It was a sunny early spring day, and I had taken the day off to spend with family visiting from out of town.
I had just buckled our toddler into his car seat when my phone rang. It was our social worker, calling with an adoption referral for us to consider. A baby boy.
I scribbled the details onto an envelope, taking down every bit of information she offered. She would email the file, but every detail she shared—his age, his province, his name—seemed like gold. I clung to her words, writing them down and hoping I was asking the right questions.
When she said his birth date, I stopped her.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “He was born when we were in China!”
We marveled at that together—that this child was born while we were adopting his future big brother.
I hung up and called my husband to share the news. It was miraculous and wonderful and daunting and terrifying and amazing. Parenting a second child seemed easier and also more difficult. We knew what to expect, and yet we knew nothing at all.
When the baby’s file came through, we reviewed it together, pausing longest with the photos of this little boy on the other side of the world. He would be ours and we would be his. It hardly seemed possible, but we knew it would happen.
All we had to do was say yes.
That was 12 years ago this week. And every year as the Feast of the Annunciation approaches, I think of how our Blessed Mother received the news that she would be the mother of Jesus. She must have gone through all the same emotions every expectant parent feels. She had the additional realization that she would be the Mother of God. It’s hard to comprehend what that would feel like.
Still, she stepped forward with faith and trust. So did we, and so does every parent who says “yes” to a child. So does everyone who says “yes” to God, even when the path is not entirely clear.
Today, we do the same on this Lenten journey, as we peer into the darkness, anticipating the heaviness of Holy Week that is approaching, longing for the joy of Easter.
It can be hard to see the rejoicing as we walk through these days. It’s difficult to know exactly what lies ahead. But we know that we are loved. We know that the Resurrection can only come after the Passion. We know that after grief comes rejoicing.
And like our Blessed Mother, we know that God is with us.
So we continue to say yes and walk through Lent with faith and hope.
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