No matter what time of the year one drives through the heart of Villanova via Buckingham Road the scenery is always beautiful. The homes have been around since just after WWII, so the foliage is mature. Of particular presence are the massive trees (oaks, maples, pines) anchored throughout, which provide a cool canopy in the summer time. This fall date, however, the leaves had left, and it reminded me of the dark nights from my youth when wind would race through the yard and the bare branches would send spooky screeches through my bedroom window on the second floor of the cape cod home.
There was, of course, nothing to be afraid of when pulling in the driveway that night; shucks, there would even be presents (hey, I’m still a boy, their boy), but that’s not why I went! With the whirring and stirring of our standard schedules, it would just be nice to sit and chat with my parents. And the adoption was the big news for this occasion.
I’m guilty of not remembering what we had for dinner on that Monday evening – and my journal couldn’t cover me since I have been quite irregular with writing over the last few years and it wasn’t recorded. A bet would be wagered, however, that dinner was awesome since both my parents are excellent cooks. Thinking back, I’d probably say it was something fancy like paella, without the mussels due to the season. (As a little boy, when the menu and the money were more limited, my favorite dishes were tuna casserole and “cream cheese and noodles.” They still are wonderful to this day, with the latter now called Fettuccine Alfredo.)
No doubt, there was also a salad on the table compliments of my father. His are the kinds that don’t require dressing if you're so inclined; there is always this perfect blend of God’s goodness in the bowl. Oh, and if it’s during the summer the ingredients will be straight from my dad’s garden, an area he has toiled and tilled in since he was younger than me. It’s a true love, a love which he readily shares the yields of with family and friends.
The three of us sat down, said grace, and then I started talking about the great adventure, at least what I knew of it. The paperwork takes about four months…and it gets logged in at the China Center of Adoption Affairs…then we wait about 12-14 months for a referral (no one turns down a referral)…then we wait another month or so for a Travel Authorization…and then I’d travel a couple weeks later…so we’re looking at Spring of ‘08. “Can you believe it Mom and Dad?...Rose and I are adopting…I am going to China!”
They had heard the path before, yet my parents treated it freshly and with excitement, if not disbelief. I remember looking across the table at my mother while I was yapping away and seeing her eyes well up. She is an outstanding grandmother (born to be one), and would be to our future child. And then, my dad turned to me and said these words: “I would like to go to China with you.”
I stared down at my plate trying to contain the rush of emotions that immediately came. There are gifts the Holy Spirit bestows upon the believer, and while it is clear I have been shorted a few, the joke has always been that I “got an extra one” – the Gift of Tears. In other words, I’m a big baby. Heck, I cry at Hallmark commercials.
Pushing past the tears, I accepted my father’s gracious offer. In that moment, neither one of us knew what we were saying ‘yes’ to; but then, that is the reality of walking in faith. That is love.
A part of the history with my dad runs within the stories of many fathers and sons. We were not particularly close during my youth. He was busy building a profession, and I was actively assembling the attitude of an adolescent. It’s predictable textbook stuff. Fortunately, we peeled ourselves off the standard pages earlier in life rather than later (or never, as in some sad cases.).
I recall saying a few words at my parent’s 25th wedding anniversary celebration. Somewhere in there I stated my father was the smartest man I had ever met. He interrupted with this rejoinder: “Son, you need to get out and meet more people.” That got a chuckle from those gathered.
I understood the point, yet I didn’t quite agree. I never held the “my dad can beat up your dad” position, but I was confident “my dad knows more than your dad.” Bill Seeley is a bit of a Renaissance Man when it comes to cultural literacy. While I struggle to remember nearly anything said or read (other than useless, youthful stats from the back of a baseball card), his mind seems to be an unquenchable sponge.
Anyway, I eventually did get out and meet more people and he was correct (ironically true to my original point, it may be added). Even though my dad has forgotten more than most people will ever know, there are some brilliant folks out there and, well, my dad’s modesty that long-earlier day had not been false.
Making further use of the anniversary party in February of 1994, my father wasn’t a follower of Christ at that time, and I was running around thinking I was one of those self-made men (whatever the physics and biology of that are, now I do not know). We were both lost sheep; fortunately, the Lord goes after our kind with a passion.
Along with my mother, my father fed me, clothed me, sheltered me, educated me, and supported me probably in times when he shouldn’t have. In short, he loved and loves me. Yet the greatest thing my father ever did for me was to become a man of faith. He recognized he had a Creator and offered up a positive response to that reality. He also understood a parent’s preeminent mission is to bequeath faith to the family. Quite literally, nothing else – no thing – matters.
My dad is my role model today. And, I instantly discovered at the dinner table that night I would need such a companion in China, for where two or three are gathered in Christ’s name, there He is in the midst of them (Mt 18: 20).
Really, what exactly had I been thinking going by myself? Sure, it had been established it wasn’t feasible for Rose to go – but we hadn’t even considered there was a need for a backup plan! What, was I just going to travel to the other side of the earth and take care of small child – who didn’t know me from Adam – all by myself? For two weeks no less?! Reflecting on that scenario, if it wasn’t so laughable it would be frightening (or maybe it’s the other way around). Here’s the scoop: I’m a good guy and all, and Rose is thankful I’m her husband, but the longest I’ve ever been alone with my children is, like, maybe eight minutes when Rose makes a run to the grocery store. So this news was a God-send, a gift from above.
There were earthly gifts, too – what a night of blessings! My parents still participate in ensuring I am clothed throughout a given year, and my birthday serves as one of those opportunities to do so. Then I tore off the wrapping off our first book on anything Chinese. It was about the Chinese civilization from its origins (way, way back to be specific) to the Tang Dynasty (inaugurated in 618 AD).
The pages provided glimpse after glimpse of culture and art; they were beautiful to the point that the associated text could easily be missed. It was symbolic of there being so much to learn. Gone are my days of studying. It will prove to be an uphill journey to the cherished knowledge.
The inscription found inside the cover rang of a different journey:
Demian,
The East will meet the West,
the ancient will meet
the new, and
we will meet a little child.
Love,
Mom & Dad on your birthday 2006.
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