Unraveling my Yellow Tape: Adoptive parents are clear indicators of human gra...

Unraveling my Yellow Tape: Adoptive parents are clear indicators of human gra...: I'm compelled to disclose some more of this story since I have kinda just left things hanging for the past year or so and let me tell y...

Adoptive parents are clear indicators of human grace

I'm compelled to disclose some more of this story since I have kinda just left things hanging for the past year or so and let me tell you why. I went to my high school reunion last night- 20th to be exact, and I saw an old, and I mean old friend, Shannon. HAHA on old. We are clearly the same rotten age, and holding on tightly to our thirties as if dangling from a cliff overlooking the ocean on a James Bond flick from 1978. Actually, if I remember correctly, she is one year older than me, so she is clearly hanging on much tighter than me.

Anyway, she told me she read my entire blog, and I was shocked. I have no idea who reads this, unless you tell me, like she did. Moreover, I don't write this for the readership, although it's always nice to be complimented. It makes it seem more worthwhile, escaping the obvious reality that writing allows me to process all of this unfolding of truth (and lies).

I feel honored that anyone reads this, and my hopes are to write a book entailing the quest. I want somehow to incorporate the Godly perspective in all of this. Not sure how that will happen, but faithful that God will lead the way, if I just begin the typing.

A lot of the time, I don't really know where it all comes from when I write. I don't speak eloquently. I'm not over the top intelligent, probably just average Jill based on my life choices. That's to be held for the second book. How NOT to Live Your Life by Buga Fairley. So I'll maintain that God uses me for this. I'm sure that someone is getting something out of it.

Back to the quest. I am not even sure where I left off, so I'll just tell you what's happened recently. Approximately six weeks ago I felt brave one day. But let me preface this with it started with me lying on the green couch wailing out to God that I didn't understand why this woman wouldn't talk to me. I laid there alone, sun beaming in directly at me through the naked window, cradling the phone and scolding it's power at the same time.

I had effectively, on a whim, decided that I would call my birth uncle (by marriage), who is a complete stranger to me.

The uncle has a name. It's Wayne. He is married to my birth mother's older sister, who is 8 years older. He was easily located because he owns a business and let's face it, Google makes everything easier. What did we ever do without it? Bing doesn't hold a candle, but that's beside the point.

It apparently was his cell phone, because the voice mail didn't mention the company name. I left a message.

Hello Wayne. My name is Brooke Fairley and I'm calling on a personal note. Please call me back when you have some time. I almost hung up without giving him my number. Choke it up to nervous jitters.

I hung up and decided that he would probably not call me back.

I laid on the green couch and cried. What had I just done? All the rules of adoptee to birth mother engagement say that this is the absolute wrong approach. They tell us that this sort of thing only pisses people off. Because of the shame brought onto the mothers and the high degree of privacy they maintain to achieve throughout the years, this abrupt calling of near relatives before ever speaking to the birth mother is a big no-no. The crippling fear of being found out has these mothers in knots. They go on for their whole lives, some of them, thinking that one day they will be found. Paralyzed by the very thought.

 I did it anyway.

You see, these women, went to undeniable lengths to hide their pregnancies. They couldn't face the harsh public eye. If subjected to it, they would be shunned and could lose everything.

That was the mentality.

The devil is a liar. He is out to steal, kill, and destroy. He stole the baby from the mothers. He killed any chance at happiness after having a baby for these mothers. And that asshole destroyed any chance of a relationship. I believe that the cruelty of the times was a direct result of his terrible doings. He instilled the fear, produced the anxiety, and discouraged mothers from keeping their babies by fueling the fires in the public eye.

God's answer was adoption. He gave the parents who could not have children the opportunity to be parents. Who knows if maybe God had previously decided to not allow those parents to have children. And through his loving grace gave them a second chance, answered their prayers, gave them children to love. It's my opinion that parents who adopt are the most loving of all. They take in a child that didn't come from their own womb, and love that child as if she were their own blood. They make an agreement with God (and with an agency likely) to take care of the child for the rest of their lives. That means unconditional love.

The Bible tells us that we are all adopted by God. Ephesians 1:5 says, God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.

I believe that adoption is the ultimate gift and lesson at the same time. Parents make a commitment to God and adoptees know what it feels like to be loved by people who weren't forced by law to love them. To be taken care of by these selfless people is the greatest gift. It is the ultimate gift of grace and it's human grace, which is something we don't see enough of.

So I waited on the couch, crying out to God in another moment of misunderstanding. I was letting the better part of me sink, and the questioning part of me rise and demand answers. So in my temporary insanity, I thought it would be OK to make that call that I knew in my heart was the wrong thing to do. And I had to live with myself.

You see, love doesn't make demands. And I was demanding that this woman confront me from all angles. I had now sunken to new lows by attempting to allow someone who may or may not have known about my birth, in on our little secret.

That was dangerous. But what did I have to lose? I guess, my integrity. The devil doesn't want us to have it. And I let him win that battle. Regretably so.

As the light was beaming on my face and I was holding the phone still against my chest, it rang. It was Wayne. The call went like this.

Hello, this is Wayne. I am returning your call. 
Yes. Hello Wayne. Thank you for calling me back. Um... (long pause). This is a little awkward for me, and it probably will be for you. Are you available to talk for a little bit?
Yes. Sure. (sounding curious though puzzled)
Your sister in law, Colette, is my birth mother. In 1976 she had a baby, and gave her up for adoption. That's me. I'm the baby.

to be continued....

