New Year, New Intestinal Fortitude

 Happy New Year!

I am facing 2023 with much anticipation. 

As I wrote in a previous post, "new" carries so much hope and expectation. 2022 wrapped up with much transition in its wake. I am not a big fan of change, as it disrupts my flow of confidence and security. I am fluent in self-talk and have an arsenal of personal survival tactics. Not long ago, I half-jokingly commented to a friend that children of dysfunction often spend a good portion of their adult lives undoing the damage. Only half-jokingly because that is where I have found myself so often. But I am resolved to take bigger and bolder steps in the coming year. I don't mind being transparent to say that I will be exploring therapist options, and several other avenues of self-care. I have had conversations, listened to podcasts, and read books and articles that have cumulatively landed me with this fact: there is no shame in doing what you need to do to heal. As I have prayed so often, and God always seems to deliver the appropriate resource for the need, this is no different. I still can see Him in the details.

From Rita Springer, (parts paraphrased as it spoke to me)
"Everybody Has a Story"
"Psalm 139 says it best, that God knew us before we were even a concept. And if that is true, then God knew our destiny and He could see it all from the moment He formed us and held us, and then in some cases gave us over to humans who were not willing to relinquish their authority and responsibility to Him, and honor Him in raising children. God still sees a life full of His original intent. We can't just go back and remove the bad, and sometimes for many of us, those bad parental decisions and bad experiences are what He uses to get us to the platform of our balance and our freedom in Him. Healing recaptures the gifts and callings that He has already woven into the fabric of our being. 
The rumor is true. When you were born, hell heard a rumor about what heaven was saying about you, and much of your life, hell has been trying to silence the rumor. Embracing the rumor silences hell's lies.
Most of us are raised with the baggage that our parents did not know how to unload and discard."

From Dr. Emily Anhalt
"Why You Should Try Therapy Yesterday"
"Psychoanalytic talk therapy uses the relationship between the therapist and the patient as a microcosm to understand all of the patient's relationships. The things you most need to understand about yourself will begin to happen in the therapy. The two parties can then unpack and understand what is happening. But ANY type of ongoing work that improves your mental health is therapeutic. Anything that helps you become more comfortable being uncomfortable. It won't be quick or easy and it's pretty tough to do alone. No world class athlete has ever achieved their full potential without the support of a coach. Why do we expect to reach our emotional potential by ourselves? Having that trained objective person reflect you back to yourself is a game changer! By doing this work on yourself, you are breaking the cycle of the unhealed. Anyone that you interact with in any way will be positively impacted by the work you do on yourself. Mental health often carries a negative connotation, when really, it should be considered mental FITNESS."

Crystal Sutherland's  "Journey to Heal" resources (book, podcast, support group) and my ongoing connection to mentoring abuse survivors through the Journey to Heal study.

Plus many other nuggets I have accumulated from various sources.

In most cases, I can recognize when things are out of balance, but my desire is to understand better the hows and whys of my responses and emotions. It's actually exciting to think that possible! My foundation will remain intact, that constant reminder that God is my source. Ultimately, it is His "well done" that I am after!  <3

If you have ever considered help, or toyed with the therapy idea, go for it! I hope to be pleasantly surprised, and maybe you will be too :D

Healing ME in '23

Redeeming Love thoughts

 Tonight I went to see a movie called Redeeming Love, based on the Francine Rivers novel of the same title. When I worked at the Lighthouse Christian Bookstore 20 plus years ago, it was flying off the shelf. The fictional account of the story of Hosea. I won''t break it down here, but if you are not familiar with the Bible story, it is a portrait of God's relentless love, give it a read.

A movie had been the subject of whispered rumors for many years, so at the end of 2021 I was one of countless individuals thrilled at the confirmed announcement and last week's release.

We had a group of ladies interested, we met for a quick bite to eat, and on to the theater. I had not read any reviews beforehand, and was not even aware that there was an issue until some in the group started to talk about what they had heard. There was a general consensus that maybe some of the scenes went too far, and one comment was made about it being considered soft porn, not suitable for younger eyes.

I decided not to adopt an opinion, but wait and form my own.

If you are reading this and don't know my story, I won't elaborate, suffice it to say that I am a sexual abuse survivor, here today and whole because of that same relentless love of God. I am connected with a ministry called Journey to Heal, and we mentor survivors who reach out for hope and healing, whether a group study setting, or one-on-one. The ministry exists to come alongside the Angels of the world, love them, hear them, listen, and offer the hope of Christ. There are some horrendous stories out there, folks!

That being said, I might agree that if you wish to protect younger eyes, you may want to avoid this film. Maybe things could have been handled with more discretion, but maybe the intended accuracy targeted a more mature audience.

As an adult here is my perspective. There are a couple of scenes that show breasts, but not truly full frontal nudity. There are a few scenes that portray the motions of sexual activity that don't leave much to the imagination. I have seen worse on regular television, and Michael and Angel are married.

To me, it was a heartbreaking yet beautiful story of a trapped soul being set free by true love. Love that LOVES, love that forgives, love that pursues...relentlessly.

The scenes aforementioned, to me and in my opinion, helped to portray the struggle and the transformation as Angel learned to receive love, and eventually to return Michaels affections. Not because she was forced, it was expected of her, or because she OWED him and only understood one method of payment. Each time she runs, you can see the progress that love has made, be it ever so slight, whittling away her defenses.

Another thought that hit me, was that for the majority of the film, Angel walks about as an empty shell. She herself said that she didn’t look back, and she didn’t look forward. Existing…in the present…no feeling, no hope, no joy. Yet in that moment of intimacy, she finally connects with her husband, and the breath of God breathes LIFE into her soul. She opens the door to trust, and Love rushes in. The visual portrayal captures that moment wonderfully.

I heard a rather refined minister one time, when speaking to our call to intimacy with our creator, make this comment according to his study of original language:

“God’s love is better than sex”

So I will leave that right there. 😎

Shame is a powerful thing. It can keep you bound from believing the truth, no matter how many times you hear it. Spoiler alert: one of the breast scenes was Angel in the river, frantically scrubbing herself with rocks after she had witnessed Michael weeping over her in prayer. That being such a stark contrast to her assessment of her own worth, convinced that she did not deserve that kind of love from him. But she began to recognize the shame, and wanted to be clean. He finds her there, and wraps his arms around her.

