Adoption is not for wimps!  No part of it.  Not for the adoptee, the adoptive parents, or the birth mom.  The beautiful parts FAR outweigh the heavy or hard parts…hands down!

I just want to be real.  Finding your birth family is not always like the the tv show Long Lost Family or clips on GMA or the evening news.  There are lots of reasons children are placed for adoption.  I imagine that most of the time, it is a long, hard decision.  Even if it is a decision made quickly and without much thought, the reality of it has to be hard at some point.

So, a couple weeks ago I sent another letter to my birth mom.  I typed it in large, bold print due to her vision issues.  Included in the letter were a few questions that I didn’t think to ask her when I met her last summer.  I didn’t know if she would ever respond.  But on Saturday an envelope came addressed to me in hand writing I knew was Jean Anne’s.  This is what she sent me.

Yep, that’s all that was in the envelope.   And I’m guessing she can’t remember my last name either.  She’s delightful!   Not gonna lie, I had some nice names for her when I opened this.  My first thoughts were “I’m done.  No more.”  I mean, I’m a pretty strong person.  But seriously, that’s just mean!  I told Joe, I think I literally, physically would have died if I had been raised by her.  I was a very sensitive child.  I think she would have broken my spirit.

My first instinct is to just withdraw.  And honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever reach out to her again.  She’s made it very clear she wants nothing to do with me.  But I did promise to obey whatever the Lord asks of me.  So, I can only be prayerful.  Prayerful for me to hear God’s voice and not make this all about me, but always make it all about Him.  Prayerful for Jean Anne to have her heart softened for the Gospel.  Honestly, I don’t care if she wants to know me at this point.  But I do care that she knows the love of Jesus before her days are over on earth.

Part of me honestly thought maybe I should just drop all of this…all parts of my birth family.  It is easy to feel fearful.  It’s putting myself out there.  And rejection sucks.  But, in about a month I’m going to meet two sisters.  They will be the first I’ve met besides Jean Anne.  I don’t put my hope in them or anyone else…only in God.  And He Is Enough!!!

As any good, nerdy bibliophile would do, here are the books I read this year with a 0-5 ranking scale (and a few other unsolicited comments).  Since I started commuting about 25 minutes each way this year, I have listened to a few of these books.  But otherwise, read the hard copies.  Without further ado, here are my books in the order I read them.

