Children Of Dreams Part 15

Manisha wanted to walk around so the two of them took off leaving me alone. I took another sip of my c.o.ke as I watched the captions on the television screen. Not bad, I thought to myself. I wondered if I knew the captioner. CNN was captioned by Vitac, one of NCI's compet.i.tors. Too bad they didn't have Fox News on. Every Monday night, 9:00 to 11:00 p.m. I would caption "Hannity and Colmes" and "On the Record" with Greta Van Susteren. I checked my time. "Hannity and Colmes" was on, but the plane would be here soon, about 9:45 p.m., and my thoughts focused on Joy.

Shortly Curtis and Manisha returned as the overhead sign lit up that the plane from Newark, New Jersey, was approaching. I stood up and walked over to peer out the dark window. A few minutes later a large jet cautiously approached its resting spot. The airport employees pulled the portable gangplank up to the plane and latched it to the plane's side. Soon people began to pour through the open doors. Curtis, Manisha and I stood and waited, looking for a large woman, one Vietnamese child, and a baby to appear. The plane must have been completely full as huge numbers of pa.s.sengers exited. Humanity kept pouring through the doors as I excitedly waited in antic.i.p.ation. The ma.s.s exodus slowed down to a trickle and there was still no sign of them.

"I wondered if they missed the plane," I mused to myself, afraid to say anything out loud. We waited another minute and no one else exited through the doors. I double checked the flight number and date. Did I make a mistake? I had almost given up hope they were on the plane when there appeared through the doorway a heavy set woman precariously walking with a cane, pus.h.i.+ng Joy in a stroller, and one little girl, Jade, her daughter, following closely behind.

"There they are," I shouted, stating the obvious. I should have known Anne would be the last person off the plane because of her leg. We hurriedly walked over to them. Exhausted, Anne looked relieved to see me. I could tell the last few days had been an ordeal.

"Joy did great," she said, "mostly sleeping."

I squatted down to eye level in front of Joy's stroller.

"Do you remember me?" I asked her.

She looked at me questioningly, as if to say, "Why did you leave me in Vietnam?" Someday I would explain it all, I thought to myself, and reached over and gave her a big hug.

"I want to push her," Manisha insisted.

Anne was more than willing to relinquish responsibility of Joy to her new big sister. As Manisha grabbed the handlebars of the stroller, I quickly stepped back a few feet to take a picture.

"Smile." The camera responded with a click as I snapped the first picture of my two daughters together.

"Can I hold her?" Manisha asked.

I walked back over to Joy and unsnapped the safety belt around her waist. She was holding her favorite toy I had left with her, a little round yellow rattle with a fake mirror on the inside. I lifted her out of the stroller and handed her to Manisha. Joy stared at the new person whom she had never met. Looking tired from her journey, she seemed content to let things take their course.

Manisha walked around proudly holding Joy on her hip and giving her a peck on the forehead. I was thankful that she had so much love to give her. Manisha was happy to hold her new sister, and it gave me a few minutes to sit and talk to Anne.

Curtis had walked off to check on the progress of the luggage, and Jade, who seemed to have been overlooked during the arrival, stood by holding several bags which she gladly set down beside us. Anne handed me some paperwork, including Joy's pa.s.sport and adoption papers. I would have to sort through them later. I sat beside Anne on the bench as we watched Manisha and Joy together.

"What is this?" I asked, as I peered into the bags Jade had discarded. In one was an adult-sized yellow sweats.h.i.+rt.

"It was so cold in the New York airport and I had no warm clothes for Joy," Anne said. "A man saw her s.h.i.+vering and took his s.h.i.+rt off and put it on her."

I held up the yellow sweats.h.i.+rt and wondered who the man was. I would never be able to thank him personally, but G.o.d knew.

"Isn't it interesting, as young as Manisha is, that she knows to poke her hip out to hold her," Anne commented.

"Yes," I responded, "just like she's an old pro at it."

As we sat and rested, I contemplated the future, enjoying the scene of Joy and Manisha getting to know each other. There had only been a few times this side of paradise that seemed perfect and this was one of those blissful moments. I realized at that moment that G.o.d brought Joy to me and not any other child.

My first referral had hepat.i.tis and G.o.d had not given me peace to adopt her. The second referral, Thi My-Sa, was my child of prayer, but unable to be adopted by me because of paperwork. The third, Nguyen Thi My-Duyen, disappeared before I ever arrived in Vietnam, and finally, Joy.

I knew I was where I was supposed to be. Nothing had happened by accident, mistake, or coincidence. The past and the future receded into the background as I watched my two daughters together for the first time-a memory that would be stored in my treasure chest of G.o.d's blessings.

