by Patti Lacy
Gloria set down the book she was pretending to read on the waiting room table and studied her watch. Three hours and five minutes. A sigh loosed hair she’d pulled into a messy wad and clipped. Wow. Two minutes had crept by since she’d last checked.
Andrew yawned and stretched his legs. “You want coffee?”
“I’d say yes, but my bladder would shoot me.”
“Want a mint?”
Gloria fisted her hands. “What I want is for them to be done.”
“Wanna neck?”
Despite the time bomb ticking in her chest, Gloria nuzzled Andrew and kissed the man who constantly detonated her nerves. Until she saw her girl, touched her girl, nothing would help, but she could fake it for Andrew.
The surgeon stepped through the double doors that had swallowed up Joy. Kai. He no longer wore a mask, cap, or the blue scrubs of . . . three hours and ten minutes ago.
Gloria leapt to her feet. His having changed into his lab coat was a good thing. Wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?
She clattered across the waiting room to meet him in the hall. Her ears pricked to hear every sound. Her eyes zeroed in on wire-rimmed glasses, a square jaw . . . a smile.
“Both surgeries were successful.” Behind the glasses, eyes twinkled. “Both patients are in recovery.”
“They’re . . . okay?” Gloria could tell that she was shouting, but she could not stop.
The doctor nodded. “Kai’s already produced urine.” He shook his head, surely in awe of the body’s amazing properties. “As far as Joy, she’s a trooper. Given the resilience of youth, I expect she’ll be on her feet tomorrow, though as I told you earlier, her operation was actually the more complicated of the two.”
Gloria did not remember but nodded. Who cared, anyway? They were okay!
Andrew shook the doctor’s hand. “You don’t know what this means. Thanks.”
“I should thank you. It would be a different unit without Kai. And your daughter . . . she’s done a brave thing. Impossible without your support.”
Gloria’s knees began to wobble, as they had so long ago, when she’d first met Kai. Unlike that first time, when she’d flat-out fainted, she straightened, whispered a prayer to God, and let Andrew and the exhilarating news sweep her away.
“Kai?”
She groaned. Pain stabbed her body.
“Kai!”
Try as she might, she could not open her eyes.
“I can only stay a sec. Technically, I’m not even supposed to be here.”
A warm hand touched her cheek and caressed skin aching for his touch. She smiled . . . then winced at the pain. She was so thirsty. So tired.
“All morning, I’ve been with the chaplain. The strangest light came through those stained-glass windows. It was almost like . . . God was in there with me.”
“Doctor, what on earth are you doing in here?”
“Uh-oh.” His chuckle rippled pleasure through Kai. It felt so good to be free. She had told no one about her freedom . . . except God. Right now, that was enough.
“Do you want me to write you up?” Mock anger swelled the nurse’s voice.
The doctor stood to leave. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
Will you catch me? Kai smiled and drifted to sleep.
30
CHINA, FIVE YEARS LATER
Hurry up and wait. My life story.
For five years, China had wooed Gloria with new policies, new procedures to ensure adoption was legitimate, well-documented; the antithesis of that first trip. Despite all of its shortcomings, how could she criticize that first trip? It had given them the Joy of their lives . . . given Gloria the career of her dreams . . . as a liaison with an adoption agency.
“God’s in control, Mom.” Joy, intuitive as ever, drummed an offbeat cadence on Gloria’s back as they were led into a room on the second floor of the Civil Affairs Bureau. “Stop it!” Gloria hissed, but she wasn’t really angry. Just annoyed that Joy had more patience than she did.
The seven of them, five adoptive family members and two social workers, had been shoe-horned around a table designed for four. Dust-clouded windows framed an open-door suite. Chipped plaster, file cabinets, and a teacher’s desk pulled Gloria back to memories of school rooms. Yet a waist-high wall of cardboard files—adoption folders?—outlined the room’s perimeter. The smell of sweat and garlic, dust motes the size of mosquitoes, nervous titters, and Chinese rat-a-tat between social workers Apple and Fanny, reminded Gloria she was a long way from Fort Worth. Again.
