Are you waiting on a promise? Clinging to hope while wrestling with disappointment? Wondering if God sees you at all?

Oh friend… I’ve been there. I AM there…

I’ve sat in that sacred tension between faith and frustration—believing God’s promises, yet aching over what hasn’t come to pass. I’ve made plans in my head and prayed them into journals—only to watch time pass without a single sign they were coming true. I’ve stood in the quiet of an empty nursery, praying through tears and wondering when the next piece of our family would arrive.

I’m so deeply thankful for the two beautiful girls God has already given me… but there’s always been this quiet, persistent stirring in my heart—like He’s not finished yet. And if the longing is still there, maybe it’s because the story isn’t over.

This is my story—a story of infertility, adoption, and a kind of faith that only makes sense if God really is who He says He is.

If I’m honest, I’ve wrestled with writing this. I actually started it months ago. So, God has been nudging me for a while now, but I kept resisting. Because it’s personal. It’s messy. And truthfully… it’s still unfolding.

But I’m learning that the most powerful stories aren’t always told from the finish line. Sometimes, the deepest encouragement comes from the middle of the climb—from the valley where faith is still being forged.

So here I am, sharing this for the one who might need it.

“If a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine and go to the mountains and seek the one that is astray? And if he finds it, truly, I say to you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray.” -Matthew 18:12-14

And maybe, just maybe, that one is you.

I always imagined I’d tell this story after the promise was fulfilled—when everything was tied up with a neat little bow.
But apparently, God’s timing is now. I suppose that’s where the radical faith comes into play…

So here it goes…

The Moment That Changed Everything

It was 2020, and Ryan and I sat down to watch the movie Instant Family. If you’ve seen it, you know it’s about a couple who unexpectedly dive into the world of foster care adoption and find themselves parenting three kids overnight.

As the movie unfolded, something stirred in me. Tears filled my eyes. I tried to hold them back, but I couldn’t. By the time the final scene rolled, I completely lost it.

My husband, Ryan, looked over, concerned. “Are you okay?”

Through sobs I barely understood, I cried, “I think the Lord wants us to adopt.”

He paused. “Okay… how is that a bad thing?”

“Because I don’t want to!” I wailed. “That’s a scary thing to do!”

I cried for a long time, not really understanding where these emotions were coming from, not really recognizing that this was the Lord’s doing. When I was finally alone, I cried even harder—this time with God.

“Lord, are You seriously asking me to do this?” I already knew the answer. But then I went through my list of reasons why this wasn’t going to work, as if He didn’t have a clue how my life was going at the moment. 

“Lord, my marriage is hanging by a thread. We’re struggling just to parent the children we already have with unity—how can we possibly care for one who may have even greater needs? My daughter is battling an autoimmune disease I can’t seem to get under control, and I feel like I’m failing at everything. I’m exhausted… I don’t know how I can take on anything more.”

Silence.

“God, I can’t do this.” I pleaded.

Still silence.

Finally, through tears and trembling—laying down every ounce of stubbornness I had left—I whispered, “Okay, Lord… if You’re really calling us to adopt, then I need You to heal my marriage. Heal my daughter. And please… heal me too.”

And two years later… He did.

“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.” 1 Peter 2:24

It wasn’t quick, and it definitely wasn’t easy. The healing came through pain, struggle, refining fire, and countless hours on my face before Jesus. But over the course of two years, He moved in ways only He could.

-Jesus healed my depression through a supernatural encounter.
-Jesus restored my broken marriage through a supernatural encounter.
-And Jesus healed my daughter—also through a supernatural encounter.

Are you catching on to the pattern? He did it all. Supernaturally. Every single thing I asked Him to do. But I wasn’t reminded of my end of the bargain for another few months.

A Sermon I Never Pressed Play On

One morning in the fall of 2022, I was startled awake by the sound of a voice in our living room. It didn’t make sense—no one else was up. Groggy and confused, I followed the sound to my laptop… a laptop I hadn’t touched in over two weeks.

