You did what? rolled through my head as I tried not to shout it out loud. My husband Todd had just walked in from work and casually announced, “I called the Gladney Center today to order a packet on international adoption. It’s time to go get our
daughter. What do you think about that?”
I had waited for this moment for so long, and now that it was finally happening I almost couldn't believe it. Trying to curb my excitement for fear he might change his mind, I cautiously asked, “Oh, really? What made you do that?”
What a silly question! I knew exactly who, not what, had caused this 180-degree change in my husband. I stood there looking at him; amazed at the gift God had given me eleven years earlier. Here was a man that knew me better than anyone else. He knew exactly who I was, and he loved me unconditionally. As my heart burst with joy and appreciation I couldn’t believe what a miracle it was to have him in my life.
Todd and I met at Texas A&M in the fall of 1981. At that time I was a totally broken person. Although I had been raised in a pretty typical home I always felt alone in the world. My father was an army man, and we moved often during my childhood. I never had the chance to really take root and establish lasting friendships. I lived in a tightly structured home with little outward demonstration of love or affection. Responsibility, order and respect were the values that permeated everything we did and said. As children of an officer, my brother, sister and I were raised to be seen and not heard. As the youngest child, I spent a lot of time alone playing in my room or reading.
My dad’s military career was his life. The men he commanded and served alongside were his family. He was gone more than he was home for much of my early years, and when he was home there seemed to be an invisible wall that made any type of emotional connection between him and us very difficult. He never quite understood how to invest himself into the lives of his children.
My mom had her hands full trying to raise three children on her own most of the time. The responsibilities that went with being an officer’s wife kept her very busy and left little time for anything besides the basics when it came to family life. My parents were kind people and did the best they could, but nurturing was not their strong suit. I knew they cared about me, but I never felt of much value to anyone. I tried for years to gain my father’s love and approval but was never able to get past that invisible wall that separated him from the rest of our family.
When I was fifteen, we moved from California to San Antonio, Texas. Daddy had been assigned to Ft. Sam Houston, and for the first time in my life we were going to live off post in our very own home. We arrived in San Antonio on my fifteenth birthday, and I started high school the next week. I felt terribly shy and insecure, especially since once again I would have to find my place and make new friends. I knew first appearances were important, so I made sure that my outfit for the first day of school was perfect. I got on the bus that day wearing my California inspired mini skirt, only to quickly discover that in Texas midi skirts were the latest fashion statement. I stuck out like a sore thumb those first two weeks until Mom could find the time to get me some new clothes. It was definitely not the way I hoped to begin my high school years!
Daddy ended up retiring from the army the next year, and that decision allowed me to attend the same school all four years. I found a group of friends, got involved in a few school organizations and for the most part, had a normal high school experience. What most people didn’t know was that I still felt alone. Even in the midst of thousands of screaming fans at a typical Friday night football game in Texas, I felt invisible. I wanted so badly to know I belonged and to feel seen and heard. It just never seemed to happen.