Chapters Coming To A Close

When I started my blog years ago in the Notes section of Facebook, I didn't quite realize my need for an outlet. It helped me figure out my knots and tangles so I could see the forest through the trees. 

Now, I am at another crossroads in my life; no; not a crossroads.  Another chapter. another story is unfolding. It's time to close the book on this story and start writing my next one. 

For anyone who has followed me from the start, you know I was at odds with myself, having holes in my life about my adoption. Well, those are all but filled.  I know who my bio parents are, and I have a bio sister and a bio 1/2 sister.  I even have a real heritage and I know I'm a first generation Canadian, whose family  came from Poland. Poland!! (Any of you you knew me through my teens know I have a weakness for Polish guys... But you can even expand that to any Eastern European...yeesh! That explains so much!) 

Mainly, I have closure. So, I have less to discover about myself now, and a far more pressing need to  start the process of aging gracefully. Eat well, nurture spirit, nurture relationships, stay healthy, exercise, all that shit.  It's not shit though. My Grandma Steffler who passed a year and a half ago always said, "if you don't have your health, you don't have much."  It kinda does improve your overall quality of life... However long that might be.  I just know that when I see old people, decrepit and one foot in the grave, I don't want that to be me.  

I might reinvent and resurrect this blog.  I may close it out and start a new one. But thank you for reading it and following my stories and rants and stuff. When I'm ready to write again, I will make it public. 

May you remember to love each other, be kind to others, love yourself and be at peace.  

Julie 

Little Miracles

I have had little miracles my whole life.  Have you?  Are you paying attention to the forces around you that protect you and guide you?
My earliest recollection of an angel watching over me was when I was about 2 or 3.  We had moved into a house my dad built in Elora ON.  It had a walk out basement. My dad had to get on the roof and he had a huge ladder going up the back of the house.  I wanted to climb that ladder.  I was so little, it seemed like the highest point in the world.  I made it up the first rung and when I tried to make the next, my leg wouldn't let me.  It was forceably being pushed down.  I was not making it up that ladder! I tried a few times, and my knee would not get to that second rung.  Oh, hey Gurdian Angel.  There you are.
When I was older, my youngest sister's godmother passed away.  We always had a bond that was inexplicable.  A few weeks later, I was having a hard time; angry, sad, most of my issues around my adoption (the why's, mostly) and I was not able to sleep, though I was so tired.  I whispered "Mary-Lynn, please watch over me." And I felt a heavy duvet fall gently upon me, though nothing had come out of the ceiling at all.  I was safe, warm, and tucked in comfortably, and off to sleep I went.
I have made many choices in my life that should have ended a lot worse than they did.  Guidance. I have amazing parents who always guided me, but as if I would listen.  But sometimes, it resonated, and I would change course again.
These are little miracles; they happen when you least expect it.  Pay attention.  You are loved. You are safe.  And every now and again, you throw your hands up and question "whyyyyyyy??????"  Just trust.  He has you safe, whether it's in the hands of His angels or a gentle nudge by those who love you most.  Trust.  Faith is a beautiful thing.  And love; we only know what our mortal minds can imagine.  It is so strong.  It is ever-present.  It is like nothing else.
I used to read angel books; stories of those who miraculously survived or avoided mishaps.  I always wondered when it would be me.  I believed! They are there, always with us.  Did you ever read the poem, Footprints?  My favourite line (and I'm paraphrasing here,) is 'Lord, why did you leave me in my time of need? And He says My child, that is when I carried you."

Have a Happy Easter.  Spend time with your loved ones and just be in the moment.  Feel the love.

Love and light. 

The Deepest Part of Me

I had a life altering event unfold in the last week and this story is just far too amazing not to share.  Most of the people who know me, know I was adopted. I was a baby, yes; but I was already 9 months old.  Not that I freakishly have any recollection of any of that, but if you have children, think of bonding with that sweet, adorable creation that you made and brought into this world.  And now, think day and night for months wondering if you could give that baby to anyone else to raise.  You're young, you're scared, you don't know anything about what it takes to raise a kid; just that you know if they stay with you, you might have held them back. And what if you think you can give up your baby and then you think you can't, and then you think you can and then you can't, but you have to? So you dress your baby; this baby that you created and love and bonded with; in the cutest outfit you can find. And you take your baby to The Children's Aid Society, and there you are, wishing for anything but this and you ask a stranger to find your baby a good home.  Ugh; I cry just writing this.