1.  Swimming Lessons by Claire Fuller  3.0
2. Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate 5.0 ***One of my absolute favorites!!
3. Pachinko by Min Jin Lee 4.0  (Very dark)
4. Daring to Hope: Finding God’s Goodness in the Broken and the Beautiful by Katie Davis Majors  3.5
5. The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas 5.0  ***Very important book!!!***
6. Hum If You  Don’t Know The Words by Bianca Marais 4.0
7. Fates and Traitors by Jennifer Chiaverini 4.0
8. Undefeated: Jim Thorpe and the Carlisle Indian School Football Team by Steve Sheinkin  3.75  I knew nothing about this part of Jim Thorpe’s life, very interesting.
9. The Insanity of God: A True Story of Faith Resurrected by Nik Ripken 4.0
10. A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley 1.0 CNF (Could Not Finish)  So Boring!!!
11. Sweet Tea Tuesdays by Ashley Farley 4.0  Great summer read!
12. Love and Other Words by Christina Lauren 4.0
13. Same Beach, Next Year by Dorothea Benton Frank 4.0 Rough start, but then gets better.
14. Anything Is Possible by Elizabeth Strout 5.0  ***I love this author.  Had me hooked on page 1!!
15. Everything I Never I Told You by Celeste Ng 4.0 
16. The High Tide Club by Mary Kay Andrews 5.0  Great summer read!
17. The Last Days of Cafe Leila by Donia Bijan 4.0
18. The Hypnotist’s Love Story by Liane Moriarty 5.0  *Another one of my favorite authors
19. A Long Way Home by Saroo  Brierly 5.0  **This memoir touched my heart!  Even though our stories are very different, I certainly could relate to a lot of Saroo’s feelings as an adoptee.  (Listened to this one.)
20. The Last Anniversary by Liane Moriarty 4.0
21. Seven Women: And the Secret of Their Greatness by Eric Metaxas 3.75  Dry, but good.  Loved learning more about these women of faith!  (Listened to this one)
22. Every Note Played by Lisa Genova 4.0 Both beautiful and horribly painful!  Characters are difficult and hard to love, yet you just can’t stop.  (Listened to this one.)
23. Beartown by Fredrik Backman 3.0 I love this author, but this was my least favorite of his books.  There was just no light in this book!
24. Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance by Barack Obama 4.0  (I listened to this one and really enjoyed it.)
25. The Whole Town’s Talking by Fannie Flagg  3.75  Loved the first 3/4 of the book, then it went a little south for me.  (Listened to this one)
26. No One Ever Asked by Katie Ganshert  4.0 
27. Two Steps Forward by Graeme Simsion 4.0
28. Meet Me at the Museum by Anne Youngson  5.0  It’s a book full of letters…what’s not to love!  If you loved Guernsey, you’ve got to read this one!
29.  The Man I Never Met: A Memoir by Adam Schefter  3.0
30. Class Mom by Laurie Gelman 5.0  FUNNIEST BOOK OF THE YEAR!!!  I laughed until I cried!!!  Totally irreverent, very cheeky.  Hilarious!!!
31. All You Can Ever Know: A Memoir by Nicole Chung 5.0  *** This book speaks out loud the words my heart has been saying!***
32. Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult 5.0  ***Powerful.  Poignant.  Articulate.  Haunting**
33. Educated by Tara Westover 4.0  I wanted to love this one, but had lots of mixed feelings.  Wished she had really gone more into her story about education too.
34. The Gospel Comes with a House Key by Rosaria Champagne Butterfield 3.0 Really struggled with this one…mixed feelings.
35. David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits, and the Art of Battling Giants by Malcolm Gladwell 4.0  Really interesting.  Great for teachers and parents.  I listened to this one…might have struggled to finish if I was reading hard copy.
36. Tending Roses by Lisa Wingate  4.0
37. Why Not Me?  by Mindy Kaling 3.0
38. The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead ***CNF…wanted to love it, but it was hard to follow and kind of went around in circles.***
39. Nine Perfect Strangers by Liane Moriarity 4.0  
40. The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream by Barack Obama 4.0
41. Turtles All The Way Down by John Green 3.0 
42. The Clockmaker’s Daughter by Kate Morton  3.5   Needed a cheat sheet to keep up with all the characters and centuries it’s written in.  SO.  MANY.  WORDS.
43. Come, Let Us Adore Him: A Daily Advent Devotional by Paul David Tripp  4.0

Here’s to another year full of learning, laughing and getting lost in books!  Cheers!

So many…  So much…  That’s what this year has been.  So many changes.  So many feelings.  So much change.  So much to be thankful for.

I went fifty something years without knowing the beginning of my story.  I knew little bits and pieces, but no details.  Honestly, I didn’t have a lot of questions.  I’m not the most curious person in the world.  My family was my family.  It was that simple for me.  I was aware that I didn’t have a mom and dad who I favored in looks.  Mostly, I think I was curious if I looked like someone out there.  Truth be told, I thought about my birth mom throughout my life, but never gave much thought to my birth dad.

As the past year has unfolded, I’ve found more and more birth family connections.  The hardest part it that I have always known I had a story out there somewhere…most of them did not.  I imagine it’s quite hard to be on the other side of this story.  It’s complicated and confusing, but here’s the basic gist of it all.  My birth mom had two sons, C and K, before having me.  She raised both boys, and gave me up for adoption.  She was unmarried when I was born.  We all have different fathers.  C passed away several years ago, K is still living.  They were 6 and 2 years older than me.  K knows about me, but I haven’t had any conversations or exchange with him, although I text with his wife regularly.  It must be quite a shock to get the news about  me.

My bio dad had a daughter, K, he did not know about for many years, from a teenage relationship he had.  She got to know him once she was grown and had a relationship with him until he passed away.  He then married and had two daughters, CA and D.  He raised those daughters with his first wife.  After divorcing his first wife, he dated my bio mom, JA.  I do not believe she told him she was pregnant with me.  They had broken up and he married his second wife about a month before I was born.  His second wife had one daughter, J, who is about 10-12 years older than me.  He adopted her later in life and helped raise her.  So…there are 5 of us girls, I’m the youngest (and most recent surprise).  Sadly, CA passed away back in the 1980’s.  I have not had any contact with D, I was quite a shock to her too!  I have emailed and texted with J.  And K and I recently found each other and have spoken on the phone and by email.  She’s the first bio-sibling I’ve actually spoken to.  She could not have been more welcoming!  I also have a niece (one of D’s daughters) who I text with regularly who has been wonderful.  And…she and I have a pretty striking resemblance.  I’ll insert some side-by-side photos, several relatives, including my birth dad and mom.

