Tonight I said goodbye to a father I never knew or met.

I’m an adopted child, raised by two wonderful Christian parents who treated me as their own, who loved and cared for me and my siblings unconditionally, and who never concealed the fact that I was an adopted child. They treated my birth mother with great respect, though they didn’t know her nor her situation until only a few years before their own deaths, but who always said she must have loved you dearly to give you up when she couldn’t care for you. I contacted my birth mother in 1989 and we finally met in 2004.

I knew little about my birth father until around five years ago and when I attempted to contact him, but he turned down the offer. I was reconciled to that right away, knowing that there could be complicating circumstances in his life making it impossible for him to meet me, or that too much time had passed under the bridge and he had just moved on from it all. Regardless, I was at peace with it all.

Then last week, one of his family members contacted me and said that he had been hospitalized, which is always serious when you’re in your 90’s, and that he had asked about me. So they reached out to me to see if I was interested in coming to see him (in Canada), and if so, it would probably need to be soon. I had not made up my mind whether or not I would try to quickly get a passport and make the trek up when I was suddenly contacted today, told that he had recently fallen, and didn’t have long to live. The person who contacted me said that if I wanted to record a message to him on Facebook Messenger, she would be sure to play it for him if he was still around when I sent it.

And so I did. I told him who I was, that I was raised by loving Christian parents, that I’m married, a pastor and have four children and soon to be 10 grandchildren, and that everything turned out well for me. I told him that I think kindly of him, that I’m praying for him, and then the timer ran out…FB only allows you a minute recording.

A minute of contact in 67 years…and that’s if it even makes it before he passes.

Though I certainly feel some sadness, as I said, I’m at peace with all of this. I credit how my parents raised me and handled the subject. And though I was always curious about my past and welcomed the chance to possibly meet my birth parents (who did not marry), it wasn’t because I had some deep need or a hole to fill in my heart or life. When I searched out my birth mom, I had three goals in mind. I wanted her to know I was okay, I always imagined she wondered what happened to me. Secondly, I wanted to know if she knew the love of God that I knew. And lastly, if we could meet, that would be awesome, if not, I would be okay with that, my life is good. It's good that I was okay with that since I had to wait 15 years from the time I first made contact with her until we met.

So tonight I said goodbye to my birth father. God bless him. God bless his family. And God has blessed me.

Praying for the fatherless all over the world tonight. God bless.

Steve

This article was written by my golf buddy and the youth Pastor at the church I attended, Pastor Steve Worsham.

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