The Journey's End?

Monday, June 9th. We are back home now. We landed in Nashville around 10AM, and Maria's friend Jennifer (that's the way Maria says it, but I like to think of her as my friend as well) picked us up. We made it home around noon. As I type, it is about 7:30PM, and Maria and Joshua are already asleep. I am sitting at the computer fighting sleep, but forcing myself to complete this entry.

I have thought so many times of what to say of this final entry into this journey. I am tired and disappointed to say the least, but I came away from this trip with a new found respect for what I have in this country. I have also experienced the amazing power of God's love and grace. When we started the adoption process back in 2004, I didn't really know whether I would be capable of loving a child that was not biologically mine. With our failed adoption (domestic) in 2005, I didn't really allow myself to become close to the girl (Hannah) who was supposed to be our daughter. It didn't feel right. I promised myself that on this trip I would not allow hesitation or fear to grip me. From the start, I let go of the thought that this little girl was somebody else's daughter and that she was mine. It allowed me to become her father, and with that came the grief of losing my daughter.

I have a son, Joshua, who is the epitome of "all boy". When Maria became pregnant in 1997, the first thought I had was that I hope and pray that we have a boy. I envisioned what his life was going to be like and it was going to be far removed of what my life was like growing up. Within the past year I have said, and am sitting here now thinking that I wish that Joshua could experience some of the things that I had to experience as a child. Joshua and I still have that bond that one day will go beyond father and son. Don't get me wrong, he competes for the top prize in two of the cliche's my father used to say: "You make me so mad, I could bite an 8-penny nail into" and "You are so loud that you would give an aspirin a headache." And with each passing day, I see him trying to become more independent (with the things he wants to be).

But with a daughter, it was supposed to be different. And with Aimana, it truly was different. As a preemie she was so petite and so dependent. Again I had already envisioned what we, as a family, were going to do. I let myself not think of her as someone else's daughter. She was mine. And when we made our decision to not accept her, it truly was as if there was a death in the family. We as a family grieved over our decision both before and after.

And in our grieving, it was where we saw God's love and grace. The emails, comments to the blog, and phone calls that you sent to us indicating that you were praying for us or thinking of us was overwhelming. At times I couldn't read your comments from becoming emotional. But with each passing day God's grace and presence has sustained us. We are at peace with our decision and rest assured knowing that Aimana's information will be looked at in the United States to help choose the direction of care she needs.

So, we come to the end of the journey, or is it. The title of my blog says A Dad's Journey to His Daughter. I am not disrespecting Aimana, but I still do not have my daughter. So the journey continues. Check back at times as I may post tidbits of where we are on the journey.

P.S.
As I was typing this post, a song from long ago kept popping up in my head. I can't remember the name of the song or all the verses, but it was at my high school graduation in 1982 and we sang this song as a choir. I thought how appropriate it is as it applies to our journey. Here are some of the lyrics: "I'm going to keep on going down the road, I'm going to hold my head up high. I'm going to follow where the pathway leads till it reaches to the sky. And if I should meet another, at the turning of the bend, then I'll travel out my future with a friend. For I know the One that made this road is aware of where it goes....