the man or woman who has faith. I want you to know that I'm in the middle of Topeka, Kansas with an auditorium full of pastors - and we're praying for a miracle!"   ¶ My heart jumped at the thought of such prayer power.   ¶ "And you know what?" he continued, "you and Julie should pray for one too! I'm praying that the Lord would send an angel this very moment to intervene on yours and that woman's behalf."

As his words began to sink in and Riley stirred in Julie's arms, I realized that up till this point, we had only been praying that the Lord would "get us through" the unfolding ordeal. Embarrasssingly, it had never struck us to pray for a miraculous turn of events - instead, we were just praying for a cessation of current struggles.  ¶ The fact was, it was a miracle we needed, and so it was a miracle we began to earnestly pray for.  ¶ "Miracles," wrote C. S. Lewis, "are a retelling in small letters of the very same story written across the whole world in letters to large for some of us to see."   ¶ Indeed, we were so absorbed in our own grief that we failed to see what Dr. London and others saw.

Silence

After hanging up from our call, we began to receive others of a similar vein from friends and family all over the country. Not a single one of them exhibited a defeatist attitude but instead spoke of how they had stopped what they were doing and prayed for a change of course. They had been praying for a miracle.  ¶ "Remember," said Marlen, who knew of our prayers, "that angels often come to us disguised as people we know."

Yet nearly eight hours passed with no knock on the door and no phone call from the agency. Riley remained ever tenuously in our care as the clock continued to tick away.  ¶ As 5 p.m. approached, Julie pulled open the curtain to discover that the western horizon had brightened and the late-afternoon drizzle had appeared to slow.

"Can you believe we've been waiting in here all day?" she said, cuddling Riley close to her chest. "Is this not the most emotionally exhausting day of our lives?"  ¶ I joined her at the second story window, hugging both of them. The parking lot was now buzzing with activity, as patrons of a neighboring restaurant began to file in for dinner.  ¶ "If only we were like those seemingly happy-go-lucky families," I thought, admittedly jealous to see so many children frolicking about with their parents.

The loud ring of the phone startled us and brought our attention back inside. I ran from the window to answer. It was Wendy from the agency.  ¶ "Hi Paul," she said, her voice tired but more upbeat, "I bet you and Julie have had a rough day."   ¶ "That's an understatement," I offered, my voice just seconds from tears.  ¶ "Well, would you believe," she continued, "that Julianna has changed her mind again and has decided to go forward with the adoption? She is so sorry for putting you through this trauma."

As Julie listened in, tears were streaming down our cheeks.  ¶ "What ever happened?!" I asked, "you said she had her mind made up!"  

"In all my years, I've never seen anything unfold quite like this," she explained.  ¶ "This is what I can tell you. Our original plan had been to come pick up the baby, but since you asked to speak with her mother, we didn't come right away. We tried to get in touch with her, but later found out that the mother and a friend of the family visited with Julianna and wound up spending the entire day at her house. That must have been some talk, because about an hour ago, Julianna called me and sounded like a new woman."

"It's a miracle!" I said softly.  ¶ "Welcome home, Riley," whispered Julie, "Welcome home, sweet boy."

As it was, Wendy was right - it had been quite a conversation. Despondent and grieving with their daughter, the family had spent the early hours of August 4 singing together many of the classic old hymns. Years earlier, in a simpler time, Julianna and her siblings had been home-schooled for a spell and were encouraged to memorize the words of these soaring anthems. In these inspired lyrics they found comfort - and the courage to tackle the impossible day.

Joining Julianna later that morning was "Aunt" Sue - the woman who, at least to Julie and I - first seemed somewhat out of place in the middle of their immediate family. They talked. And talked. Sue was to tell her of a great personal crisis that beset her many years earlier. Her whole future was at stake. But as a reminder that God can comfort all wounds and that His love knows no end, Sue told her of a ring that she was given and that she had worn until only a few moments ago.  ¶ "This is now yours," Sue said to Julianna, taking the ring from her finger and placing it on her hand, "please accept it as a gift."

