How does one convey appreciation? More importantly, how does one ensure being ever-in-a-mode of thankfulness for what others have done for them? It’s not easy, nor is it easy admitting that sense of gratitude is not always present. Maybe it’s the hectic schedule; maybe it’s because we forget we aren’t independent, but rather inter-dependent. Or maybe we don’t even think about it.
In this adoption mission there is a tendency to “keep on keeping on,” such that a little boy makes it home…finally, after three years. To his loving friends and family; to his sibling’s silliness; to his own bed; to his mother’s lasting embrace. That’s where I am. It’s understandable, maybe even okay. But being exhausted should never be an excuse for being ungrateful. And it is very clear I need to be on guard these last days.
Fortunately for Rose and me, there was no way I could have left Harbin City without being appreciative of the people who made Ray the sweet boy he is today, and to those who helped facilitate his adoption.
As far as I knew, yesterday morning was supposed to be a box-checking exercise. Mrs. Meng (“Muhng”), the Director of Civil Affairs, would be stopping by the hotel around 9am to drop off Ray’s passport; then my dad and I would finish the packing details, and check out.
It didn’t work that way. May called our room to say Susan (Mrs. Meng’s American name) was downstairs waiting for us in the hotel’s café lounge. I wanted Ray to look good for her so this handsome little winter-scene sweater was pulled over his head. I have quickly grown to love his coarse, black hair. We left Room 2508 for the second-to-last time and walked down the hall toward the elevators, where Ray could get little-boy-joy from pressing the down arrow button.
Once downstairs we walked across the bustling lobby and into the café for the first time during our stay. It was posh, well-appointed, and, I couldn’t help but think, not quite Raymond-proof. Susan and her assistant Lynne were on the left side toward the bar sitting at a table, looking colorful and beautiful in their outfits.
We were invited to have some traditional Chinese tea with them. My dad took the opportunity to share our English heritage, and the love for tea. Sure, sure, even with that, I am not a tea and coffee drinker, but that morning I was. The tea we had didn’t hold a strong sense of self, at least that my novice palate could tell; yet the warmth was pleasing. Anyway, I was more concerned about Ray reaching for my cup and for unwanted burns.
Susan started by handing me Ray’s passport. The cover was and is maroon-colored, with the
People’s Republic of China emblazed in gold in both Chinese and English, along with a beautiful symbol that we must learn about. Inside it is a picture of our little boy, wearing an adorable pink and white striped shirt. The passport is for Dang Fu He, and while it’s valid through 2012 it probably becomes void when Ray becomes a United States Citizen. (Side note: he will also receive a US
birth certificate)
The passport was the first and last order of business during our time together. We spent the next 45 minutes essentially sharing mutual appreciation. Susan, speaking for many, and maybe all not there that day, was so thankful Ray would be in our family. She had left a good job in Canada to come back to her homeland and revive if not build the adoption center to where it is today. And so she had a great joy for Fu He. Internally, I spent about three seconds in a superficial self-satisfied spot for Rose and for me…and then quickly realized the expectations are tremendous upon our family. Ray already had food, shelter, and clothing. We were to now love him, to educate him, to instill values, to help him become an honorable man.
For my part, I let Susan know Ray’s mother and I were so thankful for everything. “In America, we have a phrase, ‘It could not have gone any better’ – meaning this was the best experience imaginable.” Even saying that, it didn’t capture the truth, for my imagination wasn’t mature or experienced enough to consider the potential of the past five days. Nonetheless, I let her know that we have told everyone back home, including our adoption agency, that the people of Harbin have been wonderful and gracious. This, both Susan and Lynne said, gives them “energy to do even better for the next families.”
The tears that weren’t there on Monday have emerged through the week in personal moments with Ray, me being still in disbelief Rose and I have adopted a chubby little boy full of the very energy Susan and Lynne spoke of. That morning, however, the tears came in pure thankfulness sitting there at the table, and especially when Susan offered gifts to our family (my father joined in as well, he being the dominant source for my sap gene.).
