The Story of My Life: Finding Love

You might have noticed that I haven't really talked in any of my posts about boys and relationships.  I didn't date anyone in high school and in college, even though I went on a few dates with a few different guys, there was really only one serious relationship out of all of them.  I started dating him my senior year.  He himself was only a sophomore.  We dated for a couple of years and then got engaged.  Right after we were engaged, I went on the summer missions trip to Romania.  When I came home after that month, I felt God was calling me to return to Romania for a year on another short term trip.   When I initially shared this with him, he was okay with the idea of me going overseas for a year before we were to be married. After all, at this point in time he was just beginning his senior year in college.  A couple of months later, he called and said he wanted to move forward with our relationship and he didn't want me to go overseas. He told me that I could marry him or I could go to Romania, but I couldn't do both.   It was at this point I had to make a really hard decision. At 24 years of age, I felt like I was Abraham being asked to offer Isaac on the altar.  I had to tell him that if he was asking me to choose between what he wanted me to do and what God wanted me to do, that we couldn't get married.

Less than a year later, I found myself in Romania teaching at the kindergarten. I had such peace about being there that I knew that I had made the right decision. After coming home from that year overseas though, I did begin to struggle a bit.  A lot of my friends were getting married and I just found myself alone and wondering if I would ever be married. I went out with a couple of guys, but only for a brief amount of time. I wasn't about to waste my time dating someone that I knew wasn't a good fit for me.

In the summer of 2003, I was with my friend Michelle at her parent's lake house. We went for a ride on the jet ski and after a while, we turned it off and just had a good heart to heart talk out in the middle of the lake. I shared with her my discouragement about being single and she encouraged me to give it to God.  Out in the middle of the lake, we prayed and I went away that day determined to be content with where God had me in life and if I was going to be single, I was going to make the most of it. Little did I know that He had a big plan for me that was about to unfold.

About a month or so later, I was invited to a birthday party for a kid named Kyle who was in the youth group that I was helping with at church. He was turning 14 and was having the party on a Friday night at his "Uncle Steve's" house.  His Uncle Steve wasn't really an uncle, but a close family friend.  I had heard about this "Uncle Steve" from Kyle and his friend, Ben (who really was Steve's nephew) before.  They had tried to convince me when we were on our missions trip in July that I should go out with him.  I asked them to tell me about him. They started off with,  "Well, he is about 40......"  Uh, no. That did not at all sound very interesting to me. After all, I was only 29 and 40 seemed so very old.  "He is rich," they would say.  I asked them why they thought that. Their response was that he drove a BMW convertible so he had to be. I assured them that lots of 40 year old single men would be able to afford a BMW convertible since they didn't have a wife or kids taking all of their money.

 So anyway, when I was invited to the party, I agreed to go.  I figured it would give me a chance to meet this "Uncle Steve" and then they would leave me alone about him.

Friday afternoon came and when I got home from work, there was a message on the answering machine from Kyle's mom saying that the party was changed from that evening to the next day.  I had already made plans with my friend Michelle to go to her parent's lake house, like we had done many times in the past, for our birthdays on Saturday. So since the party was off, I packed up my stuff and headed to the lake house a day early and just skipped Kyle's party.

The following Monday was Labor Day.  There was no school and I had gone to teach piano to a couple of sisters who were also in the youth group.  While I was there, the older of the two girls was telling me all about Kyle's party. She really enjoyed telling me how Uncle Steve complained the whole night that I wasn't there. He whined that the kids had all promised I would show up, but I hadn't.  I rolled my eyes and said, "Oh brother! I am an adult and he is an adult. If he wants to meet me that badly, just give him my number."  At that, she jumped up instantly from the piano bench, ran over to the computer and instant messaged my number to Ben.

On Saturday, September 6th, just a few days later, I came home from working at Dress Barn. My roommate immediately let me know that I needed to listen to the answering machine because I had a message from "Uncle Steve".  I listened to the message.  He was unsure if he was really supposed to have my number since it was given to him through his nephew Ben.  If I was, he asked me to call him back and left his number which he slowly repeated for the second time in the most hilarious voice.  After laughing at the message with my roommate a few times, I called him back.

He answered the phone and we had a delightful conversation.  Before ending the conversation an hour later, he asked me on a date for the following Saturday.  I have to admit. I was pretty impressed. I had been talking with another guy on the phone that someone was trying to set me up with for over a month. He had yet to ask me out.

