JOURNEY TO RECOVERY
Miracle in a Field of Yellow Daisies

Dear Friends on the Journey,

My name is Mari and I am a recovering compulsive eater. I have found the Twelve Step program to recovery and I will be forever grateful for this. It is a spiritual program and I am more centered today than I have ever been. I have more hope than I have ever had. Part of my program is to keep a journal of my thoughts and feelings and I would like to share one of them with you. It's about my daughter ~ my adopted daughter ~ my little bird ~ my Lisa.

Many of us have had sadness in our life and many years later we look back and wonder how we got through that period of our lives. And when we look back and compare it to how it all turned out, it makes us aware of all the miracles God sends to us. And that they can be disguised as something quite different when they are happening.

The day I wrote this was the anniversary date of something that happened that was very important in my life. I'd like to tell you about it.

Many years ago my husband and I received an important telephone call. We were told of a little girl who was six months old and who had spent that time in a public hospital in the state where we live. We were told that she was unadoptable because she had a heart defect and was going to require extensive medical treatment. At the age of eleven, we were told, she would have to have open heart surgery.

A year before this, I was watching television. There was a little girl advertising soft Kleenex running through a field of yellow daisies. I had given birth to three beautiful sons ... and I couldn't get that little girl's picture out of my mind. I believe God planted it there. Because I could have children, I knew that it would be impossible for us to adopt a child. I knew it would even be more difficult to adopt a child of a specific sex. And I knew that, because we already had three children, that adoption was just about an impossibility.

The morning after seeing this little girl, we called the adoption agency. And that began the long procedure of rejection for us. One after another, agency after agency turned us down. We went to a state agency finally and filled out extensive paperwork and began the long wait. Case work, home visits, interviews by phone and psychological tests. Almost never-ending.

A year later came the telephone call I have just told you about. The one in we were told about the little girl in the hospital. The little girl no one could adopt. "Did we want to meet her?" we were asked. "Absolutely" we said. And then my husband and I looked at each other and wondered if we were crazy.

The little girl was in a town about a hundred miles from us and a few days later as we put our three sons in the car, we knew that this was going to be a day that would change our lives. When we're pregnant and expecting our child, we have nine months to psychologically "prepare" for something like this. But when the odds are against your ever being approved to adopt a child, it's very different. When case-workers constantly discourage you so as not to get your hopes up, you try to not let them.

So off we went. Three sweet little boys under five years old ... all dressed up ... going to meet someone who might possibly become their sister. We arrived. We spoke with the case-worker on duty. "Did we want to go have lunch and come back", she asked. Did we want to come back??? No, we didn't want to budge from that building. How much longer did we have to wait? "No, thank you very much" we said. A couple of other case workers ambled in. We chatted. My husband paced the floor. I tried to read. The boys squirmed. Finally, I asked if we could PLEASE see this little girl.

We went to a room down the long hallway. Would we ever get there? We knocked on the door. Someone opened it and there were the perfunctory greetings but my eyes saw only one thing. There was a playpen. Propped up in the playpen was the most beautiful creature you have ever seen. Absolutely no hair. A little white dress. And the biggest brown eyes and the longest eyelashes I have ever seen. I heard my little son, David, say "dog eyes!" And this little girl and I stared at each other. She didn't crack a smile. I glanced at my husband and three sons. They were speechless. I picked her up. I was instantly bonded to her. I closed my eyes and held my child. My baby. My Lisa.

AND THEN SHE STARTED CRYING! Oh my God .... she didn't like me. She wouldn't stop crying. I looked at the tears coming out of those big brown eyes and thought to myself ... "don't you know that I'm your mother?" And she kept right on crying. The caseworker suggested that they take the boys and that my husband and I take this little girl out for a drive and some ice cream. She cried harder.

What were we doing? We got in the car, drove aimlessly around finally coming to an ice cream store and my husband went in while I held this little bundle and bought a cone of ice cream for her. She continued to cry. She hated the ice cream. Now she was screaming. My husband and I looked at each other. "She doesn't like us." And now I was crying.

We took her back. Gave her back to the caseworker. Let the boys say goodbye to her. And met her doctor who was to give us all her medical information. It was not easy to listen to. The X-rays and procedures and prognosis frightened us. Open heart surgery? Six months of this little one's life in hospitals and foster homes? And then the words ... she has been turned down quite often. Are you prepared for this? Do you have the financial means to pay for everything she will need? Do you feel you are emotionally stable enough to care for her? Will you be able to deal with it if you should lose her? And then the final question . . .

Do you want her?

YESSSSSSSSSS!!!!!

Our daughter is Lisa. She is gorgeous. The mother of two precious children named Ashley and Mari. She lives here on the beach very close to our villa. She still has the most beautiful brown eyes and the longest lashes and little Mari looks just like the little girl with the "dog eyes" that we took for ice cream so long ago. And the little girl in the playpen grew hair. Long, thick dark brown hair. And she began to trail after her three big brothers who quickly began to call her a pest but taught her everything. And they were like little "fathers" to her.

When she was older... there was another miracle. We took her to the hospital for her heart check-up. The doctor wanted to do a repeat of her X-rays. A knot appeared in my stomach. They took her for the second time back into the X-ray room. A cardiologist appeared. We sat down. "She's perfect" , he said. "Who's perfect?" we asked. "Your daughter" he said. The X-rays are normal.

We took Lisa by her hand and left. There has not been a sign of a heart defect since. They moved recently into a new house with a big back yard that runs into a field area. I asked my husband if he would mind planting some yellow daisies in that field .

He said "yes" ~ ~ and smiled.

Dear God,
Miracles can come
in the strangest places.
And in the strangest ways.
And when we least expect them.
Thank you for making your
miracle gifts unpredictable.




Love,
Mari
Marisok@aol.com
The Recovery Group


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