I was going to write about the recent five day weekend we just had here in Japan, it was quite a big deal. People were constantly being asked what they intended to do for their five day weekends on the news, and often they would excitedly reply about how they were going to “visit a hot spring” or “stay with family”.
Of course I had no shortage of entertainment during this time period, I went to Odaiba on Monday for a day of window shopping and just some good old hanging out time with other youth. On Tuesday, after a few unfortunate complications that are rather comical, I got a chance to walk around Ueno Park by myself, which gave me a good chance to pray and revel in Gods wonderful powers of creation. And of course on Wednesday there was the much anticipated Yokohama “China Town” Event, which as usual proved itself to be an almost over enjoyable time, I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in a while.
Here are some pictures from those days, excuse my rather flamboyant choice in fashion, but you know me, always trying to be different. Would you say I’m sanguine?
Pretty Much HATE how I Look In This Picture
Anyway, I could not stop thanking God for blessing me with such fun times, being in the presence of other brothers and sisters in Christ is always amazing.
However, as exciting as “Silver Week” was for me, something else has been burning away in my heart, that seemed to only have been enhanced by the movie myself and my roommate (Who I am living with now instead of at Asa’s, long story, don’t go there) Kenji, watched just the other night.
The film we watched was already a favourite of mine, so I didn’t mind watching it again.
“August Rush” tells a story that, in essence is nothing new to Hollywood, the basic idea being an orphan, who through his unique musical talents find his parents who, through a series of mishaps, do not know he exists until just recently. He is the child of a famous classical cellist and a rock vocalist and guitarist, the unique mixture in his DNA culminating in him, becoming a musical prodigy.
I would suggest you see the movie for yourself, it carries a transient quality to it that melds both emotions of happy and sad together into a film that is at the same time hollow in a way that is haunting, and yet so full of emotions carefully hidden by the physical stillness of its main characters.
And this movie got me thinking about my own situation.
For those of you who don’t know, I am adopted.
Basically the story goes like this.........
Faith.
Her dream was to have many children, she’d always been good with them, it made sense. For the moment she was un-married, young and hopeful. The joy of motherhood was a promise she could not wait to see fulfilled.
The thought was never far from her mind, even now, on the way home from Friday night youth her heart yearned for a child to call her own.
Christopher was driving, it had been one of those nights, God had moved powerfully in the lives of the young people.
There was something heavy in the air, something weighing down ready to burst the seams of the spiritual realm, a season was coming to an end, and another was to begin.
Her name was Faith, a name that spoke her heart. Shakespeare asked, “What’s in a name?” but for her, her belief, her life, her heart, her God was in her name.
But tonight she would be tested, her name sake would be questioned, could Faith remain faithful in the midst of the carnage that was about occur?
Another car sped up beside them, for no reason at all the car rammed into the side of Faith and Christopher’s car. Once, twice, three times was all it took and their car went spiralling off the road, rolling and tumbling, Faiths arm was sent with a jolt through her window, her elbow shattered. But it was inside of her that was the most broken, as the car finished falling, Faiths ability to give birth was snatched away, the dream of motherhood dimmed until its flame flickered dangerously in the winds of change.
And then she felt nothing
As she lay in pain that seared away at her insides she wept, as with each moment she was robbed of her motherhood, the doctors went to cut off her dress.
“No” she gasped through the pain, it was a pink cashmere dress that she had saved up weeks for, and this fateful night had been the first night she decided to wear it.
“Cut it off!” yelled Christopher, “I’ll buy you a new one! Just cut if off!”
As the dress was cut from her body, time slipped away into a blur of emptiness, for as the dress was slipped from her fragile form, so was the life of any child she might have hoped to bear.
It was morning when she was told.
Christine.
A few years later, in a different city, to a different woman, a baby boy was born. For nine months she had prepared, prepared to say goodbye.
Her stomach had become swollen with pregnancy, her cheeks flushed with new life, and yet all that she nurtured inside of her was swept from the room as quickly as it had been passed from her body. She never even saw his face, he’d been taken too quickly for her to even hear him cry.
And his father, where was his father? She was tired of asking that question, more tired from always expecting the father of her two boys to become the man a father should be then from giving birth. In the next room was her other son, William, a child who would be brother-less and fatherless. How could she afford two children? How could she possibly raise up two boys? She wanted them both to grow up dreaming, both of them to grow up not wanting, and yet if that was to be, one of them had to live their life away from her love.
It took all she had to stop her arms from reaching out for the son that would no longer be hers, the son that would be raised by another woman, a boy who would know another woman’s embrace, call someone else mother.
What might happen if she saw him again? Would she know him? Would he look like her? Or like his father? Or would she simply walk right past, without a second glance, just another child, just another boy, just another man.
