This Is My Story, This Is My Song
I can't begin to think the phrase "This is my story..." without finishing out the tune
"This is my song
Praising my Savior
All the day long..."
Maybe you know the one? I first read those lyrics on the pages of an old-fashioned hymnal, but you can still finding them winding through the air courtesy of more modern artists like this version here.
And, well, the story I'm about to tell you, it has plenty of reasons to praise and give thanks. It's my story, my adoption story.
In 1975, three people sat at very opposite ends of the spectrum. On one end, there was a married couple who had been trying for years to conceive a child. And on the other, was a very young girl with a baby on the way.
This girl was barely 15 the day she went into labor. The child of a divorced home in the 70's, I tend to imagine that she probably had very little in the way of support. And yet, even though the decision in Roe v Wade had been handed down just a few years prior, she decided that the life of an unplanned baby was worth enduring the unwanted pregnancy that was now taking place in her body.
My praise and thankfulness begins right here. I don't know if you've spent much time with young teenagers, but the sacrifice this young lady showed in deciding life is huge. It would have been so much easier to just take care of the problem and try and move forward with her future. I hope someone has told her just how very brave and courageous she was for making the choice she did. In the midst of what others might have used for shame, I hope someone lifted her chin, looked her in the eyes and told her, "You are amazing."
Now, our married couple, the one who longed for a child, well I became their daughter when our teenage girl decided to place her baby up for adoption. Finally a family of three, they too gave thanks for life chosen, and then they got to spoiling me with love.
This is one of the first pictures they have of me. I'm eight weeks old, but as you can see, I still have a really lopsided cone head from delivery. I was told I had forceps bruises as well. Yet my mom still wrote on the back of this very picture, "my sweet thing." I think she was a little smitten, even with my less than perfect package.
I will be the first to tell you, I did not grow up in a house where my clothes were top-notch brands, vacations were spent on sunny faraway islands, and my first car came with a shiny paint job and big red bow. (It was a 1970 Ford Maverick; it had an eight track player and no power steering or brakes. It was fabulous.) However, I did have parents who invested time into my life, always told me I could do whatever I set my mind to, and never missed a band concert or piano recital. If I said I wanted to be the next Crystal Gayle, well they didn't see any reason I couldn't. Dentist? Pediatrician? Lawyer? Artist? Yes, indeed, all avenues of possibility were open to me. In high school, mom took care of the band's uniforms and dad was the booster club president. They chaperoned my trips, and daddy even had my school's initials shaved into the back of his head for Homecoming my senior year. And my song of praise continues, for what better home could a child be given. Truly I was blessed to be loved so well.
Nevertheless, I would be remiss if I did not give you full disclosure as to how being adopted can weave into one very creative girl's life.
My parents let me know my birth history early on, when I was 6 or 7 years old. I knew that my birth mother was very young and could not care for me, and that my parents had waited for so long to have a child, and I was their precious gift. Aw yeah, your family might have gotten stuck with you, but hello peeps, I was chosen. Needless to say, I tended to take my adoption status as a positive thing. My sweet husband has been ever so patient with me since our wedding day as I have had to adjust to the realization that it may not be all about me. Who'd thought?
And let's not forget, when your parents send you to your room for the night, you can brush your Barbies hair all the while thinking that your birth mother is a princess, and if she was here, she would let you have that puppy or pony that you begged for. And you could live in a castle. And have ice cream for dinner.
Fast forward a couple of years, and I admit that when I would see other people with red hair or someone would give me a funny look, I would think, "what if?" I even entertained the idea that just maybe I was the secret love child of Amy Grant or Winona Judd. The story line options are endless!
All humor aside, I know many adoptees don't have the same beginning I did. This is my story, and it is one covered in gratitude. Given the circumstances, my future could have been so different had that young girl made a different choice. While I may have romanticized a fairy tale in my head, the truth is, I could have not existed at all.
To this day, I have never met my birth mother. I do however have enough information to tell you that she went on to graduate college. When asked why I was placed for adoption she wrote, "I wanted her to have a better life. She was innocent in all of this." How sweet God is to grant a young girl's request. I often include her in my prayers, and pray that God would give her peace and assurance that she did the best thing all those years ago. She's a Christian (a Baptist even, and I am too!),so I am assured that even if we never meet face-to-face in this life, there will be a day when we can stand side by side in the presence of the One who has saved us both.
