Birthday Gratitude

As I am blessed to see another birthday, I find myself in deep introspection. Mostly I pause in gratitude, savoring every morsel of the delicious blessings that I am aware of.  I am approaching one year since I began my search. As that anniversary nears, I marvel at the journey that I have taken with God and myself.  I am grateful.

Let The Truth Unfurl

The Truth has always been.
It was a beauty to be discovered, a treasure to be obtained, and a breath to be taken in and exhaled out.
Truth has always been.
Truth was my ambition, it was my goal, and my mission
Truth has always been.
It was the fire under my feet, the wind beneath my wings, and the gentle push in my back
Truth has always been.
Truth is the heavy ache in my belly that there is something more; it the gnawing thought in my mind that something is missing; it the urge in my soul that I cannot be free without it
Truth still is.
It is the meaning of my search, the light on my path, the compass to my journey
Truth still is.
Truth is the catalyst to my healing, for I can not heal from secrets, lies, and ignorance.
Truth still is.
Truth is the painful yet healing cut of a sterile scalpel
Truth will always be.
Truth will be the light at the end of the day and the brightness that dispels the darkness
Truth will be the essence, the base, and the reason
Truth will always be.
It will be that open door, those trusted keys, and that gaping window
Truth will always be.
Truth will be that treasure to be sought and cherished; unfurling in the lives of all who will hear and take heed.
Truth will forever be.

The Power of 3: Past, Present, Future

 I've heard it said that things happen in threes. They are usually similar events occurring in close succession. There were three catalysts that inspired... no propelled me into searching for my biological parents. I'd participated in my first (and possibly last) mud run. During the run and all of it's obstacles, I injured my tailbone. Nine months after the race, it had not healed. I went to an orthopedist to discover that I'd possibly fractured it. I also found out that as a young woman in my early thirties, I had severe arthritis. My legs were incredibly weak. I have a fitness career, so I was in great shape. However my joints were degenerating. I knew at that point that my condition was hereditary. I had no answers. On a sidenote that's totally related: It was the first time that I'd been to a doctor's office that had a space for adoptees to check for the lack of a medical history. I took a picture of it and sent it to my husband.
 The second and closely occurring push came when a dear friend's estranged father died. What was so heartbreaking is that she had not seen him since she was five, and he died without them ever reconnecting. All that I could see was loss.There were things that they'd never get to say to one another. There were lost experiences, time, and opportunities to ask questions. The truth is that those things had been lost while he was alive. He wasn't there when she was in the first grade. Her father missed her plays. He didn't teach her how to drive. Only one parent sat proudly at her high school graduation. He'd missed her life while he was alive. It was a painful reality. I didn't want to miss any opportunities in grasping the chance to know who and where I came from. It wasn't about making up for lost time. I just began to feel time slipping away. My friend's experience helped me to realize and to live in the NOW.
 Thirdly, and dearly, my two oldest children knew that I was adopted as an infant. They were intrigued. They began to press me for answers about our heritage. My children had a deep yearning to know the truth. Their truth. I could no longer stand as their only history. We all wanted to be linked. Branches on a tree. This was our past and my children are the future. It was time to search...

I've Seen You

I think that I've seen you mom.
When I stare off into space and my mind runs free, I've seen you.
Every time I pass through a crowd, I think that I've found your face
When a seasoned woman of love hugs me tight from her soul, then I know that I've felt you
Each time my name is said with a a soul liberating ring, I'm so sure that I've heard you
A meal made with well worked and wrinkled hands and a heart of gold flavors my curious palette, and I'm grateful that I've tasted you.
I sit with my daughter and I comb through her dark curly strands. It's silky and easy, yet it coils by it's own strength. It's confident and naturally relaxed, yet it has a mind all it's own. Braiding it is like plodding through lush underbrush, and weaving carefully through my history. Mom, I'm confident that this is your hair.
The sweet aromatic waft of roses fills my nose and delights my senses. The hairs on my head stand at attention and my skins cools. Your fragrance will always be deeply gratifying
Much like an embrace into a warm bosom and the nourishing nectar from those same breasts, somehow deep down I know that you've nurtured me

As I walk through the seasons of life and the sweet winds of change brush my face, I'm certain that you have kissed my cheek
When my presence is caught in the reflection of a mirror, and my eyes lock into my image,with majestic awe weighing heavy in my being, I know that I've seen you.
Seeking God for strength to look into my own eyes and say "I love you" ; most certainly I love you too.
I know that I've seen you.

Arrested Development - Tennessee

"Take me to another place, take me to another land. Make me forget all that hurts me. Help me understand Your plan."

Set me Free. Take Me Home

I've never been one for being a slave. I mean, who really wants to be enslaved. No freedom to come and go as you please. No liberty to act in your best interest. Then, there are the chains, the whippings, and the beatings. The degradation, abuse, and violation. The brainwashing and the raping. The separation and the assimilation. And, one that is enslaved endures these heinous acts just to survive. And, it's beyond a struggle. Struggle seems too light a word to describe the ultimate war against slavery. The soul yearns for freedom. It cries and groans deeply unto God to be released from bondage. No longer willing to be held down and held back. It's destiny is calling out. Generations unseen sing a song that has yet to be uttered in this realm. The words are faint, but the soul knows it's rhythm. Creation waits expectantly for the oppressed to run free. The depths of the earth wail within and without for determination to give way to the compulsory action. Ignore the mind that has been altered and bent to submit to forceful decimation of individuality, and answer diligently to the heart that has been birthed of the Creator's purpose for each life dwelling this plane. No, I've never been one for slavery in any form. For in any form, physical, mental, emotional, financial, or spiritual, slavery will confine the entire person. Even today people wear chains that we don't see with the naked eye. Read this with understanding. The act of adoption was a form of slavery to me. Money exchanged. Name changed. Origins and heritage lost. Displaced from my tribe, and expected to assimilate and imitate. Secrets. The inner turmoil is metaphorical, and yet it was tangibly real. Don't get it twisted. I am thankful for my family. But, there is real pain that is mixed into the adoption scenario. The soulful rise of determination from within my heart in order to begin my search was like a maidservant plotting her freedom. I was looking to find "home". I was looking to find me...

First Blood Relative

During college, and even after I had my first child, I would flippantly search for my birth parents. During that time, I did not try to contact the agency that handled my adoption. Honestly, I really didn't know how to search. I did not ask anyone who had been through the searching process. I'd just get on the internet and search with the small bit of information that I had. That information included my birth mother's physical description and age. My birth father's information was so vague that I often brushed over it. After I had my first child, the wonder in my mind infected a great longing that'd been held in my heart. I held my baby and she looked so much like me (and her dad). Finally, I knew and beheld a blood relative. She was my world. She seemed to be such a mystery, and I was her only history. What traits did this precious miracle hold within her tiny being? What characteristics came from me and my side of the family? Her birth brought more questions and angst than that of a typical birth with known heritage. She became my treasure, yet the void in my soul deepened. I felt lost. Not knowing my history made me feel as though I had no anchor. I wanted to know who I was and where I came. And now I wanted my daughter to know.