The following Saturday came, September 13th.  Steve picked me up around noon.  I remember opening the door and noticing his beautiful blue eyes right away.  I also felt in my heart that this was the guy I was going to marry. Don't ask me how I knew. I just did.  I decided that I was not going to do anything to force it to happen, but rather just sit back and enjoy the moment.

He took me to the Wake Forest/ Purdue football game. I love the atmosphere of any type of sporting event, so this was a perfect first date for me.  To make it even more perfect, he bought me a hot dog at the game for lunch.  I went with the regular hot dog so I wouldn't look like a glutton, even though I would have rather had the big supersized dog.   Steve was hoping to have pizza, but they were out, so he settled for the supersized dog.  I didn't know this at the time, but he doesn't really like hot dogs. So when he only ate half of his hot dog and then crumpled it up in the wrapper and threw it away, I was appalled. Hot dogs are one of my favorites and should never be wasted. lol!

Overall, we had a really good time. Lots of good conversations and laughs. He took me home and then stood at the stop of the stairs right outside of my apartment and continued to talk with me.  It was a warm day, so I invited him in to the air conditioning to meet my roommate and hang out for a while.  We all sat around and talked and then after a bit, he invited both of us to go out to dinner with him. I found out later that while I was in another room, he had convinced my roommate to say yes to his dinner request because he didn't think I would go without her.  His pleas worked and we went.

When I went to bed that night I was excited and hopeful.  I think Steve must have felt the same way.  The next evening as I was sitting in the pew at church waiting for the service to start, I felt a tap on the shoulder. I looked up to see Steve standing there and he asked if he could sit with me.  I said he could and inside the butterflies were having a hay day.

We spent lots of time in the next few weeks hanging out, going to dinner, and just talking to each other for hours on end. When my schedule was busy with activities at school, he would come sit with me while I was keeping the volleyball books or come along with me to the cross country meets. I loved this. I didn't feel like I was having to do anything to make this relationship work. Steve was showing me that he wanted to be with me and was willing to do whatever he had to in order to make that happen. It was something that I have never really experienced before and I liked it.

Two weeks into the relationship, we were at my parent's house for Sunday lunch. We had been there the week before because my parents decided they didn't want to waste any time getting to know this guy that was showing interest in me.  They must have been pretty impressed by him since my dad inquired of Steve at this second meeting when he was going to marry me.  I about died of embarrassment at that moment, but inside it just seemed to be confirmation that this was the guy.  I had always prayed that my parents would whole heartedly approve of whoever I was to marry.  This was just an answer to that prayer.

On October 18th, five weeks after our first date, Steve had planned to take me to dinner. His mom and  stepdad were in town from Indiana and he invited my parents to come along as well.  He called me a couple of hours before the time we were going to meet to see if I was interested in going along with him to run some errands before dinner.  I said sure. We drove around for a bit and then all of a sudden, we were turning into the football stadium where we had gone on our first date.  There was no game that day. He mumbled something about having to meet someone inside.  The gate was unlocked and he led me inside.  The next thing I know, we are in the place where we sat on our first date.  Steve looked at me and asked me if he could ask me three things.  First, would I make him the happiest man in the world? Second, would I do the honor of being his wife? And lastly as he got on his knee,  he asked if I would marry him and opened the ring box.  He says I hesitated.  I say I was in shock.  After a couple of moments, I excitedly said yes.  As we stood there embracing, he signaled to his friend in the sound booth and the stadium was filled with the sounds of Mercy Me's song "Spoken For".  He finished off this beautiful time by giving me a Bible and saying that he always wanted to keep God first in our relationship.  I still couldn't believe it was all happening.  It was so very perfect!

We met our parents at the restaurant. I kept pointing out things to my mom on the menu with my left hand and once she realized there was a ring on it, there were shouts of joy and many tears.  After dinner, we spent the rest of the evening talking excitedly of the future and sharing the good news with our family and close friends.

We chose a December date only 8 weeks out.  There wasn't a lot of time to do a lot of complicated planning. It was almost as though God confirmed that we were supposed to to be together as detail after detail just fell into place with almost no work. We received 6 weeks of marriage counseling from my pastor before our big day. Something we will always be thankful for as it has been a tremendous help to us through our entire married life.


