Beauty is a Birthday Party
Line by line I prayed through these verses, and over my children: heal their broken hearts, open prison doors that bind them, comfort them when they mourn, replace their ashes with beauty (Isaiah 61). One, in particular, was in more obvious need of bandaging.
As my mind lingered on her and all her years of ashes which seemed to be surfacing just around her first-ever birthday, His Word jumped off the page and into my spirit.
Beauty is a birthday party was His phrase.
And I knew my plans had been foiled.
This mama, schedule, full and to-do list, never-ending, was going to be de-railing yet another well thought-through strategy. This was not the year for birthday parties. We’d spent the past four months hunkering down as a family. They were learning to make friends out of siblings, not making family out of friends — as is the necessity in orphanage life. We would be about quiet and intimate, a celebrating of the person, and from those who mattered most.
But He knew what her heart needed.
So we planned a surprise party for Lily who, only months earlier, first learned what a surprise was.
This was an interesting proposition on behalf of a child who is still shedding her shy skin and whose closest acquaintances are only those few adults who have frequented our post-adoption incubation period.
But He was the master of ceremonies, so of course it came together seamlessly.
And after a day of being celebrated, she came home to a rejoicing that I’m sure was more boisterous in heaven than even our four walls heard.
A royal birthday party for the child whose stature now communicates “chosen” louder than it ever spoke “orphan.”
Our guests came bearing gifts of words on quilt squares, pieces that made up one resounding message.
They sang the age-old song and made it new for her.
They prayed into her year ahead.
They midwifed this child and her mother, who both were coming forth into new resolution.
And my friends, she received. She became sponge and years of hardness melted away as her heart became young clay, fresh for molding (and re-molding).
That night, she turned a corner.
We turned a corner.
For me, the greatest hurdle in each of our adoptions has not been the thing itself, but the fear behind it. It seems like with each one, we’ve taken a deeper step into the unknown. With each child to which we’ve said yes, the risk has been progressively higher, the cost-assessed much greater. Their fault-lines, longer.
And I have had a fear of brokenness. Odd for a girl who’s known it well, but not strange when you consider that our greatest fears often tend to rest like a blanket over the place which holds our greatest calling — and His greatest glory.
To walk in the intimacy with Him that my heart craves, I need to walk through and over this impasse.
The goal, though, is not to conquer fear. Fear, won, is not an end in itself.
The end is a down-reaching love forged into me and unto this Man. A daily, growing love. A vibrant, infectious love with the God-Man who wants to clasp hands with me, pour balm over my deepest aches, and call me forth, confident in His love for me.
Last Friday night, Lily had a brush with this love. It was as if He said to her you’ve lived like you were overlooked, but I have been storing up moments to celebrate you.
My child came alive. Areas of her heart went from broken to more-than-unbroken. And then some. He accelerated her. She advanced.
(And so did her mommy.)
God wants to not only fill in the pot-holes of years lost, but build her up to be a pillar of His strength. He doesn’t just erase. He takes barren wasteland and turns it into the garden of Versailles.
And I have the privilege — because walking through and over fears is full of His spoiling — of raising one who is remarkable under my roof. The very thing I once feared most, this older child with fortified wounds, has become the playground where I have met God.
Her brokenness is His catalyst.
My fear was an invitation.
Her siblings watched in awe. They, too, received.
And He let me host the party.
Photos compliments of Eliza Joy at My Road to Emmaus.
I LOVE this. Oh wow. Praise the Lord.
Gorgeous writing. Perfect event. Love it all. What a celebration. -EAM
I cried as I read this – it’s beautiful. Thank you for sharing this moment.
Wow, amazing and beautiful. I cherish these words and know that I’ll come back to them to take courage for my own heart. Merry Christmas to the Hagerty family!
How beautiful. The expression on her face brought tears to my eyes!
So wonderful. So beautiful. Thank you for sharing. =)
Tears, Sara, tears. So beautiful, and I am so happy Miss Lily is grafting in.
Wow. “…our greatest fears often tend to rest like a blanket over the place which holds our greatest calling — and His greatest glory”. I’m thanking the Lord for gifting you with this amazing ability to write and communicate. These words need to sink down deep in me. So thankful you take the time to share you heart here. I needed to hear this. And….also so rejoicing over the work he is doing in your family. What miracles!!!
This is beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing your heart for adoption. I have questions for you…could we email? We are beginning this tremendous road of adoption, with trembling and excitement and fear and everything else. Your posts are so encouraging and challenging at the same time. Thank you. To start out, would you mind emailing me the agencies you have used both in Uganda and Ethiopia? Have a very blessed Christmas with your family…
Beautiful post. Thanks for sharing. “He turns barren wasteland into a garden of Versailles.” spoke to my heart. Thanks!
These pictures and the joy on her face are priceless!!! Love, love, love this!!!
LOVE this–the writing, the pictures (especially the third one), the precious birthday girl, and at the risk of sounding totally shallow, I love your pashmina in the last picture
What a precious, sweet story and how wonderful that you listened to the Holy Spirit’s prompting on what exactly it was that your little girl needed.
Oh my heavens, what BEAUTY! In every word, in every picture! I just started reading your blog as my sister-in-law shared it with me…my husband and I are waiting on an adoption from Ethiopia at the moment, have had many fears throughout this process, but have seen God work in miraculous ways. Thank you for sharing your daily testimony if His grace.
Oh, and let me just say…THIS quote “our greatest fears often tend to rest like a blanket over the place which holds our greatest calling — and His greatest glory” Is absolutely gorgeous writing and truth I truly needed to hear! THANK YOU!
Your daughter is an incredibly beautiful, precious child of the King. I have kept up with her story since she was with Mandie and I read about her as “Nora.” From the first moment I saw her picture the Lord placed an incredible burden on my heart for her. I just wanted you to know that I have been praying constantly for her for a long time and I am so glad that the Lord chose you for her mom. I have a feeling that the Lord is going to do immeasurably good things in and through her. I hope you dont mind if I continue to check in on her beautifully unfolding story. Happy late birthday Lily!
sara…God is using you and Lily to minister to me, an emotionally wounded child trapped in a 42-year old’s body. thank you for allowing yourself to be His vessel. thank you, Daddy!
Tif,
Your vulnerability is beautiful. I know a road similar –praise God that it’s never too late for healing.
Thank you for taking the time to write,
Sara