Putting the shards together

MARY REICHARD, HOST: Today is Wednesday, November 8th.

This is WORLD Radio, and we’re glad you’re along with us today. Good morning. I’m Mary Reichard.

NICK EICHER, HOST: And I’m Nick Eicher.

This week on Concurrently: The News Coach Podcast, Kelsey Reed and Jonathan Boes explore an age-old method of engaging conversation. It can help parents and educators sort through the news. Here’s a preview:

REED: We're using this classical tool for looking at something that is by no means classical unless, of course, you're looking through the lens of Ecclesiastes that there's nothing new under the sun. But news doesn't come across to me as a classical idea. So a classical methodology for all things current. Dynamic learners, they like to ask the question, What can I do with this next? And so I've looked at this tool and I go Ah! This is something that we can use to help give structure to our conversation on what is going on on a day to day basis in our world.

BOES: We're using something very old to talk about things that are very new. I'm reminded of a quote from Dr. Leland Ryken, a Christian literary scholar who said old swords are better than new ones, he was talking about the story of Beowulf and how the new sword was not able to defeat the monster. But it was this ancient sword with all this history that was equipped to face the new threat. That comes to mind when I think of using this kind of old tried and true tool to attack this new thing, or any new thing we might be facing in the news, something that seems new to us, but maybe this tool will even help us discover ways that's not entirely new under the sun as you brought in from Ecclesiastes.

You can hear the entire episode of Concurrently today wherever you get your podcasts. And find out more at concurrentlypodcast.com.

REICHARD: Coming next on The World and Everything in It: making connections.

Today we're going to meet a man who learned a new skill during the pandemic, and also gained a relationship he’d hoped for a long time.

AUDIO: [Sound of glass on table]

JULIE SPENCER, CORRESPONDENT: Terrell Baker leans over a piece of green glass on a table in his home studio. He uses a small tool to cut around one side of a paper pattern glued to the glass.

AUDIO: [Cutting]

TERRELL: So now I'm just going to go around…

He lifts the glass to display a groove where the cutting tool has scored a faint line. Applying pressure with his thumbs, he gently snaps the glass along the line, and the shape of a green leaf begins to emerge. He smooths the edges with a small grinding machine.

SOUND: [Grinding]

TERRELL: I think that's good.

SOUND: [Water spraying]

Within a few days, A few days later, the finished piece of stained glass is leaning against the window in Baker's dining room. The sunlight brings out the different shades of green in the leaf. A patchwork of clear rippled glass surrounds it.

TERRELL: Stained glass is a lot like a puzzle–but you have to make every piece, and then you have to put all the pieces together–and every piece could cut you, because it's glass.

Baker started creating stained glass in early 2020, but not because of pandemic shutdown boredom. Instead, this new hobby is a result of Baker's decades-long attempt to put some of the puzzle pieces of his life together.

TERRELL: I knew, my parents told me that I was adopted. I was young. I was probably 5, 6, 7.

Baker had always wanted the chance to meet his biological mother. Every few years he did some sleuthing, but had no success.

Around his 50th birthday, Baker reached out to an adoption search organization that helps people connect with biological relatives. A case worker told him she would contact him when she had any new information.

TERRELL: That's right before we went on a trip.

Baker and his wife, Sheila, left on a cruise out of New Orleans to celebrate their 25th anniversary.

TERRELL: What do you do when you get back to port in New Orleans? You turn on your phone.

Sheila remembers the moment vividly:

SHEILA: I don't know if I'll ever forget his face. He's sitting across from me. He almost went white–his eyes kinda got big. So I was like, 'Are you okay?' He goes, 'You're not gonna believe this.

The case worker had found Baker's biological mother.

TERRELL: She cracked the code.

After a week doing some research of his own, Baker composed a letter to his biological mother, Karen.

TERRELL: There's two things I wanted to share with her: One, thank you for having me–my life is good. Second thing is, I thank her for putting me into a situation to be adopted into the family that raised me.

After receiving the letter, Karen sent him an email. He called her the next day.

And soon after that Terrell and Sheila finally met Karen face-to-face.

SHEILA: And I think the neat thing about that, from my perspective, was watching her. She would not take her eyes off of him. She was taking him all in. She saw him when he was a little over 5 lbs. He was a little bitty thing, and now he's a 6'3" great looking guy sitting in front of her.

This initial meeting led to weekly phone calls and other in-person visits.

TERRELL: The only time that Sheila and I were able to visit with her at her house, I saw that stained glass piece in the window that was sitting on the edge by her couch on the coffee table.

Baker gestures to a round piece of stained glass hanging in his workshop window. The sun glows through blue, pink, and pale red glass.

TERRELL: I just pointed it out and I said, “That is beautiful.” I was thinking she got it at an antique store. She said, “No—no, my father made that.”

Karen walked him through her home that day, showing him the stained glass pieces she had made, as well.

Even at their first meeting, the Bakers could tell that Karen was unwell.

TERRELL: She was declining, and we knew that. So when Miss Karen got to a place where she was bedridden we decided: Now's the time for us to take a class in Bossier City.

Every two weeks, the Bakers made the hour and a half drive from their home in Arkansas to attend stained glass classes in Bossier City, Louisiana. Then they'd drive across the Red River to visit Karen in her hospital bed in Shreveport. Their classes began in January 2020, and came to an end in early spring as Karen's life was also ending.

TERRELL: It was a sweet time that we had. It was short, it was the blink of an eye. But I wouldn't change anything, and I think God was in this the whole time. A lot of the stained glass I do now is to honor her memory.

SOUND: [Toolbox]

When Baker helped to clean out Karen's home, he inherited several of her things.

TERRELL: Everything that you see here dates back at least 40 years.

Tools that she and her father had used, and about fifty pounds of glass, some of which Terrell has incorporated into his stained glass creations.

Baker is working on Christmas gifts now. He'll start the long process of designing a piece and selecting the right shades and styles of glass to make something beautiful or whimsical. Terrell knows about waiting, about piecing together facts, and about the joy of discovering—and creating—something worth sharing.

TERRELL: I never even thought I was going to have a name and I had a name–I never thought I was going to ever get to see her face and I saw her face–I never thought I would hear her voice, and I heard her voice. All these things that I never really had any expectations–those things happened.

Reporting for WORLD, I’m Julie Spencer, in El Dorado, Arkansas.

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