It Is Never Too Late

It is never too late ... to redeem the future. This is one of my personal tenets. I love when I have the chance to witness a redeeming moment. Let me share my recent experience ~

This photograph of my sister and I from the mid-1950s pretty much illustrates my childhood. I grew up in a home filled with love and joy. Life was good growing up in southern California!

Part of the story of my childhood includes how our family came to be. I honestly can't remember a time when I didn't know that my sister, Kathy, was adopted. It simply is part of our loving story ~ that God gave my parents a precious daughter when it appeared they would never have a child.

And I never tired of hearing our mother tell the story. How our father's cousin, Stewart Hiatt, was a doctor in California's central valley. How "Uncle Stewart" ~ as we called him ~ telephoned my parents in the spring of 1950 to see if they wanted to adopt the baby of one of his patients. How much joy they felt as they brought Kathy home from a Modesto hospital at the age of three days old.

Then ~ wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles ~ almost two years after adopting Kathy, my parents discovered they were expecting me! Bill and Adele Goodrell, who thought they would never have children, were soon to have two daughters to call their own. And, as they say, the rest is history!

Then last fall Kathy came for a weekend visit to our home. I showed her the family trees I created on Ancestry.com. If you have worked on this website or watched NBC's Who Do You Think You Are?, you know that Ancestry is a vast database of genealogical information. When the information you enter into your family tree matches something or someone in that database, a small, green, spinning leaf appears next to that name on your tree to tell you that there is information in the database about this individual.

As Kathy and I talked together there in my home office, she expressed her longing to find her birth mother. I decided to start another tree ~ one that contained what little bit of information we knew about her birth family from the certificate from the hospital, past conversations with Mom and non-identifying information which Kathy had received from the state. Then we sat there talking and waiting and watching the computer screen for a spinning leaf to pop up. Quite a while passed before we accepted the fact that there was not a match for her birth mother's name. For the next three months, each time I logged into my account on Ancestry, there was nothing new to help me find Kathy's birth family. That is until about three weeks ago.

After months of trying various spellings of the only names we knew, and researching leads that led nowhere, I decided to try a different search; to compare the names I knew with names that were part of other public trees stored on the website. Within a couple of minutes, I noticed a match. One particular tree contained a name that was on Kathy's unamended* birth certificate, although a subsequent marriage had changed the surname.

A public tree on Ancestry is exactly that ~ public, for any and all to see. Additionally, through the website, it is possible to message anonymously the creator of the public tree with questions regarding individuals or dates which are listed. I was quite nervous as I typed a well-thought-out question into the message box of someone I had never met. I even changed my User name to something less obvious and more obscure so if I was about to disturb a hornet's nest, I could not be easily identified. I thought to myself, What's the worst that could happen? 

Over the next 48 hours, the owner of this tree and I exchanged messages; each message I sent asking more questions that might provide proof that I had found the woman who gave birth to my sister sixty years ago. It was late on Sunday night when I received a message giving me the confirmation that I needed. I had indeed found Kathy's birth family. I stayed up till almost 3 a.m., just connecting the dots between all the facts that I now knew.

The following morning I shared all my findings with my husband to check the accuracy of my information before calling my sister with the news. I was blessed to make the initial telephone call to the birth sister who was four years old when Kathy was born. What an experience to know that, although her birth mother is no longer living, Kathy's birth family now includes five siblings.

The past three weeks have been an adventure as I dig through boxes of our family photos and compare pictures of Kathy with pictures of her birth mother and siblings. The resemblance is truly remarkable! There is so much to share from my perspective of watching this precious, long overdue reunion. I find great joy in the reality that the very process of redeeming the future is taking place before my very eyes.

Note: Since my wonderful experience with Kathy, I have had the opportunity to help two of our friends, also adoptees, begin the work of  redeeming the future. 

*Amended Birth Certificate: A term used to refer to the new birth certificate that is issued for an adopted child after an adoption becomes final, which shows the new name of the adopted child and the adoptive parents as the parents of the child, as though they are the biological parents. This new birth certificate is placed in the public records in place of the child's original birth certificate. The original birth certificate is then stored in a separate secure location that is not accessible to the public, and may be viewed only by court order. (From http://glossary.adoption.com)

***UPDATE: Kathy's sister, Connie, flew out from Texas this past week to meet all of the family.  We had a wonderful time welcoming her into the clan, and looking at pictures she brought along.  It was absolutely amazing to see the family resemblance even into the third generation!

