He hears. He answers.

There have been so many beautiful things about the news of our little Smalls.
Things that make me weep and laugh.
Things that make me stand in awe of how lucky I am.

But I know it isn't luck. It's not by chance that I am where I am.

You might know our story.
We were told it was unlikely we would have children but because we were young there was more hope.
I cried for the children I thought I may never hold.
I cried out to God, not to give me what I wanted but to make me content with what I got.
I asked him first to make me content and then I told him the desires of my heart.

And that good God, He listened.
He listened.
And listened.

When I felt as though I was speaking into a void, He listened.
Biding his time. Waiting for the right moment.

And then, He answered. At youth camp. Two pink lines. A ray of hope. A little one to call my own.
She grew, and grew, and grew and I felt the tug once more.
Could I be lucky again?
But I know it isn't luck. It's not by chance that I am where I am.

I cried and I wept and I pleaded.
I forgot.
I forgot about the last time when He listened and listened.
I forgot about the last time when he heard and answered. When he stilled my aching heart and gave me hope.
I forgot that He knows good and He knows me better than I do.

But.
Once again. He answered. At youth camp. Two pink lines. A ray of hope. A small one to call my own.

How I sat in awe of His goodness. His goodness to silly old me who forgot.
Silly old me who pleaded like a child who had never seen goodness before.
But he hears. He listens. He delights in answering us.

A prayer for that night.
You hear your little children.
Thankyou God, for answering our prayers.