I
like the idea of time-travel. Come on, who doesn't? It's certainly been
something that man has pondered for a long time. Great minds like Jules
Verne teased us with the possibility of moving into the future, or
visiting the past. A successful movie trilogy starring Michael J Fox
was born out of the desire to travel through time.
Yes, we know time-travel is not something we can accomplish - not
today, anyway - although some of my fellow inhabitants might believe
that Mr. Verne did so a century past. But this story isn't about
time-travel, rather it is about something closely related to it. You
see, we all agree about one thing. We are governed by our past. Our
actions of today and yesterday determine our future. Our past, dead and
gone, reaches out from its grave and manipulates our tomorrow. Perhaps
that is a bit strong. Let me put it another way… we are all artists
before a clean canvas (with apologies to the Bard) and on that canvas
we paint our future with the substance of today's actions.
I agree that's a bit philosophical. But think about it. It's true. What
we do today, what we have done before, governs our future. That's why
we teach our children to make the right choices in life. "Get into
drugs and it will ruin your whole future." Come on, we've all said
something similar before. Here's another favourite told to children who
don't really grasp the enormity of their task: "You have to work hard
at school, otherwise you'll regret it later in life."
Sometimes we are influenced by situations and events beyond our
control. What we do affects others, setting off a chain-reaction of
events, a sort of domino effect. Only we tend to think of these events
in the negative. Sometimes there are positive effects. Volkswagen tried
to capitalize on positive consequences in an advertisement for their
newly released Bug. In the commercial we see a person doing somebody a
good deed. Then it rolls backwards a few seconds into the past, showing
several 'nice' incidents, all of which originate from when somebody saw
the Bug and smiled. Yes, it was a 'nice' advertisement. It achieved its
goal, with me anyway. I felt good about it. I remembered the product.
And, most of all, I associated the product with feeling good.
So what has time-travel, consequences of our actions, and feeling good
about a commercial have to do with this story? Nothing really… and
everything. You see I'm a writer, a published author. I'm also a
computer analyst. Writing has been a hobby for many years, but that's
all it was… until a chain of events occurred to get me to write a book.
I didn't realise then, when I started putting pen to paper, that the
ghost story I was about to write for a CBC Radio competition would have
far reaching effects, stretching out over the globe, halfway around the
world, and into an orphanage in China. I won first prize in the
competition, and that gave me the confidence to sit down and write a
book. And when I started to write 'Where Vultures Roost', I didn't
think that we'd be channelling the proceeds of that book towards
adopting a child from China.
I believe the stage was set before that CBC Radio competition… it must
have been. I don't believe in coincidence. Yet, this path is the one
chosen for me, for my family, and we gladly walk it. I can't help but
wonder whether, if I had done things differently, there would
have
been a different path for me to take, somewhere, sometime on that
canvas of my future. What if I hadn't come to Canada? What if I'd
stayed in Africa? What if I'd never been fascinated by the Chinese
culture? What if my mother had never said to me "Eat your green beans!
Think of all those starving children in China!" Or, as she often said
to me, "The way you adore rice, you must have some Chinese blood in
you."
But alas, I have no Chinese blood in me, as I found out shortly
thereafter. I remember that tragic moment of realisation quite clearly,
despite the years between. Mr. and Mrs. Henry owned a supermarket in
Gwanda, Southern Matabeleland, in what was then Rhodesia. We used to
shop there once a month or so. I was about three or four years old and
stared up at Mr. Henry with awe. He was Chinese - one of my own folk! I
mean, after all I was part Chinese, according to my mother, anyway. I
proudly told Mr. Henry that I was also Chinese. Mr. Henry stared at me
in amazement. My mother was horrified. The die was cast; the next
question was inevitable. Mr. Henry asked me why I thought I was
Chinese, and of course I told him that my mother told me I was Chinese
because I like rice.
Mom went beet red. Mr. Henry smiled. It was then that he told me what
we eat does not make us what we are. And it was then that my dreams
were shattered. I found out that I was Caucasian, just like my sister,
my arch-enemy. "But I want to be Chinese!" I sobbed. "I want to be like
you. Mom says the Chinese people are the best in the world." I am sure
my mother was somewhat relieved at this comment, for it put her in a
much-improved light; any lingering thoughts of racism Mr. Henry might
have harboured were now fading.
Mr. Henry squatted down in front of me. "You don't have to look Chinese
to be Chinese," he said. "Being Chinese is something in the heart; it
is being polite and brave. Honouring your parents, and helping others.
When you get older you will see that we are just the same."