So, I didn’t really think I had any expectations coming into this whole journey.  I had a mom and a dad I love, I wasn’t looking for replacements.  I have a brother I love, no replacement needed.  But as I’ve walked this road, I realize there was an expectation I’ve carried all my life.  I expected my birth mom to have been thinking of me.  I expected that in September each year she must have wondered if I was okay.  I expected that she had most likely told people I had died, and kept the secret of my adoption.  But I also expected her to somehow, deep down, to care.  I didn’t expect to be welcomed whole heartedly into her life or her family.  But I think I expected there to be some sign of relief…or joy…or peace.  So, to be fully honest, it was disappointing in that sense.  She was not happy to see me, or have any desire to tell anyone about me.

BUT GOD…

I honestly didn’t know why God had asked me to walk this road.  Again…it was not a lifelong desire of mine!  But He asked me to go on this journey and to be obedient.  And He made it clear, it wasn’t about me, it was about Him.  It was about God showing himself to JA.  BUT…it was also about Him showing himself more and more to me.

Lots of adoptees struggle with rejection issues.  I have always felt loved and chosen.  And even when it was a crazy train at our house, I never felt like my adoption was linked to rejection.

When we had Harrison, I felt like I understood more of God’s love for me.  When we adopted Clara, I saw more clearly about God’s choosing me.  But in this journey, He showed me so many ways that He intervened on my behalf since before I was born.  The fact that my very prideful birthmom went to a church to ask for help, is in itself, a miracle.  The fact that God had moved my grandparents from the big city of Lincoln, Nebraska to the boot heel of Missouri (it’s in the middle of nowhere, people) just a couple of years before I was born…another miracle.  There are so few people that JA would have trusted to keep her secret, arrange her adoption, yet God placed my grandparents in her life.

I think about what my life would have been like in my birth mom’s home.  She didn’t show affection to her boys or say “I love you”.  When I was little, all you had to do was raise your voice at me and I’d be in tears.  I was very tender and easily embarrassed.  It’s hard to imagine how different life would have been.  I don’t waste much time thinking of that, because that was not the plan God had for my life.  I have so much to be thankful for.

Throughout my life, I have a playlist from different seasons.  If I hear The Doobie Brother Takin It To The Streets, I’m in a VW bug with my friend Linda Criner, going to the lake in North Platte.  The Knack…high school boyfriend.  Steely Dan…freshman year at OSU.  During this season, I listened to Cory Asbury’s album “Reckless Love”.  I literally listened to it over and over as I drove to Missouri to meet JA.  I hope it speaks to your heart like it speaks to mine!

Reckless Love

It felt like I’ve been reading a really good book.  Love the characters.  Love the story.  Favorite book ever.  But my book was missing the first chapter.  I feel like I know the story well enough without having that first chapter.  But, I’m a little curious if there were any details I’ve missed that are important to the story.  That’s the best way I can describe being adopted (for me).

So…picking up where I left off…I walked into JA’s house.  I took her hand and said “Hi Jean Anne, I’m Joy.”  Her response?  “I know who you are.”  She was kind to welcome us into her home, which I honestly never dreamed would happen.  I honestly went to PB thinking we would look around, take some photos of places, but probably not meet JA.  Yet, here we were, in her living room.  There were no hugs.  No show of emotion from JA.  And God reminded me…”this is about Me.  Show her the love of Christ.”  So, I took a deep breath and we began a conversation.

I asked what she remembered about my grandparents.  She said she couldn’t place them.  Can’t really remember them.  I asked what she remembered about when I was born.  She said “not much.”  I waited a moment.  Then she said “they told me that ‘that’ baby died.”  Really?  “I don’t remember who it was, but someone at the hospital told me that ‘that’ baby died.”  Even though I know this is not the truth, I tell her how sorry I am that she experienced that.  Her response?  “You have no idea!”  I don’t!

For the next 45 minutes she talked. And she was honest, except about remembering my grandparents and saying that she thought I had died, I feel like she was honest.  She told me who my birth father was.  And it totally lines up on my DNA results.  (That “first cousin” that showed up earlier, Angela…she’s actually my niece.)  She told me she had dated my birth dad and they even talked about getting married.  “Clearly that never happened!” she said.

