My Personal Miracle

  Words cannot adequately describe how much I love this infuriating teenager who has raised whining to an art form, who calls me Muumuu--yes, like the Hawaiian dress fat ladies wear--and rolls her eyes at her father. She slams her bedroom door a lot, and seems to have her iPod surgically attached to her hand, but I don't mind the drama, really.
  She is stunningly beautiful with her round face, long, shiny black hair, almond-shaped brown eyes, and bow of a mouth--and I can take no credit for any of her features.
  The first time I saw her photo, I knew she was my daughter. She had that imploring look, her pert bottom lip jutting out in a frown. I knew she needed me as much as I needed her.
  I carefully selected her name, one with meaning that she could be proud of: Maya--which has different beautiful meanings in several languages--and a Chinese name to reflect her unique heritage: Meilin. It means beautiful forest. It suits my beautiful daughter perfectly.
  On June 13, 2000 at 10:00 a.m., nine-month-old Meilin was placed in my arms for the first time in a hotel conference room in Hefei, Anhui, China. As my husband predicted, she didn't cry but I did. It was the most wonderful moment of my life. When you go halfway around the world to embrace a stranger's child as your own, that kind of love transforms you forever.
  Sometimes God sends children to you the traditional way, as He did with my four wonderful sons. Sometimes He expects you to search for them, as I did with Meilin and, ten years later, her sister Malani from Zhongshan, Guangdong, China. God creates the perfect match. No other experience has increased my faith like adoption. My longed-for daughter was my own personal miracle.