Today is March 30, 2006:
I will be brief for now, but will add to this as time permits.
After enduring a childhood of abuse and neglect and years of a failing, unhappy marriage, I made the most important decision
of my life: I chose to accept Jesus Christ as my Savior. This happened on May 4th, 1997 (Mother's Day).
These past nine years have proven to be the happiest in my 41 years of life. I cannot begin to put into words just how
much my life has been changed...transformed is perhaps a better descriptive.
I will go into further detail later on so that you too may witness the transforming power of the saving grace of God...please
cheak back with me...perhaps you will recognize "yourself" in my story...and find hope in the God who is alive and
well...the God who still performs miracles...the God who still raises the dead, for I can testify, He surely raised me when
I was "dead in my sins"!
Today is November 6, 2006
I want to share a bit about the beginning. I grew up knowing that I was adopted. (This isn't a bad thing to me). I was
told that my birth mother was fifteen when she gave birth to me (out of wedlock) and decided to give me up for adoption. (This
too is not a bad thing...for me).
What makes the circumstances of my adoption a "bad" thing is that I was adopted for the wrong reason.
In December 1964 a couple were involved in an automobile accident which left their infant son dead. Doctors adviced this
couple strongly (out of concern for the mother) to consider adopting another child, but that the child should be female not
male...so in March 1965 this couple adopted me.
My adoptive father passed awy when I was only four years old...I do not have any true memories of him...only memories
created by the words of other people and from the pictures of us together. From all I've been told about his relationship
with me and judging from the pictures I treasure of he and I together...I feel that he did truely love me.
However, I grew up knowing that my adoptive mother absolutely did not love me. In fact, I always felt as if she hated
me for being alive. She never showed me any kindness or affection...never put her arms around me...never told me she loved
me...never encouraged me...never included me...her lack of love was all too obvious...not just to me, but to others also.
Later while my mother was living out what would be the last few months of her life...long after she had finally learned
to love me...after she had come to know Jesus personally...she made a confession to me.
She told me everything I had already known...she confessed that she had never loved me, that she hadn't wanted to adopt
me at all, but that it had been my daddy who had wanted me.
She told me that when the nurse brought me to her for the first time that she wouldn't even look at me. She told me that
it had been nearly a year before she even picked me up.
Of course I hadn't known all that, but I had been very aware of the bitterness she felt toward me while I was growing
up. At this point, none of that mattered to me. I had always loved her regardless...and I had long since forgiven her.
After her confession she asked me a question...she asked, "Do you want to know who taught me to love?"...she
replied, "You did."
But I am inclined to believe that Jesus had a hand in it. And I will never cease to thank Him for giving me such a loving
mother in the end. She was my very best friend and I look forward to our reunion someday.