Several years ago our family was waiting for a new arrival. One child had been born to us, and we'd been led to apply to adopt another. I was thrilled by the prospect—as full of joyful anticipation as I'd been when expecting the first.
My joy, however, was mixed with some rather willful outlining and planning. Somehow I had it fixed in my mind that this little one should arrive in our home by Christmas. We had arranged to adopt a girl, and I knew she would be the greatest Christmas gift we could ever have! I even imagined dressing her in a long red nightie and rocking her under the Christmas tree.
Our application for the adoption was complete. But as the months of waiting for the child's birth passed, we still didn't hear from our caseworker. I called periodically and was told it just wasn't time. By my calculations it should have been. Finally, in the middle of December I had to face the fact that our little bundle wouldn't be under the tree. And I also had to face the fact that although I'd been praying with regard to this child's place in our family, my prayers were still mixed with a too limited view of how things should come to pass.
