The morning was slow and quiet.
Grace sat by the kitchen window, hands wrapped around a mug of ginger tea, her eyes lost in the grey sky. Edwin was still asleep, the apartment still. Outside, the world went on — but inside her heart, something sacred was stirring.
They had been trying to conceive for almost a year.
And so far… nothing.
It wasn’t for lack of faith. They prayed. They fasted. They believed.
But every month brought its own wave of quiet disappointment — marked by whispered prayers in the bathroom and hopeful glances that slowly became tired sighs.
Grace had once imagined it happening easily — like those testimonies you hear at church: “We prayed and the next month, I was pregnant!” But for her and Edwin, this part of the journey wasn’t unfolding the way they expected.
And yet… it wasn’t breaking them.
It was forming them.
Edwin sensed it too. Though his nature was logical and data-driven, this season had drawn him into deeper spiritual territory. More than once, he’d knelt beside Grace and laid his hand on her womb, whispering Scripture over her body.
“Children are a heritage from the Lord…” “He makes the barren woman dwell in a home as a joyful mother of children…” “Is anything too hard for the Lord?”
But month after month, they returned to stillness.
One night, after another negative test, Grace cried in his arms.
“I don’t want to be strong today,” she said.
“I just want to ask… why not us?”
Edwin didn’t offer solutions. He just held her, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “Even when there’s no heartbeat yet, God is still at work.”
As the months passed, they sought counsel.
Their doctor gave them options, tests, and timelines. Nothing was conclusive. There was no clear reason. Which somehow made it harder.
“It’s not a no,” Grace said to her journal one day. “It’s a not yet.”
One Sunday, a woman from their home church group shared a word during prayer.
She placed her hand gently on Grace’s shoulder and said, “The Lord says you’re already a mother in the Spirit. He’s forming your legacy — not just through birth, but through the children you will raise, whether by womb, by calling, or by divine assignment.”
Grace wept.
It was the first time she stopped defining motherhood by a due date.
Around that time, Edwin felt God stir something in his heart too.
He had met a teenage boy through one of their outreach programs — Daniel, age 13, living with a foster family, quiet but intelligent. He had a gift for computers and often lingered after youth gatherings, helping Edwin pack cables and troubleshoot tech.
One night, Edwin found him sitting alone outside the building.
“Daniel, you good?”
The boy shrugged. “I’m used to being alone. People leave.”
Edwin sat beside him. “God doesn’t.”
Daniel glanced sideways. “I know… but sometimes it feels like He forgets.”
Edwin didn’t have a flashy answer.
He just said, “He didn’t forget me. I was the kid everyone overlooked. But He never stopped seeing me. That’s why I see you now.”
Edwin shared the story with Grace that night.
“He’s bright, Grace. Gifted. But I see myself in him — the same hunger for identity… for stability.”
Grace smiled through tears. “Maybe this isn’t just about getting pregnant. Maybe it’s about being available for whatever child God sends.”
Edwin looked at her — this woman who had once wept alone in silence — now full of hope, of courage, of maternal fire.
“You’d be an amazing mom,” he said.
She laughed. “I already am. I just haven’t met all my children yet.”
And so, a new prayer began.
Not one bound to biology.
But one rooted in availability.
“Lord, whether by womb, by adoption, by divine interruption — we say yes. Make our house a home for someone You love.”
That Christmas, Grace received a letter from Daniel’s caseworker.
He had listed Edwin and Grace as his “safe adults.”
He wrote:
“They make me feel like I’m not a mistake. I don’t know if you can live with people like that forever. But if I could, I would.”
They read it together — eyes filled, hands locked.
Maybe God had already given them a son.
Legacy isn’t just in who we birth.
It’s in who we love.
Edwin and Grace thought they were preparing for a family.
But God was preparing a calling — to raise Daniels, daughters, dreamers.
To become parents not just by nature… but by nurture.
