Perhaps you have already heard our story of the yellow rose, but if you haven't I encourage you to read on. It's a story of faith and promises that has enhanced my belief that God does indeed speak to us, subtle at times but always real.
Kevin and I married nearly ten years ago, knowing we were each other's best friend but having no idea how God would mold us more together through unexpected trials. Once we were both done with school we thought it a good time to start a family and we wanted a big one. As any child-desiring couple does, we began to picture what our family would be like, a little girl with Kevin's curly hair, and little boy with my big smile and on and on until maybe we could have our own baseball team. A year or so later, still childless, we slowly began to wonder why our desire for children was not enough for God to bless us. It would be a while yet before we understood fertility as a gift and not a right, and longer than that to know that it isn't the only gift, the only way. As with any journey, we had to make our way from our own expectations to God's will, and we had to feel and embrace all the disappointments along the way. We had to be honest with ourselves that we felt sad, angry, jealous, and even betrayed that God would give us a beautiful marriage, an overwhelming desire to experience all its blessings and not make the picture complete. Another two years would pass of us on a constant roller coaster, wanting to get off but not wanting to face the reality that our dreams of family might always be only dreams. We did our best to enjoy our time together, and we really did enjoy it, without children, being able to be spontaneous, work on our garden and home, and travel with ease. I had time to try out every career imaginable and find the one I finally fell in love with, and had time to volunteer, gaining experiences that I am eternally grateful for. Kevin had time to grow in his woodworking and gardening skills. We had time to play and do what we wanted for the most part, and we always used our time wisely while we waited and hoped for change, but there was always an underlying sadness and longing. It was about this time that Kevin, while praying privately, offered up a request for a sign. Both of us being confused about what to do next and wanting some clarity, our prayers were always concentrated on asking for the gift of children. This particular prayer, however, was asking God to show Kevin that He had not forgotten us, not betrayed our trust, and that our desire for children would someday be fulfilled. Kevin asked God to answer this request with a yellow rose, that when seeing a yellow rose in whatever occasion God chose to show it, Kevin would know at that moment God was listening. And of course I do believe that God never really betrays us and is always listening, but the weakness of the human heart sometimes loses faith, which is how I felt at the time. Kevin offered this prayer up privately, I would only find out later about the meaning of a yellow rose for him.
As our time in South Carolina grew longer we decided to buy a house and settle a bit, becoming somewhat southernized and building some great friendships. We found a cute little starter house and were excited to now be official home owners. We moved in our home over the winter and as spring approached we made plans to start a garden and do some major landscaping. One afternoon Kevin called me into the backyard and said "There's something I have to tell you", pointing to a small bush that had sprouted from under the heaps of pinestraw. Now at this point I should say that the previous homeowners were by no means gardeners, they had kept up the shrubs somewhat but there was not a flower planted anywhere, and we love our flowers. We had a blank slate, save this little bush that had seemingly popped up overnight. Kevin's face was serious but I could see excitement behind it. "Do you see this rosebush?" he asked, to which I replied yes, I had noticed it when we first moved in but it didn't have any blooms then. I also remember thinking it was a very odd place for a random miniature rose bush. Apparently my excitement did not match Kevin's at finding that the blooms on the bush were displaying tiny yellow roses. It was then that he shared with me the prayer he had offered up many months before, asking for such a sign. At first my heart jumped, wanting to believe that our prayers for children would soon be answered, but soon enough my doubt set in again, respecting Kevin's belief in this answer from God but thinking it was probably just coincidence. In effort to help this little, struggling but growing rose bush along I later tried moving it to a spot I thought more appropriate, only finding out that roses don't transplant well and the bush died. I was mortified that I had helped kill this bush that I thought meant so much to Kevin, but he wasn't disappointed, finding the importance in the meaning behind the rose bush.
Some time later I received a package in the mail from a friend with a note saying that a priest had brought three of these rosary beads back from his recent trip to Fatima and wanted her to give each of them to someone she felt could benefit from their use and meaning. Upon opening the box and holding up the rosary made of rosewood, I caught the scent of roses that still flow strongly from the beads to this day, and have been used for many prayers.