As Manisha continued to walk around with Joy nestled securely on her hip, I paused to reflect on another moment, one in the distant future. Would it not be that different when we arrived in heaven? Jesus would welcome us with scarred hands, embracing us with His perfect love. We would know we were His, bought with a price, our adoption papers sealed forever. What a reunion that would be when we truly arrived "home." This night was a foretaste of an even more perfect reunion, a symbol of what G.o.d has in store for all of us.

G.o.d had unleashed the chains of bondage to sin and healed me from the past. His grace had helped me to overcome my fears and given me strength in weariness. Only through His miracles had insurmountable obstacles been overcome. He had made what seemed impossible possible. Through all the storms, trials, and tribulations, He had vanquished the powers of deceit and deception. G.o.d answered my prayers, redeemed by His unfathomable love, by making me a mother to two orphaned children. He gave me a treasure hidden in a field and a pearl of great price. Through adoption I was able to create my family as G.o.d had given me my Children of Dreams.

Bits and Pieces.

In the beginning...

Genesis 1:1.

Although I grew up in a moral home, it was not a Christian home. As a young teen, I read the Bible in the darkness of my room under covers and was amazed at the humanity of Jesus Christ and His unrelenting love for those who hated him. It was as if I was among the ma.s.ses that listened to Him on the hills of Jerusalem. I was amazed by His teachings and accepted His salvation-so I could be with Him in heaven for all eternity. I didn't want to go to h.e.l.l.

Without a Christian worldview, my choices were based on human determination and not G.o.dly wisdom. Neil Armstrong's words when he stepped on the moon, "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind," resonated with my "nothing ventured, nothing gained" mentality. I believed I could "go where no man [or woman] had gone before," as the Enterprise did in the original Star Trek series. Whether it was chasing aliens on distant planets or becoming the next Jacques Cousteau, I thought if I made straight A's and met "Mr. Right," my dreams would come true. They didn't.

In the fall of 1985, I was a full-time student at the University of Florida when I returned home from school one day and discovered that my husband had packed his bags and left. I frantically called him to see where he was. Why wasn't he coming home? Did he not love me anymore?

After working six years as a court reporter putting him through graduate and medical school, he had promised me that I could return to school when he began his residency in radiation oncology. Obtaining my college degree was another "dream" that had been taken from me. Now all that mattered was my husband had left. I withdrew from college for the semester to deal with the crisis. We had a few counseling sessions, but he wasn't willing to work on the marriage. I continued to work on me.

The following January, I enrolled at Santa Fe College to retake the Calculus course I had dropped the previous fall. When I got to derivatives, a mental flashback to my husband abandoning me made it seem insurmountable. The professor had been covering derivatives the day I came home and discovered he was gone. Rather than dropping the course or communicating with my professor at Santa Fe College, I quit going. Despite attempts by my instructor to contact me, I never answered her calls. I received an "F" for the course on my otherwise impeccable record at Santa Fe College.

A few years later, when the divorce was final and G.o.d had given me new direction, an opportunity arose through the National Court Reporters a.s.sociation to enroll in the External Degree Program at the University of Alabama. The thought of earning that elusive college degree consumed me. Without missing a beat, I called the University of Alabama to obtain more information on applying to the program.

Suddenly that "F" in Calculus looked "d.a.m.ning" on my record. I had no one to blame except myself. I deserved the "F." There was nothing I could do to change it. The ink had long dried, recorded in the books for all to see, including the Registrar's Office at the University of Alabama.

I went to the Office of Student Affairs at Santa Fe College to obtain a copy of my transcript. Thirteen "A's" and one "F" were printed across my transcript. I shared with the counselor the circ.u.mstances surrounding the "F", lamenting how I wished I had dealt with it and how I hated seeing it on my permanent record. It never occurred to me that they could do anything about it. I asked her if she thought it would cause my application to be rejected from the University of Alabama.

The counselor told me to wait in her office for a few minutes and she would be right back. She left and returned shortly and handed me two sheets of paper. The first sheet contained my official transcript. On the second page, in large letters written across the Calculus I course were the words, No Record.

Santa Fe College had deleted the Calculus I cla.s.s from their computers. As far as they were concerned, I never took the course. There was "no record." I looked at the transcript page, and sure enough, Calculus I was not there. I didn't know colleges had it in their power to remove courses that students had taken and for which they received failing grades.

That day G.o.d showed me forgiveness. I left knowing I didn't deserve that kind of mercy. I realized G.o.d had revealed to me a greater truth. I had to forgive everybody that I had any bitterness toward if I wanted to receive G.o.d's forgiveness. The day marked a turning point in my life. I knew I was without excuse.

