Adoption has been an interesting experience for our family. A road riddled with twists, turns and unexpected bumps, it has also been a journey filled with wonder, grace and joy.
Ten years ago, when my wife, Valerie, and I were corps officers at Rideau Heights Community Church in Kingston, Ont., we approached our local Children’s Aid Society (CAS) to ask about adopting a preschool child. We soon learned that the journey would be long and anxious, with a potential wait of 10 years or more. Determined to proceed, we found strength through a local support group where we met couples with similar struggles and aspirations, and through some adoptive families in our congregation who became our encouragers.
In September 1998, through a guest soloist who was visiting our corps, we were connected with a woman in Tillsonburg, Ont., whose daughter was expecting a child in December. CAS had already determined that the baby was to be give up for adoption at birth, and the grandmother, Marion, felt a strong desire that it be raised by Christian pastors. Surely this was an answer to our prayers.
When we contacted our CAS social worker in Kingston, she warned us that this sort of adoption would be quite complicated. She was right. Working out of two CAS offices and through seemingly insurmountable legal problems, the process seemed to take two steps back for every one step forward. Yet through it all we claimed God’s promise that he would be with us and found inner peace and strength when we needed it most.
The weeks crawled by. The phone remained silent and messages were unreturned. Eventually we discovered that CAS opposed the plan and was going to take us to court. Frustration grew.
On December 9, Marion phoned to tell us that our son was born and that he was healthy. She asked what we wanted to name him. Zachary was our immediate response. The name means “God has remembered.” That Christmas, we hung a small picture of Zachary on our Christmas tree, knowing that someday we would welcome him into our home.
Early in the new year, we received an urgent call from Marion that a court date had been set. Somehow we found a lawyer. We had no idea how we were going to afford her fees, but we were more determined than ever to bring Zachary home. In the meantime, we were not permitted to see him or even know where he was.
As expected, the court proceedings dragged on through numerous delays. Just when we thought it would never end, we shared the latest update with members of our congregation. “Just give it until Tuesday,” we were told.
On Tuesday, the phone rang. It was our social worker. “I don’t know who you know,” she said, “but get your nursery ready. You can pick up your son on Thursday.”
Later that day, we called our lawyer to share the good news and received another surprise—she wasn’t going to charge us any fees. “My thanks is in bringing your family together,” she declared.
Wednesday morning we drove to Tillsonburg to meet Marion for the first time and pick up Zachary. There are no words to describe the joy and overwhelming relief that we felt. As we sat down for a meal with Zachary’s birth grandparents, there was an awesome sense of the providence of God. Two families who had never met became the answer to each other’s deepest prayers.
Thursday morning, we were guided to Zachary’s foster home on Wheeler Boulevard—our name! We stopped and took a picture of that road sign. It was if God was saying, “Why did you ever doubt me?” Walking into the home, we met a minister’s daughter who felt a unique calling to care for foster children awaiting adoption. Her living-room wall was filled with pictures and to this day we continue to send her a new one of Zachary every year.
As we held our new son for the first time, it was all we could do to keep our knees from buckling out from beneath us. Valerie and I both knew that from that moment forward, Zachary was our son. Biology was not important, for where the genes fall short the heart bridges the gap. The month and years of dreaming now created a strong bond to cherish and protect.
The Apostle Paul wrote, “In love [God] predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will” (Ephesians 1:4-5). As I cradled this small child who looked up at me with tender eyes, I said softly, “I love you.” This is the true miracle of adoption. Every day, God looks at his adopted children and whispers the same sweet words.
The next day—Good Friday—we introduced our new son to our congregation. We were late, but what an entrance we made! Today, when we ask Zachary what adoption means, he has a simple answer: “I am loved.”