In this engaging conversation, Alana Nicol opens up about her personal journey through adoption, both as an adopted child and as an adoptive parent. She shares the unique challenges and joys that come with being part of an adoptive family, emphasizing the importance of open communication and connection. Alana discusses her daughter’s experience, the cultural dynamics they navigate, and the evolving nature of identity in their lives. Throughout the conversation, she provides valuable insights and advice for those considering or already involved in adoption, encouraging openness, understanding, and the embracing of diverse family narratives.
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She is Not the Victor!
Today makes 10 days
since the DNA test was sent in. It feels as slow as molasses.
This isn’t my first rodeo with waiting on a DNA test and one thing I have learned is that the only
way to stay half way sane is by immersing myself in activity.
It’s difficult to not
think about the results 24/7.
Lucky for me, I lead a pretty busy life all the time. There’s
always plenty of work beckoning me for my job as well as things at home and
school. We’ve been on a staycation this week but there has still been constant cooking, cleaning, and we’ve been doing some special projects. Since I have five book reviews due in the next 10 days for school, I’m pretty immersed
in that as well, When you’re in grad
school it doesn’t matter what else is happening — you just stick with it if you’re going to finish. Over the last few years, even if it’s been my most hectic work week, or I’ve been on the road for work, or someone has died, or anything really – school work has to go on if I’m going to succeed with it.
Livvy has been with us
this week and that has been good for me too. I’ve taken her swimming a few
times, and we went putt putt golfing. It’s easy to get taken up with anything
she’s involved in, as I treasure every moment with her.We went to a new Mediterranean restaurant in the area that was out of this world. She’s an extremely picky eater and even she loved it.
I’ve heard that Covid
19 has slowed down some of the results from getting in as fast with the various DNA companies but I’m hoping
that doesn’t happen.
If it’s a match, I have
so many plans I don’t even know where to start first!! (Except screaming with
glee.) I’m already planning a party, as well as a visit to Richmond.
If it’s not a match, I’ll
probably be numb about it for a day or two. Hopefully it’s not a day I have to preach but
if it is, it’ll be okay. I tend to do alright even in that case as I lean on
the Lord even more than I normally would. And that’s always a win!
I know I’m going to be
okay no matter the outcome. I’m just really, really tired of the same outcome
for 54 years. This has been going on for so long. I’m ready for victory over the not knowing.The not knowing is the worst.
When my bio mother
died, Michele, an adoptee friend who is a strong Christian, simply wrote five words on
my Facebook page, “She is not the victor!” That stuck with me.
Hundreds of people were
writing on my page, texting me, calling me when I posted that she had died. Most of
them were upset, not just that she died but because they realized that when she
died she took the secret to the grave with her. They all assumed (and they were right) that I
was feeling all hope was gone. If I had to characterize the main thing I felt, that was it. Hope was lost. Michele’s declaration was what I needed to hear
in that moment. It held me for the months following and it holds me now. Anytime I get really discouraged I think to myself, “She is NOT the victor!!”And I remind myself, I’m actually still alive.I’m still here. And I’m not giving up!”I remind myself that while she took the secret to the grave with her, that’s where she is — in a grave. I’m still walking the planet, and I’m still searching and I’ve got great people with me who are also committed to the search. I remind myself – IT’S NOT OVER. She doesn’t get to write the end of the story. And when I do get a DNA match, I may
even get a cake at Publix that says, “She is not the victor!”
Adoption and Coming to a Place of Peace
“The odds are that everyone sitting in this classroom today
will not make it through this course. Some of you will drop out because it will
become uncomfortable to deal with the issues that will be brought up in
this class.”
This was said by my professor this past semester in a
Christian counseling course I took as part of my bridge work toward my
doctorate.
The professor was right. I recall three people who dropped out
mid-way through the course. And among those who didn’t, it became emotional
at times. I cried during two of the lectures and I remember glancing over at my
colleague who is another minister about my age – a big strong man. There he sat
at his desk with his head in his hands, handkerchief up to his eyes, weeping.
What was going on? A considerable amount of processing our past.
It isn’t always easy for adoptees to come to a place of peace regarding our past, or even our present, when it comes to our adoption. For some adoptees, they can’t imagine it. Until recently I would have been among that number. I experienced what is known among adoptees as “coming out of the fog” in 2012. Thanks to a lot of counseling and support I’ve come a long way since then. I would characterize myself as having peace in my life in general, but as far as having peace regarding my life circumstances surrounding my adoption, not so much. Recently though, things have shifted and I’m ready to share. Warning: this is going to be a long post. 🙂
In times past, I couldn’t imagine myself getting to the fifth
step of what is known as the Adoption-Reconstruction Phase Theory. Here is a
graphic created by Amanda at the Declassified Adoptee that helps to understand
what it is:
I remember first glancing at this theory years ago and thinking,
“Yeah…right.” I spent a lot of time the past seven years between steps three and four, teetering toward five but never getting there. As much
as I wanted to believe I would someday be at peace regarding my adoption
journey it did seem elusive. I couldn’t reconcile the actions of some people and where God was in all of it. Going there in mind at all would take me to a very dark place.
