Other Arms

Usually they arrive with sadness in their eyes.

But this one came with joy - gleaming, dancing, sparkling.

Infectious joy. It fills the room and wipes away the sadness of others who didn't come in his place. We can't save them all, but he's here. And maybe that's all that matters -- not the ones we can't hold, but the ones we can. The others rest in stronger, unseen arms. We must keep trusting in those Other Arms.

Maybe he is just what we needed on this morning of questions. Which ones to bring? Which ones to choose? Adoptions mean empty beds, and empty beds mean new arrivals, but we don't feel like we have the strength to make the choices. A thousand factors considered and we chose him, thinking we could help change the course of his life.

But maybe he was chosen for us. Maybe those Other Arms knew that we would need his smile, brimming with 4 new teeth, and those sparkling eyes.

Our hearts are full, and we feel His presence. There's something sacred about these moments when a child arrives. Like a mother holding her newborn for the first time, there's redemption in the end of pain and unimaginable hope in the empty canvas of future possibilities.

It is in these moments that we realize those Other Arms are holding us, too. They're big enough for that.

And so we rest, trusting He orders steps and opens doors and places the lonely in families. We are just instruments, "little pencils in the hand of the One who is sending a love letter to the world." {Mother Teresa}