It's not the gifts; it's the stories.

It's not the amazon-flooded front porch that brings me to tears.

Or the donations coming in...

Or that I had to call a supervisor yesterday and say, Dream big...

Or the fact that all you guys actually read what I write...

It's the stories that have left me in awe, brought tears to my eyes and left me on my knees in thanksgiving and prayer for you again, and again, and again.

It's the children across Birmingham emptying their piggy banks for kids like the ones in their classes.

It's the grandma giddy to be buying a cross-cultural doll for the first time.

It's the parents who have children with sensory needs, allowing their kids to shop for the toys and tools that have become their favorites to give to another.

It's the parents who never knew there were resources to help kids like theirs, who are just unique, buying two of everything...one for their child, and one for a child in care...

And committing to pray every time they pull out the bought item.

It's the parents with children STUCK in the adoption bureaucracy, selecting gifts in their children's honor.

It's emails from people across the country planning their own birthday celebrations for kids in care and local agencies.

It's the mercy of the Father bringing churches, small groups, Sunday school classes, and restaurants together in order to empower these children and the families who care for them.

It's your sacrifice because of the One who loves you deeply.

I stand, hands raised from my knees in praise to the Giver of all good things.

Six more days until the Blog Birthday Party ends.

Because the Giver is Worthy ~

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