Foundling

Dear Mia,

It's 5pm in China on Wednesday, September 2nd. And guess what! I just picked up your adoption certificate and passport with a United States visa so we can bring you home. As I stood there, holding those documents in my hand, 20-plus months of hard work, prayer, and hope culminated in a single moment. Even though you have to officially pass through the immigration line when we arrive to the U.S. on Friday to officially be a citizen, I have all of the documents we need and I promise to lead the way. 

There are a few things that make me a little sad. I look at your adoption certificate and it says the place where you were born is unknown. Your birthdate is estimated. You have a borrowed name, given to you for the city in which you were found and the name of the person who found you. But your adoption certificate lists two other things that I want you to write on your heart: your parents are Mark and Tiffany Jordan of Newnan, Georgia, and your adoption date is August 25, 2015 (your Gotcha Day is August 24). 

This has been a long time coming, my sweet child. Mommy and I submitted our application to begin this process on January 31, 2014. That time was filled with so much uncertainty and excitement. Who would God send our way? How would the way even be made? How would we afford it? Who, how, what, when, or where? The only thing we knew was why. Why? Because we felt God leading us to this, and as the old cliché goes, if God leads you to it, God will lead you through it. Standing in the lobby of The Garden Hotel in Guangzhou, China, holding your adoption certificate, passport, and U.S. visa, I was able to see all of the steps of God leading me through it. 

I saw myself walking through snow and ice around the camp during a Chrysalis Flight, dictating to your mommy the info we needed for our application, and wondering if I was getting frostbite on my feet. 

I remember telling our family and friends that we were finally going to quit talking about adoption, and do something about it. 

I remember telling the church what we were doing and feeling an overwhelming sense of support. 

I remember filling out countless forms and making countless copies, and writing thousands of words telling our story and why we felt God was leading us to this. 

I remember your mommy and me cutting things out of our budget to figure out a way to save the money we needed. 

I remember saving our aluminum cans and selling them for the pocket money we've used while in China. 

I remember feeling despondent when things weren't going at the pace I wanted and expected them to go. 

I remember getting the call about you and everything coming together. 

I remember filling out grant proposals in hopes of getting the help we needed to get you home. 

I remember training for the RACE for the Orphans and running my first 5k, praying to God and talking to you the whole way through it. 

I remember countless conversations with your mommy and others about what we had left to do, and when all this would happen. 

I remember the dates coming together, and counting down the days until we were united. 

I remember holding you for the first time. 

I remember showing you pictures of what your life at home will be like when you meet your brother and pets, and see your home. 

I remember navigating a foreign country with you and your mommy. 

I remember waking up to calm you in the middle of the night. 

I remember changing some crazy diapers as you were exposed to some new food. 

I remember the first time you called me daddy. 

I remember taking an oath, signing, and giving my fingerprints — five times! — as proof that I am who I say I am, and that I will fulfill my pledge to love and care for you. 

I remember gazing upon the American flag as we left the Consulate, thinking you have so much to look forward to. 

I remember all of this, and even as I type these words, I remember the look of joy on your face when I walked back in the room after picking up your visa packet. 

I remember. 

Tomorrow we will begin our 26-hour journey to bring you home. To bring you to "Mia's Place." Where friends, family, and supporters will greet us at the airport, before we take you to your home and begin the next phase of this journey. 

The last two weeks will undoubtedly be a blur (everyone who has done this tells me as much), but I know this one thing: I will never forget your story and how God merged your life with ours, leaving all of us changed. Forever. 

There's something else I remember, my dear Mia. I remember seeing on one of the many documents we have signed in the stacks of paperwork we have completed, listing your identity as, "Foundling." And now I have the notice that the Chinese government used to try and find your family. On one hand, it breaks my heart, but on the other, it brings me great joy. Why, you ask? Because your family is found! We may look and talk differently, but we are your family.  Your mommy and I are honored to have done our part to get you to your family. Along with everyone who gave money, or bough a craft, or ran a race, or gave a gift, or said a prayer, or stood on our side in a conflict, or just promised to be with us in this journey. Forever. 

So as I sit in our room watching you play, and gearing up for what will be another big and stressful part of this adventure — the looooong trip home — something occurs to me. Perhaps the one who was found throughout this process wasn't you, but me. Perhaps in the stepping out in courage, hope, and faith in God and the other people in our life, I am the one who was found, your daddy, the one you also call papa, or the Chinese, ba ba. That thought alone causes me to remember something else...the lines to one of the most beloved Christian hymns ever, "Amazing Grace":

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost, but now I'm found, was blind, but now I see.

That pretty much sums up what my heart felt as my hands held your adoption certificate. The grace of God, sweeter than the music your mommy and I sung and danced with you to, is what saved me. This process isn't about our family rescuing you from an orphanage or obscurity, but calling me forward to take the leap of faith because I have been rescued by God. And in the meantime, realize that it was me all along who needed to be open to what God had in store, because He was orchestrating things to bring me to you. And in my blindness, obstinance, and own lack of faith, it was God who was illuminating my path to bring me to this point in time to give you your family, your future, your place. 

So as we poetically pass through immigration services in New York tomorrow — the same location where some of my ancestors came to start their new lives in America near the Statue of Liberty — your mommy and I will walk through that line with you, like strangers to our homeland, to welcome you home. And to your place. Freely, in the love and grace of God with the help and support of all those who helped us get to you. 

Dear Mia, thank you for the role you have played in my life's story. 

Thank you for helping me find out things about myself I never knew. 

Thank you for helping me find me.

And thank you for helping me remember the love that first saved me. 

Love,

Dad