Sitting in the hospital bed, I held Sarah, my tears splashing onto her tiny face. My counselor softly said, “Christine, she’s your baby. You can keep her if you want to.”
But I wanted a daddy for my baby. And I felt this promise from God—if I stuck to the adoption plan, He would reunite Sarah and me one day, in a unique birth-mother and birth-daughter relationship.
I banked on that promise.
Three days later, the gray, steel, elevator doors on the hospital ward closed between Sarah and me.
The years passed, and I met my wonderful husband. Three times over my empty arms were filled with our children. I couldn’t have been happier. But I couldn’t forget Sarah. As time inched closer to Sarah’s 18th birthday I prayed harder for our reunion.
I could see it all—a big family dinner, Sarah’s family and ours, all sitting around the table, celebrating.
People ask me why I searched for Sarah instead of waiting for her to search for me. I felt at the time that God doesn’t wait for us to come to Him, but He goes looking for us.
Two years later, the day came that I’d been praying for 20 years. I was scared to death. So afraid Sarah wouldn’t be able to love me. So afraid of rejection.
My husband and I got to the counselor’s office before Sarah and her fiancé arrived, and we were given the bad news—Sarah’s mom and dad didn’t want to meet me. They were at home sobbing . . . broken-hearted.
I was stunned—they don’t want to meet me.
With these thoughts spiraling through my mind I opened the door to where Sarah waited. A beautiful, young blond woman stood up to meet me. For years I’d imagined us falling into each other’s arms and crying like people did on TV. But all I felt was intense sadness that this beautiful young daughter and I were complete strangers.
Reunion
It was clear God had given Sarah exactly what I’d prayed for. She was confident, happy, studying to be a nurse, planning her wedding. Why was I not overflowing with joy?
Because I wanted to be a part of her life, and her in mine. But Sarah’s life was full, so busy, there wasn’t much time for us to get to know each other.
I had never felt so rejected. Though I hated my self-pity, I couldn’t stop thinking how God had disappointed me.
He’d had 20 years to put this reunion together, and this was the best He could do?
Months later my husband found me crying on couch, and he put a brand new journal and pen into my hands, and said, “Write it”.
So I started writing—the heartaches, the emptiness—and healing gradually came. As I studied the Bible, this verse became my life motto.
Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands…
My love for my kids, including Sarah, pales in comparison to God’s love for us. It wasn’t Sarah that I needed to make me whole on the inside, nor any of my children, or my husband.
I needed God to fill that gaping hole in my heart.
I began to realize I also had no right to feel rejected by Sarah’s parents, and I lightened up on them.
Twelve years have passed, and a relationship between Sarah and me began to flower. Today we’re more like a favorite aunt and favorite niece.
But God wasn’t finished yet.
In 2011, my debut novel was released. Shadowed in Silk has nothing to do with adoption. It’s set in India, has romance, deserts, Russian spies, guns… One day my publisher sent me photographs of models for the front cover. On a whim, I sent Sarah’s picture to my publisher. They thought she was perfect.
I can’t explain how wonderful it was to see birth daughter’s face on my novel when it was the pain of losing her that inspired me to write.
The book came out, and Sarah and her husband came to tell us they had decided to be missionaries, providing medical care to third-world women and orphans. One of the missions they would be working with most would be the Ramabai Mukti Mission in India.
I nearly fell off my chair.
I’d never told Sarah, but the true-life Ramabai was the Indian Christian woman who was the inspiration behind one of my main characters in Shadowed in Silk.
Only a tender-hearted Heavenly Father could do this. He had given me that unique relationship with my birthdaughter that I’d asked for all those years ago.
Sarah on the Mission Field
Beth K. Vogt said:
After reading Christine’s story, I can only sit back and think, “How can you doubt the gracious hand of God in your life?”
Life doesn’t always turn out as we hope or plan … but God is still working. His plans never fail.
And they often amaze us.
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Cathy West said:
SO true, Beth! I can look back at every step of my journey and see God at work, even when I thought He was silent or saying no. He is SO AWESOME!! I love Christine’s story – i think so often it is easy for adoptees to forget that for some birth mothers, giving up that baby was a sacrifice they might never get over. But in this case, what a reward!
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Gloria C said:
Beautiful story, Christine. I love it when we can see God tying all the pieces together. And I enjoyed Shadowed in Silk, too.
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Christine Lindsay said:
Thanks Gloria. He sure is amazing when we leave the details to him, eh? And I’m so glad you liked Shadowed in Silk. The sequel comes out soon.
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Christine Lindsay said:
It’s true. God takes my breath away at times. One of the ways I see modern-day miracles is in the many adoption stories. Mine has more tiny miracles, I guess I’ll have to write a book about that. Oh wait. I am writing a book on adoption reunion. Blessings all. And thank you, Cathy, for having me as a guest today. I’m truly honored to tell part of my story for Adoption Month.
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Elaine Stock (@ElaineStock) said:
Christine, whenever I learn more about you the more I see God glowing within you. He has certainly blessed you and Sarah, and the two of you are in return blessing many.
Cathy, thanks for hosting Christine.
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Christine Lindsay said:
Thanks Elaine, and ditto to you, dear friend.
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Cathy West said:
Thanks for stopping by, Gloria and Elaine!
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Steph said:
Thanks to Janet Sketchley for “introducing” both of you to me. And to think we’re all connected by adoption. (My sister gave up her daughter when she was just 17. Christine has been part of our lives for several years now, but she and my sister weren’t reunited until Christine was in her 20s.) Bless you both. Thank you for sharing your stories – both fiction and non-fiction.
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Cathy West said:
Hi Steph! Thanks for stopping by and I’m glad Christine’s story blessed you! I love it! Every time I look at the cover of her book, I smile. 🙂
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wanderer said:
This story made my day. Isn’t it breathtaking when truth leaves fiction in the dust?
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Cathy West said:
Absolutely!
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www.christinelindsay.com said:
I sure know what you mean. When God makes things happen, it’s far more wonderful than anything we could dream up.
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Melody Durant said:
As the mother of adopted children I can feel Sarah’s adopted parents pain – it’s a jealous feeling. How lucky though, for them that you loved her enough to want her to have 2 parents. My children came from abusive homes so I was a mother lion – never wanting them hurt again.
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www.christinelindsay.com said:
I so agree, Melody. And so glad your kids had you. You’re so right about the jealousy thing. It was jealousy on my part too. And then I read about happy adoption reunions where love covers all. You keep on being a mother lion. I’m your biggest cheerleader.
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