Showing posts with label Adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Adoption. Show all posts

Friday, June 22, 2018

First chapter of my memoir - by Carol Ford


 I considered making this piece a prologue in my book, but I feel that readers often skip prologues. I would welcome your feedback on this approach to my memoir. Chapter 2 will take the reader back 46 years leading up to the following event in 1994.

Chapter 1
A LIFE MOMENT 1994

When they drove away, I experienced a renewed feeling of separation and abandonment.

The intensity of my emotions shocked and alarmed me.  I sobbed.

Neighbours, who saw my husband, boys and I waving goodbye to this man and women, would never have suspected the drama that had just unfolded in our lives.

Less than a week prior, my sixteen-year old son and I had driven to another city to search for information about my birth family, and I was unaware of the flurry of phone calls that happened because of our inquiries.

One of those calls came to me late on the Sunday night.
“Hello.”
 “Is this Carol?”
I hesitated, “Yes.”
“This is your sister Joan”
I heard screaming in the back ground, “Mom, it’s just like TV—it’s really her!”
The rest of that phone call was a blur, but I knew I had just experienced one of my life moments.

After we hung up, Joan contacted our brother Glenn. She called back to see if we could meet  at my home in two days.  It was all happening so fast!

The morning of their visit I’d dithered about trying to decide how to entertain them. Should I make sandwiches, or finger food, or desert—what do they like? What do I serve to family members I have never met? 

Friends called on the phone that day and offered prayer support.  One brought a bouquet of roses to my door for the celebration.  So many people wanted to witness the reunion, but we chose to keep it private.

Nerves were taut as we waited for their arrival, and I jumped when the knock came.

My boys, husband and I opened the door to a tall handsome, well-dressed man with a full head of salt and pepper grey hair.  He filled the whole doorframe.  This was my brother, Glenn.  I immediately noticed his bright blue eyes, a similar feature to mine.  My sister, Joan, entered behind him. She looked like a woman who had weathered many of life’s storms. She was out of breath and using a cane. I took her hand and helped her manoeuvre the front step. A strong smell of cigarette smoke expired as she talked. When I peered into her face, I was struck again by traces of familial features.

“Please come in,” I managed to say.  “This is my husband, Allan, and these are my two sons, Doug and Mike.” 

How strange to be making these introductions between family members.

“Let’s go to the kitchen where we can sit and talk.”  I said.

We walked down the hall together.   Once we were seated at the table, my sister scrutinized my face.  In fact, we were all intently observing each other—looking for signs of resemblance. 

“Look at her, Glenn, she looks so much like Grandma Kemp,” my sister immediately remarked. She said this in a tone of admiration and love.

My husband had a white gauze bandage wrapped around his head that day.  We all joked about his biking accident the evening before.  He told the funny story of the doctor’s visit when he had admitted to not wearing a biking helmet.   This seemed to break the ice.  I quickly noticed Glenn’s wit and humour. He teased Allan about living with an abusive spouse.  We all laughed.  My boys hung back in the doorway while they watched the adults connecting. What were they thinking? These were their flesh and blood aunt and uncle.

Joan did most of the talking that day, while Glenn quietly observed and listened. He interjected funny quips here and there which I sensed was his way of coping with the emotional tension of the event.

Joan and Glenn had always known about me, but I only knew they existed a year ago.  I read excerpts from the ‘non-identifiable information’ provided by the Children’s Aid Society.    Joan kept correcting the dates and facts that had been recorded—her memory was remarkable. She spoke with authority and accuracy and was a little intimidating. It was evident that our personalities were similar; we were all outgoing, take-charge kind of people—no shrinking violets in the bunch! Our sense of humour was also similar and we laughed and joked a lot that afternoon. 

When the afternoon drew to an end, I gave them each a framed picture of my little family to take home to their spouses and children.  Glenn told me that he would host a BBQ later in the summer to introduce us to my extended family members.

I could see that Joan and Glenn deeply loved and respected each other; they were siblings. I had been brought up an only child and didn’t understand this type of relationship.  Was there room in their lives for me? I was acutely aware of the missing years and our life together. 

Chapter 2
ARRIVING 1948

I welcome your comments. You will find more information about me at https://carolfordassociates.wordpress.com/

I have several recorded broadcasts on Careers and Worklife on Hope Stream Radio - Life Under The Sun https://hopestreamradio.com/program/life-under-the-sun/

If you are a writer or speaker, you might like this devotional: https://www.amazon.ca/As-Ink-Flows-Devotions-Christian/dp/081701767

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Anticipating The Desires of Your Heart by Christine Lindsay

There comes a time in every believer’s life when we struggle with the desires of our heart.

Is my desire God’s will?  Is He going to give me what I want?

The answer is: No…and…Yes.

I can best show you this through the cover development of my non-fiction book Finding Sarah, Finding Me that is coming out this August.

I put the following samples from my publisher up on Facebook a few months ago to get reactions. 
Here are some of those reactions from Facebook friends:
  • The one of the right, the soft sweetness got me.
  • I like the one of the left because it is a happy moment.
  • The one on the right. I think reunions are very emotional and stressful. The outcomes may end in joy, but I the first few moments are breath taking.
  • I like the one on the left with the little girl running to her mom.
  • At first I thought the left and then thought the right because this a book about your daughter’s journey as well as your own. The left image then became too stereotypical.
  • Definitely the one on the left, which for me shows a joyful reunion.

The overall vote was about 40% for the left image, and 60% for the right. 

But the exercise got me thinking. People really wanted a happy adoption reunion cover. Just like I wanted a happy reunion with my birthdaughter Sarah. That’s what I’d prayed for the 20 years after I relinquished her to adoption. The desire of my heart was a good one. It certainly wasn’t sinful, but the reunion was so traumatic for my birthdaughter’s adoptive parents and thereby traumatic for her, that the heartache and trauma was then passed on to me.
Reunion Day 1999, I'm smiling (in the middle) but my heart was breaking.
Sarah is the blond standing beside me. The brunette is my daughter Lana,
 the tall guy in back is Sarah's husband, and the little blond guy in front is my youngest, Rob.
The reunion I’d prayed so hard and so long for broke my heart as much as my original relinquishment in 1979.

Was the desire of my heart God’s will? It sure seemed it wasn’t at that time.

Looking back 16 years after the reunion I can see that God was involved in my journey. There was so much He wanted me to learn. He wanted me to know how much He loved me in spite of my rejection of Him at times. He wanted me to learn some of those deep things about His nature, such as His suffering. The only way I could learn that was by not getting what I wanted when I wanted it. He showed me the depths of His love for me as I experienced my "seeming" rejection from Sarah.

God didn’t leave me in my heartbroken state. A relationship did gradually grow between my birthdaughter and I. So the answer to whether or not my desire was God’s will really is “No…and…Yes”.
All my children together, some of my grandchildren, including Sarah's first baby sitting on my mother's lap in the front row. 
My search for my birthdaughter Sarah helped me find my own face in the face of Christ. Maybe that’s what your suffering is about too.

You might even be wondering if your desire to write is God's will too. In my career as a writer I've discovered that the journey toward that goal is another of God's priorities for my life. Take joy in the journey. 

Busy writer and speaker, Christine Lindsay is the author of multi-award-winning Christian fiction, currently writing her eighth book. 

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