"This is my story
This is my song
Praising my Savior
All the day long."
"This is my song
Praising my Savior
All the day long..."
Maybe you know the one? I first read those lyrics on the pages of an old-fashioned hymnal, but you can still finding them winding through the air courtesy of more modern artists like this version here.
And, well, the story I'm about to tell you, it has plenty of reasons to praise and give thanks. It's my story, my adoption story.
In 1975, three people sat at very opposite ends of the spectrum. On one end, there was a married couple who had been trying for years to conceive a child. And on the other, was a very young girl with a baby on the way.
This girl was barely 15 the day she went into labor. The child of a divorced home in the 70's, I tend to imagine that she probably had very little in the way of support. And yet, even though the decision in Roe v Wade had been handed down just a few years prior, she decided that the life of an unplanned baby was worth enduring the unwanted pregnancy that was now taking place in her body.
My praise and thankfulness begins right here. I don't know if you've spent much time with young teenagers, but the sacrifice this young lady showed in deciding life is huge. It would have been so much easier to just take care of the problem and try and move forward with her future. I hope someone has told her just how very brave and courageous she was for making the choice she did. In the midst of what others might have used for shame, I hope someone lifted her chin, looked her in the eyes and told her, "You are amazing."
Now, our married couple, the one who longed for a child, well I became their daughter when our teenage girl decided to place her baby up for adoption. Finally a family of three, they too gave thanks for life chosen, and then they got to spoiling me with love.
This is one of the first pictures they have of me. I'm eight weeks old, but as you can see, I still have a really lopsided cone head from delivery. I was told I had forceps bruises as well. Yet my mom still wrote on the back of this very picture, "my sweet thing." I think she was a little smitten, even with my less than perfect package. I will be the first to tell you, I did not grow up in a house where my clothes were top-notch brands, vacations were spent on sunny faraway islands, and my first car came with a shiny paint job and big red bow. (It was a 1970 Ford Maverick; it had an eight track player and no power steering or brakes. It was fabulous.) However, I did have parents who invested time into my life, always told me I could do whatever I set my mind to, and never missed a band concert or piano recital. If I said I wanted to be the next Crystal Gayle, well they didn't see any reason I couldn't. Dentist? Pediatrician? Lawyer? Artist? Yes, indeed, all avenues of possibility were open to me. In high school, mom took care of the band's uniforms and dad was the booster club president. They chaperoned my trips, and daddy even had my school's initials shaved into the back of his head for Homecoming my senior year. And my song of praise continues, for what better home could a child be given. Truly I was blessed to be loved so well.
Nevertheless, I would be remiss if I did not give you full disclosure as to how being adopted can weave into one very creative girl's life.
My parents let me know my birth history early on, when I was 6 or 7 years old. I knew that my birth mother was very young and could not care for me, and that my parents had waited for so long to have a child, and I was their precious gift. Aw yeah, your family might have gotten stuck with you, but hello peeps, I was chosen. Needless to say, I tended to take my adoption status as a positive thing. My sweet husband has been ever so patient with me since our wedding day as I have had to adjust to the realization that it may not be all about me. Who'd thought?
And let's not forget, when your parents send you to your room for the night, you can brush your Barbies hair all the while thinking that your birth mother is a princess, and if she was here, she would let you have that puppy or pony that you begged for. And you could live in a castle. And have ice cream for dinner.
Fast forward a couple of years, and I admit that when I would see other people with red hair or someone would give me a funny look, I would think, "what if?" I even entertained the idea that just maybe I was the secret love child of Amy Grant or Winona Judd. The story line options are endless!
All humor aside, I know many adoptees don't have the same beginning I did. This is my story, and it is one covered in gratitude. Given the circumstances, my future could have been so different had that young girl made a different choice. While I may have romanticized a fairy tale in my head, the truth is, I could have not existed at all.
To this day, I have never met my birth mother. I do however have enough information to tell you that she went on to graduate college. When asked why I was placed for adoption she wrote, "I wanted her to have a better life. She was innocent in all of this." How sweet God is to grant a young girl's request. I often include her in my prayers, and pray that God would give her peace and assurance that she did the best thing all those years ago. She's a Christian (a Baptist even, and I am too!),so I am assured that even if we never meet face-to-face in this life, there will be a day when we can stand side by side in the presence of the One who has saved us both.
"This is my story
This is my song
Praising my Savior
All the day long."
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