The wedding day arrived. It was cold, but sunny.  I got ready at the church with a few of my closest friends by my side. I remember watching the guests arrive out of the upstairs fellowship hall window and thinking, "This is it!" There were lots of tears as my dad began crying before he walked me in, then I began crying, then Steve began crying when he saw me. Then my mom and his mom started and lots of other people joined in.  It was a sweet ceremony and afterwards, we celebrated with food and friends in the gym of the school where I taught.  With an entry lined with Christmas trees, a handbell choir playing in the background and a heart full of love,  it was a perfect end to a perfect day.

And when I look back on that day, thirteen years
exactly today, I am so very thankful.  God blessed me with a truly wonderful man, who has stood by my side and loved me unconditionally, even when I was unlovable.  He has been the biggest encourager and supporter of me through some very difficult times.  He prays for me and patiently leads me to be a more godly person and a better wife.  He is my best friend, my companion for life, and the everlasting love of my heart.

"Uncle Steve", I am so glad that I can call you mine.  <3

The Story of My Life: The Post-College Days

I graduated from Cedarville College (now Cedarville University) in December of 1995.  From that time until 2003, my life was filled with lots of different activities and experiences.  There wasn't really anything during that time that directly impacted the way I felt about being adopted or my adoption experience, so rather than writing a whole blog post about that period of my life, I thought I would just share a few pictures and tell you briefly about them.

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My first big life experience after college was purchasing a car.  This beauty here would be my transportation for 7 years. We went on several road trips together and overall, she treated me fairly well.  I bought her with 85,000 miles and she had over 200,000 by the time I let her go.




In the fall of 1996, I began teaching 6th grade at Woodland Baptist Christian School in Winston-Salem. I really loved working with middle schoolers.  I had a great group of kids to teach and was surrounded by some wonderful co-workers.

I worked part-time at Dress Barn from the time I graduated college until the fall of 2003.  I usually worked Saturdays and also holidays and summer breaks.  I loved selling clothes and helping people put together outfits. I had some pretty fun co-workers and we would occasionally do crazy things like dress up for Halloween or dress up and stand in the window of the store pretending to be mannequins.

For Christmas of 1996,  my parents bought me a black cockapoo.  I named him Midnight.  I treated him like my baby, letting him sleep in bed with me and taking him everywhere with me in the car.  He was my loyal pet up until he died in November of 2012.

In the summer of 1997,  I helped lead a team of six college girls from Cedarville on a month long missions trip to Romania. The purpose of our trip was to work in orphanages over there.  We worked in a church run orphanage for three weeks and then spent time in a state-run orphanage for handicapped children for the other week. While there, we also managed to find some  time to have a little fun.

                          

During the time that we were in Romania and in the months afterwards, I felt God calling me to a short-term trip overseas. So after teaching my second year at Woodland, I left on a year long missions trip to Romania.  I taught English in a what they call a kindergarten.  It is similar to preschools here in the United States.  Even though it was difficult fighting the homesickness at times (especially during the holidays),  it was still one of the best years of my life.

    

After coming home from Romania, I taught at Woodland for one more year.  It was an especially exciting year in sixth grade as we were able to take a field trip to Washington D.C. at the end of the year. 

In the fall of 2000,  I changed schools and began teaching at Salem Baptist Christian School in Winston-Salem. I taught middle school math to 6th - 8th graders.  I love math, so this was especially fun for me.  Again, I felt blessed to have such good students and be surrounded by wonderful co-workers. 

I loved to keep the books for the volleyball and basketball games, so I was always busy in the evenings helping with one sport or another. I was even talked into coaching cross country for a couple of years, which was I found hilarious because I had never done any running in my life.

I was super involved at my church, working in the youth group and playing the piano.  I taught piano lessons some on the side. I also loved hanging out with my friends, having fun and going to the Winston-Salem Warthogs games, our local minor league baseball team.

 

These were some super busy, but fun, years of my life.  It was a time filled with lot of learning experiences for me, both good and bad.  I made lots of good choices, and some bad ones.  But all in all, God was using this time as a time of growth, preparing me for the days that were to come....

More on that in the next blog. :)

The Story of My Life: Thankful

I am so blessed.  I have been given one of the greatest gifts ever and for it I am so very thankful.  You have been given one of the greatest gifts too.  That is the gift of life.

Maybe you haven't really thought about it or maybe you don't really see life as a gift.  For me, I have thought about it often. I've thought about what I would have missed out on if I hadn't been given that chance.


The chance to be a daughter, to feel loved and cared for.
The chance to be a kid, laughing and running in the sunshine.
The chance to be a student,  in awe of every new thing learned and discovered.
The chance to be a friend and to have some pretty amazing friends.
The chance to find love, the once in a lifetime kind.
The chance to be a mom and watch my children blossom and grow.