At this point we sought medical help, but without being overly invasive to just diagnose our situation, it was very difficult to find a doctor willing to help us and not just bypass the cause. We found a wonderful doctor in another state who gave us just the right balance of empathy and honesty. I remember the moment we had our final consultation about his findings, and he looked at us with sincerity and said "Looking into adoption might be the best step for you", and went on to explain our situation to us. It was as if we needed that confirmation, that knowledge, that not only would having our own children be very difficult, but that having our own children didn't rely on our own genes. I am eternally grateful for that doctor's honesty with us because we needed someone to help lift the weight of unknown infertility from us. It wasn't long after that experience that Kevin said to me one night at dinner, out of the blue, "I think we should adopt a little girl from China". We knew of some friends that were inspired to adopt from China after listening to a priest share his recent experiences in China and of how great the need was there of children needing families. Our friends inspired us to think about following a similar journey, and once Kevin mentioned it that night at dinner, our hearts and minds were set from that moment. After sharing our decision with our friends, many asked why we chose China, and that's a difficult question to answer. After looking into domestic adoption, we were unsure our now fragile dream for children could survive the uncertainties that can come with domestic adoption. The biggest reason was that we instinctively felt God leading us in this direction. Realizing that somewhere halfway around the world was a child we would call our daughter was a leap of faith for us, an overwhelming prospect but one that excited us. Our hope was restored in this decision and we began the daunting task of choosing an agency and doing the paperwork. As we ventured further into the process we found that the growth of our family was at the mercy of the many, many people we relied upon to notarize and authenticate our lives and approve us for parenthood. Adoption is a process that unites, in a way, hundreds of people for the purpose of putting together this one child with this one mommy and one daddy.
A few months into the paperwork parade, a friend shared with us a revelation he had about our family. It was Divine Mercy Sunday when he was given this vision or dream while he was deep in meditative prayer, praying for us. In his vision he saw Kevin and I standing in front of Mary, our heads bowed to look into the face of our baby boy in our arms. At the time we sincerely thanked him for sharing this with us, and knowing that we were set to adopt a girl from China, we wondered what this meant. It would be more than a year later before we would understand its significance.
About one year later, our paperwork had been stamped with its final approval, translated into Chinese and sent across the ocean on the wings of our hope for our daughter. Now we had time to stop, imagine, and wonder about how much our lives would change going from two to three. And we wondered about our daughter, has she been given life yet, when will she be born and where, and what would be the first thing her little eyes would see? Who would hold her while she let out her first cry, who would feed her, would she be warm and feel loved? So much we would miss, so much we would not know, ever. What we did know was how much we couldn't wait to hold her, make her laugh, see her cry, watch her grow up and become the woman God meant her to be. She would be Chinese, yet American, but most importantly she would be part of our family, our little Madeline.
Approaching the following Mother's Day was met with less difficulty than the previous five. We now had a light on the horizon that someday I would know what is was like to sit in bed and be brought a shaking tray of coffee and cream puffs, just like I used to make my mom. At our church we had a tradition of gathering all the children in the back, giving each one a flower and sending them in a processional up to the statue of Mary, laying the flowers at her feet. Following mass the children could then go take their flower to their own mothers for Mother's Day. On this particular day I was back helping the children line up and get their flowers, of which we had an assortment of carnations, daisies and roses. A friend, also helping, approached me as the children filed out and said "You deserve one of these, too", knowing of our long journey to start a family, and she handed me a yellow rose. Of all the possible flowers she could have given me in a plethora of colors, it was a yellow rose. I had never shared its significance with anyone. I could do nothing but stare at the rose for several minutes, not able to push down the hope that came with it. That was my last childless Mother's Day. The following October, an unexpected surprise to be sure, my son Michael Leo would be born in South Carolina while I was in New York. I would find out that he existed when he was one day old and be his Mommy forever the very next day. His adoption happened so fast because our paperwork that was ready for Madeline could be used to adopt him as well. If not for our journey to Madeline, Leo might not be here with us, and I can not imagine life without his smiling face. Now he is helping us in what has become a long wait for Madeline, and we can't wait to add her yellow rose to our garden.