The screen was open. A sermon was playing.

A little freaked out, I sat down to listen, wondering if the Lord was trying to get my attention. I had reached a point in my faith journey where I was deeply tuned in to the Lord’s voice—and I no longer believed in coincidences. Everything felt intentional by now.

“He who has ears to hear, let him hear” -Matthew 11:15

The preacher was talking about fear—how the enemy uses it to keep us from walking into God’s promises. At the time, I didn’t feel especially fearful, but I kept listening. The pastor began praying and quoting Ephesians 1:5, which states: “God decided in advance to adopt us into His own family by bringing us to Himself through Jesus Christ. This is what He wanted to do, and it gave Him great pleasure.”

The word adopt jumped off the screen and landed squarely in my heart. I had forgotten. But God hadn’t. And in that moment, I knew: why this idea of fear was being highlighted. The Lord had done everything I asked Him to do.

I had no more excuses. The reasons I clung to for why we couldn’t adopt were gone. All that was left was overcoming the fear of the unknown, and then… obedience.

“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” -2 Timothy 1:7

A Detour I Didn’t Expect

We soon found a Christian agency in Indiana and started the Home Study process. It finally felt like we were moving forward. But deep down, I still wondered: Would I ever carry a child again? It was a desire of my heart, but I didn’t know if it was God’s will for us.

Then I had a dream. In the dream, I told my husband, “The Lord wants us to have our own baby first.” When I woke up, I said the exact same words out loud. I couldn’t explain it. I just knew. 

We decided in faith to go for it. We were so excited about the idea of adding to our family, and two months later, I was pregnant. We were over the moon. It felt like a promise fulfilled.

Week after week, everything seemed to be going smoothly. I was anxiously counting down the days until it was “safe” to share the news publicly. My daughters had already started asking questions—they noticed the slight curve in my belly and were piecing things together on their own.

But in the quiet moments, I started to notice a few things that didn’t sit right. My symptoms weren’t nearly as strong as I remembered them being in my previous pregnancies. And then, I had a dream—one where I miscarried. It shook me. Even though I tried to brush it off, I couldn’t fully silence the unease it stirred in me.

Still, I chose to hold onto faith. I reminded myself that God doesn’t go back on His promises. He had spoken, and I was determined to trust Him—no matter what my mind or body tried to tell me.

But at 10 weeks, when you’re supposed to see a lively baby in a womb on that ultrasound, we saw emptiness and learned the baby had stopped developing several weeks prior. Right around the timing of my miscarriage dream. What was supposed to be a happy day of sharing the news with friends and family ended in confusion and heartache. I miscarried soon after.

The grief was crushing, confusing, and deflating. I had never experienced a miscarriage before. The disappointment I felt in losing my baby transferred over to my relationship with God. I remember going for a drive that day verbally pounding on my Father’s chest and letting the big guy have it. I was angry. I felt cheated by him.  And while I was reminded that lots of women have miscarriages, that fact never makes you feel better. (Why do we even do that to people, anyway?)

While I dealt with the loss, I was also anxious to get pregnant again, as if somehow a new beginning would help me recover from the loss. But what I didn’t know then was that this loss would mark the beginning of a long and painful journey—three years (and counting) of infertility, health struggles, and a lot of wrestling through emotions of disappointment.

(If you find yourself in a season of waiting and healing, I want to gently encourage you to listen to this song. It met me in a moment of disappointment and helped lift my heart into worship again. I pray it does the same for you.)

Some months, I was full of hope. Other months, I couldn’t even find the words to pray. It became a cycle—believing, then breaking. Trusting, then trembling. The emotional wear and tear left me drained.

I found myself reflecting on my first two pregnancies—how quickly they happened, how I used to casually mention that it only took one month of trying. Looking back, I cringe a little. I didn’t realize how insensitive that could sound. Who knows how many women I unknowingly said that to—women who may have been quietly, painfully trying for years. My heart aches now for what I couldn’t see then.