The list could go on and on....

I know, if things had turned out differently, who is to say that I would even realize that I was missing out.  But then again, who can say that I wouldn't.


Just recently, before the elections, I was riding home in the car with my kids.  They were talking about all of the political signs on the side of the road and all the different issues that were involved in the election:  Taxes, pollution, common core, abortion, etc.   From the back seat, our daughter piped up and said, "Mom, what is abortion?"  I explained it in the most age appropriate way that I could to an eight year old.   That sometimes when a woman gets pregnant, for one reason or another but often because she isn't married,  the woman decides she doesn't want to keep the baby, so she goes to a doctor and he helps her get rid of it. Then I hear a huge "Oh".... and after a moment of silence she says,  "Mom, I know why abortion is such an important issue to you....because your birth mom could have had you killed."

I was amazed. She got it.

I was born in 1973.  It was a pivotal year in the abortion world as Roe vs. Wade was passed in January,  just months before my birth in August. I have often thought about the fact that my birth mom was just a couple of months along at that time. Young and unmarried, I have wondered if abortion was ever something that she considered. And every time I think about it, I am so thankful that she didn't make that choice.

Abortion was the topic I chose for my persuasive speech during my freshman year of college. I picked it because I figured it would be a topic with a bit of personal connection to it. Little did I know the effect that the study and research would have on me. Although I knew generally what abortion was before that time, I found the details of the procedures that I read about to be haunting and the possibility of what could have been became more real.

 I introduced the speech by sharing a story of how I imagined a young college aged girl to be as she found out she was pregnant, a story similar to what I imagined things were like as it was realized that my existence was just beginning. Alone and scared, this girl pondered what her options might be. Adoption. Abortion. What would she choose?  When I reached the conclusion, I announced to the class that this young girl had made up her mind.  After much deliberation, she chose life.  As a result of her choice, I was able to stand before the class and give that speech.  It was at that point,  I broke down and cried.

I have always been thankful for the gift of life.  It is something I have thought about often since I was a young person.  I realize the sacrifice that was made by my birth mother to go through pregnancy, birth me, and then give me up.  This sacrifice became even more real to me after I had my own children.   I cannot imagine what pain could have come through the kind of separation of having to give up your child. It could only have been done out of great love.


In my teenage years, at times I thought and wished for an opportunity to tell my birth mom thank you for what she had done for me.  I wondered if I wrote Ann Landers and asked her to publish my letter in her column of the newspaper if somehow my birth mom would happen to read it and realize that it was me talking. But then I realized the chance that could happen was pretty slim.
So, I never wrote the letter.

But God granted me the desires of my heart and through a crazy unexpected turn of events, many years later, I was able to thank her.

More on that coming soon....

The Story of My Life: The Harder Side of Adoption

I think so many times when people think of adoption, they get warm fuzzy feelings about it. Kind of like going to pick up a new puppy or family pet.  With adoption, you go and get a baby, bring the child home, then nurture and love that baby as your own.  You become a happy family and everything from that point on is just fine, right?

Sadly, no. So many times there are other difficulties that go along with adoption and many times, those difficulties take place at home behind closed doors where people outside of the family are unable to see the struggles. There may be glimpses of it in public places such as church or school, but what is seen there is really only the outward response to the issues and not really the root of the problem. It is said that babies that are separated from their birth mothers can sense the abandonment even if they are adopted when only a few days old.  There are pieces of this abandonment that can haunt the adoptee for the rest of their life. Sometimes this manifests itself in areas such as irrational thinking in certain situations which may cripple the adoptee in minor ways. It can be so subtle that they themselves may be unaware of where that type of thinking comes from. At other times, these behaviors can be more obvious and the adoptee will express outwardly the fact that they feel abandoned. They may not "attach" to the birth parents, feel loved or wanted, and always have an urgency to search for their "real parents".

Take the above mentioned factors and pair them with other unknown physical or mental histories in a child's background and the result can be a very difficult situation for the adoptive parents to have to navigate.  Sometimes when the parents find themselves in a hard place, they just give up and decide they are not capable of raising the child. The child is then given back to the system and once again abandoned, which in the end can only lead to more issues in that child's life. Other times, the parents struggle through, determined not to lose faith but still feeling hopeless at times.

