Seeking by Susan L.

  Yesterday was spent with my folks, having a lovely visit and enjoying their air conditioning.  
  When I had DNA testing done to find out my heritage, I'd talked to the only mom I've ever known about what she knew regarding my birth. She told me she still had the adoption papers and would gladly give them to me.
  She gave me an envelope yesterday with a kindergarden report card, a few from high school, highland dancing certificates, my baptism and confirmation certificates. There were a ton of memories released.
  Lastly was the original adoption paper. On it is the name I was born under. There's a cauldron of emotion swirling around as a result. There's also the big question about whether or not I want to take it further and actually find the woman who brought me into this world. It's a scary thought. The "what if's" are stampeding.
  Lord, I have no idea why this seems to be so important for me. It's not that I don't love my parents, I truly do. The last thing I want is for this quest of mine to hurt them.
  Maybe it's because there seems to be a desperate need for answers...
  I've been struggling lately with coming to terms with the mental health issues I face every day. It's a cyclical thing that bubbles up every once in a while until, once again, I make peace with it. The med mistake I made earlier this year gave me a glimpse into a life without them. It left me shocked and rather sad.
  That's part of this. I know genetics play a role. I wonder if there's other family members who struggle.
  It's about feeling alone. Simply knowing I've a couple hundred or so living relatives because of a service provided by the DNA testing company, has helped a lot in that regard. Yet, I wonder why the heritage I was adopted into seems, somehow, to be less than mine...
  Lots of deep thinks. Lots of prayer.
  Right now, I think I need to go for a hike.
  "Shepherd Your people with Your staff, the flock of Your heritage." Mic 7:14