They Wake the Queen with Pipes

     I first wrote this story shortly after the experience of finding my biological family. That has taught me a valuable lesson. When a person has an experience as powerful and life altering as this one, they need to wait before they bloviate about it.  Time gives us a valuable gift...perspective. I still don't know if I can do it justice but because of another powerful experience that is about to happen in our family, I'll try.
     On Monday morning my daughter, and her husband will appear in court to finalize the adoption of their four little "foster" children.  These children have lived in their home for over two years now. They brought one home from the hospital after her birth. They have prayed every day that God would grant them the right to become their parents. Before that, they prayed, along with their older daughter, that God would give them a larger family. He is about to answer those prayers.This is what is prompting me to write about my adoption and adoption in general. The perspective of my story has changed a lot, so this will be totally different from the original story. I kept the original title because...I'm in love with it. Maybe you'll understand that when you read it.
     My adoption was finalized when I was one hour old, but at that time (1938) the doctor's in all their wisdom believed that  a baby should be nursed by it's mother for a period of time before they were separated. Maybe this was true but I've always believed that it was a special kind of cruelty for that mother. She nursed me for five days before they took me away.
     They were a young couple, living in Texas during the depression. They were both from families whose fathers had abandoned their homes and responsibilities so perhaps they clung to each other in desperation or because of raging hormones...who knows, but out of that union, I was conceived.
     My biological father did the "right thing". He dropped out of high school and married his beautiful little half-Indian, pregnant girlfriend. As naive as they were, they tried to make a go of it. He got a job as a nightwatchman for a bank in the nearby town. It came with an apartment above the bank and the unheard of salary of $75.00 a week. They did fine until six weeks before my birth when he lost his job. Once again desperation kicked in, so they did they only thing they could do. They returned to their separate homes.
     My father's household was being supported by an older sister who was a school teacher and my mother had siblings who were sick from malnutrition. Most of her brothers and sisters had dropped out of school and were taking odd jobs to put food on the table. I can't imagine a more bleak situation.
     Soon the two families got together to discuss what to do with the expected baby. Its future with their families didn't look good. They all decided in this meeting that it would be best for them and for me if I were put up for adoption. I can only imagine the heartbreak of these people and since I learned that story, I've been grateful for their sacrificial love.
     Of course, growing up, I didn't know this story. I was raised in New Mexico, far away from East Texas where I was born and where my biological family suffered through the depression and all the hardship that devastating time in our history brought upon the people who lived through it. I have learned since then that I was one of the "lucky" ones. Many families were separated by that event. There were trains filled with orphans who were shipped across the United States to be given to people who took them to work the fields and become servants in their homes, or who in some instances became beloved members of those families.  I was indeed blessed.
      My adoptive parents were hard working, Christian, "salt of the earth" kind of people who had experienced early in their marriage the loss of  the only baby they could ever have. They began praying right after that loss for a child to adopt. They prayed for 13 years. Because my birth mother's doctor was the same doctor they used as a family physician the connection was made and the deal signed, sealed and delivered one hour after my birth.
     There was never a child more cherished than me. I was "Daddy's little girl!" He taught me to hunt, ride a horse, shoot several guns and drive a pickup truck at an early age so I could drive while he hunted. My mother said that it was one of the saddest days in his life when I got into middle school and he had to admit that I was a girl. They gave me everything I needed and many things I didn't need. I had a good education, friendship, firm discipline, and a large extended family who accepted and loved me. Added to this they were wonderful examples of genuine Christian love and service to me.
     All of this skittered through my mind one afternoon in 1979 as we rode home from the school where I taught and my youngest son in the back seat asked, "Mom, haven't you ever been curious about your biological parents? Wouldn't you like to find them?" 
     I thought about it a minute than said, "Not really,...besides, why would they want me now? They didn't want me when I was a cute, cuddly, baby girl. What makes you think they'd want me now that I'm a middle-aged, not so cute, grown up woman?"
