FREE FOR MOTHER'S DAY: Children of Dreams - An Adoption Memoir

I arrived home on Mother's Day, May 8, 1994, with my first daughter, Manisha Hope, from Nepal. Enjoy This Adoption Memoir for FREE. One Day Only. Sunday, May 9, 2021 Click here to download from Amazon Kindle Children of Dreams: An Adoption Memoir. Proverbs 13:12: "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when dreams come true at last, there is life and joy." ~Lifelong Bible verse for my two daughters. This is one of my favorite family photos when we went to the Bahamas several years ago. My second daughter, Joylin, is adopted from Vietnam. If you would like a FREE audio coupon from Audible, contact me at authorLorilynRoberts@gmail.com and let me know. I have several coupons available. Rear Guard Publishing | Website  ‌  ‌ ‌

WHAT IS YOUR MOST MEMORABLE CHRISTMAS? Devotional by Lorilyn Roberts

 

 

I shared my most memorable Christmas a couple of weeks ago with the women at our annual Christmas event and thought I would post the excerpt here from my memoir Children of Dreams. May God bless you and your family this holiday season.

SHORT DEVOTIONAL

“It’s Christmas, isn’t it? She answered, “Your custom?”

“Yes. Can I open it now?” I asked.

“Yes, please do.”

I unwrapped the small gift and hidden inside were two handmade white doilies, one for a cup and the other for a plate, lined in green stitching along the outside edges.

“Thank you; they are beautiful.”

“You are welcome,” she beamed back. It was a special moment in what otherwise had seemed like a gloomy day.

“Merry Christmas,” I said. “I am sorry you have to work.” I knew she had two kids at home, but I wasn’t sure if they celebrated Christmas.

“It’s okay,” she said.

We said good night, and Joy and I headed back up to our room. I thought we would spend a quiet evening watching CNN and MTV, but as always, at least for me, there is the rest of the story. After feeling sorry for myself and moping around for an hour, I called the Murphys. It was late enough I hoped I wouldn’t wake them up, but I couldn’t wait any longer.

“Merry Christmas!” I shouted excitedly into the phone. A lot of love can be shared in a short amount of time. Manisha was happy to talk to me and told me about all the things Santa had brought her.

“When are you coming home? I miss you,” she said.

“I miss you, too, Honey. I will be home soon.”

I thought in my heart, though, not soon enough. Tears welled up in my eyes as I regretted that I couldn’t be with both my daughters for Christmas. Jenni had shared the pictures of Joy with Manisha and I hoped she could focus on meeting her new baby sister. It was a short conversation, but I felt better having heard her sweet voice across the ocean, reminding me that although we weren’t together in person, she was with me in spirit.

As I watched television feeling homesick, I heard noises outside, louder than the usual honking of horns and vehicular traffic. I picked up Joy and we walked back downstairs to the lobby. I felt excitement in the air with faint Christmas music barely audible above the sporadic street noise.

“What’s going on?” I asked the young lady who had given me the gift earlier.

“It’s the Christmas celebration,” she said.

What celebration? I thought to myself. Vietnam is a communist country and they don’t celebrate Christmas, or so I thought.

I quickly ran back up to our room, grabbed our coats and stroller, and carried Joy down the steps into the cool night air. I could see crowds up ahead on Hue Street walking toward Hoan Kiem Lake. 

We joined the crowd, and as we approached, Hanoi’s version of Christmas spread out before us. The lake was decorated with Christmas lights, and a large Christmas tree adorned with presents took center stage. A cardboard Santa Claus was displayed near the tree. A little baby swing decorated in a colorful leis was set up to take pictures.

Crowds gathered in the streets wearing red Santa stocking caps and carrying balloons. I couldn’t decide if the “party” resembled a parade or people gathering for a concert. A festive, family atmosphere filled the air, and the lake was packed with Vietnamese families.

