Why I sacrificed a promising, even glamourous, career.

In 1943 I was adopted at the age of 22 months. The events leading to my adoption were tragic. However, my adoptive parents remained faithful to my birth father's mother in taking me to see her.

Forever etched in my memory is my Grandmother's lush back yard. Elegant trees dwarfed her tiny rustic cottage. Red, pink, and yellow hollyhocks danced along a rustic fence that bordered the quaint landscape. Amid a gay variety of greenery, bleeding hearts graced the gray-slated sidewalk. Their lovely lockets of lavender pink dazzled me, however, I was yet to discover that each blossom held a sense of magic!

One day, while I was playing in her flower garden, my Grandmother plucked a tiny heart from the vine. Dividing it into three parts, she explained, “Here's a pair of earrings, these two are sandals, and look, we have a pair of bunnies!”

It was a beautiful summer day the last time we went to visit my Grandmother. As we pulled into the alley and neared her house, my excitement grew. But my eagerness was short lived when we realized the grass had grown tall and the window blinds were pulled. My Grandmother no longer lived there.

Twenty-five years would pass before I'd discovered that my Grandmother had abruptly moved to Illinois to live with her son, my natural Uncle. Though I was adopted out of my Grandmother's family, I never forgot her. Her sudden disappearance left a great big hole in my heart.

In 1990 I relocated to Kalamazoo, Michigan to partner in a traveling and speaking ministry with Nancy Dorner. While there I trained and received my license in the listing and sales of real estate. Though it was a real challenge in a new city where I knew next to no one, I was headed for success in a high profile office. I had excellent training and soon had a nice portfolio of listings. I was living in the best of both worlds traveling the Christian Women's Clubs circuits with Nancy on off times and scouting for listings on my job. At the same time, I had joined the Toastmasters club where I made a number of new friends while honing my own leadership and speaking skills. I was also receiving small writing contracts for Christian publications, thus spent time at my kitchen table typing. By then, I had purchased a little English style cottage on Parker Avenue and was, thus, becoming rooted in my new location. I had found many single friends in various church groups, including my Sunday school class at Calvary Bible Church on Drake Road. This was my life for three years in Michigan and I loved it!

Whenever I had an “open house” at one of my listings or another office listing, I'd go over to Meijers 57 superstore, not far from my house, to purchase a bouquet of beautiful gladiolus---they were only a dollar! While there I also looked for a new story book for my three year old Grandson back home. I'd record the story on cassette, ringing a bell (or blowing a whistle) with each turn of the page. Then I'd mail him the book and the cassette. Soon I had a new Granddaughter, and later another Grandson.

Then one day I was at my typewriter writing about the vignette in my Grandmother's lush back yard where the bleeding hearts grew. Then all at once it hit me!! I had left Danville abruptly leaving my Grandson just as my own Grandmother had left those many years ago. I stood to my feet feeling anew the sting of that day when I realized she was gone. In the days that followed my heart continued to call me back home. It was more than emotions, it was real, and I knew there would be still more grandchildren. If I remained in Kalamazoo my Grandchildren would never know me and I would never really know them. Furthermore, it was a priority that my Grandchildren heard from me about Jesus. I was filled with a deep desire to be a godly role model to them. After filling my duties at my real estate office, I packed boxes to return most of my stuff by UPS. Then the day came, car packed, I began my drive home.

While there are still many times I feel the tugging at my heart for the good days at Kalamazoo, I have never regretted bonding with my Grandchildren. Another Grandson came along, as well as another Granddaughter, after I moved back home. Have I ever regretted making that decision? If I had remained in Michigan I would have missed taking Veggie Tale videos from the church library every Sunday to my Grandsons. I would have missed singing “Jesus Loves Me” to Charissa when she was a few months old. I would have missed hearing about the girls playland they referred to as “Narnia” and playing baseball with the boys. I would have missed all the school events and going to the Grandsons' roller skating parties, Charissa taking a bow at the end of the Bloomsburg Theater Ensemble's “East of the Sun and West of the Moon” and Maddie catching me on an April Fool's trick.

My Grandchildren are all grown now, but I look back with no regrets. I may not have the potentially lucrative career I might have had in Kalamazoo, but I have something far more valuable: decades of memories that are priceless. And that is why I sacrificed a promising, even glamorous, career.