Faithful With What We Were Given

In the Parable of the Talents found in Matthew 25:14–30, Jesus tells of a master who entrusted his servants with different amounts of money before going on a journey. To one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one, each according to his ability. When the master returned, he did not judge them by comparison to one another, but by what they did with what they were given. That parable has taken on a deeper meaning for Dellaina and me as we reflect on our journey to childbirth.

When we were married in July of 1993, we believed we would immediately begin building a family together. Instead, we were handed something different, infertility, uncertainty, and years of waiting. At the time, it did not feel like a gift. It felt like loss. Month after month, doctor visit after doctor visit, we wondered why something so natural for others seemed impossible for us.

We tried everything within our means, basal body temperature tracking, medications like Clomid and Provera, surgeries, and eventually IVF. Each attempt carried hope. Each failure carried grief. There were moments when I questioned God. There were moments when I lost hope entirely. We cried. We argued. We wondered if we were being punished. But through it all, something was quietly growing in us....perseverance.

Looking back, I realize we were being entrusted with something different than what we had asked for. Just like in the parable, we were not given the same “talent” as others. Some couples were given children quickly. We were given waiting. We were given struggle. We were given the opportunity to decide whether we would bury our faith in disappointment or invest it in trust.

During those years, we raised Marcus and Michael. Dellaina stepped into motherhood without hesitation and loved those boys as her own. Had we conceived immediately, would that bond have been as deep? Would those early years have shaped our marriage and our family in the same way? God was building something in us that we could not yet see.

When IVF finally became financially possible, we believed the breakthrough had arrived. We endured multiple rounds, emotional highs and devastating lows. When we briefly carried twins only to lose them at six weeks, it felt like our hearts were ripped from our chest. That may have been the closest I ever came to burying my talent in anger. I cursed God. I questioned His goodness. But even then, He did not leave us.

After closing the IVF chapter, we said yes to fostering. We opened our home and our hearts to a brother and sister, only to experience another loss when adoption was not possible. Yet even in that heartbreak, we had loved well. We had invested compassion. We had given stability and care. That, too, mattered.

Then came the call in December of 2012 about a four-year-old girl who needed a home. We drove to Charlotte not knowing our future, only knowing we were willing to love again. Isabell entered our lives with joy and confidence, as if she had always belonged. Her adoption was finalized in 2013, and in many ways, she restored laughter to our home.

Two years later, after Disney, after Kentucky, after a routine doctor visit meant to rule out serious illness, we heard words we never expected to hear: “You are pregnant.” Even then, fear followed us. A short cervix. Hospital admission. Bed rest. A cerclage. I remember sitting alone in a hospital chapel praying harder than I ever had before. If faith was a talent, this was the moment to invest it fully.

Week 27 came and passed. Then 28, 29, 30… and on December 19, 2015, Gabriella Love Torres was born at 38 weeks. A miracle in every sense of the word. Not because we deserved it. Not because we earned it. But because in God’s timing, this was the plan.

Today, when I read the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” I do not think about money or success. I think about stewardship of pain, perseverance, marriage, and faith. We were not given the same journey as others, but we were given a journey. And by God’s grace, we did not bury it. We invested love into Marcus and Michael. We invested hope through IVF. We invested courage through fostering. We invested faith through adoption. And in His perfect time, God multiplied what we placed in His hands.

If you are in a season of waiting, do not assume you have been given less. You may simply have been entrusted with something different. God has a plan. Have faith. Seek understanding. And above all, be faithful with what He has placed in your hands.

A Closing Prayer

Heavenly Father,

We come before You with grateful hearts. When we look back over our journey, the waiting, the heartbreak, the anger, the tears, the restoration. We see Your hand even in the moments when we did not understand. You were present in every doctor’s visit, every failed attempt, every lonely prayer whispered in the dark.

Lord, forgive us for the times we doubted You. Forgive me for the moments I let frustration turn into anger. Thank You for loving us even when our faith was weak. Thank You for strengthening our marriage when it felt like it might break. Thank You for using every trial to shape us, refine us, and draw us closer to You and to each other.

Father, we thank You for Marcus and Michael, for the privilege of raising them and loving them. We thank You for the children we were able to pour into along the way. We thank You for the brother and sister who taught us how to love again, even in loss. We thank You for Isabell, who restored joy to our home. And we thank You for Gabriella Love, a miracle we once believed impossible.

For those who are still waiting, still praying, still hurting, be near to them, Lord. Remind them that You are not absent in their pain. Help them trust that Your timing is perfect, even when it feels delayed. Give them strength to remain faithful with what You have placed in their hands today.

Teach us all to invest our faith instead of burying it in fear. Help us to see that Your plans are greater than our understanding. And remind us daily of this simple truth, "Dios ama a todos" - God loves everyone. Your love does not run out. Your mercy does not fail. Your promises do not return void.

We surrender our story to You, trusting that You are still writing it.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.