seeds for thought

Legacy, what is a legacy?

It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see.  

– Lin-Manuel Miranda, “The World Was Wide Enough”, Hamilton: An American Musical

Today is my first Motherʼs Day as a mother. Iʼve thought a lot about my own birth story and my birth motherʼs pregnancy with me over the past twenty-four and half weeks. That is, Iʼve imagined what it might have been like. 

The beginning of my pregnancy was hard. I felt nauseated daily, I had little appetite, I lost weight over the first three months, and I was always exhausted. But I was still excited about our baby and felt proud to know that these were signs of my body doing an important job. 

The symptoms also made me wonder about my birth mother’s pregnancy with me. Did she feel as sick as I did? As tired as I did?

Iʼm acutely aware of the stark differences in our circumstances. I have a few sentences on ghost-thin paper about my mother’s pregnancy and my birth. I don’t know what symptoms she experienced, but I do know she was working in the city to send money to her family in a more rural area. I know she fell in love with my biological father, a “coffee shop DJ,” but “it was a one-sided love.” I know that she bound her stomach so that she could continue working. I know that she made the (literally) life-changing decisions to give me life and a chance at a life beyond what she would ever be able to provide.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude at the sacrifices she made. Her choices made way for the life I have now. As sick as I felt in those early days, I was working from home. I had sick days I could use. I had a husband who loved and took excellent care of me. 

As I continue to grow our baby, now starting to feel their kicks and somersaults, I am amazed at just how much I already love them. I like to think that my mother felt the same way. She saw the potential, the value of my life. Without her knowing anything about who I was or would become—about my personality, gifts, or skills—I was enough. Enough for her to endure the months of unpleasant symptoms. Enough for her to let her body be stretched and altered. Enough for her to go through additional discomfort to hide those changes so that she could continue to do what was expected of her.

My birth mother planted a seed that my adopted mom (and dad) were able to water. She gave me life and a family and opportunity. I hope, somehow, she knows that it was worth it. 

My life is her legacy.  And that legacy continues on through the life of my baby.

 

adopted.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, just as He chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before Him in love. He destined us for adoption as His children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of His will, to the praise of His glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved.In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace that He lavished on us. With all wisdom and insight he has made known to us the mystery of His will, according to his good pleasure that He set forth in Christ, as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in Him, things in heaven and things on earth. In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance,having been destined according to the purpose of Him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. In Him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; this is the pledge of our inheritance towards redemption as God’s own people, to the praise of His glory.

--Ephesians 1:3-14, NRSV (emphasis added)

Ohhh LORD, You're doing something in me. 

There's a big long story that goes along with all that has the wheels in my mind turning, but I think there's just this one part that I need to share here. The rest is best saved for a solid conversation over a good cup of tea.

Being adopted, I feel I have been blessed with a fairly unique experience and understanding of being called a Child of God. When I was adopted twenty-three years ago, I became a part of this family called the Hetheringtons. I became a Hetherington. 

I am my parents' daughter. I am my brothers' sister. 

Where I came from doesn't define me. I am loved as a part of my family.

How much more so is this true with Christ? 

I have sinned, epically. I have failed, constantly. 

But that is not what defines me, I am a daughter of The King.

Did you get that , Katy? A DAUGHTER of the KING.

All He has is mine. 

And yet, I am stuck living as if I am nothing, no one. 

Lacking in knowledge, skill, faith, ability.

As if He isn't sufficient, that He isn't enough. 

But I'm taking a stand against the lies. 

The lie that I am not good enough but somehow have the ability to make myself better.

The lie that I have no purpose, no use for The Kingdom. 

The lie that my identity is found in anything or anyone but Christ alone.

And claiming the truth. 

That I am no longer defined by my past, my sin, but am made NEW in Christ. 

That I am a child of the King, I am loved as part of His family--the Church.

I am His. He is All.

momma.

second Sunday of May. Momma, this one's for you.

Being adopted, I feel like I get to say that my mom was hand-picked just for me. (Well, I suppose it was more like me being picked by my parents...anyway...) I've often been asked how I feel about being adopted, and in a word: blessed.

I feel incredibly blessed to be the daughter of such a wonderful woman. She's hard-working, generous, compassionate, selfless--a genuine example of a woman striving after God's heart. But more than that, I feel blessed to have a slightly different understanding of what it means to be adopted into the family of Christ, to become a child of God.

How so, you ask?

Here's my thoughts:
My adoption was never a secret. For my family, adoption was not something to be ashamed of, quite the opposite! My mom always made a conscious effort to make me aware of and cultivate an appreciation for my Korean heritage. That being said, I often forget that I don't look like the rest of my family. My momma, is my momma.

I have had the opportunity to experience what it's like to be taken in and loved as part of a family that wasn't initially my own.

I don't say all this to disown or forget about my mother who went to great risks to keep and grow and bear me, for her sacrifice I am forever grateful. Actually, I am blessed to have two mothers to remember and thank and be grateful for. So...

To my Korean mother,
Thank you for choosing to give me life. For deciding that my life and all that it would become was worth the risk. Thank you for selflessly giving me a chance to be loved and cared for, I most definitely am. Most of all, thank you for showing me selfless love from the start.
사랑해 (I love you)
리 경 림 (Lee Kyung Rim)

To my Momma,
Thank you for choosing me. For loving me as your own. As a poem or book or card you've shared with me said, I "didn't grow in your belly, but I grew in your heart." Thank you for giggles and Katy days and trying new food and traveling to visit me and prayers. Most of all, thank you for your genuine example of unconditional love.
Love,
Kate

visiting me in Portugal 2007

Happy Mother's Day!