Finding Day . . .

About an hour ago, as I sat playing solitaire and watching Indiana Jones with the kids, it suddenly occurred to me that today marks the 5th anniversary of Marley's 'finding day.'  Five years ago today, Marley was found, wrapped in a flowered quilt, with a bag of formula tucked inside.  She was estimated to be 2 1/2 months old at the time.  We know where she was found, and the name of the person who found her, but beyond that and what was published in her 'finding ad' in the local Chinese newspapers, we have no idea what that day held for Marley.  Was it a long train ride or a short walk from her home?  Did she wait long before being found?  Was she cold?  Scared?  Who brought her there?  Was it her birth mother?  father? grandparent?  This is perhaps the piece of the puzzle that I've thought about the most over the years that she has been our daughter--Who was the last person from Marley's birth family to hold her in their arms?  What did they think when they walked away?  How must that have felt?

I sat and wondered tonight if her birth family marks this day in any way.  Do they light a candle or a stick of incense in her honor?  Do they talk about it, using her birth name, which Marley will never even know?  Are there tears?  Do they wonder about her life and speak of the hopes they had for her when they made the decision that they could not be her family anymore?

And how should we mark this anniversary?  Should there be ceremony--flowers planted?  letters written, never to be sent?  

So many questions, and these are only my questions, not Marley's.  I can't imagine how many questions she'll have as she grows up. 

In honor of National Poetry Month, I had planned to post one of my favorite poems.  I remember reading it when I was much younger.  The ways I felt I could relate to it back then pale in comparison to the ways that I relate to it now.  It seems appropriate to share the poem on this night, the anniversary of the first night that Marley and her birth family spent apart. 



Comes The Dawn



Author: Veronica A. Shoffstall

After a while you learn the subtle difference

Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning

And company doesn’t mean security,

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts

And presents aren’t promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats

With your head up and your eyes open

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,

And you learn to build all your roads on today,

Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,

And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn

That even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure...

That you really are strong,

And you really do have worth.

And you learn and learn...

With every goodbye you learn.