Today I pray for one of the kindest, most understanding souls I know. I know she’s this way because of what she’s lived through. She was adopted at age 7. Think on that.

I don’t know her all that well, really. But I know her husband and that counts for something. He has told me the story of her adoption, and how things came about for her. Today he shared a little more.

She is in her late fifties, so if you think foster care and orphanages are depressing and underfunded now, imagine what it was like sixty years ago. Imagine being a little girl in one of these places. Imagine Annie, if you can’t imagine anything else. Luckily for this little girl, a Daddy Warbucks did come along. And he and his wife took the little girl to town and bought her lunch, and ice cream, and a trinket. Imagine it being the first time you ever had a notion of being spoiled. But really it was just being cared for. The sun was on your face and you walked hand in hand with a pretty lady in a flowered dress and hat and heels. And imagine your joy when you came back to the home and the big man declared he was taking you home, to go get your things. Home, as in his home. YOUR new home.

That simply wasn’t done.

But this was sixty years ago and he made it happen. Because that’s the kind of man he was. He made things happen. Right Then. And he wanted you to be his little girl, forever and always. Because after just a few hours in his presence, you brightened his day and made his heart swell to ten times its size with love and he just knew that nothing would ever top you and your smile.

Well, that was the way she remembered it, anyway. And she still has the little toy that he bought her all those years ago.

When her daddy passed on, she found her adoption papers, and turns out, that really is what happened. How wonderful for your memories to match up with facts.

She also remembered asking for a brother. She remembers being told by her parents that they tried. As an adult, she thought she remembered having a brother, but she couldn’t be sure. She thought maybe she’d just wished for one. And with her adoption papers, she found that she had indeed had a sibling. And that her daddy DID try. They tried and tried. But he couldn’t be got.

But she found him. He still couldn’t be “got”. People grow up and sometimes things don’t work out like fairy tales. And now, she’s found her sister.

And that’s why I pray.

She wants blood family. And who wouldn’t? Those of us who are surrounded by a multitude of aunts and uncles and cousins and brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews may find it suffocating sometimes, but try to picture it the other way. If you didn’t have anybody who knew your stories from before you could remember them. No one to say you looked just like your grandmother when she was that age. Or the way you stand, all the Hicks’ stand like that (hands on hips, if you’re wondering). Wouldn’t that be a void? So I hope that with this sibling, she gets some verification in her life. I pray that it works out just as she wants it to.

Lord, I know that the life you gave my friend is better than what she could have ever hoped to have through her birth mother. I thank you for all the blessings you have bestowed on her through the years, with generous, loving parents who made every way in the world for her. I thank you for her doting, patient husband, who continues to do his best work to provide for her. I thank you for her children, who appreciate all the things she does for them daily. And I also thank you for her grandchildren, that have come into this earth knowing exactly who their people are, and always will. I pray for my friend to get peace through answers. I pray for her sister to embrace this new relationship and that they can comfort each other and begin a life together finally. I pray for everyone to mesh seamlessly, for no harsh words or negative thoughts to cross minds. I just want her to feel full and aware and be content. Yes, I pray mainly for contentment. You don’t always give us what we want–or think we want–for good reason. Let us all bear that in mind as we go through our days. It’s hard to remember. But we live for you, Lord, not for our wants and desires. I thank you for this spring day, and everything coming up new again. I thank you for those who toil and the minds that envision. I thank you for the hands that mend and heal, and I thank you for the farmers. I am always and forever grateful for the farmers. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

For her, I gave up breakfast. I can’t begin to imagine what life was like those early years in the home. I don’t know that she always had a warm breakfast, or any kind of breakfast at all. I don’t know if she got to have a bath everyday, or someone to braid her hair to keep it out of her eyes. I doubt she had anyone to hold her hand or rock her to sleep or tell her she was loved. And that’s what we all need. But I could give up breakfast for her. I could not eat, but I still know where my next meal is coming from. I know where I would lay my head tonight. I know who my blood kin are, alive and dead, and I know where to find them if I want to see them. I know their phone numbers, and the color of their eyes, and their health conditions. I know them in a pack of strangers with their back turned to me.

I know my family.

And for that, I am fortunate.

Love from Appalachia,

Amy xoxo