Now, here is this nice, young couple who try as they may to start a family, they just can't. All they want is for their love to grow with a little bundle of joy to share their love with. Time and time again there is no pregnancy, but there are doctor appointments and worry and probably some fights; and there is prayer. Always a prayer to God to bless them with a child to share their lives with.

Now imagine if you can, that you fathered this sweet baby and maybe you have a stronger family who thinks they can help raise your baby. And inside, you're compelled to try to take responsibility for this young life you created. You fed your baby, you washed your baby, you dressed your baby, you loved and bonded with your baby. You knew when your baby needed to have a bottle or needed a diaper change, or about a birthmark. Your family loved and bonded with this baby. Your family made sure your baby was baptized and had a big celebration and your sister was your baby's godmother, and there are albums of this baby. But you just can't seem to create your baby a family with its mother and father. You're young, you're scared, and you're trying to be a man, but you just aren't a mom, so you have little say in any of this.

Now, this is that baby. I am that baby. And I know my mom and my dad and my relatives and suddenly my world is flipped and now I don't have a mom and a dad and grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles.  I have a new temporary home and a bunch of people trying to find me a new home.  Where is my mom? My dad? Where's that couch I used to try to pull myself up on? This isn't my home. Where's my bed, my cozy dresser drawer? This doesn't sound like my home. This doesn't smell like my home. But they seem to feed me and care for me, so okay.  I'm a baby. My needs are simple. Oh, now I have a new home. Those nice people who wanted a baby are taking me home and they are over the moon; God blessed them with a baby of their own. They're excited and their family is so much bigger than just them. More grandparents and cousins, and lots and lots of love. But I'm still scared.  I cried for days. I didn't know these nice people just wanted to love me. Who are they?
I grows up knowing I was a special adopted daughter, who's mother loved me so much, she gave to to someone who could give me the life she couldn't. And it becomes my normal. And I get two sisters out of the deal and I have a pretty great life. But I always have questions. I don't know when I first asked my mom and dad about it... I would hazard a guess it was as soon as I could talk and ask "why".  And I asked. A lot.  The "what do you know about them?" Was a common one.  And as I reached adulthood, I asked, "have we missed anything?"  I always felt like a piece or many pieces of me were missing.  I was full of anger about it in my teen years.  I would write, much like I do now, only on paper; letters to Bio-Mom.  Sometimes I would tell her about me. Sometimes I would ask about her. Occasionally I would ask about my dad; who he was, did she love him, did he want me?Mostly I asked why.  Why she didn't want me, why she gave me away, why could she just not handle it.  I was really angry.  I punched holes in my walls because I thought it made me look tough and plus, it felt good. My parents took me to counselling and tried to help me work through my anger.  My counsellor told me I had a fear of rejection because of my adoption. I told him he was full of shit. The nerve of anyone telling me how I felt! What an idiot. As if I gave a shit anyway.  I was too tough to care about his suggestive ideas. I still asked my parents why. Did we know anything else, and did we miss anything. No?  Well I was 16. Maybe I could find something on my own.

Fast forward... This could take ages to really write.  A week ago, I get a reply to a comment I posted on a Facebook page like a year ago, to please check my inbox.  I read about everything I knew, and then some. I read that this is my sister, and we have the same parents.  I also have a 1/2 sister and grandmothers and cousins and aunts and uncles who all knew me.  And I get pictures and requests and stories and info that I never, ever had.  I was loved!  I was always loved, regardless of who I belonged to.  And when I tell my family they cry for me with happiness because now I get to put my missing pieces together.  And my bio-mom did love me and never forgot me, and my bio-dad loves me too and never forgot me and I have a sister!  And I have roots! Real roots! I am Julie Marie Steffler, and I'm still a loved, missing piece of a family, named Christine.