JA told me quite a few things about her family and her childhood.  Everything stated very matter of fact.  She is about 15 years younger than her closest sibling, and she had a different dad from all the other kids.  When I asked her if she was like her dad, she told me “I only saw him once and that was in his coffin.”  So, there’s that.  She also told us that when she was 4 she was living with her older sister Cleta and her husband.  Cleta was pregnant with her first child.  And at 9 months pregnant she got toxemia and she and the baby died.  After the brother-in-law returned JA to her mom, her mom told her daily that she wished JA had died instead of Cleta.  JA was 4.  I cannot fathom!

She didn’t ask anything about me or my family.  And honestly, it was okay.  God kept reminding me, “show her the love of Christ.”  So, finally I put my hand on her knee and I said, “Jean Anne, I have a very good life.  I’m very happy.”  She said “well it looks like you’ve got a nice family.”  I assured her that I have a wonderful family.  Amazing friends.  But more than that, I serve a big God!  I told JA how God has forgiven my sins, even though I’ve done nothing to deserve it.  I told her how great His love for us is.  She assured me that she has a “big faith”.

After about an hour we could tell JA was tired.  So, we asked if we could stop by again on Sunday before we headed home.  And she agreed.  (Another surprise!)  Then we asked for a picture.  As much as I love pictures, JA hates them.  She doesn’t really let anyone take pictures of her.  But she agreed.

We left.  Went to Starbucks.  Made phone calls.  Researched my birth dad.  And then went exploring.  We found my birth dad’s grave.  Went by the First Christian Church where my grandpa had been pastor.  Located the building where the hospital used to be located when I was born.

Sunday, we went back.  And honestly, we had a nice visit, for over 2 hours.  I asked more questions (and forgot to ask several that I wish I had thought of).  JA warmed up more and more…as best as JA does.  She shared some recipes with me.  Brought out a few pictures.  Gave me a copy of her parents marriage license.  We finally saw a few smiles and heard her laugh.  Mostly, she laughed at Cynthe, who she seemed to enjoy teasing.  I found out little things…she’s left-handed just like our Clara.  She doesn’t have gray hair (she’s 86)…and neither do I.  We both color our hair to give it more texture because it’s so fine.  (I know…these are deep questions I was asking.  But a girl wants to know this stuff!) She doesn’t like to travel (I can’t imagine…I love to travel).  She enjoys cooking (me too).  She has a phenomenal memory…giving names, dates, addresses, etc. with amazing details.  She a meticulous house keeper.  And she likes nice clothes.  In fact, she had just returned from Wal Mart when we arrived on Saturday and she was wearing heels, earrings, and nice slacks.

I’m not going to sugar coat anything, because finding your birth parent is not very likely to be like that show “Long Lost Family” on TLC.  I am so thankful that JA welcomed us into her home.  I’m thankful that I got to see her face, hear her voice, hear a bit of her story.  But, there were no hugs.  No tears.  No words of affection.  No explanation.  For me, I wasn’t looking for that.  I was just trying to be obedient to what God asked of me.

JA has lived a life with lots of secrets.  When  you do that, you build lots of walls.  And your heart can become pretty hardened.  But what I saw, was someone who just did not experience love as a child and possibly ever.  It’s hard to know how to give love when you’ve never received it.  And that breaks my heart.  I hope that I showed love and grace to her.

Meeting her changed my heart in some ways.  I’ve always said that everyone has a story and there’s a good chance you don’t know what it is.  I did NOTHING to deserve the love of Christ, but He has loved me recklessly.   Sometimes I just don’t bother to show his grace and love to others because they are “difficult”.  JA is difficult.  She’s negative.  She’s judgemental.  She’s opinionated (wonder where I got that).  She’s not warm and fuzzy.  Yet, God pursues her!  So who am I to dismiss her or others?

There have been no letters or phone calls from JA.  I’ve sent her a note and a photo of the two of us together.  As of today, she hasn’t mailed it back.  I have no idea if I will ever see her again.  But, I’ve read the first chapter of my book finally.  And I’m looking forward to reading the rest of the book.

July 12, 2018

Being adopted has always been a part of my story.  It does not define me.  It is a part of my story.

Through the years, I’ve always thought, if I wrote an autobiography that the first sentence would be “I was born to a woman I do not know.”  It’s not a sad or emotional sentence, it’s just truth.  All my life I’ve known a few things about my first few days of life, before my parents adopted me.  This is what I knew.

My birth mom was divorced.  She had two little boys. She was pregnant, possibly by her boss.  She went to the First Christian Church in Poplar Bluff, Missouri and asked the pastor for help finding an adoptive family for her baby.  The pastor was C.E.A. McKim.  He agreed to help her.  His wife, Mary, even took my birth mom to the hospital when she went into labor.  While she was pregnant, my birth mom would go to the church and bring her two young sons with her and sit in the back quietly.