Sue would tell you, though, that she didn't change anyone's mind - it was the Lord who changed a young woman's heart.   ¶ You see, we often think of miracles in exclusively physical terms - Moses parting the Red Sea; Jesus giving sight to the blind. But there are miracles taking place very day. That's because the miracle, as Sue pointed out, is that the Lord, in His infinite power, still moves the hearts and minds of men and women.

After hanging up the phone, we turned to our nightstand and spotted the devotional book that we had received the night of Riley's entrustment ceremony. It was Max Lucado's, Grace for the Moment. Just two days earlier, little did we know how fitting a gift that would be. I opened it.  ¶ 'God's blessings on your new family. Where there is God, there is Love. Love, Jim and Sue.'   ¶ Sue was Julianna's "aunt" - and our "angel". All along, she had been riding through the week with us.

It was John Paige, a relatively obscure "founding father" of America who wrote to Thomas Jefferson just weeks after the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and posed a question that remains relevant even today.  ¶ "Do you not think an angel still rides in the whirlwind and directs this storm? he asked.

As we packed our car later that next week and began the long drive home, Riley safely secured in his car seat, something now seemed so obvious. That is, it is indeed true that angels without wings ride among us, visible if only we would take the time to note the fruits of their actions thought too small to otherwise see.

The miracle of the day was ordained by the Lord and wrought by a varied cast of characters. Sue, a devoted friend had been there for counsel along with Julianna's loving family; Dr. Dobson's advice had proven instrumental in facilitating the time for the discussion that might otherwise never have occurred; Dr. H. B. London had counseled that we pray for a miracle instead of simply praying to just survive; Marlen and his wife, Bobbi, and our family and friends all around the country had been petitioning the Holy Spirit to intervene on our behalf.

It had been a remarkable, miraculous day.

As we pulled away from the hotel, our cell phone rang. It was Marlen.  ¶ "Paul, Dad," he said crisply, "here is the Scripture. We've been praying this together for months. It's from Proverbs 13:12 (NIV): 'Hope deferred makes the heart sick; but a longing fulfilled is the tree of life.'   ¶ "Amen," I said, "Amen."

Reflecting months later, it has occurred to us numerous times that the Lord remains sovereign and good regardless of how our story may have turned out. We're also cognizant of the fact that many couples have not seen similar prayers answered favorably and approach each day with heavy hearts and unfulfilled dreams. Why has the Lord chosen us and not them? We don't know. But we do know that He holds these hurting people in His hands and we pray that they might find peace in His perfect plan.

So, as the cold winds of winter begin to blow and we approach our first Christmas as parents, we are grateful for this "unspeakable gift" of new life in our lives. Let it be said that the hope that was lost has been found. The dream that was shattered has been restored. And, finally, it is an innocent baby boy who reminded us anew that our Savior still moves in mysterious and miraculous ways even when we may not have the eyes to see it.

Amidst our own struggles and exasperations and our personal delights, it is important to remebmer there was another miracle that restored a shattered dream one Christmas over 2,000 years ago. It was the miracle that took place in a manger in the Judean town of Bethlehem - the miracle described by choirs of angels and worshipped by a band of shepherds.

In that miracle, a young and frightened peasant woman named Mary bore the burden of a broken world and gave birth to a Son - our Savior, Jesus Christ. From the silence of that cold winter's night came the sacrifice of a mother who had nothing - yet wound up giving mankind everything it ever needed.

In the days since summer, we have prayed that the same angels who brought comfort to Mary, might likewise bring forward the power of the Holy Spirit and hold tight the birthmother of our new son.

"Glory to God in the highest," they declared, "and on earth peace to men on whom His favor rests."

"May Your favor fall on those women," Julie and I have prayed many nights, "that love their children so much as to give them what they would otherwise not enjoy - life itself."