I personally loved the movie. I was not offended, but again, I am not sheltered from the woundedness and shame portrayed. And may I be bold enough to say that there are women out there who are going to need advocates in the church to not be sheltered as well. Please understand, for those who have not been impacted or personally exposed to this kind of abuse and suffering I am not of the position that you begin filling your mind with such things. James 1:27 defines pure and undefiled religion as visiting orphans and  widows and keeping yourself unspotted from the world. If you are unspotted, don't go playing in the mud...but don't be afraid to have honest and transparent conversations.

Maybe this was helpful.

I trust that you will be able to make a wise choice based on your own standards. 

I just wanted to update everyone with the latest bit of information!

I went ahead and signed up for 23anMe and my results came today.
I signed in to check things out. The results vary a good bit from what Ancestry predicts as far as regions, but the main thing that caught my eye was the DNA matches...FIRST cousins!! 

Two of them! Whaaaaa...?

I messaged them both immediately, and my heart was racing when I had an immediate response.

B. Taylor, from Kokomo IN. He had always known his father's name but had never met him. 

Most of you will remember the mystery...knowing that one of the Akers brothers was my father, but unable to determine WHICH one. 

B's father? Guy! That means that John Akers is my biological father.
I am glad to finally know for CERTAIN...

John was killed in a hit and run accident in New York, November 1974, which is the same year that my mother took her life, in March. 

I have already dug quite a bit, and there is not much that I can find about John, or his connection to my mother. I am not above hiring someone professional, there are still so many unknowns...

so much mystery...

The Story is Mine to Tell

I waited...out of respect.

Respect will still compel me to withhold names, but I have come to the realization that my story is exactly that. Mine. I do not need to cower under fear or shame, and no matter what the circumstances were surrounding my conception and birth, it is no fault of my own. I celebrate my life, and the obstacles I have overcome, believing that through it all God has given me strength, and ultimately has a purpose for me.

I mentioned the silence of cousins in a previous post. This past February, I had planned a weekend trip to Jacksonville with a friend. My birthmother's first cousin is a cardiologist there, and he is the uncle of the "silent ones". Sometime last year, I had sent an envelope with documents and photos after speaking with him briefly on the phone. I contacted him once again, hoping to be able to take he and his wife to dinner.  After several messages, he returned my call and said that he did not want to accept my invitation, and that he just was not interested in genealogy.
"So does this mean that you would prefer not to hear from me at all?"
"Yes, that is what that means"
 "I am incredibly sad for this, but I will honor your wish...goodbye"
 "Goodbye".
And that was that. Everything in me still wanted to go by his office to meet him face to face.  I wanted to send a plant with a note: It wasn't about genealogy, it was about family. But I refrained. Rejection is never easy, but even more so when you make it all about you. I had to step back and realize that there are many factors that get thrown into the mix. Older generations don't always process information the same as younger ones.  Maybe there exists a level of suspicion...who is this person? and what do they really want? Maybe family dynamics became strained over time. How many times on this journey have people said to me that they barely even know their first cousins, much less seconds or any of the removeds. I processed through, and although sadness lingers I wish the best for that branch of my tree.

Now for the news that so many of you have been waiting for. What about my visit with the DNA detective and news of the paternal nature?

I did contact her, and shared with her my information as well as my tree on Ancestry.com. She pored over my DNA matches, starred about a dozen that were most certainly on my father's side, and focused on the closest relationship which was a second cousin. A second cousin means that you share a great grandparent. I won't be able to explain much about the process, but the detective traced it back to that common ancestor (my great grandmother Minnie Schrock, my Amish connection!) and then traced my lineage forward. Based on shared matches and centimorgans she was able to determine that I was the daughter of one of three brothers. The only way to narrow it down further to determine WHICH brother would involve a second DNA test submitted by one of them or one of their children. At this point I do not have much hope of that submission taking place. The two oldest brothers are deceased and neither had children that I am aware of. The youngest resides in Florida and has at least three children.

With this new information, I continued on in my Sherlock role, and found yearbook photos of the brothers. I know who I think I look like:

I uncovered useful tidbits through newspapers.com and various resources. The brothers grew up in Kokomo IN. The oldest was handicapped and passed away in 2014. The research results on the middle brother gave me the impression that he was an angry individual. Articles revealed that he was always in trouble, and at one point when he was older, barricaded himself outside of a soda factory and was throwing bottles at police. He ended up being hit by a car in NY, and was buried in Kokomo in 1974, the same year that my mother took her life.
The youngest brother was married several times and has two sons and a daughter. I found out his contact information and called him on the phone one evening. I explained what I had learned about the DNA match, and asked him what he thought. His comment during the first phone call was that due to the youngest one's handicap, most likely it was not him. Beyond that he wasn't sure. He did not affirm whether or not he knew my mother, but he did not deny anything. He said that he would have to think about it, and we hung up after a brief conversation.

I continued learning what I could, and decided to reach out to his oldest daughter, who is two years behind me. We also look a good bit alike, but I will not post her photo here. At one point, her married name was very unique, and easy to find. I called a number who shared the name and asked if they knew her, and they did. I gave a brief explanation and asked if they would mind having her call me so I could talk with her.  They took down my number.  After a little while, the phone rang but it was not who I was expecting...it was her father. He simply called to say that he wanted me to stop harassing his children. I assured him that I was not harassing anyone. I learned that the person that I had been in touch with was actually an ex step daughter of hers. I am sure this was not a positive connection, and she may have resented that point of contact.
He went on to say that his children were not going to have any answers because "that" was before their time. I asked him point blank if HE had any answers, and he fumbled his words a bit before he managed to say "it's sketchy". As I have done so many times on this journey, I found myself asking "what does that even mean?"
My point in reaching out to his daughter was not to press her for information, but simply to say hey! we're related! Even if she turned out to be a first cousin, that is the closest living connection I have made to date, beyond Judy's brother.
I resolved after that phone call to give him space. I waited several months and then decided to write a letter. I sent it certified mail. His wife signed to receive it, and I have no way of knowing whether she gave it to him, read it herself or just threw it away. Below is a respectfully modified version:

Dear        ,

I have already introduced myself to you, but for the sake of formality, I shall start from scratch.

