If we were given the opportunity to paint the picture of our own future, things might look completely different. But we aren’t. Instead, we understand that our lives – present and future, rest in the hands of the master painter. What that means is, we don’t know what the future holds. We don’t try to control the hands of the one who holds us.
We let Him paint the masterpiece.
Sometimes it feels like a masterpiece. One year ago today, we added two incredibly beautiful and wonderfully designed girls to our family. Mackenzie Ty and Lily Grace became ours. Our lives will never be same because of it. In just one year, our family has seen the power of what love can do. While people would whisper to us, “Those girls are so lucky you rescued them”, we understood that in fact, the opposite was the case. In many ways, they rescued us. They showed and are showing us that when God paints a picture of a family, it comes in all shapes, and colors and sizes.
And love; love can overcome anything.
We learned to trust the one painting the masterpiece. And although there were many moments of doubt – believe it or not, trusting was easy. Lily was getting stronger. Mackenzie was soaking up the love of a family. Dryden and Soleil had survived the initial shock, and were embracing their new sisters. We can do this, we thought – we like the picture the artist is painting.
Sometimes it does feel like a masterpiece!
Sometimes it doesn’t. As most of you reading this blog already know, just over 9 months ago, Emily and I found out the shock of a lifetime, another baby was on the way. Just a couple months into the pregnancy, our worlds were rocked to learn that our precious baby had Down’s Syndrome and a major heart defect. When the shock wore off, we not only moved to the point of embracing this new reality, we were looking forward to it – even excited about it. We spent the next few months bantering over names, taking bets as to whether it is a boy or a girl, and surviving multiple ultrasounds and echocardiograms that represented an opportunity for someone to ruin the surprise.
Boy or girl - we couldn’t wait to be surprised!
We weren’t prepared for the surprise that crushed every part of a parent that could be crushed. Last night, at 8:00 p.m., my brave wife Emily delivered Addy Hope Rancourt. She delivered our daughter only after finding out she had already died. She arrived to us, the most beautiful and angelic 7lbs, 14oz, girl you could imagine. Yet we never got to hear her cry, see her beautiful lips pucker up, or feel her tiny hands grasp onto our fingers.
Sometimes it doesn’t feel like a masterpiece.
And although right now, I want to grab the brush and finish the painting myself, I know I can’t. We can’t. I am tempted to think that I could paint a much better masterpiece for our lives. Our minds are filled with questions like “Why” and “How”, and we can’t get the “What if’s” out of our head. We are trying to make sense of our thoughts and feelings, but I am not sure we ever will.
All I can ask of you is this: Pray for us. Pray for our family. Pray that we can trust the one who is holding the brush. Pray that we can celebrate the beautiful strokes that are Dryden and Soleil and Mackenzie and Lily. And pray that we can always see the incredible beauty that is in the stroke Addy Hope. We love you all.
You may or may not know that the anniversary of the day you get your adopted child is called “Gotcha Day”. And we are celebrating that. And we take great comfort in the fact that our God has already whispered to Addy, “Don’t worry, I gotcha!"
He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good,
and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.