Something They Will Love

I haven't bought many presents yet.  Patrick and I haven't shopped for the kids yet.
I know, I know.  It's December fifteenth.  
It's not that I don't want to ... but moments to shop without kids are few and far between.

(It'll get done.)

We did the important presents a few weeks ago.  We took turns taking the kids to the store, and having them choose presents for each other.  They were so adorably excited to have mini dates with mama and papa.

When I took Vava into the toy store, she chose a gift for Sam really quickly.  It was a Doc McStuffins medical kit. I knelt down beside her and pointed to the present.
"Do you think Sam will like this?" I asked.
"Well, he can open it, and I can play with it," she replied.
"The point of a present is to choose something the other person will love," I told her, "try to think about what they like, and choose that."
Armed with that advice, she chose excellent gifts for Sam and Kachi.  I can't wait to watch them open each others' presents.

Sam and I were lying in his bed the other night, doing our little bedtime routine of stories, songs, prayers.  As always, I thanked God for giving us Sam, Vava, Kachi, and Pascal.
"You mean, thank my Tummy Mummy for me," Sam interrupted quietly.  So we thanked God for Sam's Tummy Mummy, who gave us Sam, our enormous and wonderful gift.
"Did she know you would love me?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied.
"That's good," he concluded.

And as always, the beauty and ache of adoption slayed my heart and tears rolled down my cheeks in the dim light as my darling drifted off to sleep.

That selfless gift.  That beautiful gift.  That heart-wrenching gift.

That godly gift.

Because God, too, sent His Son.  Sent Him to be adopted into this world, that we might be adopted into His.

"When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.  And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba! Father! So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, than an heir through God."

The very best gifts can't be bought or sold.
We couldn't buy a babe in a starlit manger.
We couldn't buy a Saviour who came to make us heaven's sons.

The very best gifts must be wholly given, and wholly received; something the other person will love.

Merry Christmas, friends.
xo.