What my birth mom didn’t know, was that Dr. McKim had arranged my adoption with his oldest daughter, Marybelle, and her husband, Leslie.  So…C.E.A. and Mary became my grandparents.  My grandparents were one of the greatest blessings of my life! My grandpa always said that I looked just like my birth mom.  And if I ever chose to search for her, he didn’t think I would be disappointed.

Searching for my birth mom wasn’t really something I thought about much.  I was curious what she looked like and I was curious about the brothers.  But Marybelle and Leslie were my parents and my brother Kim was my brother.  I wasn’t looking for a different family.  I was mostly curious.  My parents always told me that they would support me in any decision I made concerning finding out more about my birth family.  But I knew in my heart, that it would hurt my mom.  And I wouldn’t intentionally choose to hurt her ever!!

Every time I watch the opening ceremony of the Olympics I look at the parade of nations and wonder what my heritage is.  Joe and I watch the Nordic countries and European countries and try to see which people I look the most like.  It was always kind of a funny thing we did, but there was no deep burning desire for me.

Last fall, I found out that Missouri was opening their birth records for adoptive children on January 1st.  So, I decided to request my original birth certificate.  And I asked for a DNA kit for Christmas, thinking it would be fun to find out my heritage.  I honestly didn’t know much of anything about how the DNA kits worked and what all you might find out (not a real detail person).  So, I sent off my spit…kind of gross when you say it outloud!

In January I got my results.  Nothing earth shattering!  Mostly England and Wales heritage, with a few other things mixed in.  I had to break it to Harrison that he is officially a total white boy.  But…come to find out they match you with other blood relatives who have done DNA samples too.  Who knew?  (Apparently everyone but me.)  I had a couple of “first cousin” matches.  I contacted one, Angela,and neither of us could really figure out how we could be related biologically through my birth mom.  (I wasn’t even considering birth dad…more on that later.)

Over the course of a few weeks, I looked at other relative matches and found some family trees that got me looking.  My friends Kelly and Cynthe stayed up late one night and figured out who my birth mom was!  We knew her maiden name, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out her married name and was kind of at a standstill. To make a LONG story shorter, eventually, I figured out who she and her sons were.  (One brother had passed away already.)  I was then able to do some further research and find addresses and phone numbers.  I don’t want to reveal our super sleuthing details…but between me, Cynthe and Kelly, we had figured it all out.

So…I wrote a letter.  A long letter.  To my birth mom, Jean Anne (JA).  I carefully chose a bunch of photos.  And on May 8th JA signed for a package with that letter and photos enclosed.  And I waited.  Nothing.  No call.  No letter.  Throughout this whole process I had been before the throne of Jesus praying daily!  Truly seeking discernment and choosing to be obedient of whatever God asked of me.

I felt God asking me to write a letter to my half-brother Kirk and his wife Sharon.  So, I took a deep breath, wrote a letter and enclosed a copy of the letter I wrote the JA.  I mailed it.  And I waited.  I felt pretty sure it would be delivered May 22.  On the morning of May 23, at 6:30 a.m., my phone rang while I was having my quiet time.  I didn’t recognize the number.  Then I realized it was from Poplar Bluff and I dialed it back.  Sharon answered by saying “welcome to the family!”  I was just blown away!  She was kind and generous and welcoming.  We had a nice conversation.  I told her that I was planning a trip to Poplar Bluff that weekend with Cynthe and Kelly just to see what happens.  She was honest and said Kirk would need to process everything (which I can only imagine how hard that was).  I went to work that morning just excited and hopeful, continuing to ask God what was next.

Then I came home from school.  Opened the mail.  There was a package from JA.  I was thinking “oh my goodness, this day is just crazy, now a letter from Jean Anne.”  Then I opened it.  It was all the photos I had sent her.  Returned.  No note.  No letter.

As quickly as I opened that package, God reminded me…”this is not about you, it is about Me.  Show her the love of Jesus, even when it’s hard on you.  And it will be hard on you.”  I sat down with my Bible and my journal and I wrote “My heritage is in You, Lord!  She does NOT own my heart, You do!  This is Your story, not mine!  Be glorified through me, Lord.”

