Recently, our family celebrated Gotcha Day, the anniversary of our daughter Savannah’s adoption.
I remember the day the judge made the adoption official, as well as the preceding months, questions, anxiety and requirements leading to that joyous occasion. No one bore the stress more than our daughter. Will my adoption ever happen? What is taking so long? And the most tormenting question she pondered: What if the judge says no?
To that last question, her family services advocate and our attorney answered assuringly: Judges are overjoyed at opportunities to unite a child with an adoptive family.
Delays at the courthouse kept our daughter on edge. Then the call came—the judge was ready to see us. No standing before the bench. Only a quiet room where a delighted judge greeted us. Surrounded by family and friends, my wife and I sat at a table along with Savannah, the attorney, the advocate and the judge. We signed the documents, and the judge made it official with his signature. A new life and a new family had begun.
What had begun with our daughter’s loss, followed by waiting, trials and tears, ended with the fulfillment of her hopes and the realization of our dreams.
Recently, I heard a song that encapsulates humanity’s suffering and the joy that awaits us.1 Portions include:
Light after darkness, gain after loss
Strength after weakness, crown after cross;
Sweet after bitter, hope after fears
Home after wandering, praise after tears . . .
Sight after mystery, sun after rain
Joy after sorrow, peace after pain;
Near after distant, gleam after gloom
Love after wandering, life after tomb . . .
He is making all things new.
Our family would agree.
Soon, all creation will celebrate a universal Gotcha Day—the culmination of ages of God’s own waiting, trials and tears— made possible by His love borne on the cross. The redeemed will stand in the presence of their Advocate and their Judge. Rejoicing will fill the courtroom. And a Father, beaming with joy, will welcome His children into their forever home.