I couldn't just forgive once-it had to become a way of life. How could I be a good mother if I brought all of that baggage into a "forever" family with Manisha and Joy? Forgiveness was the cornerstone of my healing and essential for G.o.d's redemption.

It wasn't until after my painful divorce that I understood it is G.o.d who shapes our dreams and directs our paths. It was then that I gave all of my life to Jesus Christ-including my dreams. Little did I know what wonderful plans G.o.d had in store. Not that my life has been easy; if we embrace a radical Christianity, I don't think it will be. G.o.d took me as I was-bitter, hurt, and angry-and began a huge reconstruction project.

One hot afternoon when I arrived at my favorite pool to take a cool dip, a group of swimmers were already there with an a.s.sortment of things, including tanks, snorkels, flippers, face masks, and unusual, intimidating gadgets that I came to know later as octopuses and BCs. I jumped at the opportunity to learn how to scuba dive.

I could not have known then how G.o.d would use such an amazing pastime for His divine purposes. G.o.d had a plan to prepare me to be a single mother-He wanted to equip me to rescue two children from the remotest regions of the earth.

I was mesmerized by the unparalleled beauty of the waters of the deep. With unlimited visibility, air becomes blue, sand glistens like snow, eels mimic wavy stems of plants, and blue rays glide like a flock of birds. The high definition, Blu ray cinematography created a world of enchantment dotted with multi-colored coral, sea anemones, blue damsels, and grouper. If I was lucky, the occasional eel and nurse shark would reward me with a surprise appearance.

I often wondered why G.o.d would create an underwater world with so much diversity that most would never experience. I never felt closer to G.o.d than when swimming weightlessly in the ocean's depths, feeling His presence in every breath inhaled through my regulator. I had indeed met the Great Master, who cares for the simplest of creatures-even the little worm I discovered clinging to a sunken s.h.i.+p at fifty feet on a night dive. Never would I doubt that G.o.d was the Creator.

My dives throughout the world gave me allegorical clues to the great battle waged in the unseen world of good versus evil. The immediate dangers that lurked in the deep became metaphors to me for human sin and evil.

On a more practical level, Scuba diving helped me to develop self-esteem, overcome insecurity, face my fear of failure, and deal with not always being physically comfortable. I have some pretty tall tales I could tell.

Without G.o.d's work in my heart on so many different levels, I would have remained a miserable, wretched, person-codependent and insecure. I cringe when I think what I would have missed out on if G.o.d had not had mercy on me, but G.o.d promises to heal the brokenhearted and restore what the locusts have eaten.

G.o.d brought me through many adventures that became life lessons, more than enough to last a lifetime, but it was during the years in the "wilderness" before I left for Nepal, while in the crucible of suffering, that G.o.d did His greatest work on my heart. I realized, sitting in a chair at the Jacksonville Airport that cold night, it was only through forgiveness that G.o.d was able to fulfill my dreams, redeemed by His grace and mercy.

...choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve...

Joshua 24:15.

How are my daughters doing today? This was the most common question asked by the proofreaders of the first draft of my book. As I put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on Children of Dreams, I can't believe how quickly the years have slipped away. We have our children for just a short season. One day we turn around and our babies and toddlers are headed to school with backpacks and a lunchbox. We barely blink and they want the keys to our car. I hope the wedding bells and nursery are still a few years away.

Manisha Hope, my oldest, will be eighteen in just a few months. She would have died when she was seven if I had not adopted her. She would never have known the Lord, never felt a mother's love, or had a chance to become everything G.o.d created her to be.

Joy would have remained in the northern reaches of Vietnam without the opportunity to achieve her creative potential, to know Jesus personally, and to fill my heart with so much love. I would have spent the rest of my life never knowing the child G.o.d had chosen for me. Our Lord doesn't put any child with any parent. There is a great plan crafted by our heavenly Father from the beginning of time.

As much as I would like to think my children are mine, they aren't. They belong to G.o.d and I do not own them. They are on loan to me to raise and love for a few short years, painfully fleeting as I look back, but hopefully, when the Lord returns, He will say to me, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

Now that Manisha is almost an adult, I have been reflecting on what words of wisdom I will impart to her as she approaches adulthood. She will soon be stepping out into the world on her own, and I wonder whether I have done enough to prepare her for the harsh realities of life.

