From Orphan To Beloved

I was born into this world on an October night in Bogotá, the capital of Colombia. I do not know the location of my birth, if it was natural, if there were any complications. I know nothing of my birth mother’s pain in labor. Shortly after my birth, and I do not know how long after, I became an orphan. “Given up at birth” is the term I became used to saying. Did my first mother hold me in her arms before I was taken to the orphanage? If she did, how long did we spend that moment together? Some mysteries in life we may never know.

Two and a half months later, I met my new parents from Minnesota. They flew to Colombia to adopt me and take me home (or away from home, depending on how you look at it) after all the adoption paperwork was complete. So I began my life in the United States with likely more privilege than my birth family could dream of having. I grew up attending one of the best school districts in the state and living in one of the safest towns in America. It seemed that my birth mother’s plan to give me up so that I could have a better life was working out perfectly.

However, as many of us learn in this crazy ride called life, things are not always as they seem. My life looked normal enough, and I made sure that I appeared good enough, at least on the surface. I mean, what could possibly be wrong? I was living the life that most Colombians would only see on TV. I had two loving parents, a great education, and friends who felt like family. We went out to eat on Saturdays and went to church on Sundays. I played the violin, read as many books as I could, and studied in school because I loved to learn. My future was looking bright. And besides, even though I did have some questions about my birth family and country, I didn’t have any (conscious) memories of being adopted. I was so young when that had happened, and life in Minnesota was really the only life I ever knew. Therefore, I would tell myself, how could it truly have any effect on me?

What was lurking beneath the surface of all my attempts to be and appear good was the mindset of an orphan. This was the voice in my head that seethed, “You have to figure this all out on your own. And you’ll never make it or be good enough.” This was the pang I would feel deep in my chest if any person showed the slightest rejection or critique towards me. This was the mindset that drove me to be people-pleasing at best, and completely co-dependent at worst. I did an extremely good job of keeping this shadow side of me hidden, even from myself, until I got to college. Through a toxic relationship and an atmosphere of partying, the orphan inside of me tore her way to the surface, stealing peace and leaving despair everywhere she went. When I finally crawled my way out of the relationship I was in, there was no more denying the abandonment lens of the world that I was carrying. There had been too many instances where I had fully experienced the orphan spirit rearing her ugly, disheveled head.

Thus began my journey of trying to heal myself from this deep wound. As a lover of learning, I threw myself into acquiring all the knowledge I could. I read books, listened to lectures, joined support groups, and even took a course for adoptees “coming out of the fog”. I experimented with psychedelics, turned to Eastern religion, and went on antidepressants. But no matter how many new practices I tried to implement or bits of information I consumed, I sensed I was fighting a losing battle. Depression, anxiety, PTSD, and addiction to whatever would temporarily mask the pain consumed me. Sure, I was a “functioning” adult with a college education and a stable job, but my tumultuous emotional state ran rampant over my mind and my days. I was running the race of life with fear of abandonment, torment, and sorrow constantly chopping at my ankles.

I couldn’t save myself, but I desperately needed saving. And no relationship, romantic or otherwise, could fill that role either. When you feel like you’re struggling to stay afloat in life, and no matter how hard you try it’ll never be enough, it is exhausting. It is the place of hopelessness. And it is from this place of despair that I miraculously found a relationship with Jesus, my personal and loving Savior. He called me by name and set me upon dry land, not because of my efforts or any good deeds I had done, but because of His love for me. He filled me with His living hope that still feels like the biggest breath of fresh air. I am no longer a gasping orphan who is moments away from drowning. For Jesus promises that I am actually never on my own, and I don’t need to try to stay afloat through the tides of life out of my own strength. For me, this is what it means to be saved by Him. It is the journey of coming out of darkness and being led into the light. To reject the identity of an orphan in order to become who I was meant to be all along – His beloved.