When the call came, it was more than a surprise; more like the heavens had opened and a voice from the dead was speaking; a voice I had never heard before. She was just a baby when I last saw her almost 40 years ago. There was a time during the latter years when I actually convinced myself that she was dead. Now after decades of wondering what had happened to her, my daughter was talking to me.



Her mother and I had been blessed with her when we both were merely kids ourselves, without the good sense to know that life is not always the fairy tale we dreamed it would be. That dream came to an end just a few short years later when my wife and I went our separate ways. They moved to another state a short time later and started a new life as a new family, with a new name and with a new husband and father. That was the last time I saw my daughter until she called that night a few years ago.

"You're the answer to a thousand prayers!" I exclaimed after I composed myself enough to speak. One month earlier I had reconciled myself to the fact that she was gone forever and that it was time to put the issue to rest. I had one picture of her when she was eleven months old, my constant reminder of the child I had lost. That day, I slipped it into an envelope and stuffed it into the trash can.

Television today generally depicts the father as being a dunce without any noticeable intelligence and with little feelings for anything but himself. In real life it doesn't always work that way. At least it didn't for me. Many times I had wished that it did.

The first twenty years were the roughest. Every time my children from a later marriage would reach some milestone in their lives; little league, girl scouts, band, etc., I would wonder how my other daughter was faring in the same situations. Certainly I was proud of my kids for their achievements I, but a little sad at the same time.

There's no good excuse for allowing someone else to adopt your child when you're capable of rearing that child yourself. In later years I tried to convince myself that I was young and scared, more boy than man at that time. I remember the brow beating and sage advice from people I thought at the time were friends. Finally it seemed that I would be making some noble and mature gesture by agreeing to the adoption. As I see it now, it wasn't noble or mature; just cowardly.

Time does not heal all wounds without help from the wounded. While it marches on, the pain of loss always seems to be bringing up the rear. After the initial shock of a divorce and the remarriage of her mother a short time later, I found that I still had a life to live. Years swiftly passed with my new family taking up most of my time and thoughts, but still in idle moments, there would be the vision of my daughter and what she might look like at that moment.

Her mother had told me those many years ago that they were moving to Texas. Not knowing exactly where they moved, whenever I visited that state on business, I would look in the telephone books and hope to find some sign of their presence. That never happened. I'm not sure what I would have done if I had found them.

Finally after I had finally given up any thoughts of finding her, she found me! She was told about me in her teens. Twenty years later, she became determined to find me. Her grandmother gave her enough information about my family and where I lived to give her search a chance to succeed. But still, it took her five years to get up the courage to dial the number she had found. She wasn't sure how she would be received. Thankfully, she had enough guts to put aside her fears and call.

After that evening's call, I've spent the last seven years running up tremendous telephone bills. I think we talked almost every night for the next six months, getting to know each other again! I have two beautiful grand daughters I didn't know I had. I'm sure both of them will grow up to be Miss Texas someday.

My daughter and I have a relationship that is stronger than I could ever have imagined. Maybe it's because we're both mature now and we both know what we've missed not knowing each other. She thinks I'm a pretty cool guy. She gets her intelligence and good looks from my side of the family!

I have to believe that God had a hand in getting us together again. I don't know why she appeared shortly after I gave up and tried to push her from my mind. Maybe it's his way of showing us to never give up on anything important. Knowing her and seeing the bright, determined woman she has become, lets me know that God was keeping an eye out for both of us all the time.

I know my daughter well enough now to know that there's no quit in her. Maybe that's the way it should be for us all!