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.” -Hebrews 10:23

At times, I struggled to stay grateful for what the Lord had already given me as I watched others—often younger, often earlier in their journey—receive what my heart had been crying out for. The striving, the waiting, the aching for something I believed God had promised… it left me vulnerable. My hope felt fragile, and I became an easy target for the enemy’s whispered lies.

I want to be clear—I’ve never placed myself in the same boat as the women who have spent years trying to conceive without ever holding their own child in their arms. I’ve had the privilege of raising two beautiful daughters, and I don’t take that lightly.

Season of Waiting

In this season of waiting, something unexpected began to grow in me: deep, discerning empathy. A quieter, more tender kind. The kind that aches for the mother who longs to carry a child but hasn’t had the chance… for the woman who miscarries again and again, catching glimpses of a promise that never makes it to the finish line… for the one still single, watching the years slip by while holding tightly to hope.

Somewhere in my own waiting, I became an intercessor for them all. And in the wrestling, my faith grew roots.

I stopped praying just for myself. I started praying for us. For the unseen army of women holding onto fragile hope. My prayer life was no longer just about what I was waiting for. It became about all of us waiting… together.

For we serve a God who closes and OPENS wombs…

“And the Lord visited Sarah as He had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as He had spoken. For Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age at the set time of which God had spoken to him.”-Genesis 21:1-2

The Shift

Everything began to shift the day I finally brought my quiet offense to the Lord—the ache I didn’t want to admit and felt guilty for… the part of me that wondered if He had forgotten me. What once felt like an empty womb and a delayed promise slowly turned into holy ground—a place of refining, not rejection.

I became genuinely grateful for the experiences that brought wisdom—wisdom I wouldn’t have gained any other way. They taught me how to walk gently with others on a similar path, how to speak with grace, and how to truly see those who are still waiting… and waiting… and waiting. Along the way, God gave me not just understanding, but compassion that runs deep.

Even as I write this, I’m realizing just how much God has done in me—how He’s used every tear, every delay, every prayer to build a faith that can’t be shaken. Not anymore, at least.

Looking back at these last three years (and counting), I wanted to give up more times than I can count. But walking away would have been a disservice to the growth, the surrender, and the strength this journey has produced in me.

What once felt like unanswered prayers… now feels like preparation for something only God can orchestrate.

And I found peace—not because the desire disappeared, but because I learned to trust God with the not yet. The divine timing part of a journey that I don’t have control over anyways. I was finally able to celebrate others’ pregnancies with real joy, and I carried the quiet hope that mine would come too… whether through birth or adoption…or both.

(This sign hangs above the crib in our nursery—a quiet reminder of the promise we’re still holding onto. I can’t wait for the day when the Lord brings it to pass.)

Another Dream. A New Direction.

Three years later, in August 2024, during a Saturday nap, I had another dream.

This time, Jesus appeared and said, “I want you to start saving your money to adopt.”

Shaken. The clarity was piercing. The urgency was undeniable.

I called Ryan into the room. “I had a dream,” I said, still baffled by the new knowledge. “Jesus told me it’s time. We need to start saving our money to adopt.”

Without hesitation and radical faith, we shifted everything. The vacation plans? Gone. The extra spending? Off the table. From that point on, every spare dollar had a new purpose—adopting our baby.

By December, we felt good about the amount saved and completed the Home Study we’d started years before. We decided to also pursue the adoption waitlist with the same small Christian agency since they were seemingly affordable compared to the other agencies. 

As the months passed, my mind often wandered to whether or not we were in the right place to receive the child the Lord had in mind for us, and I started losing my peace. I would often wonder if we were supposed to be in a bigger agency that was far less affordable.

And in March of 2025, I got my answer after finding out that our agency was closing.

While it felt like a dead end, I had a new hope that God was up to something and positioning us where we needed to be to receive our baby. So I prayed…

“Lord… I know You’ve called us to adopt, but we are in limbo right now. Please reveal what agency to pursue that will lead us to THE child you have chosen for us.”

Almost immediately, I sensed a quiet whisper in my spirit:
“I already have.”

