[sak9645]

ThenTheyDo,

Yes, I have read "The Bamboo Cradle." It was a heartwarming story, though many people don't like it because it is very judgmental about the non-Orthodox. Some also don't like it because of the scene in which the writer takes the statue given to him by his Chinese housekeeper and throws it into the ocean.

For me, the book reminds me of an amazing event that occurred on my way to China to get my daughter.

Several of us from my travel group were on a Korean Air flight to Hong Kong. During a refueling stop in Seoul, some new passengers boarded the flight. One of the passengers was an American Orthodox Jew. He was wearing a business suit and a kippah.

I don't know how he found out about my group, because we were in coach and he was in first class. But somehow, he heard that there were some people on board who were going to China to adopt. He found us, and began to talk with us.

As it turned out, the man spoke fluent Chinese. He said that he did business in China and Korea. He told us that, back before China tightened its adoption rules, he had actually helped a few families adopt. He was very supportive of adoption. He had some boxes of fine chocolates (with a hechsher, of course), which he distributed to everyone.

He learned that I was the only Jewish person from our group who was on the plane. (The other Jewish person in the group had traveled on another airline.) He told me that he sometimes wore Hassidic attire, but that he tended to wear American style clothing when working in Asia.

He was the first person to translate my daughter's Chinese name into English, and even verified the translation by talking with some other Chinese passengers.

He asked me if I would like to have my daughter converted and named in Hong Kong, where he had ties with one of the Orthodox synagogues. He appeared genuinely disappointed when I said that I had airplane tickets that I couldn't change, and really felt that I needed to stay with some of my group.

He asked me my name, and I told him. He asked my daughter's name, and I wrote it in Hebrew and English. He asked where I lived, and if he could contact me after I returned home, to see how my daughter and I were doing. I gave him my address.

When we arrived in Hong Kong, he disappeared, and I never saw him again. However, although I had been very scared about my impending adoption, I realized that I was suddenly much calmer, with a very strange feeling of having been "approved" by a Higher Power.

I am a very rational person, but I kept thinking about Elijah, who is associated with children; for example, at a brit milah, there is a special chair for Elijah.

When I arrived home, and gathered in my two weeks worth of mail, I found a copy of the book, "The Bamboo Cradle." No return address. Just the man's name.

And one morning, when Becca and I were still groggy and jet lagged, my phone rang. A man's voice asked, "How are you and Rebecca doing?" It was the man, again. We had a brief conversation. And he hung up.

Somehow, the man's name has disappeared from my memory. He said he was married and lived in the Midwest; that's all I remember.

Some guy from the Midwest? Or Elijah? I'll leave it to you to decide.


Sharon