A memory often plays in my head. It’s the moment when Chad and I opened the door to the county courtroom on Ivy’s adoption day. We stood there, feeling a little beat down by the previous two years of unexpected news, what ifs, and unanswered questions about little Ivy’s future, and through happy tears we saw so many of our wonderful church family sitting in rows, waiting to witness an end and a beginning. It was the end of a certain type of struggle to see what God intended for this little blonde child in our arms. And it was the beginning of a new life as a family of six.
But it wasn’t just the many familiar faces, including Ivy’s Sunday school teachers and nursery workers, deacons and former staff friends and new families and old companions. Sitting there among all of the smiles was Minnie Wood, our friend whose husband had passed away just four days earlier. She probably should have been home in bed, but there she was, looking beautiful, smiling, joining in with all of our church family in sharing this moment of joy. My friend Anna, Ivy’s Sunday school teacher, told me later that it reminded her of the song Everlasting by Sovereign Grace: “Oh, God, where joy and tragedy collide…”
After the adoption, I noticed many hugged Minnie, and tears fell, as I’m sure they had before we walked into the room, when our people came in and realized she had gotten up today, put on clothes, combed her hair, and drove to the county courthouse to share in joy in the midst of her extreme grief. It was a moment when we were all keenly aware of the unusually high levels of elation in the room alongside the unusually deep strains of sorrow.
Just a few Sundays ago, Chad mentioned Minnie’s husband, Ed, in his sermon. He spoke about the way Ed glorified God through his death. All across the room I could hear the sniffling and the rustling around for tissues as I wiped tears from my own face. As a church, we are still tender and grieving Ed’s death, even as we grieve with great hope of a future with him someday. It’s been more than a year since he passed away. It’s been more than a year since Ivy officially became an Edgington. The joy and tragedy still collide in our hearts.
Regularly we sing the words again in our services. “And all our days are held within your hands. Your perfect love and favor have no end. We rest within the wisdom of your plan, Everlasting God.” I know that many more joys and tragedies await us all. It’s an honor to teach my children that nothing in all of creation happens for no reason. Everything God does is purposeful, and it’s not just for a reason–it’s for a good reason. He is sovereign over all of it, and it all spells Glory to God.
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