Again, not every adoptee has a difficult journey.  My brother, Sam (as far as I know), and I have always been content with being adopted.  There has not been the struggle of being discontent and the constant desire of wanting something other than the family that we were in. I can say, I have had minor manifestations of abandonment issues, but through counseling in the last few years, I can now identify where those issues come from and in those situations I am now able to recognize the irrational thoughts and their root and deal with them accordingly.

That was not the case for my older brother, Nathan.  Even from a very young age, he acted out behaviorally what he was feeling inside.  He struggled with school and that struggle continued within our home.  I watched my parents time and time again try to figure out a way to deal with him, most times without success. I saw how people looked at my parents with a questioning eye and I could sense their judgement as to why my brother was "allowed" to behave the way he did. What those people did not realize was that despite my parents love and best efforts, my brother often said to them things such as "You aren't my real mom" or that he wanted to embark on a journey to find his "real parents". He acted whatever way he felt like and discipline seemed to make no difference. He constantly seemed to be searching for himself.

There is so much pain in this whole situation and even as I sit here writing about it, I can still feel it.  The pain from my brother, feeling the abandonment of his birth parents and the pain of my parents not being accepted in that role by their son. The pain of being a sister and daughter that had to watch all of this unfold.  It is all so very heavy. I would like to say that there was a happy ending to the story, but there isn't.

As he grew up into his teenage and beyond years, Nathan's behavior only became more erratic.  He was in a car accident and bumped his head, which only seemed to make worse the bi-polar tendencies that he had inherited from his birth father.  He tried to seek relief for his unhappiness though smoking, drinking and sex.  He could be very charming at times, which led people to believe he was a nice guy, when really he was very troubled and not really very nice at all.  He and I had always had a rocky relationship growing up, but that worsened the older he got.

When he was in his early 20's, he met a girl at work.  Within a week they eloped and 9 months later their daughter was born.  Even then, his erratic behavior continued.  His marriage became troubled and he got himself involved with a woman almost twice his age. He reached a point where he himself felt like he couldn't deal with it anymore, and the day before his daughter turned two, he took his own life.

I still remember that day.  The police knocking on our front door.  The psychologist for the police department had been a co-worker of my dad's at one point. When he had heard the news, he came along to help break it to my parents.  We all cried.  I threw up my dinner.

I had spoken with my brother earlier that day and he mentioned the fact that he had tried playing Russian Roulette with his gun the night before, but that the chamber had been empty.  I pleaded with him not to do anything like that. That we all loved him and would do whatever we could to help him. He had talked suicide before and even attempted a couple of times. He often talked a big talk for attention and I assumed this time was no different.  I did not in my wildest dreams imagine he was serious as he stood there talking with me and messing with all of the things in the trunk of his car.  It was only later on that I realized he really did have a plan.  That during the time he was talking with me and wrapping up the extension cord into a tight circle, that he was just getting it ready to use later as he would hang himself from the rafters of a gazebo in the park one block from our home.

I watched my parents grieve this child.  The one they loved so desperately who in turn had just hurt them so deeply in a way a parent should never be hurt.  They mourned the one who decided to escape all of his problems, while leaving everyone else to deal with all of the ones that his escape then created.  As a young, twenty-two year old,  I struggled too.  I found it very difficult to want to remember and celebrate the life of someone who caused so much hurt to me personally and who caused such pain to a mom and dad whom I loved dearly. It is a struggle that has continued through much of my life and I feel like I am only beginning to overcome now, twenty some years later.

As a result of this situation and seeing the hurt that he caused my parents growing up, I vowed that I would never intentionally do something that would hurt my parents. They had taken me in and loved me and cared for me as their own.  They deserved nothing but my love and respect.  They had been hurt enough.

I don't tell you this story to make you feel sorry for me or my family. I just want to raise awareness of the struggles that can accompany adoption. Struggles that many adoptive parents and families find hard to discuss.  My challenge to you is this, please when you see someone who has an adopted child who behaviorally isn't acting in a way that you feel is appropriate, instead of judging them or distancing yourself from them, encourage them.  Be supportive.  You don't know what they are going through at home and you don't know the internal struggles that the child itself is having to deal with on a daily basis. Your support and encouragement could be the one thing that helps bring them hope.

