The summer that she turned three, my baby sister very uncharacteristically woke up almost every night to the silence of her new home – our home. She would grab her favorite blanket, and make her way into my room, disgruntled hair and soft, silk-like pajamas dancing shadows on my wall.

I learned to expect the touch of her little hand on my cheek, waking me up, begging for my attention.

We quickly found the sweetest of routines. I would lead her back into her room and climb up next to her on her twin size bed.  She would wrap her arm around me as her eyes bounced open and closed, her chubby hand placed securely on my back, as if reminding me to stay close.

Only when I was sure she was sleeping soundly, would I peel her arms off of me and tiptoe out. I always turned back to look at her, noting how she appeared just a little bit more beautiful as each insecurity spilled out of her and was subsequently made visible to me; a deep sign of trust. I marveled at the love a high school senior and a preschool baby shared for each other, that if not for adoption, we would never have even known each other. I think of us walking this earth, leading separate lives, unaware of how we were meant to be sisters. We truly never understand grace until it is staring us boldly in the face.

The challenges of adoption are not lost to me. A three-year-old wanting to find the security of snuggles in the dead of night? Hardly a challenge. It’s easy to find the grace there, to see the beauty and recognize the fiercest feelings of love. Truly a grace – a bold grace. We could wrap that moment up in a beautiful pink ribbon and call it adoption.

I fear though, that when we focus solely on the feel- good moments, we miss out on the strongest of graces. I think of the gospel, of my very own story of adoption, and see the power of His pursuit. What makes the gospel story of adoption so magnificent is that even when I was dead – when I was running full speed away from the cross- Jesus found me; He pulled me out of my self and my sin and my insecurities and sufferings and pain and beckoned that I come to Him. He pursued relentlessly; He pursues me today, and tomorrow, when my soul is sucked dry and my flesh is weak, He will pursue me again. That’s grace.

This grace is bigger and deeper than my mind is capable of comprehending today – or ever. I am not always eagerly crawling up onto my Abba Father’s lap – rather, He is drawing me out of the depths and bringing me gently and magnificently to Himself. He is doing the pursuing. This pursuit is powerful, because it changes lives – my life. 

I am years away from making sense of the hurt and pain associated with adoption. I have resolved that there are things about my siblings’ stories I will never understand or be able to call okay this side of eternity. I am slowly learning, painstakingly slowly, to find the grace associated with pursuit.  If my God can pursue me, even when I am trapped in my deepest sin, then surely I can give an extra minute or an extra thought to the pursuit of walking with my siblings as they work to heal and love and trust again.

The nights that my baby sister climbed up onto my bed were undoubtedly powerful moments. That beauty can be spotted a mile away. I am thankful, though, for the glimpses I get into the pain. I am learning to see a grace manifested when there are moments or seasons, sometimes-long seasons, of tears, rage, hurt, and pushing away; these are the moments that are not so beautiful, and yet, they are filled to the brim with grace. I see it. Through my dimly lit, deeply obscured, self-seeking life, I can still make out this boldest of graces.

This grace is different from the feel-good moments. Yet, it is one so deep and wide and vast I can hardly make sense of it. It is a grace that sometimes has to sit simply in the knowledge of love – of getting to be invested in hurting lives -even in seasons of darkness, when the feel-good feelings are obstructed from my view. I have learned that these moments are powerful and transformative, because they rest in something so much greater than a hug or a laugh or a captured moment for Instagram. These grace moments are the transformative type; they are moments so long and rich that they last from earth all the way until our welcome into heaven. We may not even know the power of these grace moments until we enter into heaven’s gates. These moments are not broken apart by hurtful words or behavioral outbursts. They stand secure, unwavering amidst the hard, painful, seemingly hopeless moments of life.

This is adoption. It is a bold love that is not scared of seeing hurt, touching hurt, or being hurt. There is truly transformative power in the pursuit of loving another hurting soul. I am thankful when that love looks like a baby sister climbing up into bed, quietly pursuing my love; I am equally thankful for the days when I get to do the challenging work of pursuing the heart of a hurting child, because it is in those moments that I more fully understand the passionate love my Savior has for me.

May this life be one filled with pursuit – showing grace and being grace to the hurting children in our lives.

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Kylee recently graduated with a bachelor’s degree in social work and is currently working at a child-placing agency while going back to school to pursue a masters in social work. Her parents jumped into the crazy world of foster care just days before her 8th birthday and cared for numerous infants and toddlers over a ten-year time span; four of those kids later became permanent family members through adoption. Kylee is passionate about learning how to better love her siblings from “hard places” and loves sharing about this journey and passion on her personal blog Learning to Abandon.