I emailed Colette Friday, and I regret it.

I am pushy by nature. In my haste, I occasionally find myself thinking back and regretting things I've done, because I wasn't thinking all the way through. It's a bad habit. I am impulsive and brash, even abrasive. But, just as soon as I get out the words that I later regret, I feel bad. I think there are a lot of people who wish they had bigger balls to say the things that they think, but they hold it in for fear of whatever- rejection comes to mind mainly. But I am the opposite, I wish my filter would work more. I wish for it to just kick in on autopilot, and take over control of my mouth sometimes. At any rate, I emailed my birth mother last Friday, in a short-lived (again regretful) fit of impatience. This is what I said:

I apologize for informally emailing, but the thought occurred to me that you might not have received the card I sent you. If you didn’t, I guess you will be wondering who this is.  It doesn’t have to be awkward though. Before you write me off, if that’s your intention, please call Karen G at the CHS in Greensboro. She is very insightful, and helped me to understand a lot and put things in  different perspectives for me. She has been a tremendous help to me. Fridays always pique my interest in you for some reason, and similarly, are the occasional days that I speak with Karen (or email). Being Friday, I thought of you. I have never forgotten you.

I added at the end, Karen's contact info, but for Karen's privacy, I deleted it here. I signed my name, Brooke. And that was that.

I also let Karen know by blind copying her that Colette might be making a voyage call. This was a series of our emails. They are pretty interesting if you ask someone who cares, like myself. Here's the trail:

Hi Brooke –

Just wanted to let you know that I got your blind cc of the email to Colette.  I’m happy to speak with her, if she should call, and I need to let you know that I can’t tell you if she does call me, unless she says it’s okay. 

Do you have any idea what area code she may call from, so that I have little head’s up if she does call?  I’m not in a real office now, and receive calls on a cell, so sometimes I’m out and about when I get a call. 

I understand. I just thought I would let you know. I would think 910. I’m sorry to throw you under the bus like that, but I thought you might add value to the situation and possibly calm her nerves if she is nervous or anxious. You can tell her anything about me.

Not under the bus at all!  Sometimes it helps to have a clearly defined place to lead someone to. 

I never heard anything back. I wonder if she never thought this day would come, that I would be her dirty little secret, that I would live in her shroud forever. I’m trying to stay positive, but email is email. It’s immediate. I know what you’re thinking- that I need to look at it from her perspective. But dang, it’s hard. I’ve been patient, but she’s had 36 years already to prepare. She had to have known. She’s got intuition. We all do. It’s the Holy Spirit.

I wish I had the magic words to make this all work out for both of you.  You’ve put the invitation out there, and done what you could to welcome her.  I just hate it when nobody RSVPs.

Again, we’ve had birth mothers respond two months, six months, a year, two years after being originally contacted.  Shame and guilt are such strong forces.

Keep the faith, Brooke, and not in a wish-upon-a-star way, but in the loving way that brings you both to peace – admittedly, loads harder to practice!  Perhaps you could set the intention to send out the same unconditional loving kindness you need from her.  Maybe making it an active practice – put post-it notes on your computer, set your phone alarm to make a moment, reflect at stop lights.  Sometimes this is hard to do with someone you have conflict with, so it can help to begin to practice with someone or something you feel more positive or neutral about – like a neighbor or a cat – as the focus, and then work toward the target person.  Just an idea, and something active to channel those questions and head-chatter towards.

Hope you have a good day,

Karen

Good ideas. When I really think about it, and not just FEEL about it, I feel deeply concerned for her. I’ve been trying to be led by logic and not emotions in my daily life. It’s hard to remember that all the time. But I think somehow I’m much better off than most when it comes to this particular situation. I have some idea of what she must be feeling- I’m guessing a myriad of emotions are surfacing. Hopefully, she can abandon her feelings of doubt and shame and guilt long enough to see that this can be a good thing, and if not, then I will have to come with grips because I can’t force myself on her.  I would just like to hear something. If even just a “leave me alone”. That way I can start processing the rejection and decide from what I will take from this experience.

Led by logic….led by logic….

You’re awesome still.

Thanks, Karen.

You know, it’s really a sign of grace when I can’t help someone with what they truly want, and that person is still grateful.  Thanks for that.

I feel like you can never get enough feel good stuff in your life. I live for it, and thrive off of it. I hope you do too. Sometimes I get discouraged though, like everyone else does. Hence...

It's Tuesday afternoon. I haven't heard anything yet. I didn't really expect to, which makes me wonder why I even did it. What was I thinking? Did I think i could rush her into a response? I could bully her into responding? I could scare her into submission? Whatever my motivation, whatever it was at 12:01 on Friday 5/18/12 while I was sitting in my cube in the sky, whatever it was that was making my skin crawl when I thought about Colette, caused me again, to feel remorse. 

Time is man-made.  I know it. You know it. And, the amount of time that it takes one person to get over something might be entirely different from the time it takes another to get over the exact same thing. I am thankful for that aspect of time, for the way that God decided it would be a good idea to make us all different as well. It probably helps a lot.

Karen is wonderful. I can't say enough good things about her, and at the end of all the emails that we exchange, mostly when I know it's a last one for a while, I always end by telling her how great she is. Everyone needs to be reminded of their value. Whether it's self-inflicted or otherwise.