I want to dedicate this blog to my two mothers, like I said before, the one who gave me life, and the one who gave me love. One who in her absence showed her selfless love, the other who showed me love in an unceasing, ever present day to day life, who although did not give me life, nurtured it, reared it, trained it, loved me when I rejected her, loved me when I failed to love back.
Yes, the mother I have now, Faith, is unable to bear children because of a life threatening car accident, but even in the midst of her circumstance she stayed faithful, and from the ashes of her suffering, blossomed a dream that was for a brief moment, almost forgotten.
My birth mother Christine, gave me up, and in turn gave me everything. I could have lived the life of hardship, a life that knew sacrifice, but instead it was my birth mother that made the sacrifice, and in doing so gave me a life that was full of all the luxuries bestowed upon most children, only in their dreams.
Because of a woman’s giving nature, I was able to experience the giving nature of another woman.
I was born into a financially stable family, my childhood is filled with memories where the taste of candy taints everything, the dizzying music of theme parks, holidays overseas, piano lessons, singing lessons, all the latest toys, time spent steeped in the depths of my limitless childhood imagination, that thanks to my parents never seemed to impossible to reach.
When Faith, my mother opened her home to me, she opened her heart and her arms, and blessed me with a family that is the epitome of beauty itself, we are strong, we are one and we are faithful.
When Christine gave me up, she opened her arms as well, but not to embrace me, but to release me.
Sometimes I wonder how she is. Whether she is alright, whether William, my older brother is looking after her.
Sometimes I get little flashes, in my mind, sometimes in my dreams. I see a bedroom, it’s in an apartment, and outside the room is the smoggy skyline of a city, I’m not sure which one. Sitting on the neatly made double bed is a small woman, she’s dark like me, she has the same Asian eye, a mixture of our shared Fijian/ Chinese heritage, she’s sitting staring, and at the same time, crying. An unanswered question always fluttering in her heart like a tiny humming bird hovering on the inside of her chest, the questions swirling on the insides of her mind match the questions of my own, my mind snaps back to the present but the physical feeling in my chest remains, a little dimmer now. When ever this happens I always say a quick prayer.
“Lord God, let her know I am alright, let her know I understand it was a sacrifice and not disdain for her parental responsibilities, let her know that I understand it was love, not indifference. And Lord God, protect her, find her heart and turn it towards you, so that even if I don’t get to thank her in this life, perhaps I can in heaven”
Although I love Christine with all my heart and if I had the chance I would run to her and give her the biggest hug in the world, I also love my own mother and father, I never say “adoptive parents” I always say “mum and dad” because that’s what they are.
Long before I was even born the Lord was preparing a place for me in this world. From the pain of one woman he opened a place for me in her home. And from the pain of another, he gave me life.
But in my life, I’ve been blessed that I’ve been adopted into two families, The Goddards, and Gods family, Whilst I have two mothers, one a life giver, the other a life nurturer, I have two fathers, one is the father who embraces my body, the other who embraces my heart.
God truly is wonderful, and now from my humble beginnings here I am, sitting inside a cafe in Shinjuku, Japan, maybe not living happily ever after, but I am living. The Happy Ending won’t come until much later down the track, when I finally go home, and when I say home, I don’t mean to Australia, I don’t mean any particular structure built to shelter a being of this world, I mean “home, a land that I’ve never seen”
There’s this particular American singer/ song writer, Mark Schultz. He’s Christian and like me is adopted. He wrote this beautiful song called “When You Gave Me Up, You Gave Everything to Me”
I must have held your tears
When they took me from your arms
I'm sure I must have heard you say goodbye
Young and so afraid
Had you made a big mistake
Could an ocean even hold the tears you cried
Oh you had dreams for me
And wanted the best for me
And you made the only choice you could that night
And you gave life to me
A brand new world to see
Like playing baseball in the yard with dad at night
Mom reading Goodnight Moon
And praying in my room
So if you worry if your choice was right
When you gave me up
Oh you gave everything to me
And if I saw you on the street
Would you know that it was me
And would your eyes be blue or green like mine
Would we share a warm embrace
Or would you know me in your heart
Or would you smile and let me walk on by
Knowing you had dreams for me
You wanted the best for me
Oh I hope that you'd be proud of who I am
Oh you gave life to me
A chance to find my dreams
And the chance to fall in love
You should have seen her shining face
On our wedding day
Oh is this the dream you had in mind
Oh when you gave me up
You gave everything to me
And when I see you there
Watching from heaven's gate
Into your arms I'm gonna run
And when you look in my eyes
You can see my whole life
See who I was and who I've become
Cuz you gave life to me
A brand new world to see
Like playing baseball with my son late at night
And reading Goodnight Moon
And praying in his room
I'm so grateful that I had this life
When you gave me up
You gave everything to me
Everything to me
It’s only a short blog this time boys and girls. But I am doing well, and as usual God is providing for me in the same miraculous manner he has been doing things before time began.
For Christine, and for Faith. I Love you both.
To Be Continued.....
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