My given name is Brenda Martin. I was adopted in Columbus Ohio in April 1966. Paperwork was finalized in 1968. Calculating backwards, birth would put conception at early July 1965.

My birthmother was Judy Moffit, who attended college in Decatur IL, but worked in a lab in Cincinnati during and/or leading up to my birth.

I have been researching for over two years now, and have discovered many details. I was able to meet Judy’s brother, but he passed away this past January. He gave me many pictures and was able to tell me some stories about her, but unfortunately did not know anything about me until I contacted him.  I was thankful for that time we had to connect, but it was way too short!

I feel like I need to let you know that I would LOVE to be able to communicate with you.

I am not after anything, I don’t NEED anything, I have nothing to prove… I am not looking to insert myself into your life…I harbor no judgment or bitterness, no resentment or anger. I am only hoping to learn more about my story...and more about YOURS!  Nothing would surprise me, and quite honestly, when you don’t have facts, the imagination can paint a far crazier picture than the truth could ever be.

 I try to be sensitive to that “surprise!” element from the perspective of the people I have reached out to along this journey, and I respect the wishes of every single one. Some have closed the door, and some have welcomed me with open arms.

I explained on the phone that a DNA match through Ancestry.com is what brought me to you.  I know that we are blood relatives, and more specifically that either you or one of your brothers was my biological father.(which still blows my mind and is a bit overwhelming to have some answers after all these years!) There is really no way to fine tune exactly HOW we are related without another DNA test. I will never push or force that issue, but if there were a willingness, then I am perfectly willing to pay to have it done.  It only involves having a kit mailed, some spit in a cup and a trip to the Post Office.

I also want you to know that this letter will be my final attempt to connect with you. As I said, I would love to be able to communicate, but the ball is now in your court. I won’t keep bothering you, but I hope you will consider a “yes” answer…

I really think you’d like me…I’m pretty awesome          
As a statement of character, I have worked at the same company for 10 years and I can get you 100 references attesting to my sound mind and level headedness.

You now have my address, my cell is              , and email: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I also included my best photo.

That was over three months ago, and I have had no response. Again, I am trying to be sensitive to what the circumstances may have been, and give him (them) freedom to make their choices without it negatively impacting my heart. But the hope lives on that someday the phone will ring, and the unknown will become known.

Rollercoasters are supposed to be FUN

Rollercoasters.  The one amusement park ride I can still enjoy without losing my lunch. Happens with age, or so I have heard. I love every stage...from waiting in line (as long as it is a reasonable temp outside) to that last turnstile where they group you according to the available seats in a row. I love the click of the bar, the clink clink clink of the chain as it drags you up to the precipice of your wild release...the anticipation...and the screams that I would swear came from someone ELSE.
Unless you have ridden the same coaster over and over, most often it is hard to anticipate the twists and turns, and you just have to hang on and hang tight!

This journey I am on has been much like that hard to anticipate wild ride. The ups and downs, the joys and disappointments, a few bruises from hanging on too tight at times, and not tight enough for others.

The excitement of the "new" group of cousins I closed with at the end of my last post has not quite panned out like I had hoped. My attempt at communication via phone (an actual conversation) and snail mail has only been met with silence. For me, silence has never been golden. I would rather someone be painfully honest than to not respond at all.  I am only wishing to learn more about that proverbial cloth from which I have been cut. As I lamented to a friend, she just looked at me, and rather matter-of-factly stated that she did not even keep in touch with her first cousins. I understand that, but honestly (and I really would love some feedback in the form of comments on this post), if you had a phone call or a letter from someone stating that they had been adopted and had just discovered that you were their cousin...first or second, how ever many times removed...how would you respond? I really want to know some honest answers!

I have been poring over my DNA test results, and I am quite honestly overwhelmed. I had hoped that the results would unlock some clues to my birthfather's side of the family, and the clues may very well exist, but Sherlock seems to be napping. When you start getting into 4th cousins, and you don't have a name to go on, the prospect of trying to narrow things down is HUGE.

Here it comes...a coaster high! I had a friend email me an article that was published in the Boston Globe about a woman steeped in her own DNA and family tree search, yet she utilized what she learned in her own experience to help other people connect.  One of those reunions turned out to be sisters, and neither knew of the other's existence! How crazy wild is that? I had planned to just email this self-taught researcher for some guidance and advice, and as I dug to find her contact info, I also discovered that she lived in RI...where I myself will be soon. I have sent an email, and hope to be able to meet her for coffee and glean some wisdom in the art of genealogy research.

While I still plan to move forward, I am also trying to ease up a bit on the intensity of my search.  This is truly a potential addiction, and unguarded it can consume your every waking moment as long as the questions continue to loom larger than life. Recently, I was thinking of a children's book written by Max Lucado called "You are Special". I need to remind myself again (and often) that it is only because of the God who rescued my very life and gave me hope that I still am here to breathe His air...
He is a father to the fatherless and He sets the lonely in families (Ps 68:5-6). I am who I am because of Him, as well as the people He gave me...precious gifts to my heart that have invested in me over the years. I know I am not alone, and no matter how the rest of the story may unfold, I am secure in my identity, and my place in the midst of my marvelous comrades!

Cousins! Part II

Before I dive in to the subject at hand, I need to revisit and add a PS to my last post.  There is a story that I love about my birthmother's wedding rings.  Uncle Jerry and Aunt Yvonne had two girls that they adopted. When they were little, they loved to play with the rings and wear them around the house.  At some point, the engagement ring was missing, and could not be found. After much searching, it was assumed lost forever.
Travel down the road a few years, and arrive at a time of spring cleaning.  Items are being packed up to relocate to the thrift store.  Items including a stuffed animal...with a zipper pouch...a pouch which one of the girls just happened to look in before the final haul.  Guess what was found in the corner of that zippered pouch? The first time I heard it, I was amazed, and then rejoicing greatly to realize that someone came very close to making an awesome return on their investment in a stuffed animal, but Daddy saw fit to rescue the ring, preserve it, and through the Moffits, present it as a gift that overwhelmingly blesses my heart every time I hold it in my hand.

