what the most likely outcome was, the thought of losing our child was overwhelming. I wasn’t sure how we would continue living; I just knew that God would have to hold on to us tightly. Four years have passed since that cold December day. We returned to our house that held a thousand painful reminders of the one of whom we had temporarily lost sight. We had to figure out how to keep going. One of my greatest desires was that our two-yearold son would not grow up in a home shrouded with overwhelming sadness. Through the help of the wonderful GriefShare program, counseling, friends, family, church, and, most importantly, God, we have continued living--now, we even experience hope and joy. We have witnessed firsthand how God truly does work all things for good for those who love him. While Hannah’s death could never be called good, God has used this terrible tragedy to bring positive things to pass. Our yearly “Hearts for Hannah” projects continue to help others in some small way, and the Red Cross drives in her honor have netted over one hundred units of life-saving blood. People have received Christ, appreciated their children, and gained perspective from Hannah Grace’s story. None of this helps her death make sense, but I have had to choose to pursue and accept the goodness that has come from it.
Then came the summer of 2012 Blog Entry: July 2012 -- The words that are about to follow are some of the biggest, scariest I have ever written… and that’s saying something considering some of the things I have wrestled with over the last few years. First, though, I’m going to backtrack here for a moment. When James and I were facing the decision about whether to remove Hannah Grace from the ventilator, one thing that was always in the back of our minds was that the odds were very good that we would not ever have another biological child. There are several reasons for this, and, anyway, we were not in any way, shape, or form interested in having another child… or so we thought. I really can’t pinpoint the date that God started planting that little seed in my heart and mind that perhaps we should look into adoption--my sense of time is still something that has not come back normally. I do know that when I went to see Steven Curtis Chapman (which, thanks to the iPhone calendar I see was last October) in concert, I was extremely drawn to his heart for adoption. When he played “When Love Takes You In” and showed the video of his family meeting his newly adopted baby girl, I thought I was going to come unglued there for a minute. And you know how it is
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