Happy Gotcha Day

Exactly one year ago, a little Chinese girl was led into a room full of strange, pale faces all staring directly at her. She had never seen westerners before, much less spoken with any. For that matter, she had not met or spoken with many Chinese either. Virtually everyone on Earth was a stranger to little Tian Tian because in all her seven years of life she could only remember leaving her orphanage twice.

 Considering all this, she would have been forgiven for acting frightened or apprehensive that day. No one would have blamed her for being upset or reticent. In fact, it was expected. It was a day unlike any day she had ever experienced. Every day for seven years, Tian Tian woke up, ate her meager rations, sat around with almost nothing to do, bathed, and went to bed. Because she was born different (cerebral palsy) from the other children, she was not allowed to attend class and receive even a rudimentary education, despite the fact that she had no mental disabilities whatsoever. As she grew older and demanded less attention from her caretakers, Tian Tian was left to look after herself for most of the day. Inmates in American prisons are offered more educational and enrichment services than the innocent little Chinese girl received.

 In seven years, no one bothered to teach Tian Tian to hold her head up. No one showed her how to use chopsticks to feed herself. No one taught her how to blow her nose or brush her teeth. No one taught her how to use crayons or to write. No one taught her how to read. Despite living in a city that hosted the world’s biggest ice sculpture festival because the region is blanketed in a deep winter freeze for half the year, Tian Tian had never seen snow because no one had ever bothered to hold her up to the window of her room so she could see out and enjoy the natural beauty of the world.

 Tian Tian had every right to feel overwhelmed when she walked into the room that day to be introduced for the first time to her new family. But she wasn’t. When the silly looking white man approached her and said in garbled Mandarin “Wo shi baba. Wo ai ni,” (I am your daddy. I love you.), she smiled and whispered, “Wo ai ni, Baba.” (I love you, Daddy.) And then she gave me a hug. She repeated this process with her new mama, brothers, and grandmother, too. And then she held my hand and just smiled. We posed for a few pictures and signed a few forms and then my new daughter let me hold her in my arms for the very first time. Only it didn’t feel like the first time at all. It felt so natural and so right that it seemed that I’d been holding her for years. And perhaps I was, if only in my heart—and in hers, too.

 In one year, Tiana has made a remarkable transformation. Her short, brittle hair is now long and lustrous. Her legs that were so atrophied from inactivity that she could barely walk twelve months ago are now so strong that her favorite activities include dancing, playing basketball, and chasing her brothers on the playground at Ashland City Park. She has learned how to read and write. She exhibits wonderful table manners (when she feels like it) that include holding her head up, using a fork (or chopsticks), and chewing with her mouth closed. And she has seen and played in snow, something she still swears to this day does not exist in China. For one full year, I have been amazed and humbled (and frustrated) by this little girl on a daily basis. She is absolutely everything I could hope for in a daughter—and then some. Those who have had the privilege of getting to know Tiana over the past 365 days will agree that there is something very special about this child. To know her is to love her. To be loved by her is the greatest gift anyone can be given.

 Happy Gotcha Day, Tiana. Wo ai ni.

Wedding #3

As I was driving to Columbia's Stoney Creek Inn last Friday to meet up with my brother Blake and his family (who were in town to do some house-hunting) and also our father and our grandmother, I received a phone call from my wife Bethany. She said, "Question for you: You wouldn't be interested in doing a wedding tomorrow would you?"

I was a bit taken aback at first, but I recovered enough to ask for more information, which she then gave me. Her friend at work--a woman named Sharon--has a husband named John who is a pastor of a local church, and he was supposed to officiate a wedding Saturday afternoon, only he dislocated his hip this morning and is in the hospital and is heavily sedated on account of the pain. He had heard that I was an ordained minister myself (I had just conducted two wedding ceremonies the previous week) and so he asked his wife if she would see if I would be willing to fill in for him. Weighing the moral imperative to do what was right against my aversion to solemnizing a wedding of two complete strangers on just 24 hours notice, I agreed to help out. I was given the bride and groom's contact info and the script for the ceremony Friday afternoon and a heap of thank yous from a well-medicated Pastor John.

Immediately, I called the groom, a fellow named Mark to tell him that I would be on hand to make his big day go ahead as planned. I asked him how he was doing and he said, "I'm okay, but my fiance is sort of freaking out." Understandably so, I told him, but I assured him that they had nothing to worry about. This would be my third outdoor wedding in the past two weeks, and I was confident that things would be just fine. You could hear the weight slide off his shoulders right then and there.


The rehearsal was at four that afternoon, just a few hours after I first agreed to help the young couple out. By five o' clock, a well-planned ceremony had been rehearsed and the bride was feeling significantly better. I've never heard more "thank yous" in all my life. The next day, we met at the winery in Rocheport at 12:30. I went around and made sure everyone in the wedding party knew their role and at precisely 1:00pm, we began the ceremony. Although it was 102 degrees, no one passed out and everything went exactly as planned. The wedding was a huge success and afterward, I was treated like the second coming of the messiah. I told the parents of the happy couple, and the newlyweds themselves, that it was an honor to be able to help them out on their special day. Soon, about 130 people who I'd considered total strangers just one day earlier shook my hand one by one and thanked me for being there for Crystal and Mark. In a strange twist of fate, the wedding reception took place at the same Stoney Creek Inn that my brother was staying at--the same place, incidentally, where all of the out of town wedding guests were staying, too. It seemed like I knew every single person in that place, and I really almost did.

Pastor John tried to give me the money the Hoffman's gave him for his services but I flatly refused. I told him to use that money however he saw fit and to concentrate on his recovery. His hip had been severely displaced and required a medical procedure under general anesthesia to pop it back in. I can't imagine the pain he must have been in. Yet to his credit, the first thought that went through his head when he injured himself was, "I don't want to let that nice young couple down." Well, he didn't let anybody down. And he gave me an opportunity to step outside my comfort zone and do something good for some folks in need. That's quite a gift. You can't put a price on that.

Thanks Pastor John, and congratulations Crystal and Mark!