0315021444Later, we gathered for a while in my birth mother, Vi’s, home. It was a lovely old home she was renovating, built on land that rolled slightly, with a front porch on both stories. Definitely the kind of home I would have chosen.

There, I met my half-brother, Bo, whom I loved on sight, my mother’s closest friend, Mary, and dear, dear, Uncle Giles, who is sweet to me to this day. I’m not sure if I met more that day or the following day- I do remember being dizzy with joy throughout the week-end at the unexpected love reception I was encountering and so mentally, emotionally, and physically tired I could hardly stand it.

Other than my discomfort at being an ‘oddity’ to my newly found family, the first day had gone beautifully. But our time wasn’t over; I still had another day with a southern-style family barbeque in Vi’s backyard. I think she invited the whole world to this! I don’t remember going back to the Bed and Breakfast or going to sleep. I think I hit the bed with eyes closed and brain unplugged.

The following day, I was determined not to allow my nerves to overtake me. I knew there would be more people to meet, more to question, more stares to encounter. I knew I wouldn’t remember names, and I was aware that there had been those (two in particular) who did not welcome my visit. If provoked, would I give them a piece of my mind or would I choose the more peaceful, risky road of winning them over?  By the grace of God, I won them over.

That day, I walked in a surreal world wishing I could record every second of it. It was a banner day for Vi as well. I had been told that in the past, back yard family cook-outs had been the norm, but Shed had grown to dislike them and eventually put a stop to them. But when God reunited us, Vi held her ground concerning my visit, and although Shed didn’t like the idea of the visit or barbeque, he must have seen her determination because he conceded.

I wasn’t hurt by his attitude; I had learned well ahead that there would likely be some in any family that wouldn’t be able to welcome a ‘bastard child’ into their fold. But in his case, it had nothing to do with family pride and everything to do with sharing Vi. To him, I was just an additional body that threatened to take her away. There’s far more to his sour story, but by the end of the day, he was asking me when I was coming back, and that’s all that really matters.

In my next post, I’ll tell a bit about handling the naysayers. They do exist and they can be tamed. In the meantime, check out this page. If you are here and don’t understand what the big deal is about finding birth parents, this may help shed some light.


Current posts tell the chronological story of Cindy’s search. (Names, places changed for family privacy.) Get up to date by clicking here, then read the posts in order, beginning at the bottom of the page. It is the author’s hope that readers find encouragement, inspiration and knowledge for their own journey.