Yeah, I am Adopted

Imagine a picture of a family, standing next to a home. This family consists of a father, mother, two brothers and three sisters. Each other them have beautiful brownish blonde hair, round faces and similar smiles. They are dressed in matching outfits, groomed to the best of their mothers ability, and all very aware of their fathers eyes monitoring them constantly. They have taken this picture before, so it seems like artwork as they line up and take their positions. Then you notice a small boy in the front, he has dark hair and olive skin. He does not match the rest of the family features but yet you just know that he belongs in that photo. That small boy was me.

Many of you know that I am adopted. But there are also many of you that do not know that about me. My mother used to introduce me as her "Ready-made" baby. This topic has been something that for most of my life has been extremely hard for me to discuss. To this day, I remember the feelings that I had when I found out, where I was and what occurred. I was about in the 4th grade, I was sitting in gym class. My brother was being a teachers aid or helping with something in the gym. My brother was the star athlete at our school, so of course I was more than proud that he was there. As I was sitting with my back against the wall, a girl slide next to me, this girl was in a higher grade than me. She was not any one that I normally would have spoken to, but for some reason that day she did. She slide over and proudly said, "Thats not your brother". Of course I was confused, a little defensive and then finally after she repeated it over and over I became upset. Who would say something like that? And who was this girl that would say these things to me? Flustered and confused, the final bell at school was my shining savior for the day. I went home still upset, where I found my mother. In tears I told her what had happened. Then the conversation that changed my life occurred.

I was adopted. To me, at such young age, I thought I was the biggest rejection ever known. It was such a feeling of sadness and emptiness. It was one of the worst feelings that I have ever known, and I hope to never be able to feel that again.

My mother never went into details and to this day, I do not know of my biological mother or father. My parents know who they are and I am also pretty sure that my brothers and sisters know. I probably should know, but the desire that most people would have seems to desert me. It just does not seem applicable to me in any way or form. My mother spoke to me about how I should think of the word, "adopted", as a special word. That it meant something so much better than what I was portraying it as. But as a young kid, it just did not seem to work. Years went by, I eventually hid my feelings in the past and never mentioned it to anyone. I would avoid the common questions of it like the plague. Constantly finding ways to get out of the people constant questions about me compared to my sisters. I became good at it. I graduated, left the small town that I grew up in and moved to North Texas. There I met the family that made me fully understand how important being adopted was.

Jane and Wallis Winegar were new move-ins to the town. They brought with them their family from California, it consisted of two boys and three girls. Each one of them looking completely different from the next. Soon I became friends with this family, learned of their life and how they came to be. They have all but one adopted child. They have fostered even more children that I can even remember them telling me of. Their lives have been dedicated to service in the church and their family. There, by following their example I learned that being a family is not about blood relation, but being grounded in love, honesty and respect for each other. I learned not to be ashamed of where I came from, but love the fact, that I was there at that moment, having a life with wonderful parents and a family.

From that point on being adopted was something that I was proud of. I came to the realization that I was given a chance at life. I realized that my life was great. I understood that me being where I was; was exactly what was supposed to happen. I was actually proud of my life's path.

Today I still feel the same. I still know just as little as I was told when I was in the 4th grade. It does not really matter to me though. Still people ask me, "Do you ever want to find your real parents". I use the same response in telling them, "Why? My life is so great, why would I want anything else?"

And really? How could I ask for anything better than what I was given?

"Because I have been given much, I too must give."

Yeah, I am adopted. Its wonderful.


To my biological mother, Thank you for making the choice to keep my life.

To Jane and Wallis, Thank you for showing me a family can take any form.

To my one true Mom, Thank you for making me the way I am.