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Making
things happen - with integrity. A Weekly CyberMemo designed to keep you on task. Monday, February 21, 2000 Volume II Number 8
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FOCUS - Janessa
Craig Holiday is a successful businessman. He likes to say, “success happens at the intersection of opportunity and preparedness.”
Thanks, Craig. I like that little word picture. It’s true. You can be prepared, but until opportunity comes along, you’ve got nothing. You can have opportunity all around you, but if you are not prepared, the opportunity is worthless. Useless.
Look around you. You’ve done pretty well. Those are nice things you’ve got, starting with the computer monitor you are looking at right now. Some say you are lucky. You just happened into all this abundance by the luck of the draw. I’d be better off too, they go on, if I’d had your advantages.
You know differently.
You know what it takes to get where you are. And luck is not at the top of the list.
It’s taken hard work and discipline and initiative and persistence and
poise and self-denial and doing the things most people would rather not do.
It started with those credentials.
You went after them… it was expensive and risky and a lot of people
quit. But not you, you got the
piece of paper – the union card – to do what you do.
But the credential is only the beginning.
Lots of people have that credential in their possession, but they are
still floundering. You learned how
to make it work. You developed the
people skills. You endured the
rejections. You chased the
rainbows with no pot of gold at the end. You
didn’t give up. You survived
those crises when they almost shut you down.
When they said it’s OK to give it up you said no way.
And today you are bruised and a little shaken, but you are still
standing. To date, you’ve beaten
the odds. Luck?
Give me a break.
And you are right.
But in looking back, you know that chance
plays a role, too. You are
prepared. But then the phone rings
unexpectedly. There is a choice
referral that comes from nowhere. You
do nothing to generate the 
lead… but the surprise call takes you directly to
a timely chunk of good business. It
drops from the sky – and you are ready.
For the life of you, you cannot identify the source.
It’s a mystery. Thank God
for mystery.
Success then is a combination of those two factors – opportunity and preparedness. You’ve got to be good and ready. You pray that the opportunities will keep on rollin’ in. And when the two intersect - better collide - things happen.
Powerful things happen.
* * * * * *
Dr. Ken U. Fong is married to Sharon. They’ve been together now more than fifteen years. Both careers have worked well – Sharon in a highly regarded investment banker and Ken is a teacher, a writer, a counselor, a motivational speaker and the Senior Pastor of a vibrant, high profile church.
Ken and Sharon had just about everything – except a family. Through the years, he told me about the pain of unrealized hopes and dreams. For the two of them. They had a great life together. Friends. Marriage. Travel. House. But no kids. They wanted kids. Kids to fill the empty rooms.
When I walked into his office this week, a sixteen by twenty-four portrait dominated the room. It was a ten-month-old smiling cherub with a bow in her hair. She wore a frilly pink dress and held a parasol over her shoulder. Just beneath the picture, a single word in bold type: JANESSA.
Ken looked up, his face lit up like the National Christmas Tree in Times Square. He reached out with a warm handshake and blurted it out, “Hey Ken (referring to me) guess what? I’m a dad!”
“Janessa. Wow,” I said. “She’s beautiful. A year ago, there was no child. What happened?”
Over lunch, Dr. Fong told me a story I will never forget.
* * * * * *
Ken and Sharon took every test known to modern science. Nothing worked.
They listened openly to every piece of homespun advice imaginable. Still, no results. It was a physical and emotional and spiritual roller coaster that few survive. A white-knuckle ride. At the end of the day, they looked into each other’s eyes and concluded that what they have well is worth keeping. There is a baby somewhere. We’ll find a child who needs us as much as we need her. We’re going to start the process. Adoption, well, it’s biblical, they said.
They focused on China. They chose to start with a girl. They found a reputable agency. The baby may be from the other side of the globe, but she will be our own. She’ll even look like us. They submitted the first of many forms and papers. They sat through the interviews and did their due diligence. It would take years, but that’s OK.
That was two years ago.
It was a grueling exercise. But they were approved. The next step would be a phone call from China. If the call were favorable, there would be an immediate departure. Buy the plane tickets. Let the bank and the church know. A brief leave of absence. Bangkok bound. A pastor and his wife on a mission.
One afternoon, Ken was at the house alone. Sharon was downtown. The phone rang. It wasn’t China.
It was a distant relative.
