I don't know how many of you know my story. It is one that I didn't know fully until about 12 years ago - and one that in many ways I will not know FULLY fully until I reach my eternal home. You see, I'm adopted. I've known that as a fact for as long as I can remember and it's never been a big deal. It's simply been a reality.
My adoptive parents never hid adoption from me. Instead they held it openly forth as a good thing - a very good thing and they repeatedly told me that I was chosen by them. (Now, I have to admit that the "chosen" mantra with which I grew up is not quite as precious to me as it once was. Several years ago my adoptive parents "chose" to end our relationship just as they had "chosen" to begin it 35 years earlier. They recanted on their adoption promise and left me sort of re-orphaned in the dust. No reason was given other than that they just didn't want anything else to do with me. That kind of hurt - OK that's an understatement, it was absolutely crushing- and their actions ended up putting a whole new twist on the fleshed out, rubber meeting the road definition of love and trust for me. But, I digress...)