Welcome to February and our topic this month at FACETS: Have you found your family?  Our hope and prayer is we all grow in our ability to connect and relate with others.  May our writing this month encourage you to step forward boldly in your own relationships.  Stop by each week this month to see what Jen, Kim, and our guest contributor have to say on the topic of finding family. Let this February be full of LOVE.  We’re excited to see and hear what God does in your relationships, so let us know.

Out of the blue, but not beyond God’s sovereign timing, I received an email that has the potential to change my life.

Early last winter, I took a DNA test.  My initial thought was, it would be great to understand what nationality I am. Being adopted, I didn’t know.

I’m 50. Why bother exploring my ancestry? Does it really matter where we come from?

My answer to that question is, “yes”.  Understanding our history helps us fulfill our destiny.  When we don’t know who we are, it wreaks havoc on who we can become.

Before I became a believer in Christ, the not knowing really messed with me.  I wouldn’t have been able to articulate this in words, but I had major attachment issues.  If my own father didn’t want me, who would?  It’s a hard thing when a little girl doesn’t think her daddy loves her.  The thing she fears most is rejection, of not being loved.

With God’s help, I’ve grown to learn my daddy’s absence had nothing to do with me.

One of the sweetest gifts I received as a result of accepting Jesus in my heart is the knowledge of His acceptance.  He acknowledges me as His daughter. He comforts me. He holds me. He wipes away every tear. He celebrates every joy. He is sweet, loving, kind, and generous. Trustworthy─and I need that! He fills the deep well of my heart and soul with the knowledge I am dearly loved by my Father in heaven.  He abides in my heart. His love changed me. His love healed me. His love helped me see my biological father through eyes of compassion.

God helped (and helps) me navigate abandonment and attachment issues.  He reminds me He is Immanuel, God with us–God with me. Always. To the end of the age.

Perhaps because of the confidence I have in knowing I am a daughter of the Most High, cherished and dearly loved, I had the courage to listen to God’s prompting.  Apparently, God thought the timing was “now” to understand more of my history.  So I purchased the DNA kit. Nervous and excited to learn my family history, I did the unglamorous bit of surrendering my saliva to the scientists who would help me understand more about who I am, where I come from.  History to help connect the dots.

The ancestry email came back with surprising results.  I always thought I had a lot more Irish in my DNA, what with my dark hair and freckles (without the rather cool Irish accent).  Come to find out, I am only a wee bit Irish; 8% to be exact.  I’m also 14% German with the bulk of my bloodline descending from England, Wales and Northwestern Europe.  Who knew?  I might be more British than my friend who came from Great Britain (and has the cool accent to go along with the ancestry).  I had a scone the last time I was at Starbucks if that counts for anything.

Have you ever thought something your whole life only to find out it wasn’t true?

I wasn’t Irish (or not that much). I wasn’t abandoned. I was dearly loved. I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know who her family was.

Right about the same time I sent my DNA for analysis, my cousin had done the same.  She too didn’t grow up in the Bennett clan, but shared the same genetic makeup.  Karen was adopted as well. Small world. Very small world.  She lives not too far from me. She also sells real estate (weird, right?). She seems adventurous, so we have that in common too.

I’m grateful to Karen, because she reached out delicately suggesting we might be related.  Cautiously, thoughtfully, she couched her first connection with a lot of maybe and might language. “We might be related.”  She mentioned names I recognized.  I knew a hint of family history. She spoke about those things carefully.

We have a coffee date planned. I look forward to connecting face-to-face.

My cousin already gave me a gift, and it’s not even Christmas!  You see, I have a sister. I knew about her. I met her once, after our father’s funeral when I was in high school. It’s a long story for another time, perhaps. The short story is I met my biological father once, and then he passed away not long thereafter.

I met his entire family at his funeral. He is one of 11 children with a sea of relatives. Between the roil of emotion inside me and the sheer volume of Bennetts, that day will forever go down in my mind as one of overwhelm (even as I was happy to finally meet the family I’d been so curious about).

It almost felt like I was watching a play: lots of unfamiliar characters and more than a little drama.

That day became one I set on a shelf, safely away from having to process through all those emotions.

My sister and I are six years apart, but our lives have been miles apart. Literally. She lives in France. I knew that. My grandmother on my mom’s side had shared the news with me a number of years ago.  When I found out, I tried to reach out to her, but I didn’t have any luck connecting.  I thought she didn’t want to, and I wanted to respect her wishes and not encroach upon her life if she wasn’t in that place – able to risk a relationship with a sister who also happened to be a stranger.

I had shared with my cousin that I’d tried to reach out to my sister to no avail. Perhaps, because my cousin knows what it feels like to have siblings you don’t know, she gave me the gift of my sister.  She shared with my sister what I had conveyed via email and my sister reached out via Facebook.  This is one of those times when social media serves a good cause, it’s original cause, to connect people.

My sister’s name is Laura. She never knew I tried to reach out. She never got the message.

