“Every parting gives a foretaste of death, every reunion a hint of the resurrection.”
(Arthur Schopenhauer)
She last saw her birth parents on a rainy September day in Wuhan City, China.
She was just one month old.
They had placed her in a hallway on the third floor of a hospital.
Someone on staff at the hospital spotted her.
She had a small note attached to her, noting the date and time of her birth.
And she was wrapped in a red towel.
That’s all we know.
When it comes to Grace’s birth parents, that’s the only information we have.
Everything we know is contained within a couple of paragraphs found inside the file that was emailed to us on the night that we were matched with her by our adoption agency.
Last year, we decided to hire a Chinese search team in an attempt to locate them. Sadly, like most searches of that magnitude, it proved to be unsuccessful. While the search team wasn’t able to uncover any new information on their whereabouts, we did receive some precious photos of the spot where Grace had been found, as well as a rock and some other small souvenirs that were picked up just outside of the hospital.
Though we don’t have much information at all, we have tried to take what little we do know and draw some solid conclusions.
The most important of those conclusions?
Grace’s birth parents love her.
They do.
In a country where it isn’t uncommon for baby girls to be aborted, drowned, or dumped into the trash just after their gender is discovered, I can tell you that Grace’s birth parents love her. I can tell you that because – first and foremost – they chose life for her. (Do my claims of gender bias sound harsh? Exaggerated? They aren’t. Not one bit. I assure you. Female infanticide has/does occur in China. Don’t believe me? Read Xinran’s “Messages from an Unknown Chinese Mother”. The cold, hard truths found within that book will rip your heart into a million pieces.)
But, there are other reasons why we can say, with certainty, that Grace’s birth parents love her.
They love her because…
…they cared for her during her first month of life. She was just over one month old when she was found. This leads us to believe that her birth mother followed the confinement tradition that many Chinese women have adhered to over the past 2,000 years. It’s a tradition called “Zouyuzei”. It literally means “sitting out the month.” During the first 30 days after giving birth, mothers are expected to remain indoors and follow a complex set of rules to care for themselves and their babies, and to remain as secluded as possible so that the bonding process can begin.
…once they decided that relinquishing Grace was their only choice (due to China’s One-Child Policy or some other social/cultural pressure that was too much to bear), they took the time to write out Grace’s birth information. Why? Because IT MEANT SOMETHING TO THEM. How thankful we are that they chose to scribble that information onto a piece of paper and tuck it into her clothing that day. Because of that one simple act, we are able to tell Grace that her birthday matters a great deal to her birth parents. Because of that one simple act, we know the exact time and day that she was born. Not every Chinese adoptee has that information. So, we are truly, truly thankful.
…they placed her in the safest place possible. What safer place is there in a bustling city on a scorching hot summer day than the inside of a hospital? They placed her in a clean building where they KNEW she would be found quickly by a caretaker, nurse, or doctor.
…they chose to wrap her in red. Their last heart-wrenching act as her parents was to bundle her up in a red towel. In Chinese culture, red is believed to be the color of good luck and good fortune. I believe, with all of my heart, that they didn’t just reach for the nearest towel to wrap her in that day. They didn’t just reach for one that happened to be freshly laundered. I truly believe that their choice to wrap her in red was intentional. It was a calculated move, on their part. It was the best possible way that they could think of to say goodbye…the best way to send her off. Wrapping their baby girl in red was their way of wishing her the best of luck.
Yes. They love her.
Grace has every reason to believe that. And so do we.
Because a red towel played such a major role in the beginning of her story, we started a tradition with her on the first birthday that she celebrated after becoming a Parks. We decided to give her a new red towel each year on her birthday, in remembrance of her birth parents and the lucky send-off that they gave to her, years ago. We have stuck with that tradition over the years, and so have her grandparents. Usually, they, too, give Grace a red towel to add to her growing collection each year. In doing so, it is our hope that when she grows into a young woman – ready to start a family of her own – that she will have acquired a large collection of beautiful, unused, red towels to take along with her. As she begins to put them to use, it is our hope that she will be reminded of the fact that her birth parents wished her the best of luck in life, and that her forever family does, too.
As the years go by, her red towel collection will continue to grow. And, as the years go by, it is our hope that the assurance of just how much she is loved will continue to grow as well.
