After the Journey: Smile through all of it: The untold story part II

To return to the reading, I ponder the significance of what I just read and it helps my nerves. I rehearse what I need to say later on television…after all, this program broadcasts across Uganda. I am aware of the magnitude of the responsibility. In preparation, I write some thoughts down. I know that Betty is going to ask me one final question, “What do you want to say to your adopted parents, the Clarkes?” For her it is a punch line, for me it is a culmination of all emotions. It is the unplugging of my composure (and although I am rarely composed, on this day I really want to try), and I am not looking forward to that particular question. I don’t want to look ugly on TV! Vanity!! Prior to Rose’s Journey, I had written my Irish family a short letter. I wanted them to know what I thought and felt before the walk, what the last 20 years had meant. Even though it is difficult to sum up 20 years in a paragraph, I tried…I retrieve what I wrote in a short email entitled “How do I say thank you to my family!” As usual, the letter is too long so I try to think of ways to shorten it and come up with; “Thank you for seeing me, for choosing me, and for loving me; for instilling in me a sense of self worth; for helping me discover my sense of purpose and potential; for showing me that having hope and faith is a courageous and selfless act; and for helping me remember that even in the grayest of despair, I still could rise…


Sadly, when the moment comes for me to respond to Betty’s “what do you want to say to your Irish parents,” I remember none of what I wrote down! I am too emotional to respond to the question. The camera’s are on me. I think, “Oprah Winfrey often talks about ugly-crying faces, mine is certainly going to be one of those on national television.” I don’t care. I look over to where my Irish Father is seated (My Mum is in Ireland for a short visit with family). Next to him are my brother Tom and his wife Hilda, and right behind them on the next row of chairs, sits my friend Helen, Agnes, and Hannah. Everyone is crying well before I get through with the first sentence…!

Addressing my Father, I say, “I have always said to you both, that you loved me at a time when I thought I was unlovable; you saw me at a time when no one else did; in your family am at home, you gave me flies to,” WAIT A MINUTE, did I just say flies? I correct myself; “wings to fly…thank you for saying to me…it is good you exist, it is good you are in the world!” By the time I struggle through all that, there is not a dry eye in the audience and that is how I end my story on Untold Stories.

In the bathroom, right after the show, I try to compose myself. I am in the middle of a mini meditation when a woman who was in the audience during the show comes out of one of the toilets. I am startled by her being there as this is supposed to be a "VIP" bathroom, or so I was told. She immediately hugs me, very tightly, and keeps on hugging me until I am a little confused as to whether she is happy or sad, and until I am not able to breathe. She is crying the whole time she is hugging me. Does she realize I am already unplugged? I wonder. I hold her in return and let her cry for a while. A few minutes later, and out of her grip, she says to me, “God brought you here today just for me, just for me.” She points to herself in emphasis, does not tell me her name, even when I introduce myself and realize only when she smiles back at me, that she knows my name already! I assume she wishes not to be known, and again realize just as quickly that she is known already, to someone, she is in the journey, she is here…! We both look at each other, and cry, happy tears, a recognition that we are both grateful for the lives we each have. For the stories told and untold. For despairing and for the courage to hope. For the simple remembrance of why we matter to each other and the world around us. For how our choices and decisions have been and are instrumental to new beginnings, and to a way forward…

My comrade, without answering any of my questions walks off as quickly as she appeared, and leaves me there, still standing in the bathroom, still thinking, tears in my eyes, happy, and confused. Is she coming back? She does not, and I get no explanation as to why God brought me here for her. My curiosity tries to get the better of me and I have a burning desire to follow her and have her explain what she means, and then check myself. May be God is answering her prayers! And maybe it is none of my business what prayers He is answering. It is my business to show up, to be obedient, and to tell the story of hope, to take the steps however many. Praise the Lord Rose, Brad had said, Smile through all of it today, and so I do.