“Ken, in the next county over, about forty-five minutes from your
house, there is
a healthy six day old infant.
Her name is Janessa. Her
birth parents are Chinese. The
nineteen-year-old mother has signed all the papers. The adoptive parents bailed out at the last minute.
Janessa is available for immediate adoption.
The birth mother has specific criteria.
You and Sharon fit the profile. You
must decide immediately. The birth
mother is scheduled to leave the baby and the state tomorrow night.
Janessa could be yours as soon as tomorrow afternoon.”
Dr. Ken U. Fong, pastor, teacher, storyteller, counselor, is rarely caught searching for something to say. Ken was speechless. Nonplussed. He had to catch is breath.
He stared at the telephone. “Ken… Ken?… Ken!” came the voice from the other end of the line.
“Yes… uh… OK.” Later, he confessed his thoughts. This is too perfect. Janessa is the child we’ve been praying for. But Sharon will never forgive me if I make a commitment without consulting her. And our hearts are set on a China baby.
“You know,” Ken explained, “we are already well into the process of adopting a child with an over-seas agency. We cannot consider Janessa at this time. There are two families in my church, however, who just might be interested. I’ll call them and get back to you.”
He tried calling Sharon. Office, voice mail. Cell phone, no answer. “Where is she?” Ken thought.
Then he called those two families. Both were complimented that their pastor believed them to be suitable candidates for this lovely child, but both were as stunned at the possibility as Ken. One couple flatly declined. The other gave a tentative, qualified, reserved maybe.
Sharon walked through the door.
Wives are intuitive when it comes to their husband’s mental state. High or low. They know if it’s frustration, celebration, boredom, self-congratulation, introspection, pouting, pre-game jitters, self-absorption or just another one of those regular humdrum days. It takes a millisecond.
Sharon took one look at her husband. She knew. This was not an ordinary day. “Ken, what is it?” she asked.
“Sit down, Snoopy.” He calls Sharon Snoopy. “You are not gunna believe this.”
He told her the whole story.
“Janessa.” She repeated the name - just to hear the sound of it. “Janessa.” Tears filled her eyes. She looked out the window. “…. that’s our baby!” she said.
Even after all those years, Sharon, ever cautious, ever wait-and-see, ever guarding against disappointment, could still surprise Ken. This time Sharon’s enthusiasm was immediate, complete… it bordered on reckless abandon. Ken thought it to be entirely out of character. But it delighted him. “You think so?” he asked.
They embraced. They laughed. And together they sobbed. All at once.
“Now what to we do?” asked Ken.
“Call them back. Now.” Snoopy’s eyes sparkled through the tears. It had been a long time since Ken had seen such hopeful anticipation in his wife.
The first call was to the family who said “maybe.” They understood. And were relieved. “You guys will be great,” they said.
Within minutes, Ken and Sharon Fong were on the phone talking to Janessa’s young birth mother. They spoke for two hours. It was a giddy, easy conversation - as though they were re-discovering each other after a long absence. Finally, she read from a paper she’d written as part of her adoption process. For the last four months she lived in this state to have her baby. Her home was on the other end of the country. She would not have an abortion. She wanted her baby to grow up in a Christian home. Her paper listed ten mandatory requirements for the prospective parents of her child.
The first nine sounded as though she had the Fongs in mind as she wrote. Ken and Sharon met each expectation perfectly. But when she read the tenth, Sharon’s heart sank.
“The adoptive parents must be younger than forty years of age,” she read.
“But we are both just over forty,” Ken said. “Is that requirement necessary?” The birth mother’s mother was also on the line. “Absolutely necessary,” was the answer.
Sharon excused herself and hung up her phone. She could not speak.
Ken continued, marshalling every pastoral skill he’d ever learned. “We understand,” he said – not fully believing his own words. “We respect your decision. We know you want the best for your child. I can only tell you, if you change your mind, we will give Janessa the best possible love and care we know how to give. It’s your decision. If you change your mind, you have our phone number.”
Ken said good-bye. “We’ll be praying for you. And Janessa,” he added. He hung up the phone, found Sharon in the back bedroom. They held each other and wept some more. They didn’t eat their supper. Generally, these two talk incessantly whenever they are together. Tonight, there were long periods of silence.
Until ten thirty when the phone rang out once more.
“Hello. This is Janessa’s birth mother.” The high-pitched voice on the other end of the line was shaky, but deliberate. “I want you two to be Janessa’s parents. We’ve changed our minds about the under forty thing.”