So I mentioned earlier that there were videos! Jerry and Yvonne allowed me to take them home with me so that I could transfer them to DVD. One was the video compilation that my grandfather had made, one a recording of his trip to one of the Alaskan reunions, and the third was a wedding video from 1989, Kansas City, MO.  I watched the whole thing while the DVD was burning. It was an outdoor wedding at a beautiful venue somewhat similar to the Gordon Lee Mansion in Chickamauga. I was struck by the artistic nature of the ceremony.  The processional music consisted of a recorder and a tambourine. There was original poetry, and a song written for the couple. The bride and the groom both walked the white runner with their parents on their arms. They read their own vows. The birds singing in the background, a breeze blowing through the trees, a humorous best man,  and a cultured band made for an enjoyable viewing experience. But other than a very brief clip where I recognized my grandparents, I did not have a clue who these people were. So if there is one thing I have learned many times over on this journey, it is to ask the right questions.
"Hey! Unc! Who is in this wedding video?" Turns out it was the daughter of my grandmother's sister.  Okay wait, so daught...yes, lessee, that makes the bride the first cousin of Unc and Judy, which in turn would be...um...my first cousin, once removed. (Thank you Ancestry for setting me straight! I never could figure that out! I always thought maybe once removed meant there had been a fight, HA)

The last name was very unusual, so I was off! Ancestry, Google, Facebook, and an obituary allowed me to find the contact information I needed. I ramped up the courage and picked up the phone. Answering machine...rats! What do I say? Better come up with something quick! Genealogy research...yes! that will do...
I hung up, and once again embraced a familiar state...the waiting.
A day or two later, I had begun burning a second DVD copy to send back with the original VHS tapes, and my phone rang.  It was cousin Pam (but she did not know that yet). I said "you are not going to believe this, but I am sitting here watching your wedding video right this minute". (cue weird stalker music)
Of course, I had to explain, and launched into a somewhat encapsulated version of my incredible journey of discovery.  Once I sufficiently proved my case, she accepted my Facebook friend request and we continued sharing back and forth.  As she told me about the early days and the connection to my grandparents, I began to realize that some of the pictures I had from the album that Yvonne had put together simply HAD to be Pam's family, so I shared them with her. Sure enough, it was them!

Pam's folks would frequently stop to visit my grandparents, and it was so fun to make that connection. I was saddened to learn that as they grew older, the cousins did not keep in touch as much, as is so often the case.  Life just gets in the way. We have talked several times on the phone, and she contacted her siblings to share the news.  I made copies of the compilation video for them, and shared photos on Facebook. I plan to have a New England Christmas this year, and hope to be able to connect with them at some point during the trip.

As I continue finding new connections and reaching out, I realize that not everyone will be quick to embrace my existence, and some may not even desire to know anything beyond just that.

Out of curiosity, I asked Pam to share her reaction to my first attempt at contact. My friend request on Facebook was ignored as spam because my profile pic was only my pretty red tonails, and she did not have a clue as to who they belonged to.  (Bon Qui Qui would probably blame in on short nails).

The phone call intrigued her and led to that first return call, and I am so glad that we are NOT experiencing a "failure to communicate".

As of this post, I have made an attempt to connect with yet another group of cousins,  this time second cousins made up of a brother and two sisters. Our mothers were first cousins, and our grandmothers were sisters.

Yeah, I am a bit nervous...again...

Hello, Moffits

Bethel Missouri. 

More specifically, Heartland Christian Community.  A Christian compound in the middle of a cornfield. In spite of the rural location, Google Maps brought Mar and I right to my uncle's doorstep.

Before I talk about the actual visit, if you know me even a little, then you know that I was researching and digging before the trip.  I am sure I am not the only one who might get a shiver or two at the thought of a Christian "community" or "compound".  Images reminiscent of Branch Davidians, or Heaven's Gate flirted with my imagination. Even memories of my own personal experience of a church steeped in misplaced emphasis on apostolic position were in the mix.
Don't get me wrong...I have always believed that a group of Jesus followers could successfully live in literal community...as long as they could successfully rid themselves of the negativities of the human condition, including things like pride, selfishness and arrogance.

So I researched and found no shortage of material.

Heartland Community (Oct 2014) (a 30 min report from KBIA Public Rado MO)

Heartland Home

Heartland - About Us (Heartland Website)

There were several other places that I researched, including a thread of comments which spotlighted both complaints and praise.  It seemed that the majority of the negative press came from the discipline side of the picture.  If some of the claims were true, then my eyebrows might be raised a little. However, I also know that after my years of ministering with a group in Orlando, I learned an awful lot about people struggling with a variety of issues.  You would find us in the jail, nursing homes, street ministry, a youth ranch (somewhat similar to Heartland in many ways). Addiction, respect, anger...people acting out based on what they had been dealt in life.  And there will always be the rebels who compound the issues at hand by being confrontational instead of respectfully challenging what is not right.  I did read many success stories of people who graduated the program and then willingly stayed on to work on the farm or various other positions.

So, I wasn't sure what to expect as we drove on to the property.

We found the house, and I took a few deep breaths.  I gathered up the remaining roses and the bouquet of flowers we had purchased to present to Aunt Yvonne.  Mar was ready with the camera, and I went to the door and knocked. Time seemed to crawl in those few moments, but finally the door opened, and there he stood.  Uncle Jerry...Judy's brother...my real flesh and blood relative!

I was not even sure where or how to start. My processor was on overload, and honestly I was so glad to have "never-meet-a-stranger" Marianne with me. We chatted, had dinner, and just dove in to getting to know each other.  I was thrilled to know that Jerry wrote poetry and dabbled in artistic outlets.  Scrimshaw was one medium, and I was fascinated by the detail!

Unc (as he lovingly came to be called) acted as our tour guide and showed us around the compound boasting the largest dairy farm in MO, with a huge milking carousel, a creamery shipping cheese all over, roughly 17,000 acres producing corn, soybeans, wheat, alfalfa, and raising dairy cows, beef cattle, goats and horses.

