Eleven years ago, my husband and I experienced a spate of four adoptions that failed to materialize. At the time of our fourth failed attempt, we were living near Vancouver, Washington.

One of the people involved in our case was the pregnancy counselor for the young woman who was considering placing her infant with us. The pregnancy counselor, Rita, was a kind-hearted Christian woman who did as much to comfort my husband and me as she did to counsel the pregnant woman.

Immediately after that failed adoption, my husband and I moved to Snohomish, Washington, a small town just north of Seattle. One day I was taking a walk through my new neighborhood when I ran into Rita. I discovered that she lived just down the street, about ½ mile from us!

Because we live in a semi-rural neighborhood, Rita and I rarely see each other. I drive by her house nearly every day, but our encounters are limited to waving to each other from afar as we drive by.

A week ago, my family spent the week in Maui (which explains why I’ve failed to blog much this month – it’s hard to work up the motivation to write when a sandy beach beckons). If you’ve ever been to Maui, you know that there are literally hundreds of condos, hotels, and rental properties on the island.

One evening, I was taking the garbage out to the dumpster at our condo. I wandered past our next-door neighbors’ balcony, and they were out there, eating dinner. We waved and said hello. On my way back, my neighbor leaned over her balcony and asked, “Are you from Snohomish?”

Startled, I took a closer look at her. “Yessss,” I said hesitantly.

“I’m Rita, your neighbor from Snohomish,” she said.

I was floored. Of all the condos on Maui and of all the units in those condos, Rita just happened to be staying right next door to us.

After sharing tips about the best snorkeling and whale-watching cruises, we took a walk down memory lane and recounted our adoption journey. Rita got a wistful look on her face when I asked whether she remembered the time she worked with us.

“Oh yes,” she said. “Only a couple of the women I worked with decided to parent after choosing a family to adopt their baby, and your case was one of them.”

In retrospect, those potential adoptions that fell through the cracks were bearable. Soon after that fourth adoption failed we met the birth parents of the child who would become our son. That son turned 11 years old today. Happy birthday, Josh!