As many wonderful things do, it started with a lemon meringue pie.
It was November 1, 2017. I was sitting in our local Perkins (where one finds great pies) with a few grandsons, our exchange student, and my husband. We were marking what would have been my father’s 101st birthday. His birthday “cake” was always a lemon pie.
My phone rang, and I saw that my son was calling. I expected him to tell me he was coming–or not coming and I should save him a piece of the pie. Instead, he said this:
“We were chosen to adopt a baby.”
So now November 1 has added significance. We expected the child in a couple of weeks. She arrived four days later.
The birth parents signed the necessary papers a few days after that. We would wait thirty days to see whether they would change their minds.
They did not. The thirtieth day? My mother’s birthday.
It’s important in life to remember those who’ve come before us and to celebrate those who come after us.
The process of adoption is not a simple thirty days. It includes more waiting and then a hearing. And a new day of significance came to our family on the day of the hearing.
Last Thursday was this child’s own day. Her “Adoption Day.” A day we might mark with a special treat of her choosing as the years unfold.
Perhaps we will have pie.
April 26, a day we celebrate her. And a day we thank our great God who brought her to us.