The Story of My Life: The Lighter Side of Adoption

Just before turning five, my family moved from Indiana to Wisconsin. My dad had taken a job with Shepherds Home in Union Grove working with adults who had intellectual disabilities.  At this point in my life, I began to understand what it meant to be adopted.  My parents had told me of my adoption from the beginning. They never tried to keep that a secret from me.  I grew up being told that I was special because I had been chosen and that a great sacrifice had been made by my birth mother to give me up.  I had no reason to believe otherwise.  My parents had taken me in as their own daughter and loved me the same.



Three years after moving to Wisconsin, we moved to North Carolina where my dad began teaching the Special Education classes for those training to be teachers at what was at the time Piedmont Bible College.   It was during the next couple of years that I was able to see what the adoption process was like as my parents were going through the steps of adopting my younger brother, Sam.  I remember the home visits, them talking about me getting a little brother and then finally the trip to Indiana to pick him up.  I also remember that at 8 years of age, I wasn't the best at handling babies and the first time I held Sam I accidentally bumped his head against the wall and he started crying. (Sorry, Sam!)  Thankfully I got better as time went on. I really loved having a baby brother to play with and to help take care of, except for maybe the diaper changes.



Through the years, I always found it amusing when we would go places and people would tell my parents that I looked just like them.  Imagine all of the surprised faces when we would tell them that I was adopted.  Inside it always made me giggle a little bit.  At the same time, it also made me feel good to know that to others I appeared to be my parents natural child.

There were awkward moments at times. The one I remember the most was when one of my boy cousins said to me, "You know we really aren't cousins...." That is the moment when you wish you really were biologically related and then you run away as fast as you can from the creep.

Some of my most favorite childhood memories begin the summer I turned 13.  That was the summer I met my sweet friend, Michelle.  She had also moved to North Carolina from Wisconsin and I think that helped us to bond quickly and become fast friends.  We loved to hang out together, share secrets about boys, talk about boys, go bike riding so we could ride by boys houses, write letters to each other about boys,  speak in made up languages and just have a good old time.  Since we both had brown hair and brown eyes, and people often mistook us for sisters, we found it entertaining if we just told people that we were.



Here is the crazy made up story we used to tell:

Our birthdays were only four days apart - mine on August 25th and hers on August 29th.  So when people would ask if we were sisters, we would laugh and say yes.  We would tell people that I was adopted but that we really were twins separated at birth that were just born four days apart.  "Mom" had gone through a long, tough labor and since our "parents" were unable to take care of both of us, they had to give one of us away. Since I was born first, I was the one that was chosen to be given up for adoption. We had amazingly been reunited once Michelle's family (aka my birth family) had moved down here from Wisconsin and were able to enjoy growing up together from that point on.

So many people believed us, especially once we were old enough to have our driver's licenses and could prove our birthdays to them. It was so fun!  Michelle was the closest thing I had to a sister growing up. And even though we really aren't related, I consider us sisters in my heart.  I am so thankful that God brought her into my life and for our friendship over the past thirty years.

Thinking back, I think this may have been the time that I began to wonder if I did have family out there somewhere and if so, what exactly were they like. I wondered if they could possibly be someone that I knew or were friends with. I wondered if it were possible that I could really somehow be related to my parents and that is why people thought I looked like them.  The thought never crossed my mind that I could ever find out.  Little did I know....

The Story of My Life: My Second Adoption

I know you probably read the title and thought, "What? Adopted twice? How can that be?"  Well, I am here to say to you that, yes, I have had the privilege of being adopted two times in my life.

After my first adoption, we continued to live in the state of Indiana for almost five years. During that time, I grew as typical children do. When I was a baby, I loved to spit up on my mom after she fed me....multiple times. As I continued to grow I learned to walk and say things like "Dada." When I was a couple of years old, my parents would put me in bed and go back downstairs to watch television in the living room.  Many times they would open the door to the living room to find that I had snuck out of bed, laid by the closed door and fallen asleep right there. Yeah, and there was the time I tried eating dog food....  [Okay, give me a break. They looked like little hot dogs and anyone who knows me knows that I love hot dogs!!! :)] I was a quiet kid who loved to read, play with dolls and sing in the car.

My parents, after going on deputation to go to the Philippines for a while, realized that God was closing the door.  We moved several times within the state of Indiana, all in relatively the same area.  My dad pastored for a while and we lived in a parsonage that was connected to the church by a tunnel and an overhead walkway. We also lived in a trailer at some point, a town house and eventually we found ourselves living in a house.  

And that is when it happened....

I was adopted again.

