Unplanned, But Chosen

     

     Like everyone else on the planet, I have a father. I also happen to have a dad who has been a father to me since the age of one. When I was born, my mother didn't know what to do with this tiny, unplanned human. (Shout out to all the unplanned humans!) My father took off to God knows where to do God knows what. It was a mess. My paternal grandma took us in. It was a package deal at the time. My mother just couldn't do it. So, I was left with an aging woman to look after me. Little did I know, God had already started writing an incredible story with twists and turns no one could have seen coming.

     Fast forward a few months, and through a friend of a friend of a cousin or something like that, word traveled from Texas to Florida that a little girl needed a home. A couple heard of the little girl, and with much thought and discussion decided to make her their own. That was only the beginning.

     I grew up knowing that I was adopted. Some kids ask about their birth story, but I always asked about the day they "got" me. My parents always told it with such enthusiasm, that I didn't know there was any other way to feel but proud and excited. I only ever knew them as my parents. As I got older though, there was something in me that started to struggle with identity. I think everyone goes through some form of that, but for an adopted kid it seems to strike you in not knowing your origin. It doesn't matter how much your parents love you or care for you, there is something that seems broken when who you came from remains a mystery. 

      Before I go on I have to say, my parents were amazing at disclosing all they knew, and were extremely supportive. My mom even kept in touch with my paternal grandma until she passed. However, when I turned 22 years old, I couldn't let it be any longer. I had to locate and speak to my biological mother. I needed to know. All these movies had come out about these girls who never knew their fathers, and they all turned out to be a princesses. What if that was my story?! It wasn't. It really really wasn't. If you are put up for adoption, chances are, it wasn't because your father was royalty. Just saying.

      I found my mother, and spoke with her. Long story short, it went like this, "What do you want from me?" Her tone was more frightened than annoyed. The truth is, I wanted nothing except to know. A few weeks later I received a phone call from my father. This stranger loved the sound of his own voice, and told tales of the life that he had lived. An hour passed, and we said our goodbyes and hung up. I sat there for all of about 30 seconds processing that painfully, yet humorous, conversation. Gratitude washed over me like a flood. I picked that phone back up, and I dialed my dad. The first thing out of my mouth was, "I just talked to my biological father. I have never been so glad in all my life that you are my dad." We laughed and chatted about it all, and we hung up. That was my moment. That was our moment. 

     I walked away from that moment never questioning my beginning. It didn't matter. It is part of me. It is the first chapter of my story. It was a huge chapter in my family's story. I was left, abandoned, socially orphaned, but God was weaving a tapestry that no one could see. So whether you grew up with a loving father, or you didn't, a biological father, or an adopted one, God is writing your story, and it's not finished yet. God saw me from the start, and He sees you, too. My father didn't plan me, nor did he choose me, but God did, and so did my dad. 

Thanks, Dad, and Happy Father's Day!

              

Until Next time...