Back at the house, we had time to sit and talk, and they brought out some photos to go through.  In my ignorance I began snapping pictures of pictures. I say ignorance because I had no idea that Aunt Yvonne had been working tirelessly to put together an album for me to keep.  An album loaded with pictures of Judy, as well as some others of family. It was a fantastic treasure!!

Another treasure was when they presented me with Judy's wedding rings. It was a very beautiful set, but man did she have some little fingers, LOL! I am exploring some design ideas to see what options exist that would allow me to wear them.

There were also a few videos that we watched, and I got choked up to see Judy playing the piano and singing with my grandfather. There were many clips of old home movies that my grandfather had taken and put together on one video. There was also a unique wedding ceremony that I will talk about in the next post.

Sunday morning we all went to church together. It was a good service, and I was able to meet Charlie Sharpe, who founded Heartland.  One of the songs that grabbed me that morning was "Good Good Father", and I was reminded again that my identity first and foremost has always been defined by being loved by God. ("It's who I am") All of my life I was aware somehow of that love, no matter how crazy things were. Toward the end of the service Jerry and Yvonne asked me to go up with them for prayer. As we stepped out into the isle, Jerry leaned over and said to me "I can and will be your kinsman redeemer".  That was such a powerful statement in that moment, and it spoke healing to my orphaned heart.

Mar and I had to leave right away after the service because we had a 5 hour drive to get me back to the airport. Part of me did not want to say goodbye. The Moffits made me feel quite comfortable and welcomed me with open arms.

And of course I will be forever grateful to my chaufferette!

I had much to reflect on, so much to process...

An Explosion of Cousins, Part 1

Hello.

My name is Bernie Martin, and I am an Ancestry.com addict.

At least that is how I felt in the beginning.  Once those first few names were established on my tree, and those little green leaves kept popping up, I could not stop clicking! I loved discovering that my great great grandfather Torkel Thorson was born in Sweden. I started finding an abundance of links pointing to Alaska, but I wasn't sure because there was a difference in the spelling of the last name.  The individuals I had connected to up to this point were all Moffit...with one "T".  The Alaska links were all Moffitts...with two "T"s. Most of the information seemed accurate, so I kept adding things to my tree...people, documents, photos.  Before long, I had a message come through that said:

I took my time and waited a couple of weeks before I responded...NOT! I immediately wrote back and we compared notes to discover that Kris and I were double third cousins.  Our great grandfathers (brothers) married our great grandmothers (sisters). I learned that there was a family reunion every year in Alaska, and that the crew had a Facebook page set up with 114 members!  I had a huge grin on my face when Kris introduced me to them:

I sing songs like that and change lyrics to fit circumstances all the time! It's in the genes...

I could not work it out to attend the reunion this year, but it is at the top of my list for next year!

In her next message, Kris passed along some information about a book that she had published containing a collection of letters that her grandmother had kept from family members. She typed out all of the letters, and included photos of the original envelopes, along with intermittent photos of individuals or newspaper clippings. Of course I had to order a copy, and actually found two letters in the book that my grandfather had sent as well as a letter written by Judy!
In one of grandfather's letters, he refers to Judy taking a break from college to work for a year doing laboratory research. The letter was dated October of 1965, and at that time, she would have been three months pregnant...with ME! I have not yet put together a timeline to track her moves, or discover how she even ended up in OH, but I have some clues and hope to do that soon.

The next major event was the decision to take a road trip to Illinois.  My Chicago friend and I decided that we would join up and take off on a grand adventure.  I wanted to visit Decatur, where Judy lived and attended Millikin University. We spent some time at the library, and it just so "happened" that the library had just signed up for a free trial with newspaper archives. We were able to pull up several articles and print them off.  Judy's wedding announcement, her obituary, and different activities at the college. It was a very fruitful visit!
We also went by her house where she lived at the time of her death. We went by the funeral home and were able to view the records of the memorial service.

We stopped in at the church that records indicated she had attended at the time. They did not have any old directories for the years Judy would have been there. We also visited Millikin U, and stopped in at the bookstore so I could buy a commemorative shirt from her alma mater.

The time had come to leave Decatur and head west.  I had contacted Aunt Yvonne and Uncle Jerry and made arrangements to come for a visit. On the way to their place, we were going to pass right through Hannibal MO, town of Mark Twain, on the banks of the Mississippi River. Judy graduated from Hannibal High School, and after her death, her ashes were scattered in the waters. I later learned that both grandparents' ashes were also spread on the currents.

I wanted to somehow honor her life, and the fact that she gave me mine. I decided on roses...8 white roses.  One for every year of her life after my birth.  My friend chose one peach rose, a symbol of gratitude.

We took our bouquet and walked down to the bank of the river and found a secluded spot, away from the bustle of tourism that the town was so well acquainted with. One by one I tossed the blooms into the water, and watched as the current carried them away. I tried to remember where I was and what my life was like with each year represented.  With the final toss, the thought occurred to me to not let go of the stem, but follow it into the river, as though somehow her ashes still lingered right there in that spot, and waters closing in all around me would be a symbolic embrace. I cried for what never was, and grieved the loss of what I would never know. Everything in me wished to travel back in time and tell her to hold on, that her life mattered and pushing through the pain would be worth it.

We lingered a bit longer, and then continued on just a bit further down the road, to Bethel...

Bernlock Holmes is Born!

