God had it all planned. He led us to an adoption agency. He walked us through the home study. He pointed us to which country. He guided us through the medical special needs paperwork. And in early November of 2020, we got a phone call. “We have received a file from a private orphanage in Bogotá who is advocating for a child matching your profile. Are you interested?” Yes. Yes, of course.
This was so much sooner than we had planned to receive a file. Our international paperwork was far from being complete, and we thought we had at least 9 more months before the possibility of receiving a file. As I sat at my kitchen table surrounded by 1st grade school books with the phone pressed to my ear, I hung on every word she spoke. Many of us have been in ultrasound rooms or at gender reveal parties as we wait to hear “boy!” or “girl!” The contagious excitement spills over into jittery nerves. But this. This phone call not only would reveal gender but also age, race, and medical diagnosis.
She began, “This file is for a one year old…” It was like time stood still as my brain ran circles around her words. I was fixated as she continued, “Her name is Miracles.”
Miracles. I waited expectantly for more. “She has down syndrome.” Our Lifeline case worker went on to say that she had seen on our medical needs form that we were willing to consider down syndrome but she didn’t really know how open we were to that medical special need. I was just smiling on the other end as I listened. How could I tell her that this was the one diagnosis my husband had dwelled on and we had discussed in detail? How could I tell her that as we prayed over our adoption, Brandon had specifically prayed about the potential of a child with down syndrome?
I was probably shaking by the end of the call. It was a big deal. It was a big decision.
I had asked our case worker to send the child’s file and picture separately. We planned not to look at her picture until we had made a decision. We imagined the decision would be easier without making it personal right away with a picture. We focused on her file and weighed the information we had been given. Could we meet her medical needs? Did we believe she would be a good fit for our family? Did we feel this was the child God was calling us to adopt? A decision such as saying yes or no to a potential child is hypothetically heavy. Yet, there was such calm and peace. It felt kind of like when time stood still with my flaming toaster.
That evening as we discussed her file and medical history, we just knew. Even though we were waiting to hear back from our pediatrician, and even though we had some questions still to be answered, we just knew. I looked at Brandon. We both had this uncanny sense of peace and knew our answer was yes.
Isaiah 26:3 – Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.
The emotions of opening an email and seeing a first picture are hard to describe. I leaned in as Brandon held the computer in his lap and clicked on the file. I held my breath as I took in what I was seeing. The picture showed a little girl sitting in a plastic red chair. She had pinned up dark hair, big, beautiful dark eyes, tan skin, and a pretty white dress with a pink sash and bow. She was more precious than we could have ever imagined.
MIRACLES: Miracles in Spanish is Milagros, and that name was given to our little girl at birth. We have kept her original name and call her Mila (pronounced Mee-lah) for short.
In my next post I’ll share how after we received Mila’s file, we realized God had already orchestrated a change that prepared us to pursue her adoption.
stillsmallfaith.com 