There were three gifts for our family; as well, my father received a cylinder of very tea we were drinking. First, Susan handed me a little red box with red and white flowers on the lid. Inside I found a glass ornament with a gold dog in the center, characterized among other things as a sign of fidelity. The second gift was in a silver box – also a glass ornament, it has the symbol for the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing. The traditional five rings have little mascots hanging on them, which embody the natural characteristics of four of China's most popular animals – the Fish, the Panda, the Tibetan Antelope, the Swallow – and the Olympic Flame. This
Fuwa can be seen all over China, as there is no question of the country’s excitement and pride for next summer.
The final gift was an album…complete with photos from the key moments of our Gotcha and Adoption Days. Also inside was a wish for Raymond Fuhe Dang Seeley, written in both Chinese and English. The translation of the latter is not perfect, which makes it even more enchanting and endearing for Rose and me:
Wish:
The smile blooms at you beautiful face,
The happiness shines in glory you the happy life.
The bathes the sunlight of the kindly, letting pure growth in mind.
The dear child remembers, the brave is your friend, the intelligence is your magic weapon.
Flap the arm in the vast world, make track for Garden of Eden in the dream.What could a father do? I just sat there quietly, turning the pages and letting tears roll down my cheeks. Could Rose and I wish for anything other than Ray to soar on eagle’s wings in this big,
blue world?
It was nearing the time to leave and Susan asked if there were any further questions on my part. The only request Rose and I had remaining was for pre-surgery pictures of Dang Fu He. I had asked earlier in the week, and so Susan now appreciated the importance of it to Ray’s mother and me. She promised to search in the files, and scan and send anything she found.
The last two symbolic gestures of the morning were to take a picture of the moment, and to say good-bye. Susan rubbed cheeks with Dang Fu He for the last time, and stole his lone remaining Harbin kiss.
...Back upstairs in the room we did the final packing of odds and ends. My timing got
all thrown off and so rather than it being 15 minutes to 11am, it was just before noon – just before we were to be in the lobby! Quickly stuff was thrown in and the zippers were zipped. I did a final check on top of the TV armoire, which had become the Put-It-Out-of-Ray’s-Reach place for the week. We were clear to go.
Downstairs the check out went smoothly, and another picture was taken with the hotel staff. The first actually was from earlier in the morning at breakfast. They had been so kind to us in our seven days, so gentle; to boot, we were bestowed an honor the night before by one of the young girls (Won Haiqing), asking that we give her an American name. We chose Helen, and she said she would “cherish it all my life.” Goodness, me, are these people beautiful.
The airport was calling, and so was one last ride with Mr. Song. It turns out from the earlier conversation with Susan that he was a top driver for the government officials, and my father and I could certainly believe it. He is deft, calm, and fearless in the absurdity that is Harbin traffic.
The 40-minute ride was one of those moments I wished could be “captured” for Ray, as he left his city of birth. But the camera, the pens and paper, and the word processors can’t really do it. The outside just went by. And poor Ray, his father wouldn’t let him fall asleep; selfish or not, that needed to be saved for the plane ride. Harbin Airport was then seen on our left; two minutes later we were at its door step. We said good-bye to Song, and headed inside.
The beauty of the morning was broken hard by the check-in. It’s interesting how such a civil people are something quite less than that when in a line. My bags were “heavy” and so we had to then go to yet another counter to pay for them. That line was crazy, with people pushing, shoving, and shouting, so much so that when May butted up to the front to save us the needed time the “supervisor,” clearly frazzled, said he was too busy to collect our money and to just get on the plane. Fair enough.
We made it through security with – oh, my! – bottles over three fluid ounces, and a laptop, DVD player, and video camera left unchecked. Then I walked hand-in-hand with my boy to the gate. We grabbed a quick bite for each other, then they began to board the plane. The three generations of Seeley men sat next to each other in the eighth row (Ray, Ben, and myself, as a point of fact, are the only people who can carry on the family name).
Ray wasn’t phased by the plane as it ran down the runway – he was occupied with snacks. And then as it lifted into the cold sky, he was asleep.
There is sorrow in leaving good people behind. What I never anticipated was developing a tremendous appreciation for Harbin, and specifically for those who cared for Ray. Maybe the sweetness comes in honoring them moving forward. In realizing that Ray is beautiful first because he is Chinese.
(shot of Glenn with sweetie pie Naomi)
(An eye-chart for children over five. Neat, but lacking precision.)