That answer was typical of Mr. Henry - so typically Chinese: wise and
polite. If Mr. Henry had treated me with scorn, I probably wouldn't
have strived to learn what I could about Chinese culture. And it is
unlikely that, forty years later, I would be looking to adopt a young
girl from China. After all, Africa is where my roots are - shouldn't I
be looking to rescue a child from the country where my father lies
buried? No, those influences are strong, but not strong enough to
compel me to turn my eyes from China.
I can't help but realise there is a greater plan afoot. I'm a
God-fearing man, rooted in the Christian faith, as are my family. I
believe that God has a plan for each of us, and that plan was conceived
before God uttered those first words of "Let there be light."
Somewhere, long, long, ago, there was a plan for you and me. And there
is a plan for a young girl whom we shall name Rebecca. No, God did not
plan that Rebecca be abandoned shortly after birth, but He knew it
would happen. So He set wheels in motion right from the very dawn of
time that would lead to Rebecca's adoption into a new family, but there
was a critical element within His plan. One family had to abide by His
request. I believe we are that family. And I believe we are abiding by
His request.
I don't know who Rebecca is. I don't know her real name. I don't know
where she is, when she was born, who her parents are, or what she looks
like… All I know is that she is in China, she is a girl, and that she
has those wonderful Oriental features Chinese people have. I speak as
though she is alive, that she has already been abandoned, but that may
not be true. Perhaps she is yet to be born and her mother must still go
through the agonising decision of laying her baby in the place where
she will be found and raised in an orphanage… all because Rebecca is
not a boy… a victim of China's one-child policy and the cultural need
to have a boy to continue the family name. Perhaps Rebecca's mother
trusts that God will find a loving family to care for her daughter,
perhaps not.
In the Bible, John 1:12-13 tells us that Jesus gives us "…the right to
become children of God - children born not of natural descent, nor
human decision or a husband's will, but born of God." Rebecca's birth
was not of a husband's will - that is for certain. If it was, why was
she abandoned? Rebecca is God's child. She will, in time, learn of her
Heavenly Father, and understand the Sacrifice on the Cross. She is
God's Orphan.
We are taking our first tentative steps on the path of adoption. I
don't know where that will lead us. All I know is that God wants us to
walk that rocky road. As we stand at the beginning of the road, we
realise that it is no highway. It will not be a smooth comfortable
ride. Logic commands us to see it for what it is, a steep mountain path
that climbs high on the roadway of life. It will not be an easy path.
Some might say it is unpaved, but if they took the time to look, they
would see that it is indeed smoothed over by the feet of those few who
have gone before. It is paved with love.
Now, as we stand at the start, wondering whether we should take that
detour, I have decided to write, to keep a journal of our journey, so
to speak. Perhaps it will be published in the end. In this record I
shall try to explain our rationale. It will be useful, I think, to look
back on our decisions of the past. So I write this in attempt to
convince my future self that this is God's plan. And, hopefully, in
times of despair, I'll remember to put down my heavy pack, look down at
the plains reaching out far below me, and marvel at the beauty of life.
I pray that simple act of looking back from where I have come will give
me the strength to continue our journey.
Update: - January 2006:
I don't know how many times I prayed
that God would give our daughter a Christian caregiver - which when
you think about it is a fairly tall order as Christianity was banned by
the Communist government in China for so many years - but what do
government regulations have on the being made the worlds just by
speaking? Our daughter having a Christian caregiver was
important to me - her parents had abandoned her on the steps to the
Number 2 Hospital in Fuzhou, Jiangxi, either on the day or the day
after she was born - her umbilical chord was still wet - so, to
me, having a Christian caregiver from almost the very start of
her life was significant. Yet, as the days grew closer to holding
her in our arms: first crowding around the computer screen on our
younger son's birthday to see her photograph for the first time - and
Josh saying this was the best birthday present he'd ever had - to
climbing on the flight from Vancouver to Shanghai, then to Nanchang in
Jiangxi province, to the time we first held her, the plea that she have
a Christian caregiver diminished.
On January 9, 2006, we and four
other families took our daughters back to the hotel, each convinced our
own child was 'the best one'. I even remember feeling a
little sorry for the other parents: we, after all, had 'the best one'.
Little did I know each of the other moms and dads were thinking the
same about their children. Yet, this anecdote aside, my wife and I
found very quickly that this was the child we were meant to have; that
God had set her aside for us, and us alone. As we changed her into her
new clothes, around her neck we found a little St Christopher and a
Crucifix - and in her pocket a Christian prayer card. In my heart
I felt God say to me: "See? I answered your prayer. I gave her a
Christian caregiver."
