A Tree of Life

(Written en route from Mexico City to Minneapolis, June 7)

Today is My Linh’s 16^th birthday.  Somewhat unexpectedly, I am traveling home this evening (my passport is full and I need an extra week in the States to add pages).  I am very excited to see My Linh on her birthday, even if I won’t arrive until 10:00 PM.

Our life with My Linh really pre-dates our knowledge of her, to a conversation I had with a friend during the winter of 1998-1999.  I was riding from Duluth to Minneapolis with my good friend, Brian Hess.  Both of us had recently become fathers and we were talking about life with children.  I remember telling Brian that as thrilled as I was to have a son, I was secretly jealous that he had a daughter.  At the time, Carrie and I had talked about adopting from Vietnam again.  Adopting from Vietnam without designating a gender preference meant that you would in all likelihood be referred a baby boy.  There were boys waiting to be adopted and a waiting line to adopt girls, and I never really could bring myself to check the box indicating gender preference when there were children waiting for homes.  So somehow, I always thought we would have a family of boys. 

I don’t really need to write about fathers and sons, or to say again how incredibly blessed I am to have Hudson as my son.  There is a special bond between fathers and sons – it is often misunderstood and often less than optimal – but it is uniquely special.  Still, there is something mystical in a healthy father-daughter relationship.  I’m sure daughters understand this, but young men are only able to observe this with awe.  For any young man who has fallen in love with a young woman, I think the father-daughter relationship achieves this mythic status.  You see this woman whom you adore, and your longing for her is heightened by the true affection, love and respect she has for her father.  Something deep inside honors this relationship with a purity of admiration and wonder.  You understand the father’s protective role and the way that his love heightens her beauty.  The day of your wedding you see your bride, escorted down the aisle by a man of noble character who will become your father-in-law.  You are humbled again as he gives her away, literally transferring his protective role to you.  You understand with sobriety that you are called now to lay down your life for her, just as her father had made so many sacrifices on her behalf to that point.  You pray and hope that you will be able to serve her as well as he has.

All this to say that on that cold winter night, driving with my friend Brian, I knew that his daughter, Livia, would become a beautiful woman of exceptional character and that Brian would enjoy this special relationship that I could only admire.  

In the spring of 1999, I was finishing graduate school and was searching for my first job as a plant breeder.  At the time, I most wanted to apply for a post-doc position with CIMMYT as a maize breeder, but Carrie and I were recovering from a difficult stretch, and it was clear that for us to leave the country then would have been unwise, if not impossible.  I had an application out for a post-doc at Cornell, and another one out with a small seed company in Harlan, Iowa.  I had to search to find Harlan on the map when I went to interview with Wilson Genetics.  I had been through a phone interview with Cornell, and I was very interested in the post-doc there.  Meanwhile, things progressed with Wilson, and time went by without hearing from Cornell.  I was invited for a second interview.  Carrie and I went to Harlan to explore this option, not really sure about moving to western Iowa. 

We stayed at the 59er Hotel just north of town. The hotel sign had been twisted by straight-line winds.  We drove through the town, looking at houses, wondering if this was the place for us.  On the morning of our second day, I had to make a decision on an offer.  I woke up that morning and read from Proverbs:

“Hope deferred makes the heart grow sick,

But a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."  Proverbs 13:12

 

I stared at the page and wondered what God was telling me.  For 10 years I had been hoping to return to Africa to serve.  Six years of graduate school…  Hope deferred.  My heart sank as I meditated on this verse.  But then God spoke to me again… Longing fulfilled – we would not be able to adopt again on a post-doc salary.  My heart revived.  At that time, with the state of our marriage, I could barely begin to hope that we might adopt again, but this job as an industry corn breeder could provide the means.  Maybe God would open a door of opportunity to adopt again.  And maybe, just maybe, He would give us a daughter.

Seven months later, Carrie gave me an adoption application as a Christmas present.  The following summer I was working at my desk on a sunny afternoon when I received an email forwarded from Carrie.  It was a posting from an adoption list-serve Carrie subscribed to describing a little girl with special medical needs at an orphanage in Ham Tan, Vietnam.  I remember gazing out my office window the rest of the afternoon wondering if this might be, if it could be.  Who was this little girl, and what wouldn’t I give to be her Dad.

We inquired, and waited.  Another family was considering adopting My Linh, but would we be willing to stay on a waiting list.  Of course.  The home study moved forward without a referral and then in late summer, the news that I could hardly believe could be arrived – would we consider adopting My Linh.

There was never a moment’s hesitation for me, but there were several ancillary considerations (see Eternal Unseen Things).  A two inch thick binder of medical records, visits with specialists and surgeons, questions about medical insurance, questions we couldn’t answer but had to entrust to God. Sleepless nights, and hours in prayer, and all the while a growing affection for this wonderful little girl, far away in Vietnam.

For twelve and a half years now, My Linh Yvonne has been our daughter.  Every day with her is a testament to the faithfulness of God in my life.  His promises are true.  She is to me a tree of life.  Fortunately, I do not have to imagine life without My Linh because I am no longer capable of conceptualizing it.  She defines me as much as having green eyes, or being right-handed.  I am convinced now that I am more glad being My Linh’s Dad than being Mike Olsen and the former makes the latter more humane and more loving.  She is kind, courageous, beautiful, bright, thoughtful, diligent and resilient.  She is everything that a father could hope for in a daughter.  I watch her with her friends and I see the calm, stabilizing influence she has, the faithfulness and goodness she represents, and I know she is a gift to them as she is to me.  She is a gift to everyone she interacts with.

A few rows in front of me on the plane just now, a grandfather lifted up his two year old grand-daughter and kissed her on the forehead.  It made me smile.  I used to wonder at the beautiful relationship between father and daughter.  To this day I hardly believe that I am experiencing it.  But I do know that in a few hours, I will walk through the door of our house in Minneapolis, and she will give me a warm embrace that will leave me with a joy incomparable.  Happy Birthday, My Linh.  I love you more than I can express and I will always be grateful to be your Dad.