Alright Postables, I am making a call. Everyone is wearing the same outfits when first finding out that Norman is adopted and when we first meet Ardis. She was coming from PNG. It would take over 30 hours from Port Moresby (even though there is a time difference, but still Ardis had to get the call before she could leave). She would have to get to Port Moresby from the island she was on and then get on a plane. Even if she had a private plane it would take ages. So, I am making the meeting with Ardis happen a day later – I mean it had to at the very least.

A Hope and a Future

Sunday

Last week had been…intense. So intense that it hit me like the proverbial tonne of bricks. I ended up sleeping most of Sunday morning away, but somehow, I woke up with a plan. Rita, our very own Colorado Miss Special Delivery deserved a fuss, and I was determined to make one. I rushed to a craft store in search of the perfect materials to make a large and ostentatious banner. I chronically overspent, but hey, it isn't every day that your dear friend wins a state-wide competition. Rita deserves every bit of fuss I can throw her way – and really, I kind of needed a distraction. So, crafting it is!

Monday

I woke early, with a sense of excitement. I couldn't wait to surprise Rita. I gathered up my bits and pieces, my banner, a hammer, a bouquet of flowers and the helium balloons and struggled to the car. It turns out driving a small sedan with an interior full of balloons is a bit of a challenge. That crab balloon was almost a casualty when it decided to float over my shoulder just as I was reversing out of my drive. It, and I, eventually made it to the Post Office before the rest of the team, so I could begin my decorating operation without interference.

Norman popped in about halfway through my DLO makeover, and I sent him to keep an eye out for Rita, making sure that I had a heads up before she stepped through the door. Just before I was done, Oliver made his way into the office. I am sure his admiration for my handywork was genuine, but I couldn't help it – I had to tease him a little. When he commended my artistic abilities, I had to point out that I was in fact an art history major, with a minor in philosophy, just to see if I could get a rise out of him. The fish seemed like it would bite, so I added that he could have perhaps asked about my life history when we were trapped in a bank vault together. Before I could land that particular catch of the day, Norman entered, telling us that Rita was on her way. I threw the flowers at Oliver, and made sure that we were lined up under the sign, ready to sing.

Rita, or course, was delightfully bashful and embarrassed. She is just too cute! Oliver did allow her the honour of selecting the next letter for us to investigate. It was a lost dead letter, not a dead lost letter (the two being very different apparently). Not only that, it was also a NIFTS, a piggy-backing NIFTS. I am never sure if they are making up these terms to confuse me or if they are really a thing. Regardless, we had our letter to track down, a heartbreaking letter that a desperate mother attached to a baby left at a shelter.

A fairly rudimentary search found me our first location – the Hope Centre latterly attached to All Saints and Angels Church. What I was not expecting was how closely this new case would impact one of us.

Poor quirky, lovely Norman. Abandoned at the National Western Stock Show in the middle of a Hereford stampede as little more than a toddler. Then passed around various foster homes until he found his forever family at eight. How could I not know that he was adopted? Listening to him explain the intricacies of a closed adoption due to abandonment was wrenching. Seeking out his birth family and then being too frightened to read the reply was even more devastating. It is funny how our strange little collective seem to have so many threads in common. Norman was abandoned by his mother, Oliver by his wife and me by my father. Not the thread that you want to have binding you together.

Norman has held on to the response for a year. I am not judging, I get it. I was so proud of him though when he asked Oliver to read the reply. And what a reply! Norman has a grandmother! A grandmother this the amazing name of Ardis Parker-Pennington-Payne. A grandmother currently in Papua New Guinea, but who is flying to Denver to meet him. I could not be more excited. Go Norman!

Now back to the letter. We went to All Saints and Angels expecting to find Pastor Thomas. We did, just not the one we were expecting. This was the son of the man mentioned in the letter – that was sent 32 years ago! Baby Joshua it seemed got the care he needed, and we contacted the lawyer of the agency to see if Joshua would speak to us. Now we wait. We wait for Joshua, and for Norman's grandmother. I wonder what she will be like? With a name like that I am expecting some very austere grand dame, but you never know. I could run a bit of a background check I guess, but I kind of think I should let Norman discover her on his own.

I decided instead to look up the bible quote that was on the plaque. I went to a what seemed to be the most extensive online bible site, but then was confused. Who knew there were so many different translations? That was a whole rabbit hole. Does that mean that I did some bible study? Huh! Look at me go!

Tuesday

I am not even sure how she got to Denver so quickly, but today we met Ardis Parker-Pennington-Payne. Wow! I mean, she is a force of nature, and not at all what I expected. She is loud and definitely eccentric, but utterly wonderful. Thinking about how she tried to adopt Oliver by mistake and squished his face so much that he couldn't speak makes me very happy. It was glorious to behold.

I am so excited for Norman. He deserves to be happy. I think that knowing Ardis is going to be an adventure, what with her stories of meditating on Machu Pichu and her general zest for life, I am sure she is going to shake things up!

Norman is just a 'Payne'. Oh Ardis!