     Everyone fell silent as we contemplated it the rest of the way home. When we got there I went in to begin preparing supper and Ted went to his office in the church. About half and hour later he walked into the kitchen with a strange look on his face.  "What?" I asked.
     "I found your birth father." he announced in a subdued tone. 
     "What?!!!" I yelled.
     "I picked up the phone and called the city you were born in Texas and within ten minutes I had him on the phone. It just happened so fast I didn't have time to think about it."
     He knew their names because the first time I applied for a passport I had to produce my adoption papers, so my mother had reluctantly surrendered them to me.
     "I told him you'd call him." he continued.
     "Well you shouldn't have done that because I may not call him!"
     "I think you'll want to when I tell you what he said."
     "What was that?"
     When I told him who I was and that I had married the little girl he'd given up for adoption in 1938 he broke down and cried then he asked, "Do you think she could ever forgive me?"
     Well he had me there. Of course I'd forgive him. I'd had a wonderful life. I was a happy woman who had never wanted for anything. My life had been blessed and the thought that he might be suffering any guilt from giving me up for adoption, was hard for me to hear. So I called him. We didn't talk long but it wasn't because we were strangers. The minute I heard his voice it sounded familiar. He asked for and I gave him forgiveness then I told him about my life. It made him happy. Since it was close to Christmas we made arrangements to go to Texas and meet him during Christmas break.The night before we met I began to feel a little apprehensive and I said to Ted and the kids, "What if he doesn't like me?" Ted look at me and quoted a scripture, "No man ever yet hated his own flesh!" I sighed, "Maybe I'll look just like my mother."
     The moment I looked into his face I knew how appropriate that verse had been. I looked just like him!  My biological mother had been dead for five years and he was alone. He had gone into the navy after they gave me up and when he returned they got back together and had another little girl. So I had a sister. 
     Between him and my sister I had so many questions answered. He told me why they had given me away. He told me about their ethnic background. He was very proud of the fact that he was descended from William the Conqueror and that our family name was Drury as in "Drury Lane, the home of Shakespeare. He talked about my mother's Indian heritage and how she had a great grandmother who lived to 114 years old.  We looked at family pictures and compared me and my children to them all. We had a great time.
     He only lived two years after we found him but in that time he got to see his oldest grandson married and his first great grandson born.  He was blessed to be the grandfather he never thought he be. By that time my Daddy had died and he was the only grandfather Jennifer was able to know.
     Now contemplating as and older woman, one thing has become clear to me. Adopted children are rescued children. No matter what circumstance brought them to their adoptive parents, they have been rescued from some situation. Adoption is the best parable for salvation  that can be found on earth. Children who are adopted all come from something from which they had to be rescued. Their very survival, happiness or well being depends on grace... the grace of someone who will take them and love them and provide for them until they can provide for themselves.
     In the Bible, God uses this illustration abundantly. Because of this the scriptures about the "Fatherhood of God" have come to mean so much to me. Psalm 27:10 says, "When my father and mother forsake me, Then the Lord will take care of me." Is. 49: 16 & 17 says, "Can a woman forget her nursing child, and not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, yet I will not forget you. See I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands..." 
     My biological mother from her death bed, told my sister about me and ended the story by saying, "If you ever find her, tell her Jesus loves her and so did I."
    And the title to this story... It was given to me by my biological father. The first morning we were in his home we were awakened by loud bag pipes playing some Scottish call to arms. We jumped out of bed and rushed into the living room to find out what was assaulting our eardrums. He was standing in front of his stereo smiling, as a record played as loudly as he could crank it up. He saw the startled questions on our faces and said, "They wake the queen with pipes, you know." It was his way of honoring me and it touched my heart. The phrase has come to mean so much to me as I've gained insight into the heart of God through this experience. For me it was truly an "awakening". I really can't think of a more godly act than adoption.
     Because of this perspective as an adopted child, I have found it easy to believe in God's soverignity, His love and protection and His presence in my life. These are treasures He places in the hearts of adopted children and I believe with all my heart that..."behind the dim unknown, standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above His own" ( James Russell Lowell)

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