Recently, I attended a weekend conference called Building Creative Communities. It took place in a small community which has become a very successful demonstration of local people investing their lives in making their home a thriving place to live. The annual three-day conference is a sharing of what it takes.
Storytelling from the hearts of local lore, transformed into a community theater presentation, has been the key to success in Colquitt, GA. One of the two days of workshops was the creation of a story telling presentation which was then presented in the evening. Everyone had great stories, only a few were chosen. Our day's workshop creation was to tell stories about losing our power and/or gaining our power.
One of my stories was chosen. I have written about this story at length, but never considered the possibility of telling it on stage. While the idea was to have others tell the author's story, no one felt they could tell my story as well as I could. So, I resigned myself, reluctantly, to narrate my story while others acted it out. This is what I said on stage:
Fifty years ago, when I was 19, I gave up my daughter to adoption. I did this against my will. It is what you did those days when daddy didn't have a shot gun. So, I did what was expected. I closed the door, stuffed it down, sucked it up and went on to live a powerless life.
45 years later, the first item on my retirement bucket list was to find my daughter and reunite with her. I had tried fruitlessly in earlier years. This time I searched the Internet. She was also searching for me. After locating her on a registry and completing some permission paperwork. it was done.
I came home one day, opened my email and saw a message which read, "Regarding our Relationship". It was from my daughter. As I read it, I got goose bumps and became breathless with disbelief. She wanted to know all about me and told me a lot about herself. While I was replying, the phone range. I answered and the voice at the other end said, "This is your daughter. I couldn't wait. I hope you want to know me."
We talked excitedly and before hanging up we arranged to meet the following week.
I boarded a plane Monday. We met on a beach on Wednesday, running into an embrace as soon as we spotted each other. I'm sure I said, "Welcome home baby girl!"
In this moment, I felt that this was all I was waiting for all of my life ever since the day we parted.
This was my dream come true.
In the following months, we talked and emailed back and forth, getting to know each other a little better each time.This reunion was positive and - All Is Well.
Eventually, I was able to connect with her father, who was fairly easy to fine on the web and all of us got to know each other a bit on facebook and email.
A year ago, we both met her father. It was also a very positive week as we all shared our experiences and noticed who resembled who and why. As we went our separate ways, we promised to stay in touch. Again - All Is Well.
As a p.s., I have to tell you this.
(1) My daughter and I are beginning a loving friendship which slowly is growing as a strong bond.
(2) I also carried, however subdued, a yearning for the three of us all these years.There before my eyes during that week, I experienced the image I was holding for so long, of that young handsome dude and his sexy chick, dissolve away into nothing. What was there, in reality, was a now powerful old broad, a beautiful lovely and precious daughter, and a -yes, still handsome and debonair - old fart! All Is Well.
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| Myself and the lovely woman who played my daughter today |
Now, I have to tell you, dear reader, that this is the truth. There is no embellishment in this story. In fact, I would have loved to deliver it with all the passion I feel. Instead, I delivered it much like a news report on the TV. But, those who acted it out - right out there in front of me, did so with such passion, I was taken back at seeing my own inner self so well expressed.
I felt a deepening of my experience of our reunion, a connection with the deepest part of my heart, a release of final grief, a celebration of the people we are today. We are a family who is just beginning to become acquainted. We are friends for life. All Is Well.
Some reflections never seem to end. They just get deeper and deeper. Has this been your experience, too?
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