And now, a break from our regularly scheduled programming...

This year we had a baby. She didn't come after 9 long months of waiting. She came approximately 4 weeks after I said to Brian "Soooo... are we going to adopt again or am I going to be pregnant again?" And approximately 14 days after Brian prayed "Lord, if you want us to adopt again, please make it clear to us and drop another baby in our laps." It was approximately 4 days after that conversation that Brian got a phone call from a friend asking if he could provide some advice on adoption agencies as her daughter was pregnant and felt sure that she should go the route of adoption. And she was due *soon.* And Brian heard himself say... "We might be interested in adopting again. We could meet to talk about it if you and your daughter are interested." And a few days later, we did. We met at Starbucks. We chatted. We told them the stories of us. Of our two sons; one adopted, one not. We laughed. We related. We left not knowing what would happen. Or at least I did. Brian was totally sure. 100% without a doubt that she would call us. And she did. And I was stunned. Stunned. And... excited. The kind that makes your stomach feel all loopy. And certain. The kind of certainty that comes when you know that you are, without a doubt, in the absolute center of what the Lord wants for your life. No matter how crazy it seems. Certain. So a few days later, we told our family that we were having a daughter. And that she'd be coming in 2 weeks.

Except she came 36 hours later.

Because that is the kind of life we lead here. So she fit right in. Noelle. Because that is the name I always knew we'd name a girl. Because it reminds us of Christmas... of another birthday... of Someone that I hope and pray that she will grow to love and life for.

We spent two days at the hospital with her birthmother and birth grandmother. Who are beautiful. And who love her. With a love so deep that they would do anything for her. Anything.

And they did.

And we have been a Party of 5 ever since. A new family. Not without changes. Not without struggles.

And chaos. And adjustments. My closet becoming a nursery... still adjusting. And this week, it became officially official. After waiting the 6 long months that are required in Texas, we went before the judge. Where she called us all up. All of us. And we stood together. All of us. And raised our right hands. Well, just Brian and I on that last part. And promised to love her. And be her parents. For life. And we did. Because we are.

People ask me all the time... "Is it different?" And I know what they're saying. Is there a difference between my children? The ones that are adopted and the one that is not. I've heard it said, "If it's different, it's more." But I don't know that I agree. It is different. But it's not more than I feel for my middle child. Are there differences between your children? I don't mean in personality. But between the way you think about them? I would venture to say the answer is yes. Each child has their own story. Their own miracle story of how they came into the world... of how they came to you. And so do my children. Each one. I love them all. With a depth that I feel is shocking at times. And I love each of their stories. Each time I have been reminded of how undeserving I am. How there is no way that I could have ever done anything to be good enough to given what I have. Because what I have... what you might have... goes beyond good. I don't call them "my adopted children." They are my children. She looks nothing like me. And yet, she is mine. And we are a family.

Thanks for indulging me.