When Forgiveness Set Me Free
I’ll never forget the day she left.
It wasn’t our choice, and the ensuing battle wasn’t one I wanted. For a spell, this faithful warrior climbed in bed, curled into a fetal position, then cried until she fell into fitful sleep.
That was nearly two decades ago. The sting has eased into a dull ache, yet we firmly believe—nothing teaches better than hard-knock experiences.
Our best learned lesson derived from a persistent whisper, an eventual surrendered heart, an open Bible, and a pen.
Hope of Adoption
My friend Liz sat across from me at a favorite coffee shop. Lifting her mug, she smiled behind steam wafting from her nonfat latte.
“Won’t you consider bringing Kristie into your home? For a weekend perhaps?”
After a beat of silence, “Explain to me again how you’re involved in playing matchmaker for this little girl. What’s your connection?” I, too, raised my mug, then sipped my coffee.
Her smile broadened. “Now that’s a story.” Liz set her mug down with a thud, then wiped her mouth before continuing. “I clean for her grandma. We’ve become friends and I’m concerned for her health.” She clucked for emphasis.
“Wound up in ICU some time ago. Doctors determined it’s life-threatening. Something to do with her digestion.”
“And how is she now? Stable?”
Liz nodded. “For the time being, but I think she realizes raising Kristie might prove difficult. Perhaps impossible.”
“What’s the grandma’s name?”
“Jeanette Miller.”
“Miller? Is this a sign?” Sharing our same last name did seem fortuitus. “And she’s okay with you talking to me about this possibility?”
Liz swallowed before saying, Miller is a common name, but what are the odds, right? And before you ask, Jeanette is the one who mentioned my asking you.”
Leaning forward with increased interest, “Did you happen to tell her Bill and I had two boys we adopted with open Adoptions?”
“Yes. Her face seemed more relaxed believing Kristie could remain a part of her life with you all. She had adopted her at two, but she thinks placing Kristie with a family might be the best thing.”
“And why did Jeanette adopt her?” I asked with butterflies in my stomach.
Liz explained the details, giving me more peace of mind with each word.
“Besides worry for her long-term health, I know Jeanette has thought about this for quite some time. She believes having Kristie with a more traditional family would be for her ultimate best.”
The Decision
Later that day, I shared this information with my husband while eight-year-old Ian and seven-year-old Jacob played outside.
“She asked if we might consider having Kristie just for a weekend to see how it goes, so to speak.” I laid the metal potato peeler on the counter, swiped damp hands on my jeans, and turned to face Bill. I smiled. “What could it hurt?”
It was decided. Kristie Miller—the six-year-old who already had our same last name—would spend the following weekend with our family.
I spoke with Jeanette on the phone the Wednesday prior to getting Kristie. She shared how we already felt familiar. Liz had told her about how I’d discipled Liz’s teenage daughter and how we were in church together, attending the same Bible study.
As if Jeanette could read my mind, she tried reassuring me. “Kristie loves meeting new people, she’ll love you from the start!”
Friday arrived. Butterflies danced as we prepared to meet Jeanette and Kristie for the first time. But when the little girl stepped out of her grandma’s car carrying a small suitcase, anxiety eased. She was a near splitting image of our youngest son—a female version. “They could be twins,” I whispered to Bill before opening my door.
Our Time Together
That weekend became one of many. Eventually, Kristie spent the weeks with us, visiting her grandma on the weekends. Bill and I created a cozy room for her near our upstairs bedroom, and the little girl who’d been a stranger was now a daughter, despite unfinalized legalities.
Preliminary adoption papers were signed by Bill and I with the assumption of forever.
Time passed. Summer turned to autumn, then autumn to winter. When colder temps were replaced with milder spring-like days, however, we wondered when Kristie’s adoption would be complete.
Jeanette verbalized that things were progressing as planned on her end. “I don’t know why it’s taking so long.”
In June, we celebrated Kristie’s birthday with a party by the pond. A gaggle of seven-year-old girls giggled while roasting marshmallows and casting fishing lines.
In July, Kristie, Jake, and I said goodbye to Bill and Ian, then ventured with extended family to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to visit our beloved family farm. There, I introduced Kristie to blueberry and raspberry picking, and we created wildflower bouquets comprised of black-eyed Susans, Indian paintbrush, and daisies. We swam in the icy waters of Lake Superior, fighting off horseflies the size of quarters.
That fun-filled trip also birthed family normalcy —the occasional reprimand, followed by time-outs or even spankings. She was loved and treated like my sons, even though Kristie wasn’t yet my daughter on paper.
Worry crept in by August, with no finalized adoption. “What’s the hold up?” I asked Bill, concern etched on my forehead. “Her adoption should have been complete months ago.”
Also concerned, Bill did his best to console me, “Be patient. We probably got shoved out of the way by more pressing issues. I’ll call the attorney’s office in the morning.”
The phone call only fueled my anxiety. Bill was told the delay seemed to be on Jeanette’s end. There were still papers for her to complete.
