Right about this time two years ago, I was announcing to the world that I was pregnant and seemed to be staying that way, as far as I could tell. I had no way of knowing, of course, that our little Seven would be, well ... Seven. My list of what I "knew" was so short, actually, that I couldn't see past each new morning. Every day of that pregnancy was a gift. I didn't want to ruin it by looking too far into an uncertain future.
When Seven was born, my awe for that gift blossomed even more. A new little person. Who would she be? How would she see the world? And, of course, what role was she destined to fill in our family?
I don't know about you, but one of the things that I love most about the gift of someone new to fold into your circle of family is the gentle unfolding of their place. It's as if a hole that you didn't even know existed is being filled, one day at a time, by a person custom fitted to the job. I have felt this with each and every one of our children, be they blessings via birth or adoption. Each person has added a new pattern to our quilt, a new flavor to our pot.
Seven is now old enough that her personality is revealing itself in all its glory. She is a lover of beauty ("pretty!" is a favorite word), not above scrapping to make sure she gets her fair share, loves music, and prefers a steady rhythm to her days. Knowing her--learning her--has been a joy I can't put into words. Like her siblings before her, Seven has carved out her own special place in my heart, and in our family--the person we didn't know we were missing.
So many things about this child have been unexpected. Her entire existence, for one. Her healthy arrival. Her ability to skip naps and be fine, even at a very young age. Her utter embodiment of the term "girly."
And, most of all, her relationship with Logan.
Logan has always been our slightly third wheel kind of boy. He's the one you can count on to dissent when everyone else agrees. He's the guy who never found his perfect match: too young for Jo, too random for Atticus, too fast for Oliver, too impatient for Mani, too silly for Bee. He's the one who likes chocolate when everyone else likes strawberry, who wants to go sledding when everyone else wants to skate.
I think we do a pretty good job of keeping Logan fully in the embrace of our family, but I have always suspected that his teen years might be ripe with the "no one is quite like me" drama that was the hallmark of my own high school years. Without an anchor, kids who feel like black sheep often become black sheep: rejecting the commonality that they find in favor of shrugging their shoulders and assuming that they will always be the odd man out. Without an anchor, those kids can feel lonely. They can drift. They can struggle to feel the love of their family, let alone the love of their Savior.
Seven is Logan's anchor.
I didn't expect it. Didn't see it coming at all. But it's true.
Seven gets Logan.
His goofy humor? Yeah, she gets that.
His need to hug and be hugged? Yeah, she gets that.
His random goofiness? Yeah, she gets that.
His love of teaching and telling tales? Yeah, she gets that.
His ability to stop and breathe in beautiful moments? She gets that, too.
The best part? Logan gets Seven. Together, they are a team: a sweet spot balance between Great Dane boy and headstrong toddler. Carbon copies of one another in terms of features, they are a funny pair of contrasts in size. And yet, there she is: riding his hip in the aquarium, cheering for Logan (and only Logan) in the family soccer match, laughing as he pratfalls for her pleasure. And there he is: slipping into her room as I put her down at night because he didn't get to give her a kiss, asking if she wants to share his Easter treat, calling for her to come so they can go check the mail together.
I see this miracle love story being written and all I can say is thank you. Thank you, Lord, for being so generous as to give my son someone to relate to. Thank you, Lord, for giving my daughter a doting protector who cherishes her. Thank you, Lord, for making my family so amazingly beautiful.
Two years ago, I was stunned by what God was doing. Today, I am stunned by what He is still doing. When will I learn that His plans are, truly, perfect? Someday ...