Cowboy Hats & Tomato Sandwiches

I am a list maker.

List making, whether in a linear form or splashed across the page like confetti thrown into the air, keeps order in my mind.  When I write out my thoughts and ideas, my things to remember, or all the stuff I have to do, a sense of order comes.  So, when I prepared to go and meet my birthfather, it only seemed natural that he would make a list too.  His list was the food list.  He wanted to have food on hand for us to enjoy a lunch together.

During one of our conversations, he'd asked me to list all my favorite foods.  We knew nothing about each other's likes and dislikes so we started off our getting acquainted with the basics.  What are your favorite foods?  What are foods you totally dislike?  Etc.

I came across one of our lists this week as I dug through a box of papers.  Throughout my journey, I kept almost every single paper that had anything to do with my search.  It got to be quite a bit of paper so I put it all inside a huge plastic tub.  Up until I started writing, I would only occasionally go into the box and sift around.

The weight of some of the papers was too heavy to process so I just contained it all until I could process it.

I carried that box into the dining room a few weeks ago and tried to sort through, but everything was all jumbled up.  There was no order to any of it.  The prospect of organizing it seemed overwhelming.  I'd taken a day off work last week to just rest in the quiet, and during this day I tackled the box.

After a few minutes of looking and assessing this overflowing box, I soon realized that the only way to make heads or tails of all this was to lay it all out on the dining table.  Time had come to unpack the box.  Being the sentimental one that I am, I had to look at everything before laying it down and spreading it all out on the table.  Pretty soon it was looking like a gigantic mess.  Many times during the unpacking, I would get bogged down by a letter or a note and the process slowed.  I had to walk away from this mess a few times just to breathe...

My husband was working in the office, and I went to tell him what I was doing.  I felt he needed a warning.  I said, "If you hear crying, don't worry about it.  You may hear laughter too.  It's cool. I am really fine."  Laughter and tears poured out as I unpacked the box of evidence.  It was all proof of the journey I had taken years ago, and it seizes me still.

I found the food list while I sorted, and laughed right out loud when I saw the menu he had planned for me.

Tomato sandwiches.

I don't know about you, but tomato sandwiches are ridiculous.  My very best friend during my growing up days, introduced me to these culinary delights.  She served me my very first tomato sandwich during one of my many visits to her house.  She lived just up the hill from me.  We'd met around age 5 when she'd come to spend some time at her grandparent's house.  Their house was behind my parent's house, too.  Boy, those were some good times.  I would wait and watch for her to show up at the fence line on the hill every summer or school holiday, and I would go running up there to meet her.  We got into all kinds of trouble together over the years.  Being a foodie, the memory of that first tomato sandwich is burned into my brain.  She'd toasted that white bread and slathered it with mayo.  The thick slices of tomato were sprinkled with salt and pepper.  Yum...  I had never had anything like it.  I feel sure I told my birthfather all about that first sandwich.  Turns out he loved them, too.  So, we added that to our list of foods we would eat in our first meal together.  Sounded pretty good to me.

I was very cavalier about going over to meet him for the first time.  My heart was still so shattered over losing contact with my birthmother, that my emotions were just worn out.  I didn't have any expectations of him either.  Since I had never really wanted to have him in my life, I guess it freed me to just do it.

The hubs had been working over in this city for quite some time, but on the day my birthfather and I arranged to meet, he wasn't going to be there.  I went to meet him by myself. I should have been more scared than I was...

It had been two months of phone calls before I went over to meet him. There had been many lists made between us.  I had an instant connection to him, and our conversations lasted hours at a time.  No telling how many hours we spent asking questions and telling our stories.

During one call he mentioned that his caregiver was concerned about all this.  She wanted him to be sure he was talking to someone who was legit.  He said she  didn't want him giving out medical information to a family that may or may not be his biological family.

Okay...

Looking back now, her motives may or may not have been pure.  Other incidents prove the latter, however God can and will sort all that out.  At the time, I was willing to entertain her "concerns".

She had suggested that we take a DNA test.  Yep, she wanted proof.  Whatever her reasons, she had somehow convinced him to mention this to me and he was all kinds of scared to tell me.  I didn't hesitate.  I told him I would be happy to take a DNA test because that would silence anybody who had "concerns".  Plus, if for some incredibly unforeseen twist, he wasn't my birthfather, better to know that right up front.  Now, I didn't doubt that he was the one.  He didn't doubt that he was the one.  We'd both seen pictures of the other.  There was no doubt.  The medical histories proved it was true.  Countless other factors proved it was true.  My birthmother KNEW it was true.

You can know what is true, and there will always be those who cast doubt.

Always.

This character who inserted herself into the story tried to cast doubt.  No matter.

When God gives you a dream and sends you on a path, don't listen to the doubters.

It was quite comical to me on many levels that I would be taking a DNA test.  I love to watch crime solving shows.  I hate the crime part and usually cover my eyes and plug up my good ear, but the investigation intrigues me.  It is so fun trying to figure out all the clues and guess who the culprit will be based on the evidence.  A DNA test was right up my alley.

I'd told my birthfather I would participate, but if he wanted the test, he would be picking up the tab.  He paid the bill happily.  Everything was arranged by him in advance.  I was given an appointment and off I went with my baby boy in tow.  He was not quite a year old yet so when the nurses at the hospital saw me at the window, they assumed it was my son that needed the test.

Ummm, no.  I know who his daddy is thank you.  I am the one needing the test.

Insert goofy, awkward smile.

My arm was fitted with a hospital bracelet.  It was ironic to me that there I stood as an adult wearing a hospital bracelet so my paternity could be discovered.  Funny... The kind  nurse lady laughed with me and swabbed my mouth.  My DNA was captured and more time waiting began.   Two weeks later, on the Friday before Father's Day, the results were in.

Congratulations...it's a girl.

No doubt about it, not that there ever was on our part, he was my birthfather.  It was a special day for both of us when the news arrived.  I may write about that day in the future.  Maybe...

Just like God put a love for tomato sandwiches into our DNA, He also gave us both the urgency to meet.  Now, with all doubters silenced, there was no reason to wait any longer and one week later I got into my car and drove northwest.

As I said earlier, I should have been more scared.  Most of the drive over, I had the expected jitters, but it wasn't until I stopped inside the city limits to grab a drink, that the enormity of what I was about to do hit me full force.  I called the hubs from the parking lot of the fast food joint to let him know I was there safely and to go over the directions once more.

I can follow directions easily, but never count on me for a sense of direction. If you do, we will wind up in Mexico probably.

With a final pep talk, I got back into my car to complete the last leg of my trip.  As I got closer to his house, my heartbeat was screaming in my ears.

This was really about to happen.

All my cavalier, nonchalant, this is no big deal, I can handle this attitude flew right out the window as I drove down the street to his house.  There it was behind a huge church in a normal, suburban neighborhood.  There was no where to park in front so I drove around back and wheeled into a spot.  I can feel in my guts the nausea that I felt when I tried to put the car in park.  I finally remembered how to drive and got the car into the correct gear and grabbed my purse.

Before getting out, I took a huge breath and looked toward the house.  The image behind the glass door outlined the silhouette of a man's face.  He was sitting by the door waiting.  It may have been fiery nerve endings that illuminated his profile, but what I saw was a black background with a glowing image.  It was like a spotlight was set on his profile so brightly that I couldn't make out any features.

I almost puked.  No lie.  I will never forget it.  Never...

I had a tough time walking to the door.  Legs of jello moved, but I know The Lord carried me from the car to the door.  Seeing a glimpse of him was too much.  He was not only waiting for me, but he was listening for me, too.  Without much sight left, he had to rely on his hearing.  He'd heard my arrival and listened to my footsteps approach.  When I stepped onto the back deck, he opened the door.

When I stepped into the little brick house and stood face to face with my birthfather, time stopped.

I am pretty sure I stopped breathing for a bit, too.

He tried to hug me, but I stopped him.

Every nerve ending in my body was surging with adrenaline and I know I would've passed out if he had touched me.  Here in front of me, stood my real, live birthfather, and I couldn't take it.  I am prone to be dramatic at times, but when I try to describe this first look, I can't find words big enough.  When I tell you that all I did was stand in his kitchen, only a few steps inside that back door for over an hour just looking at him, that is exactly how it went down.  Yes, I cried.  If you have read any of my story you know that tears are a common thread here.  I did cry some.  Mainly, though, I just looked and breathed.

It was all I could do.

My frozen feet wouldn't budge.  I had dropped my bags on the floor and simply faced him.  He stood facing me, looking hard to see me.  He was crying, too. There we stood as the minutes crawled by.