I will do my very best to showcase in this particular entry a few examples of splendid sleuthing, dazzling detectivity and ingenious inquisitry.
(Perhaps I have been excessively mezmerized of late by the Modern Major General...)
The takeaway, I hope, will be the encouragement that sometimes answers we seek are hinged on asking the right questions, and following our instincts. Steve Brown used to say that the only dumb question is the one we don't ask.
Once I had my original birth certificate in my hands, the research mode was set to high speed.
I signed up for the free trial of Ancestry.com and started my family tree with what little info I had gathered to date. I began nosing around Classmates.com and sending what felt like hundreds of messages to various names I came across for her class, or the reunion committees, etc. I had two responses from the broad casting of my nets. One was from a reunion committee member who was actually a couple of years ahead of Judy, but still lived in Albert Lea. He sent me a picture of the house where she lived during high school, and contacted a friend of his at the local Historical Society. She was able to provide some very helpful information, mainly being the names of my grandparents. So I began a search with my grandfather's name, and rather quickly landed on his obituary. This provided yet more incredibly valuable information.  My grandmother had passed in 2000. I learned that Judy's married name was Forbes, which would prove incredibly helpful. The family had moved from Albert Lea MN to Hannibal MO, which was where Judy graduated HS. But, the biggest news that came from this priceless document, was that Judy had two brothers, and at the time of grandfather's death, one had previously deceased, but one was LIVING! It gave the names of both he and his wife, and two daughters, and the town where they lived at the time.  So, White Pages, you might as well be in on this too! I called the number, but there was no answer. I followed a few other links and discovered that my "aunt" (whoa) worked at a school in town.  So, of course I called the school and left a message.  The next night, I called the number I had one more time, and someone answered.  I began to explain the reason for "the craziest phone call they may ever receive", and laid out all of the information I had discovered. She verified the connections I had made, but when it came to Judy having a daughter...weeeeeellllll...she wasn't sure about that but would go talk to her husband.  So she put the phone down, and I waited...and on my end, I cannot tell you how long it actually was, but it SEEMED like for-e-ver! She (Yvonne) came back to the phone and told me that Jerry (my uncle!!) did not know anything about Judy having a baby, but that he would talk to me. He took the phone, and I explained again some of what I had uncovered. We chatted for a bit, and then I told him I would email them a copy of the birth certificate and a couple of the pictures so they could see. When we talked again, they assured me that there was no doubt I belonged to Judy, and welcomed me to the family. It was surreal. It was weird.  One question I did ask was why she had died so young. I was deeply saddened to hear that it was a suicide. Several weeks later, I was able to obtain a copy of the death certificate, and the cause was listed as self administered cyanide/carbon monoxide poisoning. There is a bit more to say about this, but that will be for a later post. Jerry, Yvonne, and I continued to communicate, and I made plans to visit them in MO, but that will also be for a later post.
After researching all I could about Judy's name, I turned to the address listed on the birth certificate. Google Earth let me know that it was within walking distance of Ohio State, so of course the assumption would be that Judy was attending school. I began trying to find old yearbooks, and eventually contacted the records department at the school. There were no records for a Judy or Judith. Hmmmmmm...what next? How about finding out who actually lived at that address? Historical Society for Columbus...and the page from the phonebook in 1966. It listed three names, one of which was Judy.  So that left two possibilities.  Back to OSU.  I was able to get a hit for both of the other occupants. One name was incredibly common, and has been somewhat difficult to track after 50 years.  The other was unusual, and through a short time period of following links, I had what I needed. A married name (CH), a phone number, and her current occupation. I started by emailing her at the college where she professored, and then left a voice mail with my contact information. Interesting to me that she taught at her alma mater, which also happened to be where Judy had obtained her chemistry degree. My guess is that they must have known each other, and then CH transferred to OSU.
One Sunday morning as I was getting ready for church, my phone rang. It was CH! I was so excited, and nervous...I just fumbled over my words.  I was speaking to someone who KNEW Judy. I wish so very much that I had taken notes that morning. She told me that Judy was a troubled soul,involved with things that she should not have been involved in, and that she needed more help than this lady was able to give her.  Part way through the year, she (CH) had moved out of the house because she was trying hard to concentrate on her graduate studies. She mentioned in passing that she thought maybe my birthfather had worked at a State Hospital in Indiana. She was certain that Judy had not even held me after she gave birth. She was glad that I had already heard about the suicide because she did not want to have to be the one to tell me. She seemed so nice, and so willing to help me. We exchanged information, and I was very excited about the prospect of actually hearing all about who Judy was as a person. I thanked her profusely, not knowing that that phone call would be the only one I would ever have with her.  Upon trying to reconnect, she emailed me to say that she did not wish to continue communication, that she had helped me all she could, and while she was sympathetic to my desire to learn more about my parents, she did not like to live in the past and wished me luck. Wow...I was crushed. I am not sure what happened back there in Columbus, or what circumstances would keep her bound and unwilling to even talk to me, but I have her picture up on my wall, and I pray that somehow, some way, God will change her heart and prompt her to pick up the phone, or send me an email. I believe she holds some much needed pieces to the puzzle.

*********************************

The third big connection was made when I researched Judy's marriage to Mr. Forbes.  He was also a professor at the same alma mater, but had moved to NM in 2004. There were a number of G Forbes, so I really had to work at this one. I knew that he was a psychologist, and as a result of one particular article that I found, I was 99.73% sure I had pinpointed the correct individual.  So, I composed a very brief email and sent it off. When the reply came back, he commended my detective skills, and began to share with me a few things about Judy, and their brief life together.  They were only married for a few years, and he let me know that Judy had been diagnosed as bipolar (manic depressive), and he believed that my grandfather had also had some issues. I tried to get my hands on medical records, but even up to this point, have had no success. Not much hope really after 50 years.
G Forbes and I emailed back and forth several times, but some of what he remembered conflicted with some of the verified information that I already had. I did ask him if there was any possibility that he could have been my biological father, and he said that it was a reasonable question, but even tonight as I go back over his email, he never actually said "NO"...hmmmmmm...

That NOSE!

I briskly walked from the post office back to my car, firmly yet gently grasping the envelope as though it were fragile, yet not risking the chance that anything would remove it from my fingers. I slid in behind the wheel and nervously sat. So many of my fellow adoptees had been posting on our private Facebook page about waiting to open their documents in the presence of spouses, or family members.  Chicago and my best friend were 10 hours away. Part of me knew it would be nice to share this moment, and yet part of me could not stand to wait one more minute.  I slid my finger under the flap and began to tear.  I unfolded the paper, and my eyes scanned until I saw it...the most important sequence of letters on the whole page. J-U-D-Y  C-A-R-O-L  M-O-F-F-I-T. I said it out loud, and then I stared at it in silence. This woman gave me life. I began to take in the other information on the page. No father's name was listed. She was 22, and was born herself in Wisconsin. I was 7lbs and 4oz, and the name field was blank, except for Moffit.  In true Bernie style, the thought that occurred to me was that I was simply "Little Miss Moffit".
Back at the office, I tried to keep my mind on my work, but found it increasingly difficult. That night as soon as I arrived home, I was online. The very first thing I searched was her name, and the very first thing that came up was a link to Ancestry.com.

