But for the past 10 years, that vision eluded them. Married in their mid-30s, the couple had difficulties bearing a child.

Infertility treatments resulted in eight pregnancies, followed by eight heartaches from miscarriages. After carrying twin boys for 23 weeks and losing them, the Ihlenburgs gave up.

They turned to adoption, inquiring about Chinese and Russian children. But the process was long and expensive.

When their neighbors introduced them to two girls they had adopted through the foster care system, their hopes soared once again.

They filled out the paperwork, completed fingerprint and criminal background checks, and invited a social worker to visit their Durham home.

After so many false starts, it seemed their quest for a family might finally be realized. Like Mary and Joseph on that first Christmas, who overcame hardship as they trekked to Bethlehem to be counted in a census while Mary was due to give birth to Jesus, the Ihlenburgs wanted nothing more than to gather as a family -- mother, father and child.

Rhonda, now 43, and Andy, 44, prayed fervently for God to intervene.

But their journey was only beginning.

In July 2005, Rhonda came down with strep throat. She was so sick she needed to be hospitalized. Her voice was gone and so was her ability to communicate with the private adoption agency she was talking to almost daily.

Rhonda had always dreamed of having a happy, loving family.

"I was the little girl with the doll playing mommy," she said.

In her relationship with Andy, she took the lead when it came to having a baby. She did the research, made the inquiries and renewed Andy's hope when he had all but given up.

Lying in a hospital bed on Aug. 1, she got a call from a social worker, a friend of a friend, who told her a woman in Asheville had surrendered a newborn at a fire station a few days earlier. The boy was healthy and would be available through another adoption agency.

One little thing

There was just one potential issue: the boy was biracial. His mother was black; his father, white.

Rhonda Ihlenburg didn't skip a beat. Yes, she said. Yes, she'd take him. "I would have a taken a polka-dotted child, I wanted a child so badly," she said later.

Since the Ihlenburgs didn't have the money to adopt the boy immediately, they took him in as foster parents, thinking that once they saved enough money, they would adopt him outright.

Andy enrolled in a "boot camp for new dads" at WakeMed, where he learned to how to hold babies and change diapers.

Two weeks later, the Ihlenburgs arranged to pick up the baby from the adoption agency. The designated meeting point was the Burger King parking lot on Poole Road in Raleigh.

At their church, Bethesda Baptist in Durham, people joked that the baby was the best takeout they ever got at Burger King. Some called him "Whopper Jr."

He was a beautiful boy with big brown eyes; the Ihlenburgs named him Joseph.

It seemed as if their life's longing had been fulfilled.

Last year at Christmas, they were joyous. The three traveled to Michigan to visit Andy's family, and to Virginia to visit Rhonda's. Joseph, then 6 months old, liked nothing better than to rip wrapping paper off his many gifts. The family of Rhonda's dreams was almost coming true.

Almost.

A complication

In August, Andy's ear and throat became sore. He went to a specialist expecting to come home with a prescription for an antibiotic. Instead, he came home with a devastating diagnosis: throat cancer.

Andy was just settling in to his new job as a technical writer for IBM. Rhonda was working as a nurse at UNC Hospital's pediatric intensive care unit. Joseph had just celebrated his first birthday.

As Andy began to navigate a host of chemotherapy and radiation treatments, Rhonda remembered that the couple's foster-care license was due to expire in two months.

With Andy's health seriously compromised, the couple feared losing their license -- and losing Joseph.

They had been able to save $10,000 toward Joseph's adoption, but they needed $6,000 more to make it final and avoid having to reapply for a foster care license.

A new Christian who had been baptized in 2004, Andy prayed to God for healing. And though he was barely able to speak, he kept in close touch with his pastor at Bethesda Baptist, the Rev. Clay Stevens.

In October, Stevens took the pulpit at each of the three Sunday morning services and told members about the Ihlenburgs' plight -- the couple's desire for a child, the failed pregnancies, the foster care adoption, and then Andy's illness.

"As brothers and sisters in Christ, we have an obligation to minister and care for one another," he said.

Attendance was down that day, and those who did come to church didn't know they would be asked to make a donation.

Answering the call

But on Sunday evening, Stevens got a call from one of the ushers. Church members, the usher said, had raised $16,000 -- the entire amount needed for the adoption. Stevens called the Ihlenburgs.

The couple was ecstatic.

"It was a blessing from God," said Andy. "There's no other way it could have happened."

On Oct. 13, the Ihlenburgs paid the adoption costs in full. Joseph was theirs. Completely, officially theirs.

Two weeks ago, Andy completed his chemotherapy and radiation treatment. He still can't eat on his own, but he's growing stronger every day. A CT scan is scheduled for January, but the most recent blood tests show he's better.

On Friday, the Ihlenburgs left for Virginia to celebrate Christmas with Rhonda's folks. She and Andy have decided they won't be exchanging gifts this year. They've already received the greatest gift they could imagine.

Joseph.

A family.