Grace’s birth parents are never far from my mind. Though I’ve never seen them or met them, I think of them often. When I do, thoughts of that red towel are sure to follow.
Judging by a conversation that I had yesterday with Grace, it appears as though I’m not the only one who goes through that thought process. Apparently, thoughts of her birth parents and that red towel go hand-in-hand for Grace as well.
But, before I jump into that conversation, let me back up for a moment.
Last week, I took all of the kids to see the long-awaited, highly-anticipated movie, “Finding Dory”, at our local movie theater. Not surprisingly, all five of them loved it. We expected it to be great, and it was. As a parent, I found several parts to be especially touching. The story line definitely tugged at my heartstrings.
The most touching part for me came toward the end when Dory (who was lost and trying to find her way back home) located several paths of seashells on the ocean floor…all leading to the doorway of a small dwelling place. She remembered that her parents had told her to always look for shells because they would lead her back home if she ever got lost. When Dory discovered all of the paths that her parents had tirelessly created for her, in the hopes that she might be able to find her way back home to them, I had to fight back the tears. It was so touching. Traumatic life circumstances had separated them from her. But, they were determined to help her find her way back home. So, day in and day out, they placed new paths of seashells on the ocean floor…hoping that someday she would come across one of those paths, which would ultimately lead her to them.
And that’s exactly what happened.
Dory spotted a path of shells.
She remembered.
She followed.
She made it home.
And she was reunited with her parents.
It was beautiful.
Yesterday, as the kids and I were making our way back home from a hot afternoon spent at the park, I turned the radio down for a bit. I asked the kids – one by one – to share their favorite part from “Finding Dory”. They each took their turn, excitedly sharing what they loved most. Then, it was my turn. I told them that I loved the part when Dory discovers all of the beautiful trails of shells that her parents had placed for her…ultimately leading her back to them. They all enthusiastically agreed that they, too, liked that part.
Just when I thought that our fun conversation had come to an end, it took an abrupt, solemn turn.
Behind me, I heard Grace say, “I wonder if my China mom and dad have a trail of red towels laid out for me?”
<It’s worth noting that I’m now typing through tears.>
I didn’t know what to say.
I looked back at her. She was staring out her window. But, she didn’t look sad. She was smiling. My guess is that, in that moment, she was imagining what that beautiful trail of red towels might look like.
For so many reasons, that moment killed me.
It killed me.
I didn’t shed a tear.
But, I ached all over.
I ached for her.
And I ached for them.
After a few moments, still not knowing what to say, I simply locked eyes with her in the rear view mirror and smiled.
A trail of red.
A beautiful trail of red.
Just before bed last night, I found myself thinking about that precious conversation once again. The more I thought about it, the more I began to realize why Gracie had every reason to smile as she envisioned it.
I realized why I, too, have every reason to smile at such a vision.
After all, it is a vision with which I am all too familiar.
I was once a child who was lost and wandering.
I was separated from my Father.
But, I spotted a trail of red.
It was a beautiful trail of red that had been lovingly created by my Father, using the blood of Jesus Christ.
It led me straight into my Father’s arms.
It led me home.
I didn’t know how to respond to Grace yesterday after she shared her vision of that trail of red towels. But, now I do.
The next time the subject arises, and she wonders aloud about a trail of red towels that might lead her to the two people whom she longs to meet, I know exactly what to say. I know exactly how to direct the conversation.
I will tell her that there is a beautiful trail of red that exists.
I will tell her the story of how that trail led me home…safely into my Father’s arms.
I will tell her that He placed it there for all of His children to find, and He eagerly watches and waits for them to spot it so that they can follow it home.
I will tell her that even though she may never get to meet her birth parents on this side of heaven, she has every reason to remain hopeful that a wonderful reunion could occur. The same red trail that can lead her to her heavenly home someday, can lead her birth parents home as well.
I will tell her that her birth parents made a very wise choice when they wrapped her in China’s “lucky red” on that rainy September day when she was separated from them. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that they were right about the color red. It IS the luckiest of colors.
Red is the trail that can lead to beautiful, long-awaited, seemingly-impossible reunions.
Red is the trail that can lead us all home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“The trail is marked by footprints of the Savior,
With His blood he made it plain and straight.
If we walk that way, it will lead us home,
Lead us safely into heaven’s gate.”
(Eugene Bartlett)
