Perfect Timing

Sometimes God's timing is so perfect, it's almost laughable.

We have been in a purgatory of in-between-ness on the Baby Issue since March of last year when we lost the Last One. We had "decided" that we were not going to attempt another biological child. I blogged about it. That's like writing in stone after all.

But... it creeps back. That "what ifs" have an unnerving way of boomeranging back. It came up again on vacation. If I was honest, I would say it was never truly buried for me. But Birch probably knew that all along.

There was a brand new infant boy one day at the pool. He came decked out in his newborn swimsuit and sun hat and took what must have been his first dip in the pool. We sat on the side of the pool and stared at him much like a hungry mountain lion probably stares at a gazelle.

Tiger Woods came up. No, not his current marital issues, but his theory on always shooting for the back of the cup. We acknowledged that this was not theologically based decision making, but we discussed how if we didn't try once more, we would definately never again be invited into the delivery room.

We watched Facing the Giants. If there's one thing that story drives home, it's that God can do anything. It's practically the title of the movie.

So we opened up our recurrent Can of Worms.

We were thinking.

This DFCS thing was going nowhere. We'd started this process back in September with the first phone call and here it was June and still... no baby.

But back to God's timing.

We got home from the beach. I unpacked. Laundry. Dishes. Went to the grocery store. The veritable moment that all of this was finished, I walked into my living room and there in the middle of the floor sat a baby. A baby boy, no less. If a beacon from heaven had been shining into my living room onto that car seat, it wouldn't have been any more surprising.

I'll back up.

I had driven Juliana to a friend's for a sleepover. I had left my phone at home by mistake. Our caseworker had called my phone. No answer. She'd called our home phone, but Birch didn't answer it since he thought she was calling about an additional hoop we needed to jump through to stay certified. She called his phone. He didn't answer. Then she started all over again with all three.

Finally he listened to his message from her. She'd been calling and calling because she had a seven day old baby that she really wanted in our care. If Birch hadn't returned her phone call within five minutes of when he actually did, she would have had to have called someone else. It was 5:00 and she couldn't go home until she had placement for him.

It was really that close. We almost missed him.

But, I had no phone and Birch had no car seats. He took the kids by the hand and walked them to the neighbors' house. He rang the bell. No answer. What to do? He finally walked them around to the back yard and heard them, so he hollered up to them on the deck and hurriedly explained that he needed a hangout for H and C for 20 minutes.

It was really that close. We almost missed him.

I stopped by the store (the groceries, remember?) When I pulled into the garage, Birch walked out and stared me down while holding my phone. I exited the van apologizing, but the look on his face stopped me cold.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Come in."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Come see."

Panic sets in. This was not a normal tone of voice. This was a Carolina's Broken Her Arm/ Holt's Got Stitches voice and I knew something was off.

"Tell me what's wrong right now."

"Nothing, I promise. Come in."

So I walk into the kitchen and he says, "Now, don't freak out."

Expecting to see blood sprayed on the walls, I turned the corner and...

...there he lay.

The babe in a car seat with a beam from above. I couldn't have been any more unprepared. All the air left my lungs. I said, "What's that?" Really. I did.

"That's our new foster baby."

"Ours?"

"Yes."

"Boy or girl?"

"Boy."

Seven days old. Infant boy. Almost edible.

I have no idea how long this ride will last. He could go home tomorrow. He could stay with us forever. But, for right now, in my home lives a blue-clad blanket-wrapped soft body that squeaks and yawns.

And in the background, I think I heard God laugh.