What I find amazing is that he just let me stand there.

He didn't try to change our location or convince me to move, he just let me stay right where I was until I was ready.  He knew I needed to look into the eyes of stranger until I had memorized those eyes.  He was such a gentleman to me in every way and I am so thankful.  My heart wasn't able to process this quickly so I had to just absorb it all.

When the emotions began to die down a bit, to a point where I could breathe without feeling like I needed a paper bag, we went into the den to sit.

He had so much he wanted to show me and tell me about.  I was like a sponge soaking it all in.  As we talked, we suddenly realized that we were both dressed alike.  We were both wearing black shirts with blue jeans, and black shoes.  Twins... He told me that his outfit wasn't complete until he put on his hat.  So, he went to the back bedroom to get his favorite hat to show me.  When he came out wearing his favorite cowboy hat, he was holding another one in his hand.

 "This one, baby girl", he says, "is for you."

It was his "dress" hat.  A beautiful, black cowboy hat was one of the first gifts he ever gave me.  As I took the hat from him, I automatically put it on my head and said..."Let's go see how we look."  Into the guest bathroom we went, and stood in front of the mirror just looking at ourselves.  It was weird and silly and wonderful.  It didn't take long for the laughter to ring out of both of us because THIS WAS CRAZY!!!  Oh, did we laugh at ourselves.

It was just the medicine we both needed.  The magnitude of the meeting eased and we moved from shock to joy.

I was getting to see my blood face to face.

And he was no longer alone.

The doubter came by to check on him further into our visit and for the record she was very nice to me.  He'd wanted her to come by so somebody could take our picture together.  We posed in his easy chair with me sitting on the arm.  Seemed only right to wear our matching black hats for our first official photo.

I treasure that picture.

When I look at it, like I did before writing this, I can clearly see the  happiness radiating off my face and his.

It was a day of joy.

When God knitted me together in my mother's womb, my future may have seemed on the surface uncertain.  Two words resound all throughout scripture that prove otherwise.

"But God..."

Two people, faced with a pregnancy make two different decisions.  One turns away and goes back to his life.  The other faces 9 months of carrying the weight of the baby, and a lifetime of carrying the weight of heartache.  Choosing what was best for the baby at the expense of her heart and herself, was a gift that only God can repay.  My future in the hands of a social worker may seem very uncertain.

"But God..."

God knew all this, and none of it took Him by surprise.

When others were making a list of options regarding my life, God was there writing out the ultimate list.  The creator of DNA, the One who wrote out the story from the beginning, organized every step of this life I live.  Where we see chaos, He makes order.

That chaos on my dining room table has finally shifted into organized piles.  After digging up all the papers of the past and laying them out before The Lord, He showed me how to order them all.  Yesterday, I came home from work, walked into the dining room, and within a short time, I had arranged orderly piles.  A few days ago, I wasn't able to do that, and then suddenly the order made sense.

Just that easy.

You know why?  Because Jesus makes it all make sense.

In time, everything that you and I lay out before Him, He will show us how to put it all together.  He is the Master after all.  He's been organizing us even before He strung our DNA together.  His plans and order many times don't make sense to us, but He never makes mistakes.

Never.

As I drove back home, I was both happy and sad.  I had spent an incredible day with my birthfather in the same city where my birthmother lived.  My heart was still hanging on to her even though it appeared that God had taken her out of my life.

There was still chaos.  He would soon make order.

Before that day came though, God had plans to add another unexpected character.  She wasn't supposed to be in this story at all.

"But, God..."

By the way, in case you are wondering, we never ate our tomato sandwiches. I didn't eat a thing that day.  I couldn't.  I didn't need to.  God had given me a plate piled high with joy and my heart was full.

NEW

"You EAT what you KNOW until you taste something NEW."

The family was gathered up at the bar in the kitchen inhaling, I mean enjoying, sloppy joes.  I had been chopping and sauteing for an hour to get my concoction just right.  My efforts were paying off as I stood back and watched their expressions.

Dinner was good.

As the compliments came, I commented that my dish was loaded with fresh veggies and that element combined with the sauteing made all the difference.

My middle child says..."there's veggies in here???"

LOL. Ummm...yes.   There are real live veggies in there.

We all had a chuckle, and I made an offhand remark that these sloppy joes weren't from a can.  Pre made foods of any sort are considered a slur in my kitchen. I like to cook from scratch.  You can make anything if you have onions and garlic.  They are the foods of heaven.

The hubs tells the kids that the only sloppy joes he'd ever had growing up we're from a can.  (For the record, his mom is THE most incredible cook!  Her biscuits are indescribable and her Sweet Cream cake is all kinds of worth going into a sugar coma.)

"Ewww... disgusting!", the kids all agreed.  As they were feigning shock and culinary superiority over my husband's challenging upbringing regarding sloppy joes, (while knowing full well that Nana's table is one of their favorite places in all the world to eat)....I made another quick comment.

"You EAT what you KNOW until you taste something NEW."

The words had slipped out so easily that the spiritual meaning appeared with a delay.  I knew as soon as I said it that I must write it down.

"You EAT what you KNOW until you taste something NEW."

Hmmm...

I took in the words as I wrote them on a sticky note (which is my favorite way to keep up with ideas).

In my spiritual life, God had been doing some new things.  He'd been showing me in fresh new ways to take in the Words from His book.  The Lord and I had been digging deep, and I was getting spiritual food lately that I have never tasted before.  It was new and it was good.

That phrase sparked more new spiritual food as the Holy Spirit guided me to study several chapters in Exodus.

Moses was leading the Israelites out of the slavery in Egypt. They had walked through a miracle in the parting of the Red Sea, but now they were in the Desert of Shur. (ch.15)  They had seen mighty moves of God, and yet the hunger and thirst of their physical bodies began to move them to take their eyes off Him.  They started to grumble.  So they get to Marah, the water is bitter, God does another miracle and satisfies their thirst.

I used to read this and say...dang, people.  You walked through walls of water in the Red Sea and you are still complaining?!?!

Used to...  The truth is I can't go a day without coffee.  I wouldn't have lasted a minute thirsty in a hot, arid desert.  I would've been one of the loudest fussers of the group.

Thirst is tough.

Now it has been 15 days since they came out of Egypt, Ex. 16, and real, body wracking hunger has kicked in.  Adrenaline from fleeing may have waned a bit, and now the hunger pains turned up the volume.  As we say in the south, they got hongry!

The grumbling fires up again.  They were so hungry that scripture says in verse 3 that they said they'd rather go back to full stomachs in slavery than starve to death in freedom.  No one I know has ever been that hungry.

Moses, God's man on the scene, does what he always did and cries out to The Lord, and The Lord feeds them.

4 Then the LORD said to Moses, "I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions.

5 On the sixth day they are to prepare what they bring in, and that is to be twice as much as they gather on the other days."

6 So Moses and Aaron said to all the Israelites, "In the evening you will know that it was the LORD who brought you out of Egypt,

7 and in the morning you will see the glory of the LORD, because he has heard your grumbling against him. Who are we, that you should grumble against us?"

8 Moses also said, "You will know that it was the LORD when he gives you meat to eat in the evening and all the bread you want in the morning, because he has heard your grumbling against him. Who are we? You are not grumbling against us, but against the LORD."

9 Then Moses told Aaron, "Say to the entire Israelite community, 'Come before the LORD, for he has heard your grumbling.' "

10 While Aaron was speaking to the whole Israelite community, they looked toward the desert, and there was the glory of the LORD appearing in the cloud.

11 The LORD said to Moses,

12 "I have heard the grumbling of the Israelites. Tell them, 'At twilight you will eat meat, and in the morning you will be filled with bread. Then you will know that I am the LORD your God.' "

13 That evening quail came and covered the camp, and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp.

14 When the dew was gone, thin flakes like frost on the ground appeared on the desert floor.

15 When the Israelites saw it, they said to each other, "What is it?" For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, "It is the bread the LORD has given you to eat.

To summarize the passage above, this is what I see happened.  The Israelites were on this incredible journey of deliverance from their past of slavery.  God was leading them every step through Moses.  They had seen miracles, but they were still humans.  (hope for us all right there)  They fussed and took their eyes off of God.  (more hope) Moses continued to set the example before them of keeping your eyes on God, and God provided a table for them in the desert.

Now, the part that God revealed to me a few weeks ago focuses on the food He provided.

He sent quail to down from the sky and it "covered the camp" in the evening.  He gave them meat.  When you are hungry, physically hungry, meat would be enough to satisfy.

But God is more than enough.  He gave them a meat that they would know, and He met their physical hunger, but He gave them something else, too.

He created a NEW food.

