Adoption becomes life-long journey for Melber family

There is a love that reaches deeper than any earthly bond, a love that calls us by name and welcomes us into a family not defined by blood, but by grace. To be adopted into God's family is to discover a belonging that transcends our past, our circumstances, and our origin—an unconditional love assuring us that we are wanted, cherished, and chosen.

That same love began stirring in both my husband, David, and me, over two decades ago. Since I was unable to have more children after our third, we would occasionally talk about adoption. It wasn't constant, but the thought quietly and persistently lingered.

That stirring grew into conviction. A few years later, David traveled to Moldova and witnessed firsthand the plight of vulnerable children. He came home moved, his heart full, and his resolve strong. Adoption seemed like the next chapter God was writing for our family.

We read, sought wisdom, and prayed. But more than anything, we clung to the promise that God would guide us. We believed He would show us how to graft a child into our family. After all, He grafted us into His.

I still remember meeting each of our children. Their eyes scanned our faces, searching for familiarity from the photos we had sent. When recognition set in, their expressions softened. Those were sacred first steps into becoming a family.

Adoption is not a one-time event but a lifelong journey. We quickly learned how deeply early adversity can scar a child's heart. It's one thing to read about trauma; it's another to live through trauma's effects with your son or daughter. They wrestled for peace, tested love, fought to make sense of their stories, and wondered whether they truly belonged.

What worked with our biological children often fell short. Affection, correction, even boundaries landed differently. We prayed constantly. What they needed most was presence, safety, and consistent love. Their behaviors were communicating needs that they couldn't put into words.

Since our children didn't speak English when they came home, we memorized simple phrases in their native languages—words we could offer in simple daily moments or in moments of fear or uncertainty.

You are safe.

Stay close to me.

I am here.

I will not leave you.

I love you.

When fear crept in, you are safe with me helped them feel grounded. When we entered new spaces, stay close to me meant they weren't alone. When they ached for the familiar, I will be with you offered comfort. When frustration boiled over, I am here told them they weren't alone in it. When they pushed us away emotionally, we answered with a steady I will never leave you. And when their pain felt too big, we whispered, I love you—again and again.

As we spoke those words, we began to hear them echo in our own hearts. God had spoken them over us, again and again, in our brokenness. As we practiced steadfast presence, compassionate correction, and unconditional love, the Gospel came alive, not just for our children, but for us in a fresh way.

This journey revealed things in me I didn't know were there. I longed for quick healing and visible signs of progress. I wanted to control situations and fix the pain. But God was working in all of us. He was reshaping me, too. He showed me that what I needed most wasn't control or ease, it was Him. He wanted me to desire His presence more than answers.

There have been joyful days and painfully hard ones. We celebrated small wins: a smile, eye contact, trust building slowly. God was doing something beautiful in the hidden and quiet places. It didn't always look like progress, but it was. And He was with us every step of the way.

Today, our children are grown. They are walking with Jesus, and their stories are still unfolding. Their lives and legacies have been forever changed by the Gospel. They are not only deeply loved by us but they are fully known and chosen by the King of Kings.

Hope and restoration haven't come through easy answers, quick fixes, or relief from pain. It is a work in progress coming from the unshakable love of Christ who adopted us, redeemed us, and promises to finish what He started. What the enemy meant for harm in their lives, God is redeeming. Trauma does not get the final say. Jesus does. Even when a story begins in sorrow, God's grace can write a story full of hope.

Written By Tera Melber