The photo shows three generations of 

Redfern~Goodrell~Briggs~Robinson families, 

including the Hardwick~Doolittle~Warner families!

Top row: Tony, niece Kelly and her son, Tyler 

Middle row: the sisters ~ Kathy, Connie and Bonnie

Front row: our daughter, Amy, and her daughter, Kaitlyn; 

Niece Kara, and her daughters, Cameron and Brooklyn

Happy Birthday, Scott

Dear Scott,

Today is your birthday. I remember the day you came into this world on November 23, 1979.  I could never have imagined then that the day would come when I no longer had the joy of your presence in my life.

You would be thirty-one years old today, Scott. I wonder how you would look as a man. What would you be doing with your life? Who would have won your heart and be your wife? How many children would you have? Oh, how much I long to have you still be present in my life.

I remember a few weeks before you died, you came home from babysitting Ciera and Matthew Fry.  You sat down on the couch, put your hands behind your head, and with such an air of confidence, declared, I can't wait to be a Dad!

You loved to spend time with children ~ to play with them, share your faith with them, and teach them things you knew how to do. I remember another night about that same time when you babysat so Dayn and Kati could go out. Garon could not get to sleep that night. You told me you just sat next to him on his bed, rubbed his curly-haired head, and sang Alleluia, because  that is what helped you go to sleep when you were his age. You would have been a great Dad, Scott!

You have been gone from us for almost fifteen long years. So many years to wait to see you again, and yet, so much time to cherish the memories of your short sixteen years of life. Memories are where the proof of life is stored.  I treasure my storehouse of Scott-memories. I thank God that you left so much proof of your relationship with Jesus Christ that we wait with an assurance and a hope that there will be a blessed reunion, we will see you again.

Your are loved and missed by not only Dad, Amy and I.  You are missed by Jeff.  The song he wrote ~ The Brother I've Yet to Meet ~ shares his desire to have known you and have you be a part of his life now.  Kaitlyn, Kyle and Jack miss you ~ we share our memories of you with them, and they love to hear and tell Scott stories.

Kaitlyn asked me yesterday, How old is Uncle Scott going to be tomorrow? I loved that she asked me in the present tense because although you are not physically part of our lives, you are forever part of our lives as we have transformed our relationship with you from one of presence to one of memory.  Kaitlyn knows with confidence that although your life on earth has ended, you are more alive today than ever in His presence.

Perhaps the words of the song by Mercy Me captures the content of my heart today ~ If home is where my heart is, than I'm out of place ... I've never been more homesick than now.

Happy Birthday, Scott.

Love,

Mom

Scott's Garden ~ A Healing Place

Early on in my grief journey, I knew I wanted to create a memorial garden in our backyard. I knew I needed a physical place to embrace my memories of Scott. A sacred place to cradle his ashes. A living place to celebrate his life.

Although my desire from the beginning was to create a place of remembering, it took us almost five years to find the energy to create Scott’s Garden. The lethargy of grief is very real ~ often impeding travelers along the journey from moving forward, even toward a healing place.

I remember some of my thoughts as we worked to clear out the overgrowth that had crept into our side yard. The task was difficult ~ down on my hands and knees in the dirt, pulling up the weeds that clung to the ground. I remember thinking ~

I am not done being Scott’s mom. How I long to fix your favorite meals, wash your soccer uniform, help you with homework, spend time talking and laughing with you. Oh, how I wanted my job back.

And then I realized what a healing place Scott’s Garden was to be. Each sprig of spurge I pulled up by the roots was indeed an act of love, an investment in what had been, and a tribute to his short sixteen years of life with us. Each flower and tree we planted became a testament to life.

There have been many lessons learned as we transformed this plot of yard into Scott’s Garden.

This past week as we celebrated Scott’s 30th birthday, we worked in the garden with our daughter Amy and our three grandchildren. Although we cannot give Scott actual presents, we chose to purchase new plants for his garden.

And as we dug around the soil to find the best place to plant the newest signs of life, we uncovered dormant bulbs from lilies set out at Easter time. I shared with my grandchildren the excitement and symbolism of these bulbs.

For there in Scott’s Garden where we grieve with hope ~ remembering his death and celebrating his life ~ there was the promise of reunion. Jesus said in John 12:24-25 ~

Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

So, here in Scott’s Garden, I recognize that I am still Scott’s mom as I cherish my relationship of memory with him. Here among the dormant bulbs and pruned roses of winter, I embrace my sorrow that he is not here. And as I stand back and recognize the beauty of God’s creation, I rejoice in the hope of that blessed reunion that is to come.