It was the summer of 1978. I can't remember the exact date, but it was in June sometime.  I was four at the time, but would soon turn 5 in August.  We had gone to church that day, and I can't remember exactly what was talked about in Sunday School, but it must have been something important.  I remember coming home from church that morning and telling my dad that I needed to talk with him. He took me in a separate room and it was at that time I told him that I needed Jesus.  And that very day, I was adopted into God's family. Chosen for the second time.

I know that some of you may be wondering what exactly that means, so let me explain.  I believe that God created the world.  In the beginning, when He did that, the earth was without sin.  He created Adam and Eve. In the days following in the garden, Eve was deceived by Satan and ate the fruit that God had specifically told them not to eat, and convinced Adam to eat along with her.  With that first disobedience, we all inherited sin from Adam and Eve and along with that inheritance we also received the punishment of eternal death.  Because God is holy, He cannot fellowship with sin,  but because He loved us, He wanted to make a way that we could have a relationship with Him.  That way was Jesus, His son. He sent Jesus here to earth as a man, to live a sinless, perfect life and to sacrifice himself in our place, taking our punishment and redeeming us with his precious blood.  When Jesus Christ died on the cross, his blood was offered to us as a gift to accept as a salvation from our sin. But we have to make the decision to do so, and I did that day.

You may be wondering what that even has to do with my adoption story.  You might think that it is something that is a bit too personal to be sharing.  And what would God have to do with this whole thing anyway??

I am here to say He has had EVERYTHING to do with it. God has been a part of my life since I was a small child. My parents love God and they were always open to hearing his voice. Because of that, off and on through they years they have been involved in ministries of different types. Throughout my life, they were faithful in making sure that I went to church and that I was taught the Bible at home. Over the years I have learned how I can have my own personal relationship with Him and that He cares for me on an individual level.  I have seen God work from a distance and most of all from up close.  Some people see God as this huge being that is out there somewhere in a distance. I see Him as one who is up close and is in all the details of my life.  My story is made up of details. As it all unfolds, you will see how the tiniest of things made some of the biggest impacts in my discoveries. You may say it is just coincidence, but I believe it is all a part of His bigger plan for me.

As this story continues to unfold, I want to make sure I give glory where it is due. 

Thank you, God for everything you have done in my life. Thank you for opportunities that you have given me that I don't deserve, but am so very thankful for.  Thank you for being there for me when times are hard and when times are great. But thank you most of all for loving me, choosing me and adopting me into your family. 

13 

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.

Psalm 139: 13-16

The Story of My Life: Chapter One

It was August 27, 1973.  Gordon Finley was working at a school as a teacher and administrator of a special education program when the phone call came. It was the Baptist Children's home.  A baby girl had been born over the weekend and they wanted to know if he and his wife might be interested in adopting her.

They had previously adopted a little boy from this same agency.  Nathan, as they had called him, would be two the following month.  They had originally wanted to adopt a girl,  but when the adoption agency presented them the idea of a little boy, they prayed about it and agreed to take him.  Both they and the agency felt it a good idea to have more than one child in the home, so after  making Nathan a part of their family, they again applied for another child.

And the opportunity had come.

Gordon called his wife, Bess, from work and they discussed it.  There were several things to consider before making a final decision.  They were in the process of starting deputation to go to the Philippines as missionaries.  Would it be difficult to be on the road visiting churches with a new baby in the family?  It could get difficult having two young children at the same time. Would Bess be able to handle it with everything that was going on?

They talked about it and came to a decision.  They wanted the little girl. So they called the agency back and said they were interested.  Because it was Monday and the work week had already begun, they were not able to make the trip to get the little girl until Friday after work.  In the meantime, the baby would be put in foster care.

When Friday afternoon arrived, they made the hour and a half trip from Warsaw, Indiana to Valparaiso. There was excitement and curiosity. What would she look like? Who would she grow up to be?

They would go to the adoption agency office which was located above a shoe store.  There they would be handed a six day old baby girl and they would make her theirs.

They named her Lorena Lynn.
And when they all left together, they were family.

The story of my life: the beginning

So many people have asked that I write about my adoption story and my journey to finding my birth parents. I have tried to start blogging a couple of times, but every time I did, it seemed like something more happened and I needed to take time to process and work through it all.  Now seems to be the perfect time to get started, so here it is.  Please remember as I work my way through this journey, this is a journal of my own thoughts. Although I can speculate at times or come to my own conclusion regarding a situation, I cannot begin to pretend that I know another person's thoughts or feelings.

