On Friday the 13th in September, 1996 I flew around the belly of the earth from Honolulu to Cebu in the Philippines. It was a day of firsts: first trip to Asia, first time in the developing world, first experience as a minority–a tall white woman amid the crush of petite, brown-skinned people.
First day of motherhood.
Christian, Jameson, Marlie and Marguerite: I’ll never forget that first glimpse of you, my children, as I strode up the steps of Children’s Shelter of Cebu and plopped down on the floor so you could sit in my lap. I hope you always remember my first gifts to you–a kaleidoscope I hoped would reveal the marvel that is life, and a handful of children’s books because a life unread is a life barely lived. And I brought the gift of a mother’s love and devotion, which I continue to give to this day.