One year ago, I stood in front of a full-length mirror staring back at myself as I was clothed in a vibrant orange, magenta, and gold stamp-printed Saree and blouse. My thick, long hair held a braid that started at the crown of my head and finished down the middle of my back. My wrists held multiple gold bangles that beautifully gathered together in a stunning stacking pattern. My outside appearance was a beautiful and intricate reflection of the zealous anticipation, immense gratitude, and outrageous awe that my soul carried as I was about step into one of the biggest moments of my life.
The bigness and grandioseness of what I was walking into began just a few months prior on a normal catch-up call with my friend Angela. Since moving from Minnesota, I have sought to be intentional and stay in contact with my dear friends who remain in the Midwest—Angela being one of them. She began the call by sharing that she and her kiddos were playing next door with their neighbors. Angela asked me if she’s shared much about them, and she proceeded to tell me that the mom is from India “somewhere outside of Delhi.” I was intrigued more than the usual upon hearing these words. They were newer neighbors, within the past two years, and still getting to know one another.
“Her name is Shiloh,” my friend shared, “she’s married to a pastor from Sweden, she teaches at a local university, and they have two kids.”
I was letting her words sink in, and then I felt prompted to ask more about her. I asked her what her maiden name was, and Angela began to search for information about her neighbor online. Her detective skills were in tune that day, and she found the maiden name of her neighbor.
“Her last name was Gideon.”
“Gideon,” I replied. “Well, I only know one other person with that name, and her name is Prem. Would you ask Shiloh if she’s ever heard of a woman named Prem?”
Angela and I finished our conversation, and she assured my curious heart that she’d let me know as soon as she heard back from Shiloh.
An hour later, I received a phone call from Angela, and her words still ring loudly and clearly in my ears: “Sandhya, guess what! Prem is Shiloh’s mom.”
A smile spread across my face, and I immediately switched the call to FaceTime so I could see my friend’s beaming face that matched her beaming words. I stood in total shock. I asked her for Shiloh’s contact information, and after hopping off the phone, I texted her. Shiloh replied to my text a few hours later, and we both expressed utter surprise that I knew of her mom. In fact, she was one of my primary caregivers when I lived at my orphanage in India.
That day, my view of the vast and big world grew smaller while simultaneously my heart’s capacity for goodness and gratitude grew bigger.
After hopping on a Zoom call with Shiloh and learning more concrete information about her and her family’s story of serving at my orphanage, I began making plans to meet Shiloh and her family in Minnesota. On that same call I learned that that Prem Aunty and her husband (Uncle) would be coming to visit the U.S. in July. I was invited to come to Minnesota to meet them. I couldn’t contain my excitement and gratitude.
I bought my plane tickets and spent every day relishing in the overwhelming goodness of God’s provision and miraculous gift. At night, I would fall asleep thinking about the glorious reunions coming up, and when the morning came, I would continue to think about them. My heart and body held an increasing amount of wonder, and I kept asking God and friends the same question, with eyes wide open and my head shaking in sweet disbelief, “But how…?”
In the midst of the preparing, my heart was set on wearing traditional Indian clothing as it seemed the most fitting for this extravagant occasion. My friends, who also hold the title of beloved aunties, took me shopping in California and helped me pick out my very first Saree. I felt beautiful, I felt Indian, and I felt ready for the reunion.
In June, I met Shiloh and her family, and we gathered around a table and enjoyed a flavorful Indian meal. Then Shiloh and I privately tucked away to share stories over cups of tea and biscuits. As we got to know one another, we both kept coming back to the truth of God’s bigness and His deep kindness.
In July, I flew back to Minnesota, and after one last glance in the mirror, taking in my beaming face, braided hair, gold and bold Indian jewelry, and stunning colorful saree, I took a deep breath, which held immense gratitude and ecstatic joy, and went over to Shiloh’s home to finally be reunited with Prem.
When I saw Prem, she moved quickly toward me, wrapped her arms around my body in a close and warm embrace, and whispered in my ear, “God bless you, my darling girl.” The same arms that once held me as a baby were holding me once again.
That day, all was well in my world and gratitude gently expanded and filled my heart in ways I never imagined.
Sandhya Oaks is a ministry leader, spiritual director, writer, and speaker. She is fiercely committed to inviting people to curiosity and possibility through hosting Kintsugi Story Workshops and Story Retreats. She is one who brings light to dark places and invites others to courageously do the same. She is a Transracial Adoptee with Pakistani and Indian roots, and her joys include traveling, gathering around the table, and water sports. You can find more of her good work at Sandhyaoaks.com.