That’s when it happened. Only days later, we received a call from the attorney asking us to have Kristie’s things ready. “Jeanette will be arriving later today to pick her up. She changed her mind”
“Is there anything we can do? Can we contest it?”
We were told no.
The Pain of Letting Go
On a hot and humid August afternoon, I held Kristie’s hand as her paternal grandma—a woman I’d come to love and trust—pulled in our driveway, then loaded a little girl’s belongings into the trunk of her Buick. The thud of the lid slammed shut was a gut punch, and I wept behind my hands as Kristie stooped to say goodbye to the dogs she’d come to love.
Finally, wrapping her arms around my middle, Kristie spoke into my shirt. “Love you, Momma.” Treasured words forever.
I choked out, “I love you, too, dear,” then watched as our little girl climbed into the back seat and the car rolled off into the distance.
Only days after Kristie’s departure, I emerged from damp bedsheets to dry my eyes, attempting to step back into life.
Truth is, we all grieved this loss. Two little boys missed the girl who’d come to be their sister, and Bill, too, missed his daughter.
Less than a week later, I was spending time with God, asking Him to heal our brokenness, help us make sense of this heartache, guide us into His best laid plans without Kristie.
“Was this Your will, Father?” I inquired in prayer. “Or was it Your will for Kristie to stay, and Jeanette, by her own free will, chose that which wasn’t Your best?”
It was an honest question, one to which I wanted an answer.
It came in a whisper – a penetrating loud and clear answer. An answer I wasn’t ready for. I even argued.
You must forgive was spoken not once, not twice, but three times. And that’s when I heard God’s Word in my heart. Forgive so you, too, will be forgiven, from the New Testament.
I retrieved my Strong’s concordance and found its origin.
Therefore, I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins (Mark 11:24-25 NIV).
Right then, God and I had a conversation from the heart.
“I don’t know how to forgive. It’s too soon,” I complained.
You want the hurting to stop? You want to better understand? You desire that I guide you in the coming days?
“Yes, God.”
You must forgive Jeanette. And then, I will forgive you. I will guide you, help you understand, and heal your heart.
I considered my normal shortcomings. But my hatred toward Jeanette was off the charts.
Ouch.
I blamed her for taking Kristie from us.
Then, the truth hit me. She loves her too. Poor health is what drove her to place her with us. She wasn’t trying to mislead, but rather, had difficulty letting go.
Jeanette and I actually shared the same pain in our hearts—the pain of letting go. She, too, loved Kristie, except she’d loved Kristie her whole life, and I for a year.
I swallowed as truth settled. Finally, “Father, I… I forgive Jeanette. Forgive me of my sins, too. Help me feel forgiven, to walk in it, and experience its freedom.”
Next, I took out a piece of paper. Rather than writing my confession, I found myself penning a letter to Jeanette.
I wrote Jeanette’s name and address on an envelope, then added a stamp before sliding the letter inside and licking it closed. At the mailbox, I breathed a prayer. “Help this bring healing—for Jeanette and Kristie too. Amen.”
Answered Prayers
Even though I’ve missed this girl, God answered my prayers from that day long ago.
- He healed my brokenness, making beauty from the ashes of mourning by giving us a greater empathy for others who grieve (Psalm 30:11-12).
- He’s helped us better understand His plans, —He redeemed because we love Him and are surrendered to His purposes (Romans 8:28).
- He’s guided us—blessing us with another little daughter some years later. (Jeremiah 29:11).
Mostly, I learned to walk in the freedom forgiveness offers, which is freely given upon confessing my sins (I John 1:9). And, offering forgiveness to others, giving a greater freedom to all (Mark 11:25).
Unexpected hurts and sins will attack in this life, but we’re to be faithful warriors. God’s presence will guide us. We can fight our battles better when armed with His Word.
Just like my pen on that day all those years ago—when words I didn’t know I could write flowed because of the power of the Holy Spirit.
God’s Reward
Years ago, Jeanette passed away when Kristie was a young adult. Now twenty-six with a one-year-old daughter of her own, Kristie is getting married.
She recently asked me and my 17-year-old daughter Allie to help her shop for her wedding dress. Kristie also invited me to be with her on her wedding day, something that fills my heart with gratitude. God truly redeems all things!
Maureen Miller is a multi-genre, award-winning author with stories in more than thirty collaboratives. She contributes to Guideposts’ All God’s Creatures, her local newspaper, and several online devotion sites. Married for thirty-seven years to her childhood sweetheart Bill, she enjoys life with their three born-in-their-hearts children and three grand-girls, not to mention a variety of furry beasts. They live on Selah Farm, a hobby homestead nestled in the mountains of western North Carolina. She blogs at “Windows and Wallflowers” (Maureenmillerauthor.com), telling of God’s extraordinary character discovered in the ordinary things of life, and her debut novel, Gideon’s Book, is now available.
© 2026, Jena Fellers. All rights reserved.
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