My heart sank to read that she had passed away. I was devastated.
I did not know a thing about maneuvering the Ancestry website, so for your entertainment, I will admit that when I saw her parents' names listed as "Private", I thought to myself that they both must have been in the Army, and that must have been the connection to my dad, who was also Army. I am now much wiser and understand that private only means that the person who holds the information on any given family tree has set their security to private, as opposed to public.
I continued to follow links, and very soon ended up perusing the pages of a yearbook. Albert Lea High School, in MN. I found some pictures for a Judy Moffit, and upon laying my eyes on those images, there was no question...no doubt in my mind. I clicked away, taking screenshots, staring, crying. It is a very difficult thing to explain sufficiently what it is like to see resemblance, when previously any hints of likeness to family were elusive. She was in band and chorus, (musical, like me) and sat as president of the school's Red Cross. One picture made me chuckle. It was a band picture and she was in a strapless dress. I was amazed and thrilled to see my shoulders!

I could not stop looking.  I found a picture of myself in a pose similar to hers and posted us side by side. All I kept thinking was WOW...

The next day, I posted the above photo on Facebook, and had it on my phone to show to some coworkers, and the comment was consistently the same...that NOSE!! You have her nose! (and her mouth...and her dimples...sigh...)

The Adoption Story begins

It was late 2013. I was browsing Facebook when I happened upon an article about adoption in Ohio, and how the laws which had permanently sealed adoption records from 1964 through 1996 were being challenged as unfair. I was immediately drawn in due to the fact that I myself was adopted in Columbus in 1966. I first learned of my adoption when I was 14. My mom (the one who adopted me, Mom 1, German mom) had traveled from New England to Florida to visit, and very nonchalantly informed me that I was not "hers". My dad was upset with her as he had no intention of ever telling me the truth. I was not sure quite how to handle this new information, as I was already dealing with so much at that time in my life. Over the years, I dreamed and wondered, I grieved and stuffed. In my early twenties, I did some minimal research, and submitted a petition for release of information with the Division of Vital Statistics in Columbus.  It would only be beneficial if a biological family member had also filed a petition. I never heard anything back.
I began to follow the progress of this new development, and the news came that on March 20, 2014, the law would be reversed, but files could not be accessed for a whole year to allow for any parties to redact their name from documents if they so chose. There should be no doubt that an intense excitement was simmering within, but that year may very well have been the longest year ev-er...
Finally! March 2015 rolled around. The Adoption Network in Cleveland organized a gathering in Columbus for all adoptees to be able to be together and file their paperwork together.  I wanted to be there, but could not work it out, so I ended up filing my papers via US Mail.
I was content with the waiting for about two weeks before I started becoming anxious. April 14 was the arrival of the big day.  I opened the PO box, and there it was...

On the Threshold

The phrase "brand new" just stirs in me something exciting. I remember as a kid, the thought of brand new shoes, brand new school clothes...then growing up, the idea of a brand new car...brand new job...brand new anything...never-been-down-this-road-before excitement...thoughts laden with possibility and potential!

And here I sit again...on the threshold of a brand new year, anticipating and nurturing an expectation that has been a long time coming. I am ready for "brand new" again. I need a refreshing...a return to some important ingredients that comprise who I am and yet a revamping of others that have paled and become rather stale. After reflecting some lastnight, and journaling (as part of an annual ritual for my personal New Year's Eve celebration), I am feeling a familiar tug...like the reunion of longtime friends who had somehow lost touch. Part of that journal entry is included below:

Dec 31, 2011

Quiet night...sitting at the Davis'...Sugar and Bubba curled up napping, Jill is still outside. I spent another New Year's Eve at the bookstore, doing the billing. When I finish working out my 5 year notice, I have dreams of making up for lost time, part of which involves planning the biggest funnest NYE party ever, LOL!

I can never let this night pass without remembering...reflecting back to 1984. I had only been involved again in the church scene for a couple of months. There had been a get together for the youth and I had left early with lots on my mind. I got home, pulled out my Bible, and remember reading Psalm 32, which I still lovingly refer to as my salvation chapter. The previous months had been quite a journey and details are usually reserved for the more in depth sharing of my story. Suffice it to say that God was dealing with me that night and things were making sense. I called one of the girls and told her what was happening and she handed the phone over to Ed, who at that time shared youth pastorship responsibilities with his brother Mike. We talked for a bit and the decision was made that they would come and pick me up and we would go to the church and talk. We ended up staying for a couple of hours talking and praying through some issues while gathered around the altar. I had been in and out of church so many times, but I was ready to stop playing games. That was 27 years ago. The commitment that night still stands, and as much as the Hound of Heaven was relentless in His pursuit of me, it is my passion to in turn be relentless in my pursuit of HIM.

The journey has been amazing...from the youth group to Wilderness Cry and my introduction to what true ministry is all about. The group disbanding and scattering and wondering "what next?"...finding a church, church growth and church splits. Joyous times, grievous times...hello and goodbye...a desert hit that left me parched and almost down for the count...it has been a long crawl back, and I find that I have been withdrawn and withholding...afraid give of myself again...after all, what's the point? I have questioned and grieved, and at times even challenged God. I am tired...and ready to be restored. I am ready for my journey to continue. The desire is to be reacquainted with JOY...and passion. To be satisfied, but never content...driven by that nagging sense that there is MORE...driven to pursue a deeper, more meaningful, non-religious, fruitful relationship with Christ. I want my prayer life to be rejuvenated and refreshed, infused with the hope of all I know to be true about my God.

So the threshold of a new year brings me to a place of HOPE. Shaking off the sackcloth and ashes, the season of grief is over. Behold the new thing!

We cannot influence what is happening around us, if there is nothing happening WITHIN us...

Happy Brand New Year!!

My Experiment in Solitude

Wow!! Almost two years to the day since my last entry...either my life has been dull, or so full that I have not taken the time to write ;)

I have returned now to record some thoughts and reflections as I begin a three week adventure into an intentional embracing of solitude. Not a hermit type of solitude as I will not be cutting myself off from the world. (obviously, since I will still be online)

I am catsitting for a friend who is visiting her family in Bejing. My residence for these few weeks will be a one bedroom apartment with no phone and no television. My bed will be a mattress on the floor, and in the living room a pew style cushioned bench with no back and a rectangular card table...from the first night that I came to meet the cats, I knew this was a divine appointment.

