Often times I am asked the question of why I believe what I
believe and why I take it so seriously. I never can really fully understand the
question, shouldn’t we all follow with passion what we believe whatever the
cause?
For me, my faith has caused many to question my motives, my
decisions, and my reasons for doing things the way that I do them. I cannot
deny that I am not perfect, that I am a foolish and wretched person. However I
believe that I have been chosen to follow God regardless of the cost. My
firmness in my belief has caused me to lose friends, jobs, and even some
family. You may question my motives also, after all, aren’t these listed, the
most important you have in your life? For me I can honestly say no.
Last weekend I went to meet my birth mother for the first
time. After a few failed attempts several years ago I had given up the desire,
the need and the responsibility of needing to know where my "roots"came from.
Then, this past November I received the first of what would be many letters
from my biological mother. For those of
you who know my story, it’s a bit challenging because of the mental state of my
biological family.
Each week I would receive another letter, another stenciled
picture, each repeating the address of where she lived, and how she loves to make necklaces and draw.
Numb is the best way to describe my
feelings towards this situation. I created for my own protection (and now
my children), a protective, emotionless barrier so we would not know rejection.
Then in April of this year Linda (my bio mom) asked if we would
come and meet her. At first I decided against it for what did it matter anyway.
But a good friend said to show a little grace and so I agreed. We would bring
the whole family 5 hours away to meet the lady that birthed me.
I did not tell only but a handful of people because I was not
ready to explain my emotions because I really didn’t have any. I was just going
to meet a lady to do a nice gesture. I had kept myself so detached for so long
that I didn’t feel I needed to have any sort of "feeling" or anticipation of what
the meeting would be like. So why tell people and talk about it?
When we arrived at the house where she lives, which is a home for people who are not able to mentally
care for themselves, we were welcomed by several hellos. She had made necklaces
for every one of us, gave us all a small gift (some with a name) and then small
conversation took place.
There is not much to share about the actual encounter because
what matters is that I left with an emotion that I had not anticipated having and
that was a sense of acceptance and grace from a God who had saved me from a
life of what I cannot have imagined being. If you know my story in its depths, it is one that should tell of despair, lostness, and rejection. Instead, God chose me, chose to save me from
that and gave me a life full of joy and love and ACCEPTANCE. How can I not passionately serve Him, how can
I not give up whatever I need to be faithful to Him?
My birth mother would not have been able to care for me and
rightfully so given her medical condition. But yet even after 30 plus years she
looked right at Patrick and said, “Thank you for taking care of her.”
Ultimately, its not Patrick but in that statement God showed me that it was HIM
who took care of me that He has chosen me for whatever reason, to follow Him. Call
me crazy, call me religious, call me whatever you think, but He has written a
unique story for me and I have to share without holding back the freedom he has
given. My story tells of a faithful and gracious God that saved me time and time again and now I am saved.
I have received letters since visiting my mother last month
and this time, there is emotion and that emotion is grace. Grace to understand,
grace to love, and grace to give to others. God has that story for you, you
just have to let him write it.