Humidity partnered with a 100-plus-degree temperature to bathe Gloria in her own sweat. Forget first appearances. There’s nothing dry to wipe off with. While Gloria dug her fingernails into her palm, she cast a look at Joy, in another world with her iPod. Wish I could orbit . . . until they give me our baby.
The other adoptive couple held hands and sweet-talked. Gloria patted the file folder that contained copies of a sheriff’s report, FBI fingerprints, DCFS license, family pictures, birth and marriage certificates, medical physicals, I-171H, passports, their invitation to travel, letter seeking confirmation; copies of every scrap of paper certified by both the state and the Chinese consulate that comprised their dossier.
Good thing she dealt with mountains of paper work in her new job.
Andrew held a diaper bag filled with the wrapped trinkets they’d been “requested” to bring the officials. The stuffed bag also held baby clothes, diapers, a Tupperware container of Cheerios, a water bottle. These items insured against last-minute problems. Didn’t they?
She tugged on Andrew’s shirt, unable to stuff her anxious thoughts in that bag. “It’s been over an hour. What’s going on?”
Andrew shrugged. “Paper work’s snarled. The babies blew out their diapers.” He leaned close to her ear. “They’re delaying things just to irritate you.”
“It’s not funny, Andrew!”
The social workers darted glances at Gloria. Consternation widened their eyes. “Is everything okay?” Gloria finally asked Apple.
Apple jumped to her feet. “I will check, Glor-i-a, though I assure you, everything is a-okay.”
Up to this point, Apple . . . and the adoption process . . . had been efficient, organized, reliable . . . a polar opposite of their experience adopting Joy. Yet an hour’s wait in a stuffy room made her hands ache to hold Jing-Wui, their fourteen-month-old daughter. Jing-Wui purportedly loved fish and meat puree, steamed eggs, and rib soup. Jing-Wui purportedly was active, lively, and smart, loved smiling, could at six months rock “forth and back,” and at age twelve months clapped her hands excitedly when experiencing new things. It was all in the document entitled The Growth and Development of Jing-Wui.
That document told her everything . . . and nothing.
Gloria dug into her hands, her bad habit encoring during this trip. Had her daughter randomly been assigned the name meaning “Little Bird,” or was that truly the name chosen by her birth mother before she set Jing-Wui in a cardboard box near the entrance to a crowded train station, as the written history had explained? Gloria longed to know.
The sound of footsteps seeped around the sturdy wooden door frame.
Gloria’s hands trembled. Surely they would have news. God, let it be soon! She wrapped her arms about her dossier as if it were a shield.
Apple entered the room. “The bus was delayed leaving the orphanage, that is all. They will be here any minute.”
Gloria bit back a harrumph. And I’m the Queen of Sheba.
“I will prepare for their arrival.” With a slight bow, Apple left.
Andrew leaned close. “How do you want to handle things?”
They’d gone over this ad nauseum. But chatter might keep her sane.
“You shake the officials’ hands. Mine are too sweaty.”
Andrew treated her with a slippery grip. “And mine aren’t?”
Gloria cast her eyes about the room, and images invaded her mind of the orphanage that once held Joy, over a decade ago. “It’s
so different.”
“Yet the same old waiting.”
They shared nervous laughs.
Something thudded. Gloria gripped her file. Was that a cry?
Fanny straightened. The other couple gasped. Joy horseshoed her neck with her earphones, dug in her backpack, and found her camera. Calm and collected as a medical school student should be.
Their room door opened. Apple stood at the threshold. “The babies have arrived.” Her smile and a beam of light mesmerized the dust motes. “They will be here any minute.” Apple moved toward the opening into the suite, as did Fanny.
Sounds swelled into baby screams and warbles and set off a clattering in Gloria’s heart. Andrew collared her with his arm, and it was a good thing, for Gloria debated leaping from her seat and sprinting down the hall to find the baby with the pixie ears, the bowl-cut hair, the curious eyes, the wispy brows . . . or should she, like at least one of the babies, just scream at the top of her lungs?
