I opened the envelope, with a bit of trepidation in my heart. The manilla envelope dated 1972, was written on in the meticulous writing of my mum, For Carole Wheaton ONLY then, circled were the words, adoption info.
I have known since a very young child that my mum had me as a single woman and that, when they married, her husband, asked to adopt me.
I have been fortunate to have always felt loved, wanted, adored by both of parents, one by blood and both by sweat and tears.
Inside the folded and excessively taped envelope were three more envelopes, two of them yellowed with the years, the third still white, written on the front, This is for Carole Wheaton ONLY.
I first opened the newer envelope. Inside, folded up was an older envelope, a letter from my mum, including the name of the man who is my biological link to life. I moved this aside.
Then the other two envelopes. The first I opened was the final adoption order.
The second one I opened was from the office of the lawyer who oversaw the adoption process. In the letter he says “I appeared before the Judge of the … County Court with the Petition and these documents and the Court is issuing an Interim Adoption Order which will become final in one years time.” I smiled.
Then I lifted the letter, to reveal a longer piece of paper, with a red sticker, stamped with the County stamp, and in bold lettering ADOPTION ORDER … so old-school official looking.
This was simply the best. This was the legal evidence of his pursuit of me to be his own.
Then, because dates have always been a thing for me, a manner that, in so many instances, I have seen the hand of God, I looked for the date of this adoption order …
It couldn’t be … was all I could think.
For, just two years ago (today), on November 25, 2019, my dad …
the only dad I have ever known, ever wanted to know … the father who chose me, bought me with a price (cause I have the invoice for the costs associated with my adoption), the man who raised me to believe I was valued, worthy … then man who gave flesh to my understanding of the love of God the Father, who adopted us in grace …
died, leaving what and who are seen, for that which is beyond the bounds of life and breath.
But, fifty years ago, today, I was adopted by my father. Today is like a birthday for me, for today I was grafted into his family, with all of the legal rights and responsibilities of a daughter born of flesh and blood. I was blessed beyond measure for the forty-eight years with him and how God, through His will gave me such a good father.
itsawonderfilledlife 