I now find myself on the fifth step, most days. I say most
days because I believe there are times, taking triggers into
consideration, that it’s common to flux between the steps on occasion.
There are three things in addition to the eight months of Christian counseling I initially underwent that helped me in getting from
step three to step five. The first thing that helped was two Christian counseling classes I took this summer. Adoption was never mentioned in the classes. But I gleaned a lot that I applied to my struggles.
I
realize a lot of people have no interest in taking
continuing education courses or they may not be able to afford it. That
is
understandable. I
anticipated receiving knowledge but was surprised at coming to a place
of peace regarding adoption. Being a student in the Christian Counseling class and gleaning insight on helping others, helped me too in my own personal life.
The second thing that was beneficial was a theology class where the
professor asked all of us what theological concept we struggled with the most.
We were permitted to choose our own topic for a final research paper and I
purposely based mine on my greatest theological struggle. Working on that for a few months helped me
wrestle with a lot of the “whys” I never thought I would be able to fully reconcile. Questions like, “Where was God in all this?” “Did He feel pain?” and “Was he sad too, over my losses?”
I consoled myself many times with what I thought were the answers to these questions, but honestly I had never drilled down to answer the questions theologically once and for all. I told myself what I wanted to hear a lot of the time, to stay sane. Believing that God could have “planned this for me from the very foundations of the world” as I had been told more than once, and that he may have no feelings for my losses in the matter was unthinkable to me. I set out to find out the truth. My final paper was on The Doctrine of the Impassibility of God: God Can Have Feelings Without Freaking Out. (I didn’t write the title until I completed my research.) My faith was greatly bolstered, in what I discovered.
As I studied, I was reminded: God is not a human being. He is spirit. (John 4:24) Almighty
God is not limited in his attributes as mankind is. The fact that God can feel
grief or sadness does not mean he is also subject to emotional instability.
First, not every human being becomes emotionally unstable when he or she is sad
or grieved. Surely the God of the universe can feel without becoming unstable.
Second, God is not limited in his attributes as humans are. We are not measured
on the same scale. Scripture says of God: “For my thoughts are not your
thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are
higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than
your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:8-9 KJV)
God is a spirit and yet he has thoughts. It is not required
for him to have a physical body to have a thought. This lends itself to the
notion that a spirit who can have a thought would also have capability to have
a feeling. God has ability to do anything but contradict his own laws. It is no
contradiction of his laws that he possesses the ability to feel. God’s capability to feel does not mean that
he is subject to out-of-control mood swings. God has the capacity to be sad but
not shaken. People sometimes have a difficult time picturing one who is sad but
not shaken, but God is beyond what our minds cannot conceive and can do what we
could never do.
Scripture reveals that he is touched when observing our
sufferings, yet still holds the power to redeem all. “In all their affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence
saved them: in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; and he bare them, and
carried them all the days of old.” (Isaiah 63:9 KJV)
I have come to terms that God allows things in our broken, fallen world that sometimes make Him very sad. And all along, He carries us. I learned so much in my counseling courses as well as in writing my theology paper about the love of God — a new level than what I had known before.
Pastor Linda & Me
The third thing that helped me was having some talks with my
friend, Pastor Linda Klippenstein, who is one of the pastors at our church.
From time to time we meet for coffee and talk things over about life and ministry. One day I was processing some things with her about seeing the very dark side of leadership and how to move through that and she gave me thoughts on coming face to face with the dark side of humanity in general. Our talks were not about adoption, but as she spoke wisdom into my life about the topic of the dark side of humanity, I began to consider it regarding my own family
both biological and adopted and my situation as a whole and it gave me some new perspective.
I don’t write here to just share what’s swirling around in my mind
but to encourage others. So, here’s the takeaway…
Don’t be afraid to wrestle. Go to the hard places and share your feelings, thoughts, fears, questions with God. Purposely go to the challenging area
sand grapple with the most distressing parts of your life and beliefs. Staying in
the fog is so much easier in the short-run and that’s why millions of adoptees do it. It’s
harder to force yourself to examine every angle there is and come to grips with what you really believe.
