I love my job

Today's Cereal: Golden Grahams & Multi-Grain Cheerios
Current Mood: Grateful

I have mentioned before that I work as a confidential intermediary for an adoption agency. Most people unfamiliar with the adoption world have no idea what that means-- basically, I help reunite adopted persons with their birth families. It is such an awesome job because I get to use skills that I've learned doing one of my greatest loves in the world-- genealogy. It is also awesome because I get to be involved in the life-altering, powerful moment of such a reunion. It can also be the scariest job in the world, too. I live in dread of the day when I have to go back to my client and say, "Sorry, your birthmother doesn't want to meet you." I have shed more tears over my job than I did when my grandparents died. I throw my whole heart into each reunion, and pray and pray and pray that they turn out right. I rest assured that they all turn out "how they are supposed to"; but I am glad that "how they are supposed to" has so far meant "good".

I am in the middle of putting together the year-end report for my reunion program, and I was asked to include in it quotes from some of my clients about the program. So I have been poring over e-mails I've received in the last year, looking for something that I can include in my report. I came across an e-mail from a client, an adoptee, that I had almost forgotten about, and I cried and cried as I re-read it. It was so cool, I thought I might share some of it with you. (names have been omitted, of course.):

"I don't know if I told you this part of the story -- or if she did. [My birthmother] nearly died this summer. Complications from radiation used to treat cancer had given her a terrible disorder of the colon. She began to lose weight and have trouble getting through her workday. One day, she felt awful and went home a little early, climbed into bed... and just didn't get out. Her niece found her a day or so later. Her kidneys had begun to fail. They admitted her to the hospital, and after surgery she recovered slowly. First in the hospital, then in a nursing home, then finally back in her own home. During her health crisis, her brother came to visit. She was back at home by then and told him about a phone call she'd had a day or two earlier:

A friend of hers had given birth to twins in her early twenties and had given the babies up for adoption. Recently, one of the twin girls had come to her birth mother's house to meet her. It had been a very positive experience, the friend had told her. [My birthmother] explained to her brother that she thought she could never do that -- meet her daughter. "Why not?", he asked her. She replied that she felt she had relinquished the right to know me long ago. Her view was that, when she gave me for adoption, she in effect had made a lasting promise never to know who I was or be involved in my life. It was just part of the deal. [Her brother] encouraged her to think differently. He told her he thought that meeting her daughter, if it ever happened, would probably be wonderful for her. After their talk, [my birthmother] says she told him, "Well, maybe you're right. I might be able to do that."

Becky, your letter arrived the day after this conversation took place.

I do believe in angels, and in the concept I think I may have told you about... perfection in timing. [My birthmother's] gift to me -- her willingness to meet me after 44 years of separation -- is profound. Her healing is a gift from God to both of us. I so easily could have missed the chance to know her. But thanks to divine grace, and the exact timing of your letter, along with your compassionate counseling, she is with me now. Every life makes a difference, and I'm thankful for your life, too, Becky. You can see that you are one of the helping angels in our story."

Aside from being completely humbled by this e-mail, and filled with joy that the reunion turned out and that I was able to help in my small way, I was also blown away by what she said. I had NOT known this story. I had no idea all this was happening. All I knew was that for some reason, I couldn't get a hold of this birthmother by phone no matter how many times I tried. And so I finally sent a letter explaining that her birthdaughter was hoping to open the lines of communication between them. Apparently, this was "how it was supposed to turn out".

Stuff like this happens to me ALL. THE. TIME. as I am doing reunions. And because of it, I've learned to trust the "gut feelings" I get as I am doing each case. I've learned how to wait until the time feels right to make that first call. And I've learned that no matter what *I* think about how a reunion should go, there's always a "higher plan".

I read this e-mail, and I have to ask myself how people can possibly not believe in God.

I am so grateful to Him for the help I get with each case. I realize that I am mucking around in deep, DEEP parts of other people's lives, and I am just so grateful that He keeps me from messing them up. May it always be so.

I have another case coming up really soon...