With an amazing amount of tenacity, I searched for a child I could call mine. Hopes were dashed in Mexico and then Honduras where a baby was mistakenly given to someone else.

Eventually, I made my way to Paraguay, arriving at midnight. No one was at the airport with my child.

Later, on Christmas morning, I brought my newly adopted Maria through a Paraguayan rainstorm to experience the joy of celebrating the birth of Christ.

When hearing the government was about to end allowing children to leave the country, I did the only thing I knew. God answered my prayer!

While most folks celebrate the 4th of July, it’s the 5th when I remember having a dream come true.

Many years ago, when my heart drove me to explore various places around the world where I might find “my baby Maria,” I knew it wasn’t going to be a simple journey.  As a single parent, my options were limited in where I could adopt a baby girl.  Mexico appeared to be an easy possibility, notwithstanding all the red tape, reference letters and endless forms needed to apply.  Several months later, I got a call saying the program had closed for no apparent reason, and they wished me the best of luck.

I then learned Honduras offered an adoption program, and I even had a chance to communicate with another Mom who successfully added a daughter to her family.  While having a little baby girl was my wish, when I received a photo and description of a one- year-old, I accepted that she was the one chosen for me. That was until I received a letter apologizing for the agency’s mistake of giving this girl to someone else, and sorry to say, there were no more children available in the foreseeable future.

A co-worker once called me tenacious. It may have been this never-give-up attitude or very strong belief there was a plan for me, that kept me going.  Paraguay popped up in my research with an adoption office in rural Minnesota.  After completing a third set of paperwork and non-stop praying, I hoped this would be my destination. A photo and description of a beautiful three-month old baby girl, whose birthmother’s name was Maria, felt like a sign from above.  The following Christmas Day, I found myself in Paraguay, where following a knock on my hotel door, my Maria appeared.

On July 5th I will celebrate the day 35 years ago when this adoption was finalized, and Maria officially became my daughter.  Every ounce of effort was rewarded, and I’ll always give thanks for all who helped make my dream come true.

Eggs Benedict smothered in hollandaise sauce and unlimited mimosas make it brunch.

An afternoon of smooth sailing on a local lake.

Short stop at a nearby chapel to say thanks.

Son and daughter are surprise guests for dinner at my favorite restaurant.

Home sweet home, and in the hallway, I see my suitcase with a note “Your bag is packed – we’re leaving tomorrow for two weeks in Bora Bora.”

It’s not a special birthday.

Just a perfect day!

I glide on my skateboard through the pearly gates. Can’t believe I made it to heaven when I’m only twelve years old. As I glance up, it’s not God who I see but my crabby old next-door-neighbor. How did she get here?

My entire life passes before me in an instant, and I once again experience the great joys of Christmas mornings and the extreme sadness of hearing my Dad say he has cancer. In a flash, I see my last moments on earth when I was certain I could top my greatest speed while sailing downhill on my trusty skateboard. It ended when that enormous semi turned the corner.

Before I have time to even realize where I am, it’s the crabby old neighbor who takes my hand and says there is someone waiting to see me. Now I’m wondering if it’s the devil ready to begin my descent. Instead, I see what some refer to as the Higher Power, and He tells me I have earned eternity because of one tiny prayer said by my neighbor the day I broke her window with my baseball. I quickly learned that all it takes to get to heaven is one tiny prayer.