My heart caught in my throat. I knew I heard Him correctly, but the answer wasn’t what I was hoping for…

The agency the Lord kept bringing to mind was one I had looked into before. Honestly, it felt so far out of reach financially that we never seriously considered it. But every time I prayed about adoption, that agency would come up in my head—again and again.

I was reminded of all the times I would see their name in random ads. The agency was even named in a movie we watched about adoption with Kirk Cameron. It was like little breadcrumbs from heaven, all leading back to the same place.

(If you are considering adoption, I highly recommend watching this movie!)

At some point, it became undeniable—there were just too many “coincidences” for this not to be the voice of the Lord.

“But God,” I said, “they’re three times the cost. We couldn’t possibly…”

“I will provide.”

And with that, it was time to bring the news to my husband.

He responded the way most husbands probably would when their wife suggests spending thousands more than planned—cautious, concerned, and a little overwhelmed.

But this wasn’t a new car or some spontaneous splurge. This was our future child… and perspective was required. After all, we would pay anything for our two beautiful daughters. Still, the financial leap felt enormous—even bigger than the sacrifices we had already made. It honestly seemed impossible.

I looked at him and said gently, “His will, His bill, Ryan. Let’s just meet with the agency and see if the door opens.”

When the Door Flew Open

Two weeks later, we were on a Zoom call with that same agency.

“Are you open to adopting a child of any race?” they asked after we got our questions answered.

“Yes,” we both answered.

“Good,” the agency director said. “I need families like you. If you’re willing, I’ll work with you on the financing. Just send me your profile book.”

We were shocked. We didn’t have the money—at least not the kind this adoption would require.

But what we did have was something far more valuable: a willing yes.

We gave God our full surrender. We said yes to whatever He had for us, believing that if He called us, He would also carry us. Our faith wasn’t in our bank account—it was in His promises.

Even though we weren’t financially ready, we told the agency we were in. We just asked them to hold off on showing our profile until we had a little more saved. They agreed.

But just three weeks later, everything changed… again.

The Phone Call That Changed Everything

Three weeks later, I was mid-lesson in my Language Arts class when a message lit up my phone.

The agency wanted to know if they could show our book to a birth mother.

I got coverage for my class and quickly called my husband. “What do you think?” I asked.

“If they’re willing to work with us, I say go for it,” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice.

I agreed and emailed the agency to say yes.

But moments later, I got a reply: “She already chose another family.”

My heart sank—but I felt peace. I trusted that if it wasn’t our baby, the right one would come.

Thirty minutes later, my phone rang again.

“Hi, Andrea,” the voice said warmly. “I just wanted to let you know… we showed your book to an expectant mother. And she chose you.”

I froze. I wasn’t expecting this.

“I thought she chose a different family?”

“This was a different mom. And this one—she chose you.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. I could barely find words.

“Why us?” I finally asked.

The agency worker smiled through the phone. “She said she picked you because of your faith. Her exact words were, ‘I choose Ryan and Andrea. They clearly love Jesus—and so do I.’”

So… When Will the Waiting Be Worth It?

Maybe not today.
Maybe not this month.
But friend… hold on—because it will be.

God is faithful. He’s never once broken a promise, and He’s not about to start with you. Even when the wait feels heavy, even when the silence feels deafening—He is still working behind the scenes in ways you can’t yet see.

If you’re in a waiting season too, please let this sink in:
God sees you. He hears you. He hasn’t forgotten you.
And yes… He’s still moving—especially when it feels like He’s not.

So don’t give up. Don’t stop trusting—even when it doesn’t make sense.

Even when your heart aches from holding onto a hope that hasn’t come to pass—keep warring.

Even when the waiting feels like too much—keep going.

Even if it takes radical, ridiculous, mountain-moving faith to take the next step—do it.

Don’t stop praying. Don’t stop believing. God will open the door—right on time—when bold faith meets His perfect timing.

Because God is still in it. And He’s not finished yet. The waiting is WORTH IT.

And this story?
It’s not over…