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Even now, as I sit and try to think about how to begin writing my story, I struggle. Where exactly do I start? Usually the first chapter of a book fills you in with some kind of background about a character - where they are from, the setting, situations that have influenced their lives.

I, however, have no significant background to be able to share. There are a few pieces of information that will give a hint of insight. For example, whoever my biological parents were, they were not married. But that little tidbit only leads to more questions, ones that cannot be answered. Were they in love?  Were they boyfriend/girlfriend? Was it a one night stand? Or even the tragic, could it have been rape?

For most of my life, I created a fairy tale in my head. Surely they were in love and just made a mistake.  Even though the consequences of their bad choices created what some would consider to be a permanent problem, my birth mom chose life, choosing to sacrifice and give me up because she could not care for me. Maybe she made this choice because she herself had been adopted and she knew what a gift it was to give a child a loving family to raise them. She must have truly loved me.

It is my guess that I look like her.  The non-identifying information from the adoption agency says she has brown hair and brown eyes. It also says she plays the piano, so I imagine this is where my love for tickling the ivories has come from.  I must get some of my height from him, since I have grown to be 5 ft 5 inches, a whole three inches above her listed height.  He graduated with a business degree. Does he like math? He must. I love math! So where else could it have come from? What does he look like? Since I feel I look like my birth mom, I can imagine him to be whoever I would like him to be. It says he is 6 ft 2 inches with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. I decide to pick Don Johnson during his days on Miami Vice as a very likely candidate. He is so handsome and what little girl wouldn't want him as her father?

But who loves to cook? The few typed paragraphs that take up half a sheet of paper don't tell me that.  Where does my stubbornness come from? Again, another unknown fact.  Being adopted sometimes feels like you are a main character in a book about yourself, but the first couple of chapters are missing. You can kind of figure out how the story began as you keep reading. You can pick up clues that help you fill in the missing details as you go along. But none of these things are certain. Just guesses.

So as I begin this journey, I will start at the one place I am absolutely certain of.....

...43 years ago on this date, a baby girl was born.

I was not an accident. I was planned.

That's right. I think so many times people assume that an adopted person was somehow an “accident”. When you hear that there was an unwed mother and father that led to a child being given up for adoption, it is just assumed that mistakes were made and the child is also often considered a mistake.

I am here to tell you, I am not a mistake.

If you read Psalm 139:13-16 it very clearly says...

For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you

when I was made in the secret place,

when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body;

all the days ordained for me were written in your book

before one of them came to be.

On that day, all those years ago, God made me. He knitted me together. He fashioned me just the way He wanted me to be. He created me and it was all a part of His plan.

His plan for me to be His child.

His plan for me to be a teacher.

His plan for me to be a wife.

His plan for me to be a mom.

His plan for me to be a part of so much more.

But most of all, as someone told me not too long ago,

He created me to be a gift to my parents.

He didn't just create me and leave me there. It has been so very obvious to me that He had guided and directed my steps along the way.

As I unfold this story in the days to come, I am excited to show you how God planned not only my birth, but also so many other events and circumstances over the course of my life, so stay tuned.....

It's coming.....so stay tuned!!

After taking a break for a year and a half, I have decided to start blogging again. When I came to blogspot this morning to start working on a new post, I found that my old blog was gone. Completely erased. Google said the account didn't even exist anymore.  At first I was a bit frustrated, but then I have decided that maybe it is a good thing. Time to leave the past in the past and move forward.  

When I originally started this blog two years ago, I was in a very different place in life. I was hurt, disillusioned, and just flat out struggling with circumstances in life.  In the midst of all life's confusion, God just showed up and reminded me that He is in control of everything.  He did something so unexplainable, that the only explanation for all of it is Him.  And along the forty plus years of this journey, there is unquestionable evidence of His hand in all of it.

What is that thing, you ask? He allowed me to be reunited with my birth family. I was adopted, you see, in 1973 through a closed adoption. There was no way I would ever be able to find out who my birth mother was....that is unless God intervened. And He did...

Many of you saw the post in August of 2014 when I was reunited with my half siblings. I have had lots of questions from people asking how it happened. Some adoptees have contacted me asking how it came about in hopes of finding out some information that would help them along their own journey of discovery.  So I have decided to share with you my journey: the ups and downs, the emotions, the questions, the good and the bad. 

While there are many characters that will surface in this story, I cannot represent any of them. I can only represent myself. My thoughts, my feelings, my situation....

And it is coming, so stay tuned!!