Two days later, I got in my car and headed to meet Cynthe and Kelly in Springfield.  We had dinner, a glass of wine and a long conversation about what we might find in Poplar Bluff the next day.  And then on May 25, we drove to Poplar Bluff.  We drove straight to Jean Anne’s house (or so we thought) and sat outside gaining our strength.  We couldn’t figure out whose car was in her driveway, because she doesn’t drive anymore.  So, we sat watching and watching.  Then this little lady walked across the street to the mailbox and I said “I think that’s her!  But how did she get out of this house we have all been watching?”  Then she walked back into the house next door. We were in front of the wrong house!  BAHAHAHAHA!!!  We are really good at this!

So, my friend Cynthe went to the door.   When JA answered, Cynthe said “my name is Cynthe and I’ve driven 10 hours with one of my best friends who just wants to meet you and thank you for choosing adoption.  Do you think you would be willing to do that?”  JA said she wasn’t sure.  But, Cynthe showed her great kindness and eventually she agreed to let us in.  And after 56 years, I walked into my birth mom’s house and met her.

In a few minutes it will be August 9, 2017.  My daughter’s 12th birthday.  I can think of a million things to say to our sweet girl.  But all night, I’ve been writing a letter to an unknown mother…my baby girl’s birth mom.  I write this unknown woman a letter several times a year in my head.  I come at it from several angles.  See, I’m Clara’s adoptive mom.  But I’m also an adopted daughter.  I see two of the three sides involved in adoption.  Thoughts run amuck in my little head when I let them.

So, dear unknown mother, I write to you, knowing you will likely never see this.  I know so very, very little about you.  Actually, nothing in reality.  I know that Clara was found in the bushes outside a hospital in Jiangmen City, China on a day in October 2005.  I don’t know who laid her in the bushes in that very busy place, knowing she would be found and taken care of.  Was it you?  Was it a family member?  Maybe her birth father?  A local woman who takes care of such things?  I don’t have a report from the police or the hospital to tell me how she was.  If she was well, just left there.  Was she sick or hurt? Did she have a bump on her head?  Was she sleeping or crying?  I heard that they guessed she was about two months olds.  They assigned her the birthdate of August 9, 2005.

But I wonder.  Who are you?  Were you a young girl, afraid, not knowing what to do with a baby?  Were you a mother who needed a son?  Was Clara sick or crying a lot and you didn’t know what to do?  Did you long to keep her, even though the law said you could not?  Did you hold her long, look into her beautiful little face, memorizing everthing about her?  Did you nurse her one more time?  Did you hide across the street watching to make sure someone found her and took her into the hospital?  Did you almost give yourself away with you weeping?  Or did you turn your back and walk away stoically, vowing to not look back, knowing what you had to do?  Did anyone notice?  Did no one see the fear or sadness or anxiety on your face?

Sometimes people tell me “it must be so hard, having so much you don’t know.”  At first I kind of thought they were right.  But, eleven years later, I can’t selfishly think that anymore.  Because there is an unknown mother, somewhere in China, who knows so very little about her child.  I wish I could tell her that she was the happiest baby and made us laugh all the time.  That she was smothered with hugs and kisses and love by everyone who met her.  I wish she could know that Clara has one dimple and is left-handed.  That she loves to dance and is joyous every day!  I wish I could tell her that Clara is adventurous and loves to try  new things.  She loves to travel and explore.  She likes to try new foods, experience new cultures, meet new friends.  I wish she could see how Clara lights up when her brother walks into the room.  Or watch her race her dad upstairs every night.  Or hear her laughing hysterically with her best friend upstairs.  I wish she could see her, big as she is, climb into my lap each night for “snuggle time”.  Or catch her talking to Judy (her bitty baby doll) in bed at night.

And I wonder…does that unknown mom have just one dimple too?   Is she a free spirit, joyfully dancing through life too?  Does she loves a good party?  Get excited about food…more than the average child?  Is she left handed too?  Does she forget to use the right side of her body like Clara does?  Does she love math way more than reading? Would she sit and do Legos for hours on end without getting out of the chair?  Has she ever seen The Sound of Music?

Over the last twelve years I have prayed for Clara’s birth mom much like I have prayed for my own birth mom.  I’ve prayed for peace.  Peace that only God could give them, to know that we are ok.  I’ve prayed that they would know Jesus.  I pray for workers to share the gospel wherever these women are.  And I pray again, for God to give them peace in knowing that we are loved fully, blessed abundantly, grateful to them for making a VERY hard decision that impacted all of our lives.

So, as my baby girl sleeps upstairs, officially 12 years old by now, I go to bed, with those prayers on my lips.  And a song of gratitude in my heart.  Happy birthday sweet Clara!!!  I love you more than all the numbers!