Easter Reflections

Easter stirs so many emotions for me. It seems my reflections are intricately woven with the events of Jesus' last week on earth.

As I approach Holy Week, I feel myself drawn to Gethsemane. It is a place of protest, you know, where Jesus went to ask the Father to let this cup of death pass from him. I have stood among the old olive trees in Gethsemane on a trip to Israel in 1997. The year before, I quite literally found myself begging God to let the cup of death pass over our family. I have laid a precious life in the lap of Abba Father and uttered the words,"Not my will but yours be done," as I learn to trust Him with the pain.

As I awake on Good Friday, I find myself identifying with the sorrow of Mary, whose son's life is slipping away as he hangs before her on the cross. And yet I find comfort in the words Jesus speaks to her in John 19:26, 27. He sees her tears, and looking down from the cross, he meets her in the form of her need, to fill the deep void created in her mother's heart.

When Jesus saw his mother

and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby,

he said to his mother, "Woman, behold, your son!"

Then he said to the disciple, "Behold, your mother!"

And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.

And then the hope of Easter comes upon me. I realize the power of the resurrection to bring a glorious reunion with those who have gone before. I recognize the promise of Jesus to his disciples as he taught them about his Kingdom that would be ushered in by his death. Jesus tells his disciples in John 16:22, 23 ~

You have sorrow now, but I will see you again,

and your hearts will rejoice,

and no one will take your joy from you.

In that day you will ask nothing of me.

My Easter reflections always take me back to a Garden in Jerusalem, where I stooped to enter an empty tomb. I praise Him for the promise of resurrection, the hope of reunion, and the Kingdom where he will . . .

. . . wipe away every tear from their eyes,

and death shall be no more,

neither shall there be mourning,

nor crying, nor pain anymore,

for the former things have passed away.

Revelation 21:4

Redecorating the Future with the Past

Scott loved tools from a very young age and to build something with his hands was his ultimate form of play. If there was a job to be done, and he could use his tools, he would beg to do it. If he stayed home from school sick, I knew he would complete some "fix it" job around the house while I was at work.

During his sophomore year, Scott was very excited to help Dayn, his youth pastor, remodel the old barn our church used as its youth center. It turned out to be one of his last projects before his fatal accident.

When Scott died two months later, the youth group decided to rename the barn, Scotty's Place. It was a thoughtful way to remember Scott and also acknowledge the hole left in their midst by his absence.

Age and weather eventually took its toll on the old barn, and it became a safety hazard. The leaders of the church told us about the situation a few years ago, and graciously asked for our input. From a logical position, a decision was not hard to make; the building could not remain standing if it could collapse on someone. But from an emotional perspective, the choice to demolish it was complicated; Scotty's Place would be no more. We gave our vote to have the old barn taken down, but we asked to keep some of the old window frames as a memory of Scott and his work on the place.

The day for demolition finally came. Just before the bulldozer moved in, some friends gently removed three window frames from the sides of the old barn. Then, in a matter of minutes, we watched as Scotty's Place became a pile of rubble.

We recently did some painting and redecorating in our house. (Scott would have loved to be there - especially pulling the old built-in bookcase out of the wall!) We gave a fresh coat of paint to one of the window frames from Scotty's Place and decided it looked great as an accent piece hanging by our dining room table.

Like the youth group, there will always be Scotty's Place in our hearts and home. Now, there is a window in our home; to provide a glimpse of the past and to remind us to focus on the future, when we will experience a blessed reunion one day.

Life's Game

I suppose you need to be a certain age to remember video games with those awkward, chunky joysticks. Originally, joystick was simply a slang term for the lever used by a pilot to control the up and down, and side-to-side motion on the airplane. When video games first arrived on the market (how many decades ago?) many came with only a joystick to attempt to move the characters around the screen to earn points, move another level, and avoid destruction. I have to admit here that it's kind of funny, but we have a PacMan game that attaches to our TV, complete with a joystick. The grand kids love to teach us how to do it!

As AWANA kicked back into full swing after the holidays, the leaders asked me to share with the children about making the most of their time. The theme for the night was "Beat the Clock". So, last night, I shared with those tender young ones about time - one group of Kindergartners through second graders, and another group of third through sixth graders - the brevity of life and the importance of knowing where you will be when time runs out.

