“As we celebrate Thanksgiving in 1981, we should reflect on the full meaning of this day as we enjoy the fellowship that is so much a part of the holiday festivities. Searching our hearts, we should ask what we can do as individuals to demonstrate our gratitude to God for all He has done. Such reflection can only add to the significance of this precious day of remembrance.”
This is a segment from Ronald Reagan’s 1981 Thanksgiving Day Proclamation. “This precious day of remembrance” holds special meaning for me. It was Precious and one I will Remember until the expiration of my days.
In the early morning hours the day before that 1981 Thanksgiving Day, my first born made her arrival. The few brief days surrounding this Holiday were the only moments we would have together and they would be spent saying our goodbyes…I would very soon be signing adoption papers and gifting her to another family…trusting them to raise her with all the reverence and care that was due her. I offer this without explanation or apology. For those of us out there that have ever given a child for adoption know the experience and the details are for no one but the closest of those in our inner circle. For those of you that know my immediate family, I ask that you please respect their privacy…this is my story and not theirs. You can comment or private message me if you feel so inclined.
Those of you with whom I’ve had more recent contact may have noticed that my FB postings have increased in frequency lately and some have been cryptic. Or maybe you’ve noticed I’ve been a little weepy at work..more distracted than usual. Maybe you’ve noticed I’ve been more giving or willing to connect than is typical for the very private person I’ve been known to be. Maybe you’ve noticed the inspiration to share some of the stories I’ve carried for years that I’ve been inspired to pen. Or maybe you’ve not noticed at all which is A Okay. My life is not of great consequence to the most of you, but if we’re connected as friends on this platform, you mean something to me on some level and I’m compelled to share this experience with you now.
As serendipity would have it, 38 years to the day, my first born found her way back to me. The previous six weeks have been the most bittersweet of my life. More tears than I can remember have been shed…tears of joy and of sadness. As I traveled back to the Pacific Northwest to face the realities and tend to details of my aging parents, I was simultaneously being reintroduced to that child I said goodbye to almost four decades ago.
For lack of any better way to describe it, these last six weeks have felt a lot like falling in love. It has been late nights on the phone, enamored with each other, learning all about each other, rapt with our attention for each other. We all fall in love with our children, but it happens over the years as we watch them grow and learn…much like it was with my second born, my son, the child I got to keep…the child who has been my rock for so many years, who has loved me unconditionally and has been my saving grace in more ways than I can count. This experience was different, however. This was not a child, but a grown woman. As her father, with whom she was recently reunited, so eloquently articulated, this was a woman who did not need advice, guidance or direction. She did not need someone to teach her to ride a bike or tie her own shoes. She had four decades of life experience and was raising her own family. Two teenage boys…my grandchildren, whom I anxiously await to meet.
We met in person this last week…on her birthday. I will be honest, after six weeks of build up and “falling in love”…it felt a little anticlimactic. Don’t get me wrong. It was very emotional in that vast hotel lobby for about….30 seconds. I subsequently found myself, as we sat across the restaurant table from each other, afraid to look at her. She was beautiful, intelligent and articulate, and socially graceful. There was No Way this was my offspring…I was having difficulty believing it, although DNA told me otherwise. Thank goodness for our husbands that were in tow for support. These last six weeks have only served to reinforce everything I’ve always known and loved about the man I married. No one has ever run to my defense, made sure I was safe and protected, or got out of my way when I needed to rage or fly in quite the same way he always has for me…despite jokes of “please pass the salt” I know this man loves me. And hers? What a completely pleasant surprise, a jewel…the most unassuming, salt of the earth and endearing individual. And bless them both, as they stood in the background watching these two girls blubber then awkwardly try to figure out how to navigate forward.
We spent the next few days sharing our stories, our experiences, our passions and our pictures….our very individual journeys of the last four decades. We explored a little of Las Vegas together. It was brand new to them and still is to us as recent transplants. We ate Vegan Cupcakes together on her birthday and got to blessedly share it all with her newly found brother, my second born.
It got a little less awkward with each passing moment and the bond that maybe wasn’t there instantly when we met was being built now, brick by brick. And it was beginning to feel like she was really mine…although I’m still not sure how I had a hand (if any) in producing such a delightful creature. Before we knew it our short time together was over and we were saying goodbye again. I didn’t want her to go. But the future holds promise of many more memories to come and my heart is full of gratitude as a result on this Thanksgiving Day, 38 years later.
Here’s my hope and wish for all of you on this Thanksgiving Day…that you have the opportunity to hold yours close and reflect on how precious they are to you. I know some of us like to joke about the anxiety of being under the same roof again with all our family members during the holidays, but seriously, savor the moment….it is a gift, even if you have to do it while laughing at the individual craziness of your own protected circles.
Thanks for hanging in there, I know this has been long, but at last my Thanksgiving Proclamation…Meet my Daughter, Polly. She is beautiful. She is creative…an amateur writer and photographer. She is a voracious reader, which I secretly hope delights my Librarian mother. She is a Warrior that has run marathons and climbed mountains. She is all of this wrapped up in tiny little package…marking just under 5’ tall. I call her Hobbit, at her bidding, partly because of her size and partly because she loves Tolkien. She is all these things and I couldn’t be more proud to know that she is mine.