When they woke up that next morning, a dew was on the ground.  As the heat grew in this desert place and the dew vanished, "thin flakes like frost" were left.  It was so NEW to them that they had to ask..."What is it?"
  

Moses tells them The Lord has given them bread.

The Bread of Life has given them bread.

I have to put v. 12 here a second time.

"At twilight you will eat meat, and in the morning you will be filled with bread. Then you will know that I am the LORD your God."

God told Moses to tell them they would get bellies full of meat at night, but in the morning???  In the morning, I am going to do something NEW.  I am going to FILL you with bread.  And then???  Then "you will KNOW that I Am the LORD."

Oh me... I could just have a hallelujah fit right here now.

He was saying this I think. You have been eating what you know and it is good to satisfy your needs where you are now.  But... I am taking you somewhere NEW and that NEW place in your journey is going to require some NEW food.

Glory.

"You EAT what you KNOW until you taste something NEW."

When they tasted these dew producing flakes  on the floor of the desert, they called it "manna".

16:31b."It was white like coriander seed and tasted like wafers made with honey."

My notes down in the commentary of my NIV bible say this... "No naturally occurring substance fits all the data of the text, and several factors suggest that manna was in fact the LORD's unique provision for His people in the desert.  The meaning of the Hebrew word for "manna" suggests that it was something unknown by the people at that time."

Yes, Lord.

A NEW food had appeared on the floor of the desert.

When they were empty, He had provided.

Now if they had refused to eat it because they had never seen it before or it wasn't part of their plan, they would've most likely had their hunger need met but not their soul's need.

When I left off in Light in the Darkness, my husband was on his way to meet my birthfather.  I had enough sense to know that I was still too raw emotionally to judge whether or not this man was someone I wanted in my life.  My husband is the one I trust to protect me like that so he went to my birthfather's door.

The house was brick with reddish type trim.  My birthfather was living there alone so my hubby's visit was a welcome event.  Inside the house, my husband came face to face with a man his same height who had 20 years worth of long hair, and green eyes. The air was heavy with smoke and questions.

Over the 48 hours or so since I had spoken with my birthfather, hope had begin to grow in him.

While shocked of course, he was beginning to hope that this girl who called was really his daughter.  I'd come to know his heart later on and like him, I get drawn in quickly.

Their visit was a good one.  Two grown men were sizing up the other trying get answers to questions and make sense of the situation.  I know my hubby wanted to make sure he wasn't some nut that would put me in danger. Once they both felt satisfied to some degree, they ended their meeting.

Again, another long phone call took place between the hubs and me.  He gave me his assessment of this stranger who was my birthfather.  I don't remember exactly what he said, and after all this time, neither does he.  I may have some notes somewhere, but I can't put my finger on them today. What I do remember from his summary was how sad his life sounded to me.  He didn't try to make it sound that way.  It was just the facts of his life.

Here I was living life with a beautiful family of my own.  I have a sister and her family.  I have my parents and their families full of aunts and uncles and cousins galore.  My life was full of loved ones.  The opposite was true for this man.  He never had a brother or sister.  His relationship with his dad was not a script from the Hallmark channel.  He was very close to his mom, but the physical ailments they both suffered prevented them from staying close.  He was being cared for by an ex-wife who wasn't really happy that I showed up on the scene.  He had one other friend who lived in a another town that came to visit occasionally, but mostly he just sat alone in his house.

Can you imagine that?

Day after day after day??  You are stranded all alone in your house.  You can't drive so you can't leave.  You can barely see, so you can't go for a walk.  No way out without help.

Now I am one of those types who cannot take the suffering of the discarded or mistreated or empty.  Can. not. take. it.  And I can't take hungry children either.  I don't care much about the why or if they deserve it...  I know there are all kinds of circumstances and situations, but a lonely, empty, blind man with really nobody to be IN his life to love on him?

Ummm, no...

And when you factor in that he is MY birthfather????

My flesh and blood?
My family?????
My heart could not take it.

Of course I wanted to hear all his stories and know who he was then and who was in the now, but as far as deciding whether or not he deserved to be in my life because I hadn't plannned for him???  No.

All those plans flew right off the table once his current sitatuation became clear.

I knew this was God.

Scriptures say that God told the Israelites that when they ate the bread that He would rain down from Heaven that they would "KNOW I Am the LORD."

He was telling that them something NEW was about to happen and there would be NO OTHER explanation.

Only God could send a new food down in a new form and they would have to ask..."What is it?"

Only God does stuff like that.

So this new person who had come into my life was someone that I didn't ask for, but God put him in.

As I prayed and questioned the next events, I would ask God, "What is going on? What are You doing here?"  I knew there were not good feelings between my birthmother and my birthfather.  I am thinking, "Whoa, God, what are trying to do here?  I do not want to be a part of what happened between them. That has nothing to do with me.  I just want to know them.  And God, won't bringing him in wreck what I had going with her? Yes, I know that is over God, but still... What are You doing? This makes no sense God.  This is NEW!!! I don't understand, God."

Like the Israelites, God sent a new thing in but He himself didn't give it a specific name other than bread.  They named it themselves.  The only direction He gave them was the same one He gave me...

He was telling me to trust Him.

He was saying to trust Him through the gift of the new food in their lives and the new person in mine.

And He did these new things so that neither they nor I could take any credit for what was happening.

I didn't fully understand why He brought my birthfather in until one year later.

During that year, God gave me glimpses of His plan, but not the full scope.  For the present moment, all I could know about this new man was that he existed, he had a name, and he was a new path for me to follow.  The door had closed with my birthmother so I was able to give him my full attention.

So, I did.

Later on in the week, the hubs went back to the little brick house, to deliver a few pictures to my birthfather.  Of course he wanted to see me.  He could get glimpses of images if he focused intently and moved his eyes back and forth side to side.  He told me later that I would literally be one of the last things he would see on this earth.

*tears*  

Okay...I'm back...

Pictures in his hand, focusing hard, he could see me for the first time.  When he saw me, he saw himself.  He looked into the paper eyes of a stranger and he knew it was true.

He knew.

There's one more thing that you need to know about this visit before I wind up this post.  When my birthfather greeted my husband on their 2nd visit, he wasn't the same.

The old, scraggly hair and unkempt appearance from days prior had vanished.  He had arranged to be taken to a barber shop and he got cleaned up.  Twenty years of hair...gone.  Fresh and cleaned up, in pressed nice attire, he looked like a new man.

Oh, Jesus... *tears again***

You see???

God had done something NEW in his life too!

He had a life that was empty, and now it was full.

He hadn't even laid eyes on me yet, he had only heard my voice, but he knew his life had changed.

New...

I praise You Lord for allowing me to go back and find my birthfamily! I am so thankful that I didn't turn away from the NEW.  Although it was new to me, it wasn't new to God.  This man was just another piece of my journey along the path where God was taking me.  This plan God designed for me has been in place since the foundation of the world.  This new piece was a part of the purpose He has assigned to my life.  It was His plan that I talk to and meet and invite in and accept this man.

It wasn't and isn't ever my job to evaluate and decide whether or not he was worthy.  My job was to take in what was new, and let God fill my life the way He chose.

If I had kept refused to accept this new thing, I would have missed the blessing of the next thing.

God placed this man in my life at just the right time.

When I was broken and empty, He provided a new thing.  Because it wasn't my thing, He gets the Glory.
  

If God brings something new into your life, be careful not to discard it because it you don't recognize it.

If the Israelites had only eaten the meat of the quail that they did recognize, they would have missed the bread that they didn't recognize.

When they asked Moses, "What is it?" in verses 15-16, he replied by telling them for each one to "gather as MUCH as he needs."

Oh, glory...

When God provides, He supplies as much as you NEED.

I can hardly contain myself right now.  Oh, Jesus to trust You MORE!

He gave them a new thing in the middle of a desert place and said take all you need.  He fed their stomachs and satisfied their souls in a new way so that only He would get the glory and they would KNOW that He was God.

Friend, the love and mercy and grace of God never runs out.

For His Children, He has plans designed that will bring new things into your life.  In Him, there will always be abundant provisions no matter where you are.  When you are empty, look to Him to fill you and trust Him to do it His way.

In the next post I will begin to tell about my birthfather, and I can't wait to see what God will have me write.  Until then, I have a challenge for you.

Today, this week, wherever you are at this point in your life... Keep your eyes open...God is doing something new in you.  Look for it...I dare you.  :)

Light in the Darkness

The sun kept on coming up every day after my birth mother and I stopped talking.  Broken hearts don't stop life.  The sun will rise and set each day regardless of the condition of your heart.  You can be filled with so much pain and hurt that the world seems dark and still the light of the sun breaking over the horizon will blind you.