Margaret Becker wrote a song years ago called "Find Me" and this song is playing through my mind as I begin this journey:

"I'm gonna give away my stereo
give away my tv
I'm going back to essentials
a chair and a lamp
and the Book that you wrote to me...
you see I'm looking for the You that used to speak so clear
I'm looking for the me that had a heart to hear
and I'm looking for the passion that held me here...on the edge
find me....find me...I'll wait for you...
You see I'm looking for the me that I used to know...
looking for the love that was out of control cuz i...feel a little cold here in the afterglow...
find me...find me...I'll wait for you..."

I am sure you can find it on Youtube if you are interested in hearing it.

So I won't spend a lot of time writing tonight, I really just wanted to create the picture of the beginning...and I am very much looking forward to spending this time seeking...
listening...
learning...
engaging...
with the Creator of the universe...
who is mindful...

of ME...

Remember...

I am currently involved with a group of ladies who are going through Beth Moore's study on Daniel...WOW...I have always been sparked by Beth's passion, and challenged by the price she has paid to be where she is today.
About halfway through lesson 4 lastnight, I knew where I would end up. Once home, I unloaded purse and a few other items and hit the futon room. There was just SO MUCH going on in my heart! The video stirred and awakened a part of me that had been dormant for quite a while, and I am not even sure I can capture it in such a way to do it justice here in typed form.
One point was about loving the poor, and during discussion time I was reminded of the years in Orlando as part of a group called "Wilderness Cry" (Isaiah 40:3). There were about 11 core members which made up our band/ministry team. We had something going almost every day of the week...from nursing homes, to the youth ranch, jail ministry to the coffee house. Crossroads Coffeehouse on South Orange Blossom Trail. When we first started, there was an adult bookstore directly to the left of the building and a topless bar right across the street. We went down on Friday night, sometimes early enough to serve dinner plates, and when eatin' was done, they took up the tables and set up chairs, and we had CHURCH. We had some wild experiences in that little converted motorcycle shop...and memories that can still fan my evangelistic heart!
When I have more time, I will dig out some pics and post them, so you can see the faces.
What brought these memories flooding back was another lady sharing about her experience with a homeless gentlman, and how he had thanked her...for making him feel important...it reminded me that one of the biggest lessons I learned in my years at Crossroads was that we were not dealing with just poor people...we were not dealing with pitiful homeless people, or drunks or drug addicts...they were PEOPLE...created in the image of GOD...no less deserving of our love (if indeed our love is founded in Christ) than the most spiritual and prominent person in any church.
I think another thing that had already primed my heart was listening to Francis Chan the night before our study. Ed (who is currently a missionary to Haiti, and also the main one responsible for getting Wilderness Cry together, and also majorly influential in me even being a Christian) had encouraged me to listen to some of Francis' words on Youtube (check it out if you have time). He is a pastor in Simi Valley CA, and has alot of unconventional things to say about loving your neighbor...
Another part of the lesson was about Nebuchadnezzar's pride, and how that brought him down, even when he had the opportunity to change that course by acknowledging that the "Heavens do rule", practicing righteousness and showing mercy to the poor. Beth, on the video, very passionatley acknowledged where and who she would be without God, and over on the couch, tucked into my little corner, I was having a "deep calling deep" moment! I know where I have been, I know what God has done in my heart, and I know...(perish the thought)...I KNOW where I would be without HIM!!! It was a very humbling moment, but a catalyst for my futon time. I have two big responsibilities coming up, the first of which will be teaching Sunday school starting in a few weeks...and my heart cry was for it not to be one iota about me, and as Beth commented, to learn Nebby's lesson from the page, and not by experience...and I confessed that lastnight to the Lord...whether it is part of my dysfunctional childhood or whatever, I am aware of a need to be accepted, appreciated...to feel special...to be proud of what "I" accomplished...and that has so often interfered with what I may have been called to do. So let this new adventure be different, as I am honest with myself and seek to honor my GOD above all else!!
May you experience the call of JESUS today on a deeper level...
In Him - Bern

Time Keeps on tickin tickin tickin...

A moment to sit and write!

The weather of late has been nice...cooler...not even needing to run the air at night. Nice weather for cruising! I inherited my sister Lori's car from my other sis, Missy. With a gaggle of chillins and a rather burly hubby, it was not a practical vehicle. Whether permanent or temporary, we don't know yet, but while it is in my possession, I will enjoy it!

For those who read and enjoyed the lightening post, I found a very cool video and added it to my links. You can actually SEE all of the leaders, and the one that makes the connection! WOW!

I can't even begin to describe really how it feels to have construction finished and things back in place in my home! I need to publically thank Randall, Kurt and Bill for their sacrifice and expertise in this huge project! And to the Davis'...let's just say "I owe you big time" LOL...I won't publish the pics here, but you can see them on my facebook page. I have my futon room back, and I love being drawn to that special place of communication and intimacy with God. Of course I know that prayer can happen anywhere at all, and there is nothing "magical" about my futon, but there is something special about having that one place that is sanctified and set apart with that particular intent...seeking Him until He is found!

I am preparing and saving to journey up to Rhode Island in a few weeks to attend my oldest sister's wedding. For their 25th anniversary of being together, they decided to make it official and get married. It is a 17 hour drive, and while I have not totally given up on finding a cool airfare deal, it looks like driving will be my best option. Turns out that my bestest bud Marianne from Chicago will be there at the same time, dropping off her son for college. So having my car will be beneficial in getting around where I need to be.

I have requested that mid-September be my final time of being on a set schedule at the bookstore. That means that the weekends will be mine...I have never ever had a job that did not require Saturday commitments and I really really like the idea! Of course, I will still be around to help out with certain things like doing the billing once a month, but at least I will be able to work on MY terms, as MY schedule permits.

For now, I must go finish up some laundry, and hope to come back and blog again in a more timely manner.

May you be blessed today, wrapped in the arms of the One who loves you beyond words.