(former NFL player Colin Kaepernick)
As the unofficial family historian of this clan of mine, I have certainly enjoyed the
stories I’ve uncovered over the years—especially the lineage of my dad’s family.
My grandmother had done her fair share of work and what was uncovered is
quite the storyline—Mayflower fame and all.
Yet despite having taken over the helm, following my grandmother’s death, of
being the unofficial family history loving sleuth,
I must confess that there has always been a nagging concern buried deep in
the back of my thoughts.
As an adopted member of this clan, I have always known that this clan is truly not my own.
Their story is not my story.
Or so I kept telling myself.
And yes, I know I’ve written extensively about all of this not long ago, but a part of my
own story came to the forefront of thought today while I was braving the heat picking
blueberries.
When things like this pop into my head out of the blue, I know the Holy Spirit is stirring.
Those of you who know me, know how much I love college football.
I don’t care whose playing, I’ll watch.
So I actually remember quite a few years back watching a game featuring UNLV
along with some other team.
I remember it was UNLV because of one of the stories, that the sports announcers shared
during the game, touched my heart.
It seems there was a young quarterback leading the UNLV team by the name of Colin Kaepernick.
During the game, the sports announcers offered a little background regarding this
seemingly phenom QB.
It seems that Colin’s mom had shared the story that Colin,
while being an outstanding high school quarterback, had not been offered any scholarships
to play at the next level…except for an offer by UNLV.
Not one of the “big schools” by any means…but it was an opportunity.
And obviously wanting to play at the next level, the Kaepernick family agreed that this
was his chance.
They also shared that Colin had been an adopted kid.
He is obviously a mixed-race kid while his adopted parents are white.
Adopted kids have a soft place in my heart.
And so I have something I’d like to say to Colin…my fellow adoptee.
Adoption, my young friend, is about unity and not division.
Colin, however, seems to be a rather unhappy young man…
some might argue that my observation is unfair…but I’ve never met a happy person who
is hell-bent on creating divisiveness.
He has made no bones about detesting our flag, our national anthem, our national monuments,
Betsy Ross and now he seems to detest our celebration of independence.
In fact, Colin seems to prefer being all about division these days.
His is a Black world or a White world.
Either or, but not both.
His is a world of one divided by race.
His is a progressive left world battling a presumptive non-inclusive, racist world.
I’ve always known I was adopted.
And for better or worse, I physically favored my adopted family.
I realize that Colin did not physically favor his adopted family—
what with his being mixed and his parents being white.
But one thing I do know about both of us, our adopted parents loved us
unconditionally as their own.
You just need to read some of what his mom has had to say about him over the years
to understand the love they have for this son of theirs.
Yet I never had to have that battle within myself over not being the same race
as my family.
I imagine that might have kept the matter of adoption more at the forefront of
Colin’s thoughts more so than perhaps my own.
I don’t know that for certain but knowing that I would look into a mirror always
wondering who it is I truly looked like… I suspect that mirror looking might
have been more frequent in Colin’s life.
I don’t know his full story of adoption…the background etc.
Heck, I barely know my own.
Those of you who know me and read this blog already know my story’s journey so
I won’t belabor that story but I do want to make a point…
a point for our friend Colin.
I do believe that adopted kids are born with some prewired emotional baggage.
I know this without doubt.
I truly understand the whole emotional transference during pregnancy.
It is real.
I also know what’s it’s like wanting to know one’s own story and not what someone
else’s story is all about…
We simply want to know our own story…plain and simple.
I went on that quest.
After hemming and hawing…after being full of trepidation and anguish…after
waiting and waiting…some answers and even more questions arrived.
On my biological father’s side, there has been discovery, connections to a cousin, and a peace.
On my biological mother’s side, there has been a painful dose of double rejection…
a disaster in a nutshell…or so I thought at the time.
I learned that my biological father died several years ago…
but there are living relatives…some of whom have opened their hearts.
My mother, on the other hand, is in her 80’s and despite my now being 60, vehemently
denied any sort of acknowledgment or contact.
I will say that that whole situation not only stung my heart, it also left me
emotionally reeling.
The child still deep within this adult body rebroke.
Yet over the past several months, since my discovery, peace has filled my wounds.
And that peace came from one place and one place only…the healing and soothing balm
of Jesus Christ.
I couldn’t have experienced that on my own.
On my own, there was anger and resentment…but God had other plans.
That of His peace.
God already knew my story but He also knew that I was hard-headed.
God will allow us to pursue what we think we want even when
He knows better.
He loves us that much that He will allow us to shoot ourselves
in the foot from time to time—always turning that self-inflicted wound
back around for His good purpose.
So certainly questions will always remain but the anger and the resentment are both gone.
I have come to see, feel, and claim that this adopted clan of mine is indeed mine.
I sit on a branch of their tree, adoption, or not.
So what I say to my fellow adoptee Mr. Kaepernick— is that the peace of heart,
the peace of spirit is of God and of God alone.
It is one of unity and not division.
It is not of anger or resentment.
It is neither black nor white.
Male nor female.
Black power, black lives, militancy…those are separators, not unifiers.
We are all children of God…despite how we come into this world.
We are all equally valued by God…despite physical differences from others.
There is not one single life that is greater than nor matters more than another’s.
The humility found in being created and not Creator is both freeing and soothing.
I would behoove Colin to seek a Savior and not a civil war of culture.
We are all of one America.
Black men and women, white men and women, Asian men and women, Native American men and women,
Hispanic men and women have each shed blood for the freedoms our now angry Nation enjoys.
No division is found in our freedom but rather unity.
No division is found in the children of God, but rather unity.
Unity and not division will bring one’s soul peace.
Until then…there will be only anguish and wasted energies at the expense of everyone.
But then again, one has to ask oneself: do you want peace in your being or do you
desire hate, resentment, and anger.
There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free,
nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
Galatians 3:28
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