Andrew tapped her shoulder. “So I’ll do the greetings? The gifts?”
“I’ll get the baby.” Gloria’s words hissed like steam. She was on fire to touch their new daughter!
Two officials wearing blue suits stepped into their room from the adjoining suite. One—Gloria assumed the notary public—made his way to the teacher’s desk, pen and files in hand. Apple and Fanny pattered forward and shook hands with the men. The four bowed, spoke Chinese, every word stretching Gloria’s nerves to the breaking point.
Two women, dressed in clean but faded dresses, entered the suite.
Gloria’s hands writhed. Two nannies. Two babies. She locked eyes with the smaller one, with wispy brows, pixie ears.
“That’s our Gracie.” Andrew had repeated the words pounding in Gloria’s skull, brimming her eyes with tears. Our Gracie.
Grace twisted her perfect body, clothed in a pink jumper, to bury her face in her nanny’s chest. Gloria hugged herself. Oh, God, she whispered, Gracie’s world has been shattered. Please open her heart to our love. Let her sense that she is safe.
“This is Grace Ann.” Apple, speaking nearly flawless English, moved to that perfect pink bundle. “Will the Powells please pick her up?”
The room tilted, brightened. Everything took on a pink cast. With Andrew guiding her forward, Gloria took Grace from the nanny.
Little Gracie screamed as if she’d been dropped.
“Jing-Wui,” Gloria whispered. “Jing-Wui. Mommy.”
As Gloria gently bounced her baby, snippets and sounds streamed. Lights flashed.
It was Joy, taking pictures. Their older daughter, preserving their first moments with . . . their younger daughter. Gloria’s lip quivered. Again she was the happiest mother in the world!
The other couple’s baby trumped introductions and pleasantries with hollers that surely would deafen them all.
Andrew took her arm. Guided her and Grace to the notary’s table.
Fanny joined them. The official stood and spoke foreign words.
“Mr. and Mrs. Powell?” Fanny translated.
Gloria nodded till her head ached. She’d been well schooled on Gotcha Day’s last step.
“Here is your baby,” Fanny intoned, after the official’s words. “Take her back to your hotel and see if you like her.”
Gloria wanted to scream, “Are you crazy? I love her!” She bit her lip. Don’t ask questions. Don’t say more than necessary. Everything you need to know has been given to you. Thank God for Apple’s and Fanny’s careful instruction.
“Give her something to eat, to drink. Spend time with her,” Fanny continued. “Come back tomorrow and tell us if you want to keep her.”
As if Andrew understood her feelings, he tightened his grip. Gloria combated a desire to sing to the heavens by kissing Grace’s spiky black hair, by comparing Grace’s appearance with Joy’s. Rounder eyes, more pointed ears. The same gorgeous skin . . .
Gloria breathed in the smell of soy sauce and fresh-scrubbed baby. “You are my Grace,” she whispered into that perfect pixie ear.
“Are you sure about that name?” Andrew teased. Gifts from the orphanage director filled his hands.
“I’ve never been this sure of anything since I married you.”
Joy, who’d heard it a zillion times, rolled her eyes . . . which were filled with tears.
Gloria fought a sniffle. Joy hadn’t cried during Kai’s surgery. Kai’s baptism. Kai’s wedding. Oh well. A med student has to lose it sometime.
They were both doctors, used to tragedy. Exhilaration. It did not help. As wails throttled her ears, Kai longed to hide in his arms, but her upbringing would not allow it.
He patted her. Shivers raced through her veins. Four years of marriage, and he anticipated her every need. Another miracle. How many miracles could a village woman with a transplanted kidney expect?
At least one more, this miracle held in the arms of a smiling nanny. Though she exercised her lungs with vigor, the girl dressed in a yellow sun suit, hat, and dainty white shoes was their Faith. Kai marched forward to present the gifts, as they had decided, since she spoke Chinese. A cement tongue made it doubtful Kai could say a word.
He took hold of her arm. “Kai, I’ll do the paper work. You get our baby.”