* * * * * *
After a sleepless night, the real work began. First major hurtle came that morning. Janessa’s agency determined that such an arrangement would be impossible. Illegal, they said. The mother had no business contacting a prospective family outside standard in-house procedures. The Fongs had not been pre-qualified as adoptive parents by that agency.
Ken had contacts. He called them all. They desperately searched for “a way.”
By noon, they found it. And by early afternoon, an unworkable situation was resolved. Papers were drafted. Properly filed. It was a miraculous defeat of “the impossible.”
Ken and Sharon stood on their front porch as a car gingerly pulled into their driveway. In it, the birth-mother, her mother, an attorney, a representative from the agency – and Janessa.
There were smiles, and introductions and greetings. But Ken and Sharon had only one thought – let us see the baby. Janessa. Janessa. All the rest seemed perfunctory. The birth mother pulled back the blanket, and there she was. Seven days old. Round face. Chubby cheeks. Jet-black hair. Pacifier in motion. Ken melted. Sharon’s knees nearly buckled.
“The law requires that the birth mother have time to say good-by to the baby,” explained the attorney.
“She’ll have privacy in the living room.” Ken walked her to the front door and showed her and Janessa to the overstuffed chair.
For two more hours, Ken and Sharon went through the papers, reading and signing. According to the laws of this state, in this type of adoption, the birth mother has just a twenty-four hour right of rescission. Twenty-four hours to change her mind. After that, the decision to give the child over to adoption is irrevocable.
Janessa was in the next room. Sharon had not yet held the infant in her arms. The anticipation hurt.
By this time, the news was out. Ken’s entire congregation buzzed. They’d been praying too. For years. Telephone, fax, e-mail… everyone knew this was the moment of truth. This very afternoon, those prayers reached an unprecedented level of intensity.
After an eternity of small talk and legal trivia, the young girl emerged from the living room with a bundle of blankets spilling over her arms. Her eyes were wet. “I’m ready now,” she said.
Looking directly at Sharon, she carefully placed Janessa into a new set of mother’s arms. Ken was ready to burst. When will these people leave?
They stood on the porch and waved as the car pulled away. Janessa was the most beautiful, precious baby they had ever seen. Ever.
* * * * * *
Ken made his first call. A close friend. “Janessa is OURS!” he cried. From a satellite, you could have seen the ripple effect of celebration as it spread across town. The cheers were audible all the way up to heaven.
People began to arrive at the Fong’s front door. Hugging. High fiving. It was a party. They came bearing gifts. A crib. A high chair. A playpen. A stroller. A diaper bag. A patchwork quilt. A Costco-sized supply of diapers. Infant clothes – all in varied shades of pink. Banners proclaiming “Welcome Home Janessa!”
The food started arriving. One by one they marched into the kitchen bringing baskets full of love. It was a feast.
The house was filled with laughter and tears and praise to a good God who gives perfect gifts. When Janessa got fussy, the room would go silent. The best of the best knew how to calm the little baby. They all wanted a turn to show their stuff. There were predictions of greatness… this little girl will make her mark, they all agreed.
The telephone rang. Ken picked it up, and signaled that the room be silent.
It was the birth mother.
“Yes, this is Ken. You are at the airport?” His voice was tentative. Everyone froze. People held hands. Sympathetically, an older woman put her arm around Sharon. Someone else gently stroked Janessa’s little hand.
Someone whispered, “Did she change her mind?” No one moved.
“Uh huh,” Ken nodded and listened some more. Finally, “OK. Yes, I’ll tell her. Good-bye.” He put the phone in its cradle and looked over to Sharon.
“She said the second bottle she left behind had not been refrigerated, and we shouldn’t use it.”
Everyone said in unison, “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” The room exploded in applause.
Janessa has a home. A really good home.
* * * * * *
Opportunity and preparedness. Sometimes they do intersect. You can’t force it. But it happens.
You’ve paid your dues. You’ve come this far. You’re not done yet.
You are prepared. Opportunity lives in abundance.
On this Monday morning, February 21, 2000, answer the phone.
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2000
More about Janessa and her parents, Ken and Sharon Fong
Special Thanks to my good friend David Belcher, owner of Rhino Media Group and creator of WisdomGram
LeaderFOCUS is a service of Good Stewardship Associates
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