Pain and sadness filled my heart as I faced the days with no communication. 

My heart was broken, but it needed to break.

Beth Moore said, "sometimes God has to break you so He can remake you."  I was so moved when I read her words that I wrote them in my Bible.  There was major heart repair needing to take place in my life. 

In my brokenness, God showed me a painful truth. 

I had set up an idol. 

Scriptures say "Have no other gods before Me.", but just because I haven't seen any Baal-type temples lately doesn't mean I don't have idols.  Idols come in all forms and can disguise themselves in ways that make it hard to see them for what they really are.  Idols in Old Testament days were sometimes made out of bright and shiny metals, but the glistening only hid the darkness inside.  

Idols have no light of their own.  

They only call to us with false promises based on lies and distract us with the shimmer. 
Yet, God knows how drawn we are to shiny things. 

I had built a sparkling dream of what this reunion would be like and set my birthmother up on a high place that was never meant for her.  The only high place in the life of a Christ follower is a Throne and that seat is already taken. 

When you are adopted and your birthfamily's identity is unknown, you can mentally give them a false identity based on needs within your own life.  We all have areas of our childhood that could have turned out better.  We can take these perceived missing parts, whether very real or imagined, and project these qualities onto an unknown identity.  And there you build an idol.  The idols of the OT were designed by men to meet a need among the people whereas by their own evaluation life was lacking.  I had done this very thing.  In my mind, this reunion and relationship was shining like a new dime, but before a Holy God it was sin.

When my dream seemed to have shattered, God took a piece and held it up against the Truth of His Word.  In the Light of scriptures, what He revealed was revolting. 

I had set up my birth mother as an idol in my life. 

I had placed my hope, in a relationship with her and not in God. 

In the midst of shattered dreams, God took me on a new search and rescue mission.  This one led me along a path of Truth about myself.  I know, because the Word tells me so, Psalm 56:8, that He gathered every single tear I cried.  I believe that His heart was aching as He watched me splinter apart, but He didn't stop it.  He could have.  He is God.  He didn't stop my pain because He knew it was best that I break.  He didn't leave me there.  He never leaves us there alone. 

So...where did that leave me now that my birthmother and I weren't on good terms? 

Empty. 

Empty places are beautiful places when God does the filling.

My friend Laura, the one who helped me in the final leg of my search, took it upon herself to make a phone call that would start a new chapter in my story.  She wanted so much to help me that she decided she would investigate my birthfather. 

So, she called him.

I didn't know she was going to do it.  I certainly wasn't ready for it, or so I thought.  I think she just wanted to see this story she'd been such a big part of have a happy ending.  She didn't even realize how God was using her. 

When she called me to tell all about this man she talked to on the phone, I was floored. 

While I cried over the empty place in my life, there was a man whose life was really empty.  And he was my birth father.

All alone, my birthfather was living in his parent's house.  His father had long since passed away and his mother was in a nursing home.  He had been married once, but had been divorced for years.  There were no children in his marriage. 

His life had not been an easy one.  He had faced many struggles, some of his own making, and his health bore the battle scars.  A rare illness had affected his sight in his thirties, and he was legally blind. 

When Laura called, she wanted to be sure he was the right person so she asked him many questions. He didn't shy away from answering them. Of course, he was sitting all alone in the house he grew up in almost completely in the dark. He didn't have anything else to do.  So a phone call from a total stranger was interesting until she got to the baby part.  Then he almost had a heart attack himself.  It was not at all what he expected. 

He told Laura his version of the story. He said he knew about the pregnancy, but he never knew what happened. They had not ended on good terms when she told him she was pregnant, and they never spoke again.  Bottom line, he went back to his life. 

When Laura called me to give me the run down of her conversation with him, I went into shock myself.  Yes I knew I had to have a birthfather.  Biologically it was certain, but I had put him into a box in my heart and tucked it away for another day.  As she gave me the news of her calling him, I remember shaking my head, probably rolling my eyes...yeah eye rolling happened...and thinking...what in the world am I supposed to do about him?  I am destroyed here!!!  I have lost my dream!  I am a hot, stinking mess of raw, bleeding emotions.  I can't do this!!! 

He is NOT in MY plan!

Oh, the Grace and Mercy of Jesus...

While I bled, He began to heal me. 

It wasn't getting to know my birthfather that healed me.  Make no mistake there.  My healing process began in brokenness and was completed in Jesus alone.  God led my birthfather right to my doorstep showing me first hand, close up, make no mistake about it, little girl this story is NOT about you. 

As Laura talked and I made notes, which I always do... I really began to listen from my heart.  He was so open and transparent with her about his life.  He was telling her things about his past, his mistakes, his regrets.  The honesty of his words registered in me.  He was holding nothing back.  As I write this, the notes from their conversation sit here beside me.  The notes tell of a man who had so little in his current life, but was willing to share the details of his life with a complete stranger. 

I still marvel at how much information folks gave us over the phone.

So, Laura gave me several pages of information, and then she gave me his number. 

Just like that... 

Here is his number.  He wants to talk to you. 

It was a Saturday afternoon when I dialed his number.  True to form, I didn't wait.  I just called.  I don't know what I expected from the call, but I guess when you have no expectations, it can be a good thing. 

When my first born son began to talk as a baby, his voice didn't come out like your average child.  The voice coming from this beautiful curly brown headed baby boy with huge, beautiful eyes was not what we expected.  Instead we heard a deep, raspy sound that we thought sounded a lot like Arnold Schwarzenegger or Sean Connery.  I loved hearing him talk.  I still do. 

When my birthfather said hello to me that Saturday afternoon, the sound I heard over the line was the same deep, raspy sound I knew from my boy.  Just the sound of his voice, just hello, sent waves of something new rushing over me.  He wasn't in my plan.  I didn't even know if I would ever talk to him.  I can't explain why he hadn't really mattered to me. 

Oh, sweet Jesus he mattered to God.

Our first phone call was filled with factual, medical, & historical information.  He told me about his life.  He didn't tell me a drama filled tale of woe.  His story wasn't one looking for attention although he may have been that way at one time. 

He wasn't the same man that he was when I was born.

His life had begun with all kinds of privileges and opportunities, but he went down roads and made choices that he wished he could take back. 

At this point in his life, with no siblings of his own, no spouse, he was empty of family and limited with friends. 

His mother's health prevented her from leaving the nursing home.  His blindness prevented him from visiting without help, so their relationship comprised of a few phone calls. 

He told me about a rare genetic illness he had as a boy.  My son had battled this same issue.  He gave me the full medical profile, and sure enough we both shared many things. 

As I listened to him, the connection that I had turned away from and put far back in my mind, began to make contact.  This lonely, empty, funny, raspy old man was my birthfather.  Now, before you go thinking I am being disrespectful please know that "old man" is what he told me to call him.  He knew he hadn't earned to right to have any title of affection, but over the next months as we talked, he decided that "old man" was appropriate. 

We talked for a long time.  Like me, he wasn't short on words.  He had lots to say, and I sat stunned after we ended the phone call.

God had closed one door and opened another.

I couldn't begin to fathom what The Lord would do in my life over the next year.  When I thought the journey had finally ended, it had only just started.  When I thought I'd lost everything, God gave me something I didn't even ask for. 

In John chapter 8, Jesus was speaking and said, "I am the Light of the world.  Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the Light of Life." verse 12

Jesus never promised us we wouldn't go through dark times.  He did promise us that we would walk through them with His Light.

The sun kept on rising while I broke over losing contact with my birthmother, God allowed it so He could reveal a dark place and heal me with His Light, and He walked me through it all right to the doorstep of a man who sat each day in the darkness of blind eyes. 

Only God could orchestrate a story like this, but it shouldn't come as any surprise.  

He IS the Light of Life.

Are you going through dark times?  

Know this.. If Jesus Christ is your Savior, He is right there with you.  When times get tough and you can't see which way to go, look to Jesus.  When you feel like the broken pieces will never go back together right, look to Jesus.  When your dreams shatter, look to Jesus.  He is the Light of Life and the only One who can SEE in the dark. 

I didn't know what to say or think about all this that was going on in my life.  So I did what I do, and I sent in the hubs. 

My husband, the protector, went knocking on the door of my birthfather the next week to see  this man for himself.

And there he sat...in the dark...just like he'd said. 

Training Wheels

When my kids first learned to ride a bike, they started off sporting training wheels.  Not having any experience with riding bicycles, we certainly didn't put them on a bike and say, "Good Luck".  We knew they needed training and instructions before they could ever ride proficiently.  In fact, I took the time to show them all the parts of the bike and explain how it all worked together, before I ever let them get on the seat. 

