God's Promise Fullfilled

Thirty years ago this week, a very precious person in my life died in a tragic auto/motorcycle accident in Oklahoma City. My little brother, the one person in my life who loved me unconditionally (at least until then), was killed by a young man who ran a stop sign, throwing Chisai off his motorcycle 68 feet through the air.

I loved that little brother. My mother helped deliver him. The nurse in the Japanese maternity hospital handed that little bundle to me and the family walked with him into the next room to watch as they cleaned his throat and washed him up. Our big brother Eldon brought Chisai home in a taxi when he was 10 hours old. From the time he was old enough to toddle, he was my constant shadow. He had a smile as big as all outdoors. He cared for the underdogs in life and championed their causes. When Ted died that day, a part of me went with him.

While home for his funeral, the family discussed the impending birth of a cousin's child. Out of the blue, I announced that my husband and I would be adopting a baby within a year. When I said that, we had not filed any papers with any agency for adoption. The state had a four year waiting list and was not accepting applications.

After I went back home, I delayed  turning in the paperwork with an agency in north Idaho. I wanted to be sure that a baby was the desire of my husband's heart. In September of 1982, my husband insisted that I send in the application.

When the social worker came for the home study in late September, we talked about Chisai and my dad. She asked me how long it had been since my father died. I looked at the clock. I said, "One year ago right now, my daddy drew his last breath."

Over the following months, we heard about babies up for adoption. They weren't ours. Then I learned about one due on our anniversary. I claimed that baby as ours even though the social worker said there was no way that baby could be ours..

I prepared for the baby. I prepared for a girl. I prayed for the mother of the baby.

I made a promise to God. I promised God that if he chose not to put a baby in our home by the time I turned 36 that summer, I would never ask again.

I made a more important promise. I promised God that if he gave me a child, she would be raised in HIS house.

On our sixth anniversary, God gave me Brenna Deshawn Dowd, the child of my heart, the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. My heart fell completely in love with that little turned up nose and the little rosebud mouth. She was born nine months after I made the announcement to the family that within a year, we would have a child.

I committed myself to her. Not just for the good times. Not just for the days of good health. The committment  was for all our days.

I could not have born a child more like me. This child came with so many traits that reminded me of the granddaddy and uncle Brenna never knew. I often said, "Somewhere between earth and heaven, they marked her."

God kept his promise to me. I did my best to keep my promise to him. I loved her forever and always, and forever and always I will continue to love her.

My heart aches. My heart grieves. On the day my little girl joined hands with Jesus, I knew why my mother always ached for Chisai. I knew why Aunt Jennie longed to be with her daughter Joyce. I understood how my Grandmother hurt even 50 years after the loss of her first born. I understood the pain my cousin felt at the loss of two daughters.

And I understood that no one else can fill the gap. There is no one who can take that empty place in a parent's heart.

My heart says, "What a day that will be when Jesus reunites me with my precious Brenna."

But, until then, I must stay focused on the job left behind for me to do. I cannot allow myself to be sidetracked by "fun" trips. I must get the message to Congress and the Senate. What happened to Brenna must stop happening to others. There is a better way. God's way.

The rest of Brenna's adoption story is told in her book: Condemned to Die: Ask me how. Tell me why, now in final editorial review.   After that book is published, watch for Gibbs' Story: Pawprints in the Heart.