In so many ways I know I have failed because I am not perfect. We have all failed and come up wanting. But G.o.d loves Manisha and Joy more than I do, and I know my prayer and my heart's desire, above all else, for both of my girls, is for them to love the Lord with all their hearts. Ultimately, they will have to choose which road they will travel and which G.o.d they will serve-the G.o.d of the Bible, or a manmade G.o.d that could entice them away from everything I have tried to teach them and show them.

G.o.d was the perfect parent and Adam and Eve disobeyed Him. If the perfect Father can have rebellious children, it doesn't make me a bad parent if my children go up against everything I believe. Part of letting go is allowing them to choose how they will live and accepting them as they are, whether I agree with their lifestyle or not. I must love them anyway. G.o.d is our example. Help me, Lord Jesus, to be like You.

Some of the saddest stories I have heard are from adoptive parents whose children have chosen the wrong friends, made incredibly foolish choices, squandered amazing opportunities, or refused to acknowledge Jesus as their personal Savior. Often times the parents blame themselves for their children's mistakes.

Hopefully, in twenty years G.o.d can write HiStory, the testimony of two orphans who faithfully served Him, whether Manisha becomes a missionary, Joy a doctor, or they are "ordinary" in the eyes of the world but "heroes" to someone in need. For now, that part of the story must wait. At seventeen and ten, my daughters have barely begun to live, but G.o.d has given them the opportunity through adoption to become everything they were created to be. I hope as they both mature, they will dream big dreams, climb huge mountains, and continue to walk humbly with their G.o.d.

My treasure hidden in the mountains of Nepal, it seems like yesterday when Manisha and I first met and walked around the building picking flowers and admiring the birds. She is almost eighteen and the biggest issue we "fight over" is why I will not buy her a car. She is a beautiful young woman who has accepted Jesus as her Savior, and there is evidence of her relations.h.i.+p with Him in her life. Friends call her the "little mother," because she has been such a wonderful big sister to Joy (most of the time) for which I am thankful.

Getting through the teenage years with my oldest daughter has not been easy. We still have a couple of more years to go, and I pray that G.o.d will be with her each day, draw her unto Himself, and keep her safe. There is no room for pride when raising a teenager; it has been hard work but rewarding.

As an aside, Manisha's Algebra teacher this semester is the same professor that gave me the "F" and for which Santa Fe College removed the failing grade from my record-the object lesson G.o.d used to teach me the meaning of forgiveness. What would I have thought twenty-three years ago if I had known that someday that same professor would be my daughter's instructor?

Joy just turned ten and is now in fifth grade. It's been eight years since I was in Vietnam. My pearl of great price-how empty my life would have been without the one I almost didn't get. I have been homeschooling Joy for the past two years and I try to make it a lifestyle and not a drudgery (most of the time). We bought seasonal pa.s.ses to Disney World for a year and have made several trips to study the African animals, learn about wildlife, and develop a greater awareness of history through the elaborate exhibits. At Epcot, the World Showcase, I have introduced Joy to other cultures from around the world, and we've eaten at several of the restaurants offering French, German, and Moroccan cuisine.

Soon we will go on a kayaking trip to Atsena Otie Island off the coast of Cedar Key to study migratory birds and the history of the island. I have used homeschooling as an excuse to have fun and learn about G.o.d's great universe, where His handiwork is revealed in the precious life and beauty around us.

Joy is also a talented gymnast on the girls' gymnastics team and will compete at level eight in January. If she stays injury free and I can afford it, she has the physical agility and strength to go as far with it as she wants.

She received Jesus into her heart when she was young and asks many questions-she is my deep thinker and shallow thinker, my creative one and challenging one. Give her paper and pencil and she's happy. I learned early on how much she loved to draw when walls had scribbles that appeared from nowhere and books had marks that I knew weren't "copyrighted." Her love notes have inspired me to someday make a book of "Love Notes to Mom." I wish there were a way I could bottle up her creativity and sell it. I could make a fortune. With great creativity and talent come great challenges. I am sure my hair will be a beautiful shade of silvery gray by the time I get her through the teenage years.

I wouldn't trade my children for anything in the world (although they might trade me in for a younger version because, in their words, "you are old"). As G.o.d's precious gifts, I am amazed, especially now that I wrote Children of Dreams, how G.o.d did what was humanly impossible-without an awesome G.o.d, I wouldn't have either of my daughters!

Parenting is the hardest job in the world. Imperfect and full of flaws, my ability to be a single parent has been harder than anything I could have imagined. My kids could give plenty of examples of all my foibles, but love covers a mult.i.tude of sins, fortunately.

I never set out to be a homeschooling mom. It just happened because both my children do so much better academically with one-on-one teaching, as shown by the Iowa Skills test scores each year. But my main goal has been to give my children a Christian worldview. If I accomplish that, I feel my most important objective will have been reached and the academic achievement will be gravy.

