March 24th marks another anniversary. Five years ago I stood before a judge, raised my right hand, and promised to take these two children as my own — to love and care for them. The day was filled with excitement, though Daniel and I both understood the magnitude of that commitment and that we could not walk it alone. We trusted the Lord to guide and sustain us.
I remember Daniel standing there, accepting the responsibility of fatherhood. In the months leading up to adoption we pushed through stacks of paperwork and countless signatures, following what we sensed was God’s leading. It was not the easiest path, but it felt right because it was the path we believed He had for us.
Family and close friends gathered with us in the courtroom. When the judge granted the petition the room erupted in applause. The decision was official and permanent — a true, sealed joy.
After the legal part was complete, life settled back into its rhythm with new, deep rewards. Traveling with the children no longer required extra permissions or doctor letters. When people asked whether the children were adopted, our answer was simple and wholehearted: “They are all ours.” Daniel would often say, “We are all adopted” — a reminder that our family is held together by God’s love.
Questions and challenges came, of course, and sometimes we looked to those who had already walked this path for wisdom. We made a memorable 11-hour, all-night trip to visit the Razvi family, who mentor adoptive families. Their experience and encouragement helped steady us as we learned the ropes of parenting with faith.
Even now, tears come as I recall how God’s goodness concealed what lay ahead until we were ready to receive it.
A year and eleven days later I found myself rushing toward the glass doors of a large city hospital with only one thought: get to Daniel. Hours later I reached his room. He was there, and I spoke his name and held his hand, searching for any sign that he knew I was there. For a moment I believed he did.
Soon I was told to leave the room and the waiting began — more surgery to find the source of bleeding, dim prospects, and the crawl of fear. I drank water to keep from fainting. When our children arrived, they asked about their father. All I could say was that I did not know what would happen but that God did, and God would do what was best. As emotions surged, we sent the children home with relatives. In the small waiting room the doctor and nurse soon returned with the quiet words, “We did all we could. He’s not going to make it.”
Everything in me pushed to see him again. The doctor allowed a few more minutes. Family steadied me as we walked to his room while our youngest stayed with Mom in the waiting area.
At his side I poured out all the love I had — my final chance to tell him what he had meant to me and to the children. I thanked him for his devotion, forgave any shortcomings, and asked forgiveness for my own. “Daniel, it is okay, you may go now. The children and I will be okay. It is okay for you to go be with Jesus.” I was utterly exhausted, but more family arrived, and those minutes stretched far beyond what the doctor had promised — over half an hour that felt like a gift. I am thankful God met us there in that need.
Now, four years later, I still sense that same sustaining love. In the hard moments I sometimes whisper again, “Daniel, it’s okay, you may go.” The strength Daniel displayed in life — the courage he showed as husband and father — continues to be available to us through God. He remains a Father to our family, providing the strength and the answers we could not find on our own.
When I think back to the day the adoption was finalized, I remember the celebration that night. Friends and family gathered in our shop for a feast, songs, and activities for the children. Our theme was balloons and puzzle pieces — a symbol that God had helped put the pieces of our lives together. The three-tiered cake read, “Our missing pieces have come together.” Daniel shared parts of our journey, how delays and setbacks made the wait painful at times, yet in God’s perfect timing everything fit together. The waiting, the uncertainty, and the struggle made the outcome even more meaningful and prepared us for the days ahead.
This week I’ll share a simple recipe on behalf of the children who were adopted. A family friend brought a tray of Rice Krispie treats to the celebration, and they were a big hit. We had little tables for the children and listened as they sang together. Children bring a unique, innocent joy that fills a room.
Wherever you are today, remember the Ultimate Father still cares. Reach for His hand — He knows and loves you.
Rice Krispie Bars
¼ cup butter
4 cups marshmallows
6 cups Rice Krispies
Melt butter in a large saucepan over low heat. Add marshmallows and stir until completely melted. Remove from heat and add Rice Krispies, stirring until they are well coated. Press the mixture evenly into a buttered 9 by 13-inch pan.
Optional: Sprinkle with decorations and cut into fun shapes with cookie cutters.