Words were spoken by the notary and the social worker, but Kai let her husband deal with them. She held out her arms and received . . . the most beautiful baby in the world. She had dimples in her chin, on her cheeks, on her arms. Why, the way she was screaming, she had dimples—and wrinkles—everywhere!
“She has your chin.” Delight shrilled his voice. “Praise God! Just look at her!”
He is absolutely, unequivocally serious. Kai giggled but did not look at him. That would mean tearing her gaze from Faith. Faith. Something she and this man had learned, hand in hand. Were learning . . .
He bowed to the officials. Pulled her forward. She nodded and even managed to sign papers without releasing her hold on Faith. Just let anyone try to take her now!
When they were done, the three of them embraced. Faith shivered but did not pull away . . . and quit screaming to fix them with curious eyes as they prayed for her.
After collecting Faith’s things, they boarded the bus and posed for pictures with the Powell family. Their family . . . and Faith’s godparents. They would eat, then rest before the next leg of their journey. It was a long trip to the village. What would the Changs think of Faith? Her husband? Would they see her changed heart?
Be still and wait, whispered the Spirit.
Kai leaned against the bus seat, woozy from the miracles that had unfolded. A woman with a disastrous medical history approved for adoption. Arrangements allowing them to travel to the Chang village before that final stop at Shamian Island in Guangzhou. It was enough that all four sisters would breathe the same air. Dear Father would meet his first granddaughter and reunite with two daughters. Be still. Wait.
Feeling like packhorses, they exited the bus and entered the hotel. They said good-bye to the Powells and found a table in the dining room. Suddenly the high chairs lining the dining room wall, ready steeds for young charges, made perfect sense. Like the tourists and love-crazed parents they were, they took turns snapping photographs. When Faith began to fuss, Kai took her from the high chair and held her close.
“It’s okay, Faith Lily.” While rubbing their baby’s sweet little back, her husband hummed a lullaby, off-key and with a Boston accent.
She had learned to love his voice.
“You okay?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
He outlined her lips with his finger and then kissed her long and hard, right in front of their waiter. So un-Chinese. But she did not care.
“Welcome to China, dear Paul.” They both kissed Faith as the obliging waiter snapped a photo. “I cannot wait till you meet the rest of our family.”
Author’s Note
At age eleven, a brave young girl promised her two sisters that she would become a doctor and restore health to the
ir parents, whose imprisonment during China’s Cultural Revolution led to horrific mental and physical abuse. Eventually Harvard Medical School allowed that promise-maker to pass through their ivy-covered gates and obtain several degrees, including her M.D.
Over forty years later, the story of the woman I will call Dr. Chang trickled down to me after my mother, Ann Qualls, was treated by Dr. Chang. The story took a poignant turn when Dr. Chang learned that my mother, along with my father, had served as missionaries in the late 1980s in part of China; an even more poignant turn when Dr. Chang diagnosed my mother with cancer.
Story pieces for Reclaiming Lily continued to interlock when friends Shereen and Hossein Rastigar shared their personal battle with polycystic kidney disease (PKD). Friends Tom and Amy Koranek opened their homes, hearts, and file folders bulging with information about their China adoption experience to finish the puzzle.
Though these three sources and more than twenty-five research books comprise the inspiration for Reclaiming Lily, this book is fiction. I pray Reclaiming Lily honors those struggling with PKD, those with a passion for the magnificent land of China and its people, where millions are on fire for the Lord, and most of all, those who long to experience, and ultimately celebrate, the quintessential sacrifice: that of Christ on the cross in His unimaginable and most perfect gift of salvation through grace by faith.
Discussion Questions
According to Rita Soronen, executive director of the Dave Thomas Foundation for Adoption, “nearly 50 percent of Americans either have adopted or have family or close friends who have.” How has adoption touched your family?
In the prologue, God transports a naïve Gloria Powell from her native state of Texas to the exotic countryside of China. Have you experienced international travel? If so, compare and contrast your “adventure” with that of Gloria.
Has your community been blessed with the arrival of immigrants from other cultures? Discuss the impact and changes that have resulted from such inflow.
