God gave us this girl. We knew that to be true. And we loved her already. But I spent those first days grieving. I grieved the simpler days of soccer practice and laughing in my home with my healthy, happy girls. I grieved the hopes I had of signing the gospel to Joy, so she could understand and know grace and freedom. I grieved for my plans to see her grow up and thrive. And I was angry at myself for grieving. And angry at myself for being weak. Angry at myself for being afraid. Angry at myself for sinning. Angry. How could I be so stupid? How could I be so proud? How did I think I was doing
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