My favorite line for "keeping on" is something I heard a few years ago at the Homeschooling Convention in Orlando: The worst day homeschooling is better than the best day in public or private school. I have done all three and truly believe it.

Both my daughters would receive an "A plus" in Americanism. I did westernize Manisha after all my worries to the contrary. They have adjusted well to growing up in a single-parent family (they don't know anything different, unlike children from divorce). As far as I know, they have never experienced any prejudice. I don't even think Joy would know what it means. On the surface, an outsider would never know the depravity from which they came.

...I am the Lord who heals you.

Exodus 15:26.

Praise the Lord that Manisha has been off seizure medicine for six years and hasn't had a seizure in eight years. Hopefully neurocysticercosis will never raise its ugly head again. As I told the insurance company, the parasite died and can't come back to life. Good riddance!

He will respond to the prayer of the dest.i.tute.

Psalm 102:17.

There was one bit of unfinished business that haunted me. It was so deep I never shared it with anyone because I didn't think anyone would understand. In some ways I couldn't understand, except in quiet moments, light, wispy thoughts would drift into my consciousness from the past, dream-like, from deep within my soul. Just like the little dog, Fifi, that many years ago I rescued, I wanted to know that the little girl, Thi My-Sa, whom I prayed about for so long, was happy and loved. The image of her sitting in what looked like a steel cage with bars never left me even after I came home with Joy. I never got over the fact that I had left her there with an uncertain future.

Even when Anne mentioned to me in pa.s.sing, while I was at her home in Ho Chi Minh, that she was being adopted in March, I struggled emotionally, for I felt that I had let her down. I had prayed concerning Thi My-Sa for months after she was found in a store being beaten by somebody that was not her mother and taken away to the orphanage by strangers. I wanted to ask Anne more, but every time I tried, something prevented me from finding out anything. Perhaps Anne was unwilling to talk about it, but I had loved this little girl that had such a difficult beginning.

I was glad she was eventually adopted, but there are always the "what if's"? Suppose I had waited just a little bit longer? I knew that Joy was supposed to be my daughter, so why did I have such a hard time letting go of Thi My-Sa? Could it be that my prayers were meant to "keep her," like I had kept Fifi many years earlier until her new master arrived? Maybe my prayers had protected her, given her a chance, even as she waited month after month.

Several months after Joy arrived home from Vietnam, Jackie, the adoptive mother from Canada, whom I had met in Hanoi, emailed me asking if the person who had adopted Thi My-Sa could contact me. She knew someone that knew her, and through the grapevine of Vietnamese adoptive parents, had somehow tracked me down. I wondered, could this be G.o.d's way, in His mercy, of bringing me closure? Of letting me know that Thi My-Sa was loved, was being raised in a G.o.dly home, and that my prayers had made a difference? Could I be sure I had done the right thing in relinquis.h.i.+ng her and not feel guilty about it?

I knew Anne would never tell me the name of the family or give me their contact information. Anyway, who would understand how I felt? I had my two children, so what difference would it make? It made a difference in my soul. Once you have a place in your heart for a person, that spot belongs to them, whether it's a child, a friend, or a mentor. No other child can replace that child. Every child has her "special place."

When I received the email from Jackie, I was stunned. Strangely enough, they lived in Gainesville, Texas. I was thrilled to think the family wanted to contact me, but reluctant to think it would ever happen. I didn't want to get my hopes up. After all that I had been through, I didn't want to be disappointed.

I will let Kris speak here as she says so well how G.o.d in His mercy called her to get in touch with me: I said to Anne, "Well, Joy is the name I want to name her."

Anne laughed. "That is a coincidence. The lady who was going to adopt her named her daughter that she adopted Joy."

I said, "A coincidence?"

She said, "Well, she was destined for Gainesville, but not Florida-Texas."

I asked her for your email or address, and she wasn't forthcoming, pleading disorganization. She didn't want us to get together, for Abbey had two different sets of doc.u.ments and was two people. The birth certificate you had put her three months older than the one I had, with two different names.

Interesting.

I was compelled to find you.

I knew I had to find you.

I knew in my heart you hurt from it, at least then.

I had to see you. I had to show you.

I had to let you know she was happy with us.

I knew instinctively you were like me, and when you could find her happy, any leftover feelings would dissipate.

I knew when we drove thru Gainesville the first Christmas and I didn't know how to reach you [by phone], I grieved for you.

For me. For her.

I knew she had to make that connection.

I felt empty for the whole trip, for you to be with us for a brief time.

For you to see us. For us to see you.