Learning to Say Yes

By Melinda Sallé, Development Director

A Message I Didn’t Expect

Ten years ago, out of the blue, I received a Facebook message from a dear friend asking me to pray about joining her on a mission trip to China. She added, almost casually, “I feel like you have a heart for orphans.”

I remember staring at the screen, a little stunned.

My first reaction was an immediate and quiet no. I was a mom of four. I couldn’t just leave for ten days. I hated flying. We didn’t have extra money. I didn’t want to travel across the world with people I barely knew. I didn’t even let myself seriously consider it.

I said I’d pray about it, but my heart wasn’t really in it. Still, the fact that she had thought of me — seemingly out of nowhere — lingered. Maybe that wasn’t random. Maybe God had something to say.

Over time, through circumstances I still struggle to fully explain, God made it clear: I was supposed to go.

I grew up in church. I knew the language of faith. I had heard countless testimonies and watched God answer prayers in other people’s lives. But I had lived carefully, safely. I had done what was expected. And somewhere along the way, I realized I rarely stepped out when obedience felt uncomfortable or risky. I wondered if I had been missing something — not because I didn’t believe, but because I hadn’t really paid attention when God asked me to move.

Even before I ever boarded a plane, God was at work in me. I was scared. I had moments of panic and doubt. But beneath all of it was a quiet certainty that I had heard Him. I knew my weakness. I also knew His strength.

My First Trip to China

As our plane descended into China, I pressed my face to the window, taking in the mountains and deep ravines below. My heart felt full in a way I couldn’t explain. Later that day, when we visited the orphanage for the first time, and I saw the faces of those precious little ones, my heart was crushed into a million pieces. My life, my “stuff,” my problems all seemed so insignificant in comparison to these little treasures who had no one — no one, that is, except God.

Throughout that week, the visible changes in many of the children were amazing. God gave us the ability to touch lives and see miracles accomplished, miracles that were already having an impact on those little ones.

When it was time to leave, I knew I wasn’t the same person who had arrived. As our plane lifted off from Beijing, I whispered to myself, “I will be back, China.” I didn’t want to return to the life I had lived before — comfortable, careful, unchanged. I had learned that saying yes, even when you’re afraid, can wake you up, change you, and draw you closer to God.

Nearly Impossible

I didn’t expect what came next.

I fell in love with a little boy.

I can’t point to one single reason. Maybe it was his eyes. Or the way he cried when I put him down, as if he already knew me. He fell asleep on me every day, gripping my shirt with one small hand, sucking his thumb — so much like my baby Luke back home. The burning question in my mind was whether God was pressing on my heart to adopt.

But no. They all told me no. My team leader and the other adoptive parents on my team.

This isn’t the way adoption works. The paperwork. The red tape. The timing. It was all wrong and nearly impossible.

Nearly.

But God loves nearly impossible.

The next morning, the morning of goodbyes, God held me. He whispered peace into every fiber of my being. I whispered blessings over that little boy: that he would love Jesus, that he would be adopted into a family who loved Him too. I whispered, “I hope I am your mommy.” And I sang songs of peace and hope over him, again and again.

Then I boarded a plane, not knowing if I would ever see him again.

God Heard

Months later, on May 5, 2015, we were matched with our son. The detail that still leaves us in awe is this: we received our log in date — meaning we were finally eligible to be matched — just an hour and a half before his file arrived at our agency. If his file had arrived earlier, we would not have been able to be matched with him.

Our fifth child. Samuel Henry Sallé.

Samuel means “God hears.” And He did.

And just like that, we received travel approval. Flights were booked. We were going to China to bring our baby boy home.

As we prepared to leave, I couldn’t stop thinking about how his little life was about to be turned upside down. I prayed that he would feel safe, secure, and loved, that he would attach quickly, and that God would keep him from fear.

Today, Sam is an 11-year-old full of life — healthy, joyful, surrounded by siblings who adore him. He plays sports, fills our home with laughter, and reminds us daily of God’s faithfulness.

This story stays with me not because it’s extraordinary, but because it began so ordinarily — with a message, a hesitation, a quiet yes. It’s a reminder that obedience doesn’t always make sense in the moment, and that God often works through our fear rather than around it.

I’m still learning that lesson. Still listening. Still saying yes when I can.

And I’m grateful every day that God heard our prayers.

Why This Story Still Matters

This story is not just about our family. It’s about what can happen when ordinary people say yes to God.

There are still children like Sam waiting. Waiting to be held. Waiting to be loved. Waiting for someone to step out in faith and say yes — to adoption, to a mission trip, to supporting the work that makes these stories possible.

As we close out this year, I invite you to consider how God might be calling you to be part of this work. Maybe that looks like a financial gift that helps a family take the next step. Maybe it’s considering a mission trip, like the one that changed everything for me. Maybe it’s praying about adoption or foster care. Or maybe it’s simply saying yes where God has been nudging your heart.

Your involvement, whether through giving, going, or praying, has eternal impact.

Thank you for being part of this work. Thank you for helping turn “nearly impossible” into miracles.