I always wanted lots of children. As a child, I wrote stories that included elaborate illustrations of large families. Each child had a special characteristic and multiple drawings depicting them in action. As an adult, both of my children were hard to conceive and were long-awaited, joyful answers to prayer.
When our girl was ten years old, we were thrilled to learn that I was finally pregnant again. She joined in our excitement anticipating the new addition to our family. Mind you, she had been my one and only, had survived a horror of divorce and death of her birth father, rejoiced later in my marriage and thrilled to be adopted by that good guy. In her ten years, this little girl had already experienced another person's lifetime of loss and hope.
As the pregnancy moved along, we found out the new addition was going to be a little brother. I was beyond myself to realize I was going to be blessed to have "one of each".
Our girl also rejoiced as much as a third grader can. She drew us pictures, eagerly came to doctor appointments and earnestly crafted gifts for her soon-to-be-born brother.
In the midst of all the joy and hope, I sensed that something was going on within her. I truly believe God prompted me to ask her about this one day. I was careful and casual, and I must have done something right because the net take-away was that she wondered how I would be able to love her new baby brother without some of my love for her being subdivided.
We had the best chat! I told her that the love God gives everyone just keeps growing. In order to love someone else, nothing is taken away from those we already love. It's like a pile of pancakes. We already had a pile "this high" but with our new little guy coming along, God would pile it even higher.
That turned out to be just what she needed to hear.
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