There is a lot to learn about a bicycle.  

You have to understand the function of the pedals, speed control, how the handle bars work, and the importance of proper steering. Of course, there were necessary safety devices to wear: helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, and proper shoes. Plus, you need to be capable of  balancing yourself on the bike when putting all the other skills to work. 

As my kids practiced all these new riding skills, one thing became very clear early on.  They needed the balance support of the training wheels.  

Who knew riding a bike was so intense?  All my kids wanted to do was ride!

When I rode my bike growing up out in the country, there was no such thing as all this safety stuff. You got a bike for Christmas or your birthday, and you went out in the yard to learn.  It was a long time before we had a paved driveway so I knew how to ride in the grass.  I learned pretty fast that if my bike started to fall, I better stick out my foot. Balance is key.  I got pretty good at riding and was ready to take my show on the road...the paved road in front of our house.

My goal was to learn to ride without holding on to the handle bars.  I wanted to ride down the road from our house as fast as I could, face in the wind, and arms hanging loose letting go of the handle bars.  Sometimes I would even close my eyes.  It was amazing.  

I don't remember learning to ride or who taught me, but I am sure I faced the same struggles as any new rider faces.  You have to learn and learning takes time.  You don't learn it all on your first day, and flying in the wind comes after learning. 

When we made contact with my birthmother that afternoon, I raced into her life without training wheels. 

A crash was bound to happen.

After my hubby left my birthmother's office that day we found her, the clock in my head began to tick.  

How many minutes would pass before she used the phone number he gave her?  

As the hours and days started to collect, the ticking got louder.  

I don't know how long I was planning to give her before she called me, but with each passing hour, that limit began to shrink, and I did what I shouldn't have done.  

I began to evaluate what was going on over in her world, based on my perspective.  

Not a good idea. 

I was trying to ride a relationship bike without any experience.  My heart was not wearing any safety gear either.  

It was a perfect storm.  

The truth is I was already disappointed by the time she called. It had only been a few days, and  I had no right to be, but I was.  

While I waited and worried and analyzed, she was having a storm of her own.  

Her family was so wonderful and supportive when she came home from work that day and shared the news of her unexpected visitor.  They loved on her just like they always have, but there wasn't much they could do for her.  

She was in shock.  

All these years she'd carried a picture of me with her.  It was a picture of me taken by a nurse at the hospital I think.  She'd begged this woman to take a picture of me even though it was against policy.  She needed to keep me with her. She held tightly to this picture ever since the day we parted up until about a year or so before I found her.  

It was like she could sense my getting closer even though she had no idea I was coming.  

She'd given the picture to her sister to keep while I was searching.  In some ways, she had found a peace about me. God was already working in her life, getting her ready for the real deal to come walking back in.  Remember when I wrote about being so impatient as this process was taking such a long time?  Well, this is one of the reasons I needed to wait.  God was doing stuff in her life.  It was stuff that needed to happen.  I needed to wait while God worked.

Even though she knew I was a grown woman in 2003, in her mind, I was still that baby girl.  Hearing the news that I had found her, bringing the past into the present, was too much for her to digest and process. I hate that she had to go through so much. Looking back, it really should have been much longer of a time between my hubby giving her the number and her actually using it.  

She is a strong, strong woman.  

Finally, after the ten millionth time my poor husband checked his voice mail for a message, there was one on the line.  

She called.

Amidst all the tears of joy were big breaths of relief.  Emotionally, I had been holding my breath.  I was so afraid that she'd never call. 

We had given her the choice, knowing full well she may choose to keep the door closed between us.  

I had read about birth families who refused to connect.  For many reasons, sometimes it just doesn't work out.  Some birth mothers keep the secret of giving up a child for adoption all their lives.  They move forward, have new families, and just can't handle this secret being known.  There are many reasons why some stories don't have a happy ending.  My heart breaks for the women who never have the chance to make peace with the past.  My heart aches for their children, too.  So when my birthmother called me, I was beyond thrilled. 

I couldn't wait to talk to her.  

Scared out of my mind, I dialed the number she had left for her office.  I must've been completely nuts at this point because it was a stupid idea to call her at her job.  Geez...  

Fair or not, kind or not, this stubborn person made the call anyway.  

It was her private line at work and her voicemail picked up.  I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out were ridiculous sounds in the midst of ugly, deep sobs.  

Yes, I just cried into her voicemail.  

Seems fitting though.  The last time she heard my voice was the day we parted ways.  She was in a wheelchair at the hospital as she watched me being wheeled away, and she listened to my cries. 

We were both crying as she said goodbye to her baby girl.  

My first hello to her was crying, too.  

I tried to get myself together, and I think I said something.  

I don't really remember.  

It was a mess.  

I was a mess. 

When I hung up, I told my hubby that her recorded voice on the voicemail sounded so familiar.  It was the sweetest, kindest sounding voice.  She sounded like an angel.  

Well, before you go...awwww...turns out it wasn't her voice.  

As in so many important times in my life, God provides humor.  It cracks me up thinking about it.  I wanted to hear her voice so badly that I believed this random voice was her and decided it sounded like me, too.  At that point I would have believed anything.  

In a bit, we finally had the moment I had been waiting for.  I heard her voice, her real voice.

Now, she is very sweet and has a huge, kind heart, but ain't nobody ever described her voice as angelic.  Mine either for that matter.  We both have a big, strong, deep voice.  

Our first phone call finally happened.  I was shaking so hard and yes, still boo-hooing like a baby.  

It was surreal.  

I did make some notes of our first words that day, but I don't remember them.  The emotional impact of knowing who was on the other line made a sound in my ears like a roaring.  I do remember her saying that I had guts to call her at work.  Guts, yeah, I got lots of those.  They make me do stupid stuff... like call you at work because I am too impatient to wait until 5:00.

Anyway, we talked a little bit that day since she was obviously at work. It was a good talk considering the  magnitude of the situation.

She made it very clear that she was not ready to see me yet.  That was okay with me at first.  

I was getting to hear her voice and talk to her. She was IN my life.  

She even emailed over some pictures. 

Besides seeing her in person, getting pictures was huge.  I almost puked while the email opened and the faces emerged. 

When the photos were opening, it was another one of those moments that gets frozen in your mind.  

My computer was so slow and the image was huge so it opened like the unrolling of wrapping paper.  When the picture's image made it to her eyes, I could hardly take it.  

Her eyes looked right through me.  

There she was.  

My birth mother had a face.  

I still get chills when I see that picture today.  It takes me back to that first look.  

She was real. 

She sent me other pictures too.  Some of them included her wonderful husband.  From the very first moment he found out about me coming back into her life, he was so amazing.  He is a good man.  He told her that night she came home after my hubby's visit, "Get in the truck.  Let's go get her."  He has always held his arms wide open to me and my family, and I will forever be grateful.  

We spent a lot of time getting to know each other over the next days and weeks.  There were lots of phone calls and many emails.  

In some ways, I knew her.  

We both love to cook and are all kinds of crazy about our families.  She loves a clean organized house, and I do too. (Not that I have seen my house in this condition lately, but that is a totally different story.) She has this dry, sarcastic sense of humor and well...I got that gene as well.  She loves to laugh and enjoy life. If you don't want to know what we think, don't ask. If we weren't tied by blood, I know we'd be great friends.  

Here is the hard part.  

As much as I knew her, in many ways we were strangers.  

We had lived separate lives.  I had made peace years before with being adopted.  The moment I looked into my own baby girl's eyes for the first time, I knew that my birthmother's sacrifice for me came as a result of how much she loved me.  

I was okay with being adpoted.

For a time, she wasn't sure that I was really okay.  She was reliving things that I didn't understand, and I couldn't help her. Her past had come back, and even in her love for me, it was a huge upheaval in her life.  I wanted this reunion to be incredible.  I wanted to make it all better for her.  She was going through so much, and I felt helpless.  I tried to make it all be okay, but I only made a mess.  

You can't jump on a bike and ride like a pro if you have never learned how to ride in the first place.

I needed relationship training wheels.  

God used this time to teach me several lessons.  

First, He reminded me, yet again, that He was in charge.  

Here I was driving this relationship bike way too fast.  I had searched, I had found her, now let's get going with our new life. 

Slow down girl...

God also taught me that the direction we were going was along a path that I had mapped out and not Him.  

Where are you headed girl?

Between my impatience and wrong direction, I started losing my balance.  

This bike was about to fall over.  

I was about to get hurt.  

When I fell, I was going to hurt her, too.  

