(You can find the beginning of our adoption story here.)
The friend who was bringing Talitha to Minneapolis preferred for families to meet their babies in the midst of prayer and thanksgiving at church, not in the busyness of an airport. And so we waited at Bethlehem that day, jumping each time we heard the outside entrance door open.
Finally, there she was. Our daughter. Abraham and Barnabas's sister. (Karsten and Benjamin's too, but they were out of state until a couple of weeks later).
After we filled ourselves up with the delight of holding her and of praying our first family prayer over her, we went upstairs where about 100 friends were waiting to meet her and to join us in a welcoming service and dedication prayer time.
As we walked into the room, we heard our friend Rod call out, "She has her daddy's curly hair!"
That very evening there happened to be a party of adoptive families across the street from our house, at Rod and Sonie's house. Rod and Sonie were the friends whose adoptions of a son and a daughter had started us down this path. Perhaps all those parents, more than any others, resonated with our joy that day.
(to be continued)