You know what I think about that?

I think it just wasn’t time.  Perhaps, she wouldn’t have been prepared for it. Perhaps, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.  But now? Now is the time.

Now is the time to get to know this person you have a strong desire to get to know, because you share something, even if there are no shared memories.  There’s a sibling bond in spite of it all.  The desire to connect pulls you into places of courage and vulnerability.

Laura and I arranged for a time to talk via video chat. I was nervous. After all, the last time she and I spoke she was in 4^th grade. Now, she is 44.  An entire life lived by her and by me.

My biggest fear was our time together would be awkward and uncomfortable.  Again, God was helping me with my fear of rejection and abandonment by bringing me my sister and having me risk those very things.  What if she didn’t like me? What if we couldn’t connect? What if the whole thing was just too weird?

What if? What if? What if?

Have you ever had those “what if” moments, but “went for it” anyway?  If not, I encourage you to do so. You might receive a blessing when you do.

I decided I was going to go for broke and put myself out there, really me, really out there. No pretending. No posturing. No saying what I thought someone wanted me to say. Speaking from my heart. Speaking of hopes and dreams. Sharing. Authentically sharing.

It was no coincidence I was reading Dare to Lead by Brene’ Brown. Her book Daring Greatly had started me on this journey of vulnerability, overcoming shame, and being loved well like the Velveteen Rabbit whose fur was completely rubbed off.  He looked a little scruffy, but he was so loved.  That is me – emotionally scruffy, but so well loved.

I could be vulnerable and let my sister see my emotionally scruffy, yet well-loved side.

The day before our conversation was scheduled, I prayed. A lot.

I prayed God would help us connect with one another in spite of only one shared memory: the day we met, eating chicken under a white gazebo near the lake.  Our brave moms orchestrated that meeting for us.  Two different moms, same dad. Laura and I shared the fiery, feisty Bennett DNA.  In the nature versus nurture scenario, I can attest to the nature part being true.  From everything I’ve ever heard, there’s a whole lot of spunk coursing through our veins.

I prayed our video chat wouldn’t be weird and uncomfortable. It wasn’t.  Because we were both brave and showed our real selves.

At one point Laura did the sweetest thing, she was extremely sensitive to how I would receive her sharing memories about our father with me.  You see, she got the daddy I wanted and she knew that.  She didn’t want to hurt me by sharing too much.  She was daddy’s little girl until he passed.   And, of course, I would have wanted that too. Of course, that is true.  However, by the time Laura came along our father had six more years to mature from the time I was born.  He was in a different place, and I’m very glad my sister has these sweet memories of him.

I’m glad my sister was brave enough to share them with me, because she gave me a gift: glimpses of him. He was sweet to her. He read with her. (I love to read too.) She shared his military picture with me, and for some reason, seeing him in uniform made me cry. Perhaps, it’s because he looked brave too.

God’s timing is everything.  Perhaps, if I weren’t so grounded in the deep, immeasurable love for me I wouldn’t have been able to handle hearing those memories. But I am different today from that young girl who met her father’s family at his funeral.  I am strong, emotionally strong, because God has strengthened me.  His love filled (and fills) my need for love and acceptance.

Because of that, I could handle hearing Laura’s heart, her memories.  Her courage to share them with me, coupled with her sensitivity in how she shared them, served to endear her to my heart.

God connected my heart to hers because she was so compassionate (among other things).

I was grateful Laura shared her true self.  I explained to her I didn’t want her to have to sensor what she said. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be getting to know the real her.  If I wanted to get to know my real sister, then I needed to give her “permission” to be her real self.

I want to know my sister. I want to hear about her life. I want to share with her about mine.  That takes vulnerability. That takes risk. But love says, it’s worth it!

I could write for a long time about that first, lengthy video chat.  There was so much joy in our conversation, I think for us both, even as we talked about difficult things at times.  My heart felt rich and full to overflowing. Connection will do that.

God answered my prayer. He connected my heart to my sisters’, and it wasn’t weird one bit.  There was a bond, not quite explainable, but evidenced during our engagement.

I wish she lived closer, but perhaps this feisty, fiery, 50 year old adventurous “Bennett girl” will have the perfect excuse to fly half way around the world and meet another feisty, fiery, 44 year old adventurous “Bennett girl”.  If and when she does, this big sis will fling her arms around little sis and say, “It’s so good to see you!”

Because that’s what you do when you find your family.

Whether you grew up knowing your family your whole life, or you were adopted like me, how can you grow to learn more about who you are by understanding your family history?

Understanding our history helps us fulfill our destiny. There are lessons to learn, mistakes to avoid, and hopefully familial wisdom to draw upon that will help us become the best version of ourselves.  I pray God helps you understand when the time is right.  I pray He reveals what He wants you to learn about Him, yourself, and others. I pray you know as a child of God, you ARE a part of family─His! And He loves you beyond measure!!

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