You cannot get ahead of God.  I had trusted Him to find her, but then I took control.  

Bad idea..

But...

God is so loving and full of grace and mercy.  He wasn't at all suprised by the mess I was making.  

Instead He used it.  

Romans 8:28 says "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."

I did crash.  

We hit a rough patch in our getting reaquainted.  Only a few weeks in, and it seemed like we were over.

  

I broke apart.  It was awful.  

All my dreams seemed to vanish, but God knew they needed to. 

He had something big to show me about myself.  And there was another chapter in my story that He had written.  

This new chapter had an urgent timeline of its own. 

A new character was about to emerge.  

When I was empty, He filled me with someone who needed me right then.  

This time around I didn't tear off on a relationship bicylce unprepared.  

I let God put on the training wheels.  

When you're broken, it is easy to let God be God in your life.  

When you have made a mess out of everything and the walls have crashed down around you, it is a whole lot easier to let Him take control  If that is where you are right now...don't give up hope.  

You are positioned perfectly for His best work.  See, "His power is made perfect in weakness."  2 Cor 12:9

My weakness made room for His Power to work and move. 

Boy, did He ever move. 

Perspective

The nature of an adoption reunion is all about perspective.  

You cannot know what the others in the story are going through, have been through, nor how they have dealt with the past.  I did my best to get a handle on how she might take the news of my return into her life.  Of course, I had prayed for her.  Probably, I had prayed that she'd accept me more than I prayed for the shock that hit her that day.  I had done lots of research online and read many books and articles about adoption reunion.  Not that any of that did any good...  You can't really study up for what was happening in that moment as my husband went to see her face to face.  She was there talking to a complete stranger who had no idea about her perspective.

When I left off my last post, The Name, I was waiting at home in my tear puddle, hairs standing up on my neck, and my husband was inside an office building talking to my birthmother.  He'd gone to the front desk and asked for her by name.  The sweet lady at the window, who I'd meet later on, called her on the phone to see if she was available.  Turns out my grandmother didn't call to warn her we'd be coming.  She agreed to speak to this random guy at the door and took him into a empty office as he told her he needed to speak to her privately.  In her line of work, meeting with various unannounced professionals was not uncommon, so she didn't immediately realize anything odd until he started to speak.

Since it's just not polite to blurt out the obvious fact that he was there to on a search and rescue adoption reunion mission, he opened with telling her that'd he had just been on the phone with her mother.  He assured her that everything was okay with her mom, as far as he knew, but he had been calling  her mom in order to find her. Right to the point, he told her he needed to ask her a personal question.  

As gently as he could, he asked her if she had given up a baby for adoption.

She said yes, a baby girl. 

He followed with a few other questions just to be sure that she was the one.  

How many siblings do you have?

Where was the baby born?

What was the date?

What was the name you gave her?

Etc.

Every question got the right answer.  Once he was convinced she was the right one, he gave her the news.

That baby girl is my wife.

Silence...

In those 6 short words, "That baby girl is my wife.", an emotional nuclear bomb went off.

I wish I had been able to be there to just hug her at that moment. 

Of course, I would send the current me and not the hysterical, emotional, over ten years ago me.  

Today, I could hug her and tell her that she was going to be okay.  This is all going to work out just fine because today, as much as I can, I see this moment from her perspective.  

This news that I had been fighting to find made contact with a precious woman who didn't have the luxury of preparation.  

This moment that I had been waiting for and planning for and knew was coming, was not on her radar that day...at all.  

My perspective was one direction.  Hers was another.

You see, way back when I was born, birthmothers were often told to forget about their children.  It was a completely different time and culture.  These young mothers were not given any future fairytale of reunion.  The birth of the baby was for them the very end.  Or so it was supposed to be. The adoption process was presented as the final chapter and these women were told to forget and move on with their lives.  

You don't have to have a PhD in psychology to know that isn't possible. 

Birthmothers don't forget.  

She didn't forget.  

She had carried me in her heart all these years, but...she was blindsided with news of my arrival.  

I am so thankful she didn't have a heart attack.  I  am so not joking when I say that either.  Even though she never once forgot about me, she was not prepared for me to appear.  

As my husband waited for his last sentence to register, she said she needed to sit down.  Shock waves rattled her to the core.  

Her first questions to him were to ask how I was and if I was okay.  

A mother never stops being a mother.  

She had never touched me.  Not even once.  And yet her first questions were all about my well being. 

As I write this now, I am crying again.  Somehow, growing up, I knew she loved me.  I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.  How?  Only God knows since He designed the heart.  I just knew it.  

In her shock and distress, she did the best she could to tell a brief story of how I came to exist.  My husband had been given strict instructions to WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN.  I made that all caps on purpose because I probably did scream it at him. He isn't exactly known for giving all the details.  He is a big picture kind.  I am a details kind.  So I really, really needed him to write it all down.  He promised me he would take notes, right???

As she talked with him that day, she told him about the circumstances of my birth. She told him about her family. He showed her a picture of me and she she said I look like her sister.  If you read my post, The Name, then you know she gave me 2 first names and one middle name.  Well, the middle name she gave me  was after her sister.  We share the same middle name.  And we look alike.  God works in mysterious ways, people.  Her sister has always been her best friend.  My sister, who has always been my best friend,  has that SAME middle name.  It's spelled differently, but it's the same name.  It is a name passed down in our family and unbeknownst to any of us this name got passed down to me to in my birth family.  Wow...  

She explained also why she gave me my very first name.  

It was because of him.  My birthfather.

Here is the part where I am thankful that I didn't have a heart attack.  

You have to understand. I was never searching for him...my birth father.  

I can't honestly say why.  

It was her I was after.  

From my point of view, she was the only one I was looking for.  

I knew he existed, and I wondered about him, but I was not driven to find him.  The way I looked at it, if she told us about him, then I would be like Miss Scarlett and "worry about that tomorrow."  (Hope I quoted her correctly.)  

God knew why she told us about him that day.  

There were all kinds of big, important reasons why, and I could have never imagined it all.  Thank The Lord that He doesn't show us the future.  Scriptures tell us that He holds the future, and it is for the best that He does.  We cannot hold our futures.  No matter how we think that we can.  Our limited, self-focused perspectives blind us to the future ahead.  It is better to let the One who wrote the future hold the future.  

I am not going to write about many details of the conversation that took place between my hubby and my birth mother that day.  The reason why?  Perspective.  In this story of mine, there are many different perspectives.  In the weeks and months that followed, all these perspectives collided and I will be clinging to The Lord for His words as I try to write it all.  I know she did the best she could with the shock rattling her soul to tell my husband her story that day and I am so thankful she did.

He called me as soon as they parted ways to tell me the details.  I was white knuckle grabbing for those details, too, since I only had his eyes.  I had millions of questions.  

What did she look like?  How tall is she?  Do we look alike?  What color is her hair, her eyes, does she have big feet, are her fingers long like mine?  Tell me how she sounds?  Is her voice loud like mine?  Was she shy...ummm no...  How did she walk?  Were her steps fast or slow and methodical?  

He described her as best as he could, but remember, he made notes. I treasure those notes he made.  I keep that pamphlet he grabbed in her office to record only three phrases.  ***sarcasm*** Here in one of the biggest moments of my life and he only wrote three details!!!!!  I love him.

Anyway...She was my height with dark hair and eyes.  He said she wore a lot of jewelry.  Okay, so she's got style.  Yep, I guess that.  She had on glasses.  Check.  She had a strong voice and walked with confidence.  I think I know her...  

His drive home that day was an hour and a half.  We talked the whole trip.  I had him repeat the same stuff over and over.  Like a favorite book or movie, you just keep reading and watching again and again.

I wish I could say that from this moment forward there was a blissful tale of two hearts being melted into one and we danced off under a rainbow and everything was perfect from then on.  If you have a pulse, then you know life isn't that way...ever.  We were people living life from our own perspectives.  Yes, it was and is a beautiful story.  I love her now like I loved her that day. But, God had a lot to teach me and show me over the upcoming months. What I thought was the final chapter was only the first.  

One of my favorite Old Testament stories happens in Genesis chapter 16. If you are familiar with this passage then you know that God had given Abram a vision and told him that he would have many children.  In chapter 15 God told him he what would happen.  It's all right there in Ch. 15 and yet, when the timing didn't match up with perspective, junk went down.

Ten years had passed and no child had come so his wife, Sarai made a move.  God's promise didn't change. Just like His Word, the Bible, doesn't change.  People change.  Perspectives shift.  Point of view recalibrates.  Moves were made...  This Egyptian slave, Hagar, becomes a "gift" to Abram.  

Sarai says to Abram  in chapter 2...

