Letter to Moses

Dear Moses,

I know you can’t understand this yet, but I’m to writing to you anyway. Your dad and I love you so much. Sometimes I cry because you aren’t here. And sometimes he can't talk about it, because he wants you here you so badly.

I can't wait to take you out of that concrete building with the concrete walls, where you must be quiet so often. I can't wait to give you room to stretch, and grow, and tumble, and race into the messy, muddy, wonderful world of boyhood.

It's winter here now, but it will be warm when you first meet your home. We will go outside into the sun and introduce you to the mountains. As you run, the long yellow grasses will tickle the bottom of your chin, and the sky above you will be clear. You will see for miles and miles, and you will fill your lungs with clean air that smells like laughing old earth.

You might want to run. And for maybe the first time in your life, there will be more room and time for you to run than there is strength in your legs. So we will run as long as you like. And when your legs are done running, we will sit.

There's a nice sitting rock up there. And from it, you will see the farms below. As the wind blows, shadows will move across them like a blanket. The houses will look very small from up there. Smaller than your little thumb.

I want to show you the river, and let you help us row a boat under old trees that hang so low the branches will steal the hat from off your head. And when we tie off our boats, I want to help you put your little brown toes on the round, cold rocks of a mountain stream, and feel the giggling purr of the current. We will poke at crawdads with sticks, and try to catch the water striders off of the top of the water.

We will show you these things. And you will show us the wonder of them. We will teach you summer. And you will teach us the lessons of a young spirit that has weathered winter. And so we will learn the seasons together.

Then we will lie on a blanket and find pictures in the clouds. And we will eat sandwiches and cookies. And you can fall asleep in the sun. And I’ll watch over you while you sleep, and make sure that you are safe.


Jeremiah 29:11
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."


About This Blog

Welcome to our family’s adoption journey. As you read, you will see us stumble and take wrong paths. You will see our hopes surge and fall. You will see the gaps in our humanity, and how our God realigns us to His purposes over and again. We think the messiness of this process is important. Sometimes walking with God isn’t a neat, linear package that can be summarized in bullet points. More often, life ebbs and flows around our plans, while God works His sovereign wonders from it all. We are learning so much through this journey. And we are super excited about our new son. If you’d like to join us, we’d love to have you along for the ride.

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