I know the Spirit of God was truly present in both the words I spoke and in the softened, opened hearts of the hearers as the room full of wired and wiggly children came to a hush as I shared about Scott's short sixteen years of time here on earth (see Scott's Story in sidebar). I used Scott's story to illustrate a couple of lessons to impact their use of time and guide them toward an eternity with God.

Most children play some form of electronic games these days, from Leapster to PlayStation to Wii. I shared with them that when we play these games, we make mistakes, we lose points, we even die. And all that happens is a blinking screen that tells us GAME OVER. To get another chance and even come back to life, we just have to push the START button again. Life is NOT like those games. When Scott had his accident, there was not light flashing "GAME OVER" and definitely no "START" button to give him another chance to do life over. We need to decide now how we will spend our time, and who will be the Lord of our life.

The second lesson I shared was more about where Scott was now. It could have been a mystery, I told them, but he left clues . . . evidence of his eternity in heaven. The way Scott lived his life helps us know we will experience a glorious reunion with him. I challenged the children last night to live their lives in such a way, that when they are gone, whether they live many years or only a few, there will be evidence for those who remain to know exactly where they will spend eternity - who was Lord of their life, what was important to them, how they spent their time.

UPDATE: Once again, it was a blessing to know what Hebrews 11:4b states about Abel is also true for Scott: "though he be dead, he still speaks." The life Scott lived and the young age at which he died continues to draw young people into the Kingdom. Two children gave their lives to the Lord last night, and will have a chance to meet Scott.

UPDATE: We were notified that the following week, more children talked with their AWANA leaders about Scott's life, and a total of 8 children have received Christ as their Savior. Thank you, God, for redeeming our loss with the joy of seeing these young ones gain eternal life.

Soccer Shoes

It's that time of year when the weather turns bitterly cold and the sun does not shine for days through the valley fog. There is much to be done to have Christmas gifts ready to go under the tree, and food prepared for various holiday parties.

But all of that is on hold! There are weekend SOCCER TOURNAMENTS to be played! So we pack the trunk with folding chairs, blankets, snacks and a thermos of hot coffee. We head off for the long-haul of the soccer tournaments to watch our grandson, Kyle, play with the Steel Dragons.

Kyle's team went undefeated in the regular season, and won some games during the tournaments. What a joy to see Kyle learn to play on a team. He has never scored a goal, but as goalie and defense, he stopped many goals from being scored against the Steel Dragons as he contributes to their wins! As forward, he made assists. He discovered some life lessons on this team which will serve him well as he continues on in life - work well with others, do your job and do it well, and rejoice when anyone on the team does something well.

For me, it is a thrill to cheer and coach from the sidelines once again(it's part of my personality, what can I say?). Watching Kyle play soccer is special for another reason, too. Kyle's full name is Kyle Scott Doolittle. He is named after his Uncle Scott, who loved soccer and played well. Kyle often asks, "Did I play like Uncle Scott?" I think Kyle fills his uncle's shoes well!

Today is the last of those tournament games. I am sad that Kyle will have to wait another eight months to play on a soccer team. But for today I am ready! I have my long johns on under layers of clothing. My thermos is ready to go. I will cheer for the sweet boy who loves the Uncle he is yet to meet.

And then I will finish all the holiday demands that are waiting for me as I ready myself for the celebration of the birth of Christ Jesus. Thank you, Baby Jesus, for coming at this cold, dreary time of year, to bring the hope of resurrection so sweet Kyle will someday share in our reunion with Uncle Scott.

November 23

Ten days past my due date -
I just finished our Thanksgiving meal
when I felt the first pangs of childbirth.

After sixteen hours of labor,
Scott William Redfern came into our world -
November 23, 1979.

For sixteen hours I labored to birth him into our family -
Only son . . . only sibling . . . only grandson.

Sixteen hours of labor reaped sixteen years of life.
Today it seems as if those long sixteen hours eclipse
the short sixteen years of life on earth.

Today, Scott, you would be thirty-two.
I strain to picture you as a man
but all I see is your boyish smile.

It is once again November -
and I am once again feeling the pangs of childbirth.

How I long to hold you, my son.
How I long to cradle you in my arms,
to kiss you and tell you how hard it is to once again wait to see you.

How I, too, long to be born again into that glorious eternal rest
where you and I shall be reunited together - forever.

Maranatha!