On a Thursday morning, I went into labor. While Larry was with me at the hospital, Elizabeth stayed with my parents. When she woke up on Friday morning, like a child running to the Christmas tree to see if the longed-for gift had materialized, she wanted to know if she had a sister. It fell to me to break the news to her over the phone that the baby was, in fact, a boy. Wailing and gnashing of teeth ensued. I kept saying, "If you'll just come and meet him, I really think you'll like him."

 

What I didn't confess to her was that I'd been pretty apprehensive myself about the possibility of having a son. I have nothing against boys, but I felt ill-prepared to raise one. (I have a wonderful brother, so I'm not sure what caused this lack of confidence, but it was real.) So when I told Elizabeth that if she just met him, she'd like him, it was because I'd already experienced this myself.

 

When she arrived at my hospital room, she climbed up onto the bed, and we positioned her new brother Austin in her arms. To this day my father remembers her words: "Austin, I'm your sister, and these are your parents, and these are your grandparents, and we all love you."

 

Not only did she completely forget that she'd wanted a sister, but 20-some years later, you'd be hard-pressed to find siblings who are more crazy about each other than these two.

 

There's nothing unique about this story. That's kind of what makes it special. But it is an Advent story, because--like just about anyone you can name in the biblical passages we read at this time of year--God sends something wholly unexpected to God's people: Zechariah, Elizabeth, Mary, Joseph, John the Baptist, the shepherds. We hope or pray for what we want or what we think we need. And sometimes we don't get it. Instead, we get something more wonderful than we could have asked for or imagined.