It helps to stay connected and open. Neither my professor
or my pastor-friend are adopted or have any close connections to adoption. But
they have both impacted my thinking about walking through the most troublesome
parts of life and arriving at a place of peace.
This post is not a how-to. We all have our own journey. My encouragement today is simply to keep your heart open and press on.
So, with all of this…long-term readers may wonder — do I still long to discover the paternal side of my family?
Yes, of course. But it is no longer robbing my peace.
Adopted and Searching: Today I’m Venting
I’ve got to get this
off my chest, so here goes.
Usually I do not use
this blog to vent, but to share my journey, educate, and open people’s minds to
another way of understanding life adopted. But today, I’m ready to rant.
So this week I met a
man. His name is Kenny. He’s the nicest man in the world. I’ll take it further –
he’s not just nice, he’s amazing. When I take my next trip to Virginia, I’ll be
stopping off to have coffee with Kenny, for sure.
It’s amazing how in just a week’s time
you can connect on a deep level with someone. I’m part of a Facebook group that is made up of people from my natural mother’s hometown. I joined in hopes that someone there would know something and help me. These people have been so kind and generous to me, trying to do anything it takes to help me with my search. It was recommended by some of them that I talk to Kenny. His family lived only a few doors down from my natural mom’s family and they are very well known in town. Not only that but his 94 year old mom is still alive and has a mind as sharp as a tack.
Kenny doesn’t
have a Facebook page, and he doesn’t even text! He’s one of those rare people
in the world unconnected to social media of any kind. But, when I called he
already knew who I was, because so many people on the Facebook page had told him my
story.
Kenny immediately
welcomed me into his life and his heart and wanted to help me. He wants so
badly for me to find my natural father. He wants to do anything it takes to
make that happen. So far on his own suggestion he has not called but driven to
and stopped by several people’s homes to talk to them about the situation…people
he feels certain know something. On Thursday night he actually went to the nursing home to talk to his mom about my situation. He implored her, “Mom, keep thinking about this. If you remember anything, no matter how small…please let me know so we can help Deanna.”
“You deserve a Christmas miracle,” he says. “You deserve to
find your Daddy…” he says. “I know if this was my Daddy, I’d want to find him.
Who can’t understand that?” he says.
By now you are wondering what in the heck I am here to vent
about. Here goes…
On my journey I have met several people
who have been willing to help me at this level and in some cases beyond. Many
people I have cold-called have actually taken DNA tests for me. They have immediately opened their hearts and their homes to me. Numerous people
took my cold call, talked to me for weeks or months, and after meeting me said,
“Oh my God! I hope you’re my sister!” or “I’m hanging on waiting for the DNA results hoping you’re my cousin!” or “We’re already planning a family reunion to
introduce you!” I’ve been through this again and again…with people who just
days or weeks ago were STRANGERS and are now among my cadre of friends!
What I’m venting about is that the people who DON’T have the information are most often
the most amazing, loving, nicest people in the world. And the people that DO
have the information? I can’t even say here what they are without losing my
ministerial credentials!!! I can’t even describe them without God Almighty
telling me to watch my language!!!
The people who DO have the information can be the nastiest people
on the planet.
WHY? WHY? WHY?
One of the people in my natural (maternal) family who I am sure knows more than they are telling is always posting stuff on social media about kindness. Stuff like this:
I wish they would stop posting stuff they really don’t believe or practice. They aren’t kind. If they withhold information about who and where people come from they are NOT KIND. They are not nice.
Truthfully it’s starting to concern me a little bit that if my
natural father’s family already knows about me, they may be included among the mean people who hoard information and don’t want to know their own flesh and blood.
Why are some people WITH information so mean? Why do they feel it is their right to withhold information from people who by all human rights should know where they come from?
If you are reading this and you are holding information from anyone whose pain could be taken away by you sharing it, can I implore you to please give up your mean card and tell them what they need to know? What they deserve to know?
Kenny brought me to tears on Thursday. I was leaving work when
he called. He had a phone number of somebody he felt it would be helpful for me
to call. I let him know I was driving home from work and asked if he could text
me the number. “Remember, I don’t text,” he said. Can you get a pen and pull
over?” I promptly pulled over into a church parking lot nearby…the “Church at
the Mall” in Lakeland, Florida. Sitting there I took down the name and number
of the person he wanted me to call that night. A few minutes later after I wrote down the information and was still talking to him, I pulled
back out of the parking lot onto Memorial Boulevard and he said, “Deanna, when
all this is over, will you call me sometimes, just to let me know you’re okay?”
[Insert tears here.]