The Kindergarteners in my classroom couldn’t understand why I would want to be gone for a whole week to go on vacation during the school year. When a few tears fell as I was about to wrap up my day, I quickly promised to bring back souvenirs for everyone.

While walking on the beach during my blissful week, I noticed seashells floating in the water. It didn’t take long to grab 25 of them. I decided to also use them as a lesson about how we are all different to avoid complaints about the various shapes and sizes.

Many happy faces appeared when they learned the meaning of souvenir and vowed to save theirs forever. The next day, a little lad looked a bit sad. When I asked if something was wrong, he said his mother was sick, so he gave his seashell to her, and it made her feel better. Glad I kept my own souvenir in my pocket. I didn’t know the purpose it would serve.

True story.

I know I was told never to play in that enormous pile of dirt at the end of our street, but that’s where I found this filthy old quarter. So what shall I do with it?

I know my Dad would be thrilled to have his very own Chicago Daily Newspaper today -- June 11, 1952. There goes five cents. Mom deserves a whole roll of those assorted flavors of life savers. Another five cents. Little brother Bobby will jump for joy if I give him a shiny new rubber ball. But that will cost a dime. I can’t forget Grandma. I know she loves the little root beer barrels at the Penny Candy Store. I think I’ll get her four of those. That will leave me with one penny, and I know what I’ll do with that.

Dad promised that on the 4th of July, he will take us all to see the Buckingham Fountain in downtown Chicago. He said if you toss a coin into the fountain, you get to make a wish. Please don’t tell anyone. My wish will be to find another quarter.

I asked the CEO of a very successful, growing company if she would trade her life with anyone else. Without hesitation, she talked about the poor coffee farmer she observed while on a mission trip to Guatemala last week. “I would love to experience the joy that man expressed when talking about his life.” He was surrounded by his six kids and wife who needed daily care for her medical situation which is worsening. He invited me to come for a glass of water to his house, which was mainly built of sticks and cardboard and could not withstand the gentlest storm.

So what did he say that would make a billionaire want to trade places with him? Something about the love that consumes him from morning ’til night and the belief that eternal bliss is waiting for all of them.

Did I just die? Most centurions decline quickly in their final days. Why am I so elated to lie still while I can’t feel my breath or my feet?

What I’m seeing is “pure heaven.” The lush turquoise door reminds me of the sparkling waves of the Caribbean. The metallic door knocker is shaped like a precious sand dollar. I hear angelic voices singing my favorite oldies tunes – all about love.

Still, I’m hesitant to see what’s on the other side. Surely my Mom and Dad will be there with open arms, and it’s been forever since I’ve had a hug from Grandma. What could possibly go wrong?

The alarm clock goes off.

Today my Mom would have been 100 years old. Often we enjoyed teasing her about the big celebration required for reaching that milestone. She never believed it would happen, and it didn’t. Except for the party I imagine my Dad and God are hosting today.

Her song is ended, but her melody lingers on.

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.