"The LORD has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my slave; perhaps I can build a family through her." Abram agreed to what Sarai said. 

Would be so easy to jump on either of these two with judgemental words or ideas as to why they took matters into their own hands.  But then, I do plan to look in the mirror today and well, I am afraid I may see the pot talking to the kettle...  

God said a child of promise would arrive.  He never said when.  He just said it would happen.  And these two, much like me, decided they would have to help God out.  And here in the middle of their plan comes an innocent slave girl.  She's not a part of the vision God showed Abram and yet here she takes the starring role.  

There are so many lessons to be learned from this passage about taking matters into your own hands, adding to or taking away from God's plan for your life, not being moved by things you can see, etc. etc. etc.  But I want to draw your attention to one particular scene that happens in Genesis chapter 16.

  

Hagar has fled into the desert after she'd been given to Abram to be another one of his wives.  She has become pregnant with his child, and then she starts  being nasty somehow to Sarai (my interpretation) as the verses says she "began to despise" her.  Sarai whines to Abram about it and he says...umm, no way chick.  You did this to yourself.  I was just willing.  You do whatever you wanna do.  

Or.... Genesis 16:4 6 "Your slave is in your hands," Abram said. "Do with her whatever you think best." 

Then Sarai mistreated Hagar; so she fled from her.

Okie dokie... Abram ain't takin' the blame.  Sarai ain't takin' no lip.  Hagar is done with both of them and out the door she goes.  The passage in Gen. 16 picks up in verse 7 when the Angel of The Lord finds her in the Desert of Shur.  

"7 The angel of the LORD found Hagar near a spring in the desert; it was the spring that is beside the road to Shur."

The angel asks her two questions.  It's the type of question you see several times in scripture.  It's the question of the obvious.  He asks her...

"8 And he said, "Hagar, slave of Sarai, where have you come from, and where are you going?" 

Where have you come from and where on earth do you plan to go from here?  Now, he knows the answers to both.  So, why even ask???  

Perspective.

Here is this innocent bystander who got dragged into somebody else's drama.  She became the wife of a man she didn't choose.  Got all uppity with the main wife, Sarai, and then SHE gets mistreated.  What?  That is some messed up junk.  And the angel of The Lord wants her to say where she's been and where she is going.

..."I'm running away from my mistress Sarai," she answered.

Scripture only records her specifically answering one of his questions.  She admits where she's been, but is sort of unclear on exactly where she's headed. I don't know for sure what went down between Hagar and Sarai.  Us girls know how quickly things can get stirred up between us especially when men are part of the mix.  But, mess around with my kids?  Things will get serious.  Depending on which side of this drama you are standing determines your perspective. 

Then God shows up.  

Thank The Lord that He shows up.  I have messed up more than my share of situations and been out crying alone in my desert place, and He showed up every time.  Why?  

He wants to change my perspective.  

We can get all caught up in emotions.  It's our nature.  Emotions are powerful.  They can twist your insides to the point that things begin to seem like something they are not.  And here in this place is right where God shows up.  Check this out...

"9 Then the angel of the LORD told her, "Go back to your mistress and submit to her."

10 The angel added, "I will increase your descendants so much that they will be too numerous to count."

11 The angel of the LORD also said to her: "You are now pregnant and you will give birth to a son. You shall name him Ishmael,[fn] for the LORD has heard of your misery.

12 He will be a wild donkey of a man; his hand will be against everyone and everyone's hand against him, and he will live in hostility toward[fn] all his brothers."

The angel of the LORD breaks down the situation for her.  He lays out all the facts.  No drama.  He tells her that she has to go back because really, she wasn't supposed to leave.  He gives her a promise and then dips into the secret things like the fact that her baby will be a boy and she will give him this certain name.  And then he says..."for the LORD has heard of your misery."

The LORD has been watching.  He's been listening.  He has heard EVERTHING you have gone through.  And He sent me here to say these things to you.  

Hagar, you MATTER!  God sees you.  Isn't that the most incredible thought?  That God Almighty saw this nobody.  This discarded, rejected, mistreated slave girl was valuable in the eyes of God.  

Our God runs after those who run away.

Her words to the angel of the LORD always choke me up.  She called Him, El Roi.

13 She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: "You are the God who sees me," for she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me."

Her perspective CHANGED!  

She stopped looking at her situation, her problems, and instead looked up to see the One who was looking, really looking at her.  I wonder if that is why God tells us to Love Him first above all, but then immediately follows with "love your neighbor as yourself".  He knows us!  If we could ever get ahold of loving our neighbors as much as we love our own selves???? Whoa, we could change the world for Christ.  

He knows that we have to keep the right perspectives.  We have to fight to keep our eyes on HIm and off of us.  

Otherwise, drama happens.

Drama was about to happen in my story too. 

My birthmother, like all birthmothers I would guess, had carried a lifetime of hurts in her heart.  Giving up a baby for adoption is one of the most painful, life-changing, selfless acts of love that exists on this planet.  This wonderful life that God blessed me with started with her gift.  That gift cost her.  While I know that she has always loved me, and she always will, she had more than I can comprehend to deal with the day I came back into her life.  It would take time for this news to become real for her.  I tried to be patient, but I didn't do very well.  

It would be months before we looked into each other's eyes.  God allowed for me to go through my own desert time while I waited for the day I finally saw her face to face.  Like Hagar, this deal was not going down the way I had imagined.  And the God of the Old Testament, the same God of today, provided a spring for me in the desert and taught me to look to Him.  With all this new information that I was processing, God showed me that my perspective did not matter.  It was only in the Light of His Word that I would find healing for my soul.  It was not my story that mattered.  It was what He was doing through my story that mattered. 

When my husband left her office that afternoon, he gave her his work number to call if and when she was ready to talk to me.  It would be days before she called.  Bless her... Her world turned upside down.  Mine did, too.  

The Name

The retelling of my story has been a struggle.  

I have wrestled with every word. 

When I said yes to God's plan for me to write my story, I knew exactly how it would all begin.  Once you say yes to a call of obedience, the first steps may be hard, but you start moving because you know you cannot stay where you are.  What I never counted on, but should have, is the beautiful grace-filled struggle that happens whenever you move.  

When God allowed me to go search and find my birth family, I went through all kinds of struggle.  As I read back through my journals from those years, my heart hurts for that girl who poured out her raw feelings there on the safety of the page.  Wow, did she struggle.  She was a hot mess.  Some of my journal entries sound like great scenes from a movie.  I have laughed and cried at the words of a broken girl.  Over ten years have passed since I was reunited with my birth family and wrote my way through the emotions.  As I write today, I am struggling yet again.  My struggle now is nothing like that of the past.  

I am not struggling from pain or heartache or sadness. 

Today I struggle because  I feel like dirt.  

Before a farmer can plant a crop, he has to go and turn the soil so that there will be a healthy place for the seeds.  If dirt had feelings, I wonder what it would say to being cut through and shifted and turned upside down?  One can only suppose, but dirt may not have enjoyed the experience.  

Thus, I feel like dirt.  

Going back through the journey has been exhausting, and yet I am filled with an energy and joy and peace right here in the midst of getting turned inside out.  That's Jesus.  Each time I begin to write and the words keep coming, I know only He could put all this together.  

Only Jesus.  

He is the One leading me with each word, and I have to make sure you know that.  I have to stop right here on this line and give Him the credit.  And since He is the boss of this blog, I can smile and laugh right here smack dab in the middle of my struggle.

Writing this out for the world to read is waaaaay too far over the edge for this ole girl, but you know what?  I am loving it.  I have never felt closer to Jesus than I feel out here on the edge.  So, here we go again...

I have two names.  

Yes, I have two legal names.  Isn't that funny?  In my personal baby book, there are two active legal birth certificates. On paper I have two separate identities.  One holds the name my birth mother gave me.  The other holds the name my mama gave me.  And I am both.  

In my last post, when my BFF from the state read to me all those important details off my birth certificate, she also told me the name I was given at birth.  It was actually three names instead of the normal two.  I knew as soon as I learned this that my birth mother was not a normal person.  Neither am I.  She'd given me two first names and one middle name. I wouldn't learn why she did this until several months later, but I knew there was a reason.  

Names hold great meaning.  From the giver of the name, great personal significance is rendered to the recipient of the name.  Your name is a gift to you from your family.  I'm sure they put lots of thought into it.  Once you have a name, what you do with it is up to you.  The legacy of your name is based on the actions you choose. The name becomes your identity. 

In my study Bible that is so precious to me, I keep many important papers.  Like a scrapbook, there are pictures of loved ones, articles from newspapers, and letters written to me among other documents kept there.  

