Maybe you’ve faced a similar predicament. Was this God’s answer to our prayers? If so, it looked radically different from what I expected. Yet here Ruth was, smiling from the cradle of my husband’s arms. The thought of spending the rest of our lives taking care of someone who might never be able to take care of herself scared me. I had been praying and dreaming of this moment for decades, but not once had I imagined adopting a child with disabilities. Don’t say a word.Īmazingly, Dana said it for me, “So, do you want to adopt her?” Don’t say it, I thought, handing Ruth back to Dana. A sudden urge to protect her overwhelmed me. Ruth’s head rolled forward and back, forward and back. Her right eye turned weakly toward her nose. Her body was alternately stiff and then limp, as if someone had forgotten to tighten her muscles. “Ruth only started therapy a couple of weeks ago.ĭana slid Ruth into my arms. “It’s too early to tell.” Theresa shrugged. For being so weak, Ruth’s happiness was contagious, and we laughed too. Instead, she wrinkled her nose and let out a deep “hee-hee-hee” that stiffened her entire body. Dana wiggled a finger, holding it out for Ruth to grab.
#Ask god about tiny decisions skin#
Her skin was the color of gingerbread, and she was beautiful, stunning, with a high, rounded forehead and a fat little pucker of a nose. Ruth’s head was fringed with a thin scrub of curls. Tiny fingers curled into her palms, but she was smiling-a lopsided, baby-toothed “Here I am” smile that creased her cheeks and made her dark eyes gleam. Ruth’s head flopped against his shoulder. “Want to hold her?” Allen dropped Ruth into Dana’s arms without waiting for a reply. I couldn’t see his face, couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She was scrawny and limp and dressed in a shapeless pink onesie that sagged where a round tummy and chubby thighs should have stretched it tight. Then I saw the baby dangling from his arms. That night at church, people squeezed against the pews as Allen made his way up the crowded aisle. But in a quiet moment alone, I’d offered up this feeble prayer: “Lord, if you want us to adopt, you will have to put it in Dana’s heart too.” Since leaving our decision to adopt with God, Dana and I hadn’t talked about it.
Theresa had told me about her several weeks before. Then she was scheduled to return to her orphanage, Welcome Home Africa, unless someone wanted to adopt her. Ruth, who had cerebral palsy, was here for six months of physical therapy. It took me a moment to remember the baby that Theresa and her family were hosting from an orphanage in Uganda.
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