My Life With My Daughter

I lived a most beautiful five years among the Native American tribes of North America.  During that time, I was already living a deeply mystical and shamanic life, surrounded by the aliveness of all things, filled with the song of the Earth and sky…

I led sacred gatherings for students into the Canadian Rockies.  I taught at Indian Lodges as the first white woman and attended the Native ceremonies few outside the Tribes are ever privileged to see.  That part of my journey brought me a gift more precious than words can express:  Little White Horse Woman.

I held her in my arms for the first time when she was three months old.  She gave me a toothless smile; her little fists clenched next to her chubby cheeks.  Her dark brown eyes pulled at my heart.  She had been abandoned twice and was in dire circumstances by the time the Children’s Welfare Agency found her the second time.

I waded through red tape, lawyer’s offices and home inspections for six more months before I could bring her home to Oregon:  home to the white, lonely beaches where sandpipers dart like quicksilver over wet sand; where wild daffodils quiver in the wet, electric green grass stroked by salty sea breezes.  But most of all, home to her little crib, where a stuffed dog and a lavender musical elephant waited to delight her.

She didn’t cry; after all, crying never got her fed or loved or had her needs met before.  But if I used the word “No”, she shrieked in terror and shielded her little downy head as though expecting to be struck.  We used the words “It is not okay” and banished the word “No” from our house.

I carried her on my back, where she could feel the warmth of me and feel safe and loved.  As I fed her bottle to her and rocked her in my arms, I would talk gently to her; promising I would never leave her.  Her dark eyes would study me intently as I spoke and she drank her bottle.

The Native American family had promised me that if I took her as my little girl, that it would be permanent.  After 6 years of hardly any contact, they broke that promise and obtained legal fees from the tribe to take her away from me.

I had tried unsuccessfully to shield her from knowing about the situation.  It had been an uphill journey to get to the point of her being content.  Our first years together were plagued with her rages and many nights I would cry myself to sleep.  She had been put out of her pre-school and professional counselors suspected she had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.  But we had proved them all wrong – love can conquer everything.  But then the threat of losing the only home and mother she had ever known came crashing down…

I held her in my arms as her little body shook from sobs after I had to finally explain that we needed to appear before a judge.  Once again I looked deep into her teary, dark eyes and promised her I would never leave her; that if she was sent back to Canada, I would go with her even if I had to clean houses for a living to be near her - I would be there.

I had worked hard over the years to accumulate $30,000 in savings.  We spent it gladly on the best international child custody attorney.  She sat with her crayons, drawing detailed pictures for the judge about how happy she and Mommy were together and we won…

We won the right to be happy together; to cuddle in quilts in front of the fire, the rain beating on the roof.  We won the right to draw hearts with sticks on the beach and fly our kite like a whale swimming through the sky. 

We made ourselves a promise that day, when I became the sole adoptive parent of my daughter – the only one the county has ever seen.  We promised to celebrate every day together.

Some call us flamboyant; some less kind call us eccentric.  But one thing is irrefutable:  We live deeply, authentically and in joyous abandon to the river of life with its abundant blessings as it flows to our door…

Teaching at Elora, Ontario with her adopted daughter on her back,

Almine plays the drum given to her by the Inuit from Alaska

Conversations with Jaylene

J: “Mommy, why did you leave the palaces and the pretty evening balls and evening dresses behind?”

A: “A day came when I couldn’t hear the music of the stars singing to me”

J: “But Mommy, you took me to a palace once for tea… remember? When we went to London? Don’t you miss the elegance?”

A: “The greatest elegance I’ve ever seen is in nature; to be in the mountains of Alaska is like being in the grandest cathedral one can imagine.  The Redwood Trees in California make a more majestic palace that any architect could possibly design.”

J: “And you and I can sleep there in our tent whenever we want to…”

A: “Yes, dearest, in our palace of trees.”