The Other September 11

Everyone has a 9/11 story. Everyone remembers what they were doing, where they were standing, what they were thinking when those two planes crashed into the Twin Towers. It is nothing new.

I am not trying to downplay the significance of this event and all of the aftermath, but September 11, 2001 is much more than the atrocities caused by terrorists. September 11 is also a day of miracles.

On that same cold September morning all those years ago, a baby girl was left on the orphanage steps in Ruijin, China. She was found by orphanage workers on their way to work and quickly brought inside. Her birth date was estimated to be nine days earlier on September 2. Small as she was, she was too weak to suck on a bottle or cry out for help. If not for those orphanage workers who diligently looked after her, she would not be alive today; they nourished her back to health and placed her in a temporary foster family. The little girl's name was Jin Rui Wen, but her foster mother called her Wen-Wen.

China has a strict one-child policy: one family means one child. Few exceptions apply. While ideals have slowly been changing, many families want to have a son to carry on the family name and to care for them when they become elderly. If a family's first child is a girl, they will often try to have a second child in the hopes of having a son. The desire for sons leaves the daughters with no where to go, and orphanages are filled with the forgotten.

The reason Jin Rui Wen was left at the orphanage gates is unknown. Her birth family will never be discovered. Her life that never was is lost.

But God had a plan for this little girl, as He always does, and on September 11, my family's life was changed. We simply did not know it yet.

In the fall of 2000, my dad felt God telling him he had a daughter in China. My mom initially thought he was crazy, but she soon came to realize that my dad was right: they had a daughter waiting for them halfway across the world. While we had never met her, we knew she was ours, and we knew her name was Anna.

My parents filled out mountainous amounts of paperwork, received visits by social workers, and had their backgrounds checked; and once all of this was done, there was only one thing left to do: wait. We waited until we felt we could hardly wait any longer, but one day in April 2002, we received The Call.

Bethany Christian Services – our adoption agency – called to tell us which little girl we would be adopting. Soon after the call, we received our referral, a document containing details of the child and a picture. Jin Rui Wen was the most beautiful girl we had ever seen. We quickly asserted her picture was taken in the winter: she was bundled up in so many layers that her arms stuck straight out at her sides. She also had fruit between her legs to hide her split pants, as children in China do not often wear diapers. We made copies of her picture, and my sisters and I each took a picture to school to show to our classmates who had been anxiously awaiting this day as well.

My parents were scheduled to fly to China on June 20, and they quickly began packing. They knew it would be hot while they were there, so they packed lightweight clothes, placing everything in air tight bags to maximize their luggage space. Their departure date arrived, and my sisters and I were left in the care of a friend from church.

After some sightseeing and tourist activities, my parents waited in Nanchang for Anna to be placed in their arms on June 24. They heard people coming down the hotel hallway, and they heard a baby crying. Everyone waiting for their child hopes theirs is not the one crying hysterically, but my parents heard a knock. The crying had stopped outside of their door.

They were handed a baby girl whose eyes were flowing with tears. She had traveled all day in a bus during the heat of summer. She was tired and hot and had never seen a white-skinned person in her life. She may have only been 10 months old, but she was terrified.

My parents quickly tried to soothe her with some milk, but the bottle they had brought from home was leaking everywhere. After a quick trip down to the hotel gift shop, the milk was transferred into a Chinese bottle, but what they did not know is that Chinese bottles do not work the same way as American bottles. Rather than lying the baby down and tilting up the bottle, the baby is supposed to sit up: the bottle has a weighted straw that sucks up the milk. However, Anna drank her milk and quickly fell asleep.

When she woke up in the morning and saw my parents looking down at her, Anna immediately began to cry again. “Why are these strange people still here?” she must have been thinking.

However, Anna quickly adjusted. She laughed and giggled and showed off her beautiful toothless grin. She was slightly malnourished, which was evident in her appearance; she should have already had some teeth, her hair was very course, and she had extremely thin arms and legs. However, this did not affect her attitude. She was very well behaved throughout the rest of the trip, being carted between government buildings to fill out the never-ending paperwork. Soon, she was on a flight with my parents back to her new home in America.

On July 3, my two younger sisters and I waited anxiously for the arrival of our new sister. We had already “drawn straws” to see who got to hold her first and who got to sit by her on the ride home; we had not come up with a third special duty, so it was decided that person would get a can of pop. I was chosen to hold her first, Renae got to sit by her on the ride home, and Erica received the consolation prize of a can of pop.

We watched down the escalator, waiting for any sign of our parents. I began to cry, and to this day, I am not entirely sure why. I know I was excited: I had waited so long for my new sister, but I simply could not control all of my emotions. I suddenly spotted my dad's feet, which are not hard to find in size 15 sandals. My parents came into view, and in my dad's arms was Anna.

I held her in my arms and tears rolled down my cheeks. This was the sister I had waited for so long. This was the sister I had loved before I even knew her name. This was Anna Rui Wen DeWaard.

Being the oldest, I was the designated babysitter, and I quickly became a second mother to Anna. I got her dressed, did her hair, and changed many diapers. I grew closer to Anna than I was with either of my other sisters, despite the fact that we were eleven years apart in age. I could tell story after story about watching Anna grow up – stories of laughter when she fell in love with her first meal of mashed potatoes, stories of frustration when I had to put her in timeout, stories of pride when she took her first steps. But there are simply too many stories to tell.

We did not know what talents Anna would have when we received her. Would she be as nonathletic as my sisters and I? Would she be shy? Would she love to read as much as the rest of us? As she grew older, we watched her develop into the 5^th grader she is today. She devours books by the dozen, she remembers every interesting fact she has ever learned, and she is a talented artist.

When I got married this past summer, Anna had a difficult time. After all, she was one of my best friends: I had spent most of her life by her side, and now, I was leaving her and moving far away. Anna bravely stood at the front of the church as one of my bridesmaids, but after the ceremony, we both fell to pieces. I have cherished every moment I have ever spent with her, and each visit home is special. She will always be my little girl too.

September 11 will never be forgotten by anyone, but my reasons for remembering are different than most. Without the events of that morning outside the orphanage, Anna would never have come home.

Because of September 11, Anna is forever sister.