I was excited to have something to do. Uplifting, holiday music wafted from the loud speakers over the noisy crowd. I wanted to know where the music was coming from. It had a sweet-sounding familiarity, like a piece of chocolate to a hungry soul. I wanted to grab it and not let go.

In such an anti-Christian country, I never thought I would hear Christmas music broadcast in downtown Hanoi. Many of our Christmas songs have a message of “tidings of great joy,” with Jesus as a baby in the manger. Even though the celebration was steeped in commercialism, the familiar words from Christmas carols filled the air, giving me hope that all was well with my soul. I pushed Joy in her stroller to the nearby church a few hundred feet from where the music came.

My soul was enraptured with joy, a balm for my homesick heart. I longed to be with friends and family. Here I could sing in harmony, filled with the Christmas spirit, enveloped in oneness with those around me who were here for a different experience, but so far from home, I welcomed Christmas in another culture.

For a brief moment, I understood Ephesians 4:5. There is unity in the world, “one body, one hope, one baptism, one God and father of all.” I felt a connection to the Vietnamese people. For some, this might be the only testimony to the risen Savior they would ever witness, but as Isaiah 55:11 says, “My word…will not return to me empty.”

God had given me a taste of Christmas in Hanoi that I would always treasure. We returned to the Lake and I took Joy over to the Christmas tree and swing. She was intrigued with the bobbing balloons tied to the Santa and stared wide eyed at the Christmas lights strung around. 

I handed the camera to someone to take our picture. Standing in front of a cardboard Santa Claus, the bittersweet moment was captured, now kept in the scrapbook that I had won years earlier, a memoir to the past I didn’t want to forget.

Today, as I remember that night, fifteen years later, I thank God for all the Christmases we have had since then. Jesus is the reason for the season. Let us be thankful for what He has done for us and praise Him with the heavenly hosts. Christmas is magical even for adults!

GUEST POST BY CHRISTIAN PASTOR BOB SAFFRIN

 

Today I received this email from a reader of my book Children of Dreams. I was moved because it was written by a Christian pastor, Bob Saffrin, who just recently returned from India. So many children, so many needs. What we could do if more Christian families would choose adoption, or even sponsor a child internationally.

Lorilyn,

I read your book Children of Dreams on the 20+ hour plane ride to India. I thought it would be a book that appealed more to women but I wanted to read it because I am trying to read stuff that will help me be a better author. 

I was surprised. I think it is the best book I have read for as long as I can remember! I was so touched by your struggles to have a family and how well you related it all to God’s own efforts to have a family. Mercy is not my giftedness but I have been on many trips with “moms” who cry over little naked village children with no hope and no future. They cry as we get into our rented SUV and drive off, leaving them behind. 

This year I met a 12-year-old boy who worked in a brickyard making bricks by hand by filling a wooden mold with mud. He had no family, his mother just dropped him off there when he was 5 because she couldn’t feed him. I asked him how much money he made. He said he had to make 1000 bricks a day. It took him 12 hours, 7 days a week and he made 5 rupees a day (10c), and they also gave him rice. This boy was a virtual slave and I stood there and there was nothing I could do. I made friends with him, had him teach me how to make bricks, and introduced him to Jesus but in the end, I got in the car and drove away. 

I was touched as I read your book to hear of two little girls who God rescued from the darkness and the hopelessness. I wish every woman that is considering an abortion could read your book.  I’m so glad that in your book you recognized that they truly are children of dreams but they aren’t your dreams, they are God’s. You just got to go along for the ride. Little by little I’m learning to let go of my dreams and connect with God’s dreams for my life.

Some of the cultural issues you dealt with in Nepal reminded me of India. In India, unless you are in a major city there is no such thing as TP. If you ask they don’t even know what you are talking about. When I meet with new team members for India I usually tell them they can bring their own or I will have it for sale for $1.00 a sheet. It seems that God has given you and me a similar call to adventure. By the way, I looked at your Facebook photos because I wanted to see Manisha and Joy and I discovered that you and I share the same birthday – Oct 17^th. J