One letter I keep is from my grandmother.  She's the one we called GG. She was a saint.  Raised on a farm and later to become a farmer's wife, she wasn't one to mince words.  A strict primitive Baptist, she never wore pants and kept her long hair in a bun. This lady loved The Lord.  She didn't own much in this life as far as possessions go, but she was rich in Jesus and lived her life for Him.  On the porch of her old clapboard house, sitting in a rocking chair, she taught me many lessons.  I keep a letter from her in my Bible because she understood the significance of a name.  There isn't a date attached, but from the context of her note I am guessing that I was young.  Mama always taught us to write thank you notes for gifts we received so I must have written G.G. one and this was her reply. 

"Dear Renee,

It was so sweet of you to remember to write all the nice things about me.  I am trying to live up to it all.  You are such a sweet granddaughter.  Want you to keep your good name and don't let the devil steal it from you.  He will put lots of temptations along the way for you, but stay strong in The Lord.  He can whip the devil,  You'll always be glad of it.  Come see me.

I love you,

Grandma."

GG understood the importance of a name.

In all the years that I wondered about my birth family, I never gave them an imaginary name.  I just realized this, too.  Of course, I had plenty of ideas how they may look,  what their personalities were like, did they crave chocolate and coffee?  You know...important stuff.  But never once did I  give them a name.  

How do you label someone you don't know?  

Isn't that what your name does?  It labels you with an identity.  Since their identity had been hidden, maybe I just didn't see the need to give it a label.  I don't really know.

Well, finally, the day arrived when the name I'd been searching for would be known.  

My best friend was with me that afternoon since the hubs was working out of town.  She knew I didn't need to be alone.  When the package arrived, overnighted just like the lady from the state had promised, time slowed.  

Silence covered me.  

The time for words had passed.  No more arguing, fussing, begging, or conversing was left to do.  

Inside the stiff cardboard container carried without pageantry or flair to my doorstep, was the name that would change everything.  

I signed for my package and went straight into my closet.  My friend took the kids outside to play while I ran as far back into my house as I could possibly get.  My closet was the farthest point. As deep into the closet as I could go, I took the papers with me.  

Together the mystery and I sat on the floor in complete silence.  

I react in times of great stress completely opposite of my normal self.  After all I had been through, I am not sure why I didn't run screaming to the Fed Ex truck and snatch the package open right there in the street.  

But, I just couldn't.  

This moment, when questions would be answered because miracles had happened, was a moment of reverence.  I wanted to get small and hide as the enormity of what was happening swallowed me whole.  Ever so slowly and gently, I opened the seal and pulled out the birth certificate.  There in my hands on a sheet of plain paper bearing the seal of the state of TN was my name and her name.  Right there... 

I kept repeating it over and over.  

Inside I was saying, "I know your name."  

The dream that lived inside a little girl's heart, the one that didn't have a chance in the eyes of the world, had at last come true.  

I had her name.  

This figment of my imagination took on a real identity and I reached to her in my heart that day.  She may not have felt a thing, but I touched her.  Arms heavy from reaching out for 32 years made contact and words just fail me to describe the touch.  Truly, I cannot explain the tidal wave that crashed over me as I reached out to the page and touched the space where this name was written.  

It was a common name.  It was a beautiful name.  My birth mother had a name.    

I stayed there in my closet for a bit.  Sitting in the quiet holding the name.  As the reality settled in, my life shifted.  I knew.  I knew without a single doubt, I would find her.  This awakening brought me out of the hidden place.  As I walked out, God turned a page in my story.

My first call as always was to my husband. He was out of town working.  Guess what city he was working in?  

All good stories need a happy ending.  

He was in the very city where she once lived.  The birthcertificate gave me her name and old address.  Now, the address was so old that it was listed as a route number and box number.  It was the addresses used before the implementation of 911. He and I wasted barely a moment celebrating before we went to work. 

 

We had to find her.  

First place he went was to the post office to see if they could tell us what the new address was for this old one.  They could not. Next he went to the library to see if they had an old phone book so we could look up the name. That didn't pan out either.  While I was burning up the search on my computer, my brilliant husband took a new approach.  He decided to just grab a phone book and start calling everybody in the city with that same last name.  Super.  Can you imagine a better plan?  Well, you would have to know my husband the salesman.  

This man took out a phone book and started calling alphabetically and asking for this name.  The first person he called didn't know her.  The second call was her cousin!  This wonderful lady told him my birthmother's married name and what street she lived on. 

You know, you can always count on your family to tell your business. Thanks, cuz. 

Now we had her married name so I could look this up online.  Simple, right? Wrong.  Of course, at the time, they were not listed in the phone book.  This may seem like another dead end, a roadblock, an inconvenience.  Nope.  It was God's plan.  See, we weren't supposed to get to her first.  There was someone else.  

My husband tried to find her house and get her number, but couldn't.  So, he went back to the plan.  He called her cousin again.  This time he asked for my birth mother's parents' names.  Cousin came through a 2nd time.  She gave him the names and addresses.  

He asked me what did I want him to do...  I said call.

He called and a precious lady answered the phone.  It was my grandmother.  He asked her about her daughter.  Did she have a daughter with this name and she said yes.  She was a little bit confused as to why he was calling, and kept asking him who he was and who he was with.  I am laughing now thinking about this day.  He should've told her he was with Jesus on Kingdom Business.  She told him he needed to call back later in the evening after she was finished with dinner so he could talk to her husband, my grandfather.  He agreed.  Before he hung up, he told her he just couldn't end the call without one final question.  

Then my wonderful husband said this.  "I have to ask you something and I don't mean any disrepect, but I just can't hang up this phone without asking you this question.  Did your daughter give up a baby for adoption in 1970?"  She said, "Yes, she did.  A baby girl."  He replied, "Well, that baby girl is my wife."  She said, "Oh...Lord Jesus...we've been praying for this day for years."

When he called me to tell me about his conversation with my grandmother, I was standing in the kitchen.  As he reiterated their conversation, I fell on the ground, face down on the rug and cried like a baby.  The page had turned and a new chapter had begun and all I could do was sob. My grandmother had been praying for this day.  

My hubby let me cry for a while and then he added this.  Your grandmother told me where your birthmother works. 

What do you want me to do?

No hesitation.... GO GET HER!

He was a bit hesitant.  Him being the clear headed one, knowing the risks he was facing walking into a place of business unannounced to meet a person who didn't know he was coming. He knew she may have gotten a call from her mother and fled the scene.  He knew she may refuse me.  He knew all of these risks and more, so he made sure that it was what I wanted to face.

I knew them all, too.  But I didn't care.  

You see, when you are adopted there are two things that are the utmost of importance to you. 

The name and a face.  

You want and need to know their names and see their faces.  

I had battled all this time while I searched the possibility that she may refuse me.  Of course I didn't want that.  I prayed she'd meet me, but I knew she may not.  However, I couldn't be this close after all this time, and wait one single second more.  Today was the day.

So, off he drove to her building.  We talked before he walked in the door and then he was off.  I just stayed on the kitchen rug with my tear puddle.  In those waiting moments I walked in my mind the steps he was taking.  Each passing minute proving that he'd made contact.  And then, the hair on my neck stood up.  Literally, the hairs on the back of my neck began to tingle and rise and I knew I had touched the past.  

The impossible had become possible.  

The name I'd been given only hours earlier became a real person.  A transformation had occured.  A nameless, faceless dream took on a real identity.  My current name was tied to an old name and two lives merged.  A new identity formed.

In scriptures, many people got new names.  When God did a new thing in Abram's life, he became Abraham. and Sarai became Sarah.  After Jacob wrestled with the angel of God, he renamed him Israel.  Esther didn't begin in the palace, she was Haddesah, adopted by her uncle Mordecai and later became Esther.  Saul met Jesus on the road to Damascus and became Paul.  When God showed up, some folks got new names.  When God changed their names, their identity changed.  He shows us in His Word the transformation process these great people of God went through.  Where they started was not the final word on who they were in Him.  What I learned in the years to come after my search was over, is that my identity was not found in either of my earthly names.  My identity is in Jesus.  His Name is the only name that matters.  

Who He says I am is who I really am.  

Who He says you are is who you really are, too.  

His Chosen...John 15:16

God's Child...Romans 8:16

An Heir and a Joint Heir...Romans 8:17

A New Creature...II Cor 5:17

Son/Daughter of God...II Cor 6:18

Accepted...Eph 1:6

Redeemed...Eph 1:7

Beloved of God... Jude 17,20

Over the next few months, I would cling to the Name of Jesus more than ever before as the dirt was being turned in both of our lives.