I love stories. I especially love true stories, because they give me hope in God’s kindness. If you’re reading closely, however, you may have noticed that it’s been 12 years since Boundless originally published my celebration of that fact. What has happened since? Well, ten years ago, I sat in the dark of a Jerusalem night and waited breathlessly for the first photos of a little boy born more than 7,000 miles away: my sister Rachel’s son.
Seven and six years ago, I celebrated two sister’s weddings in close succession. And this June, I put on a long, swishy bridesmaid’s skirt. While the wedding guests sat under the trees, and we waited to walk the grassy aisle, I was close enough to the bride to capture this scene.
And when I reached the other end of the aisle, I found that I couldn’t have been placed more perfectly, just opposite my teary-eyed brother as he greeted my very dear friend, his bride. I had melted with joy when she welcomed his pursuit; I had welcomed them for hot chocolate after one of their very first dates; I had prayed and cried with them both. And now their joy was my joy.
In July, I arrived at a darkened house at about 10 pm, prepared to babysit two munchkins while my sister and her husband went off to birth their baby. But the labor was so intense that I dashed to the bedside in the wee hours, just in time to see my brother-in-law catch his tiny, dark-haired daughter.
Today I listened to the swishy sound of an unborn baby’s heartbeat: my brother’s baby — and I was captivated with the thought of a brand-new person whom I’ll have the privilege of knowing and loving.
John the Baptist describes “the friend of the bridegroom” as uniquely positioned for joy, and having served as a bridesmaid now in two siblings’ weddings, I heartily agree. And actually, I see that over and over as a single women, I’m uniquely positioned in the best seat in the house. Yes, being so close to my siblings’ unfolding stories has increased my pain at times. But it has overwhelmingly increased my awe at the lovingkindness of God.
In each of the true love stories described in today’s article at Boundless — yes, even the one that ended in sadness — I have seen a glimpse of His heart. If He so clearly enjoyed giving marriage and children to others who longed for it, then I have no doubt He would enjoy giving it to me. If He has not done so yet, it’s because of an even weightier longing He has on my behalf. I find this very mysterious, and not always a relief to my feelings, but I know it to be true. I express my trust in God by embracing the mystery as much as I can. And I express it by hanging onto hope that marriage and children will be mine someday as well.
Meanwhile, though I fall into sadness at times, I also find that words are too weak to express how tall God has made me stand, and how my heart and life are filled with the love of friends and their children, my siblings, their children, and the young women whom I mother day by day. The fact that anxious younger singles can clearly see in me a woman beset by lovingkindness: that’s an immense joy and privilege.
This is my love story for today.
Elisabeth Adams 