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And Then a Miracle Happens: A Story of Search and Reunion, Page 4

With John and the girls listening in the background, I moved myself to the kitchen to try Josephine a second time. This time the phone was picked up on the second ring. Once I heard her "Hello?" I blurted out, "Josephine...it's Mari!" From there on, it was as if we had been speaking to each other every week for the last forty years! She was so warm and loving and personable on the phone, I couldn't believe my good fortune. I had expected the worst — I truly believed she had put her past behind her and wanted no more to do with it, including me. But here was this sweet woman telling me how much she missed me, thought of me every day, and loved me. I was overwhelmed. We both were, but remarkably composed somehow.



Her husband Les was sitting beside her on the sofa and she told me how good he was to her and what a lovely life they had. I was so happy for her. We shared just a few brief details, but rang off with me promising to send photos and my address and phone number. It was a short but incredibly sweet conversation and I will never forget it. She asked if I had received certain things she had sent with me when I left for the U.S. in 1961: a little prayer book, gold chain, a doll and some baby clothes. All had been kept for me, except the chain (which I fear may have been broken early on and put away by my adoptive mother). The doll occupies a very special place in my house and has been freshened up recently, with newly painted features and a new head of hair. But she still wears the pretty dress my birthmother stitched herself. She is evidently quite good at sewing, smocking and embroidery, a trait I share with her.

After our first conversation, we decided to go on with our trip to New York. It somehow seemed even more fitting — it was almost forty years to the day (December 1) after my arrival in the U.S. I don't remember my feet ever touching the New York City sidewalks. And as we first viewed the destruction left at the World Trade Center plaza, I quietly thanked God that I was able to stand there alive and well, knowing my first mother was also still alive and well and that we had been reunited. It was an overwhelming sense of peace and healing. I also thought about how various wonderful people like Judy Campbell and able spirit guides like my deceased father and Aunt Elizabeth, had no doubt got me to this place. Never underestimate the power of angels — both those living and those who have passed on.

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