One Defining Moment

The romantic in me imagines my life fashioned in those final seconds before
dawn when the world holds its breath. Reality points out I was conceived in
true soap opera fashion, and to this day I have no knowledge of the man who
was my father. Dark and obscure are most of the memories of my early
childhood, lurking just beyond my mind’s grasp. I let them be. The few I can
remember are warm and poignant, though faded and sometimes confused with dreams that float through the twilight on a course of their own, whispering,
“Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going?”

As human beings we are a privileged species blessed with the ability to
reason and yet we are beset with the complexity of our existence at every
turn. From the moment when breathing initiates life, living becomes our
goal. We endure excruciating pain with the first searing breath drawn into
our lungs, and yet we struggle against overwhelming odds in an effort to
defy the grasp of death and take that next breath. I believe it is a
survivor code imprinted within the very essence of our being, one enabling
us to persevere in the midst of the most devastating of situations. And
survive I did.

Marriage to a man other than my birth father, lies to cover up my
conception, the birth of a brother, and divorce by the time I was four began
my life. Strange visitors at night, another affair, another marriage, and
moving into a home of his, hers and their children, continued to be the
tolerable norm of my existence, until I was forced to confront the shame of
sexual abuse. This sparked that survivor instinct, and although too young
and afraid to address the situation on my own, I went to my mother. The
night visits stopped, until I was a teenager. When it happened again I
found my own voice and conjured up the courage to say no, myself.

I wasn’t cognizant of a reason for my being then, and I wasn’t driven by a
desire to live, I simply did. But now, looking back over my life, I see a
thread of continuity in the form of resilience, and it gave me the ability
to adapt--no matter what the circumstances. Resilience and adaptation
however, only kept me in a state of existence. I made it through one day
just to wake up to another. My life had become a carbon copy of my mother’s,
filled with lies, deception, unfaithfulness, and the heartache of having
five children, only to lose them to adoption. There were many factors leading
to this tragic state of circumstances, but ultimately I held the blame in my
own hands. My existence was self-serving and the result was disastrous.

Ideally we should be nurtured and cared for, even if in the most basic
sense, until that, which sets us apart from all other life forms, matures
and brings us to a level of moral awareness. No longer focused on our
selfish needs, we begin to assimilate our surroundings, and with our
very first “why?” set forth on a quest for answers. It’s at this point we
subconsciously pursue finding the meaning of life and the part we play in
its fulfillment. There has to be a reason for our being, whether for our own advancement, physically, emotionally, or spiritually, or for someone or something else within our sphere of caring. We need a cause to fight for, a family to
protect, a personal goal of achievement, a treasure to obtain. We are
goal-oriented beings, and sometimes something as simplistic as seeing the
dawn of a new day can create within us the desire to endure and press on.
Without this innate sense of wonder and purpose, we don’t have an
understanding of what it means to be alive, and some of us lose the will to
live altogether.

This is the state I found myself in after a failed marriage and the loss of
my first four children to adoption. There was no reason for me to exist anymore,
but every effort to end my life failed. Day and night blurred into one
meaningless collage of light and dark, until I got a call from some friends
asking me to move to Florida. But at best it only initiated a false sense of
hope. The cycle of rejection and abandonment I’d experienced as a child and
young adult came back around in my mid twenties and left me pregnant and
alone, until the miraculous happened.

Homeless, jobless, and left standing at the altar, I was pressured into
placing my baby for adoption by the leaders of a church I’d been attending--
halfheartedly. I remember lying in the hospital bed the day after giving birth, and staring out the window at the aftermath of a Floridian storm. I felt like a cast off shirt, too tattered and torn for even a ragbag let alone a second hand shop, but while I was feeling sorry for myself, the unusual tone of the sky outside caught my attention. It was late afternoon and midpoint at my window the sun overpowered the clouds just beginning to break apart. Backlit by a brilliant silver-gold light, they
took on an ethereal dimension that had me transfixed, and I heard God speak.
In a clear, distinct voice He spoke to my heart, “It’s now or never.” I took a deep
breath; it was time to take charge of my destiny.

It was a defining moment that allowed me to walk out from under the dark
clouds that had over shadowed my every move since childhood. A spiritual
awareness and commitment set in motion a plan for my life that had been
there all along; I just hadn’t been able to see it. A clear understanding of
who I was, and a vision of what I was to be, replaced the despair and
aimlessness sapping my desire to live. Two years later I moved to the
state of Indiana, married, and started on a remarkable journey that
continues after twenty-seven years.

My husband and I raised four beautiful daughters and have three
exceptional sons, but this isn't the end of my story.
Through a set of circumstances that could only have been guided by God, I
was able to locate three of my first four children. One of my sons was on a
naval carrier off the shores of Kuwait during the Gulf War of 1991, and said my
letter came to him just when he needed it most. I was only able to locate the youngest of my two daughters, and while she expressed her desire to remain apart, both of my sons came out later to visit and we began the rebuilding of our relationships.

Then, ten years later in the midst of celebrating our oldest daughter’s wedding, I received a heart stopping phone call. My son, given up for adoption in Florida, married on the very same day and wanted to find me. Once again I recognized Divine intervention on my behalf. After being gone for twenty years, I returned to Florida to bring one of my daughters home from a mission trip to Haiti. Our time was limited, but before we left, I called the woman I once lived with and gave her my phone number so we could keep in touch. Little did I know this would give my son the contact he would need in order to find me three years later. What an amazing
reunion! I learned that both the blanket I’d made for him before he was
born, and the letter I had written to his adopted parents were given to him
when he turned ten, keeping the door of hope opened for the day we would find
one another.

And still, my story continues. Each day reaffirms my reasons for existence as our
children marry and give us new sons, daughters, and grandchildren. I breathe
in the sunrise with expectation and exhale the sunset in thankfulness. Though
not perfect, I know I am meant to be; there is a path set before me and I have
but to take the steps that will bring me to a deeper understanding of my
purpose, and sustain my desire to fulfill it.