When I started researching my family history, I had my eyes set
on distant ancestors - those who came over on the Mayflower, or fought in the
Civil War. I thought I knew everything there was to know about my recent and
immediate family. But one day when casually talking with my mom, I learned
there was more to her story than I thought.
A LOT more.
My mother was born on a plantation in West Tennessee. Yes,
there were still plantations after the Civil War. Like many others, this one
had a large home as the center piece. And it was run like a large business. The
land was occupied by managers who oversaw every aspect of the livestock and
crop production, and tenant farmers who leased the land from the plantation for
a portion of their crop. My grandfather was one of the tenant farmers. He met
and fell in love with my grandmother whose parents were a little higher up on
the chain of command. And they didn’t think too much of my grandfather and his
family. So they forced the couple apart. But not before my mother was conceived.
She was born and raised by her father and his parents, just a mile or two away
from her mother’s family. Every day she would ride the school bus past a house
she knew contained a mother she believed didn’t love her and didn’t want her.
As time went on, she met my father, got married and had children
(including me). Her father eventually remarried but was killed shortly after in a fire. It was about this time my mom was offered the opportunity to
reconnect with her mother. Cousins and her half-siblings arranged a meeting
where they hashed some things out. My mother finally learned the truth – that her
mother DID love her and DID want her, but was prohibited from seeing her by her
parents. Over time, all was forgiven and they grew closer and closer.
My grandmother was always around while I was growing up. She
would spend Christmas with us, having long talks with my mother at the kitchen
table. I thought nothing about it. I figured they were close like most mothers
and daughters. While us kids were watching “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” or
playing outside, they just sat and talked for hours.
My grandmother passed away many years ago. But learning
about her and my mother’s story rewrote my memories. They weren’t just talking
at the kitchen table all those Christmases. They were catching up. They were
making up for lost time. My mother also got to know and grew close to her
half-siblings – a sister and brother. Raised like an only child, she often
dreamed of having brothers or sisters to play with. When it was possible, my
aunt and uncle took photos of them as babies/children at around the same year
and had them photoshopped together – the childhood photo they always wanted.
***
I was recently reading the New Testament of my Bible which
has a lot of adoption metaphors. (Romans 8:15, 23, Ephesians 1:5, Galatians
4:4-5) When I compared these to other scriptures that tell us we are sons and
daughters of God (Genesis 1:27, Galatians 3:26, Galatians 4:7), I made a
connection with my mother’s story.
My mother wasn’t adopted. She wasn’t a step-child. She wasn’t
a foster child. She was a full-blooded daughter who’s relationship with her
mother was broken…and then restored.
Isn’t that The Bible in a nutshell?
God conceived and created us. Then sin entered the picture
and severed our relationship. But God continued to love and want us. And He
pursued us until we were reunited with Him through Jesus Christ.
Two things I want you to take away from this:
- Don’t assume you know anyone’s full story. There’s probably more to it and them than you will ever know. I hope this leads you to treat everyone with grace and love.
- You are a child of God. You may feel separated from Him. But He is out there and He wants to know you.