The Chosen Life: Lost and Found

Folks have asked me all my life about my level of curiosity surrounding my natural background as an adoptee. Often asking me: Don’t you want to know who you are?”: Even today, my reply remains unchanged, “I Know Who I am.” Even my own children in their early curious childhood would naturally ask questions. If you read my blog about my school project regarding nationality, then trust me when I say “map day ” comes around again. The blessing for my children was that they had solid identifiable backgrounds on their father’s sides. We joked through the years that Ricardo was half Italian, Erin was half Irish, and the other half was my “Royal” contribution.

I was never really search curious, though in later years as Mama aged, she urged me to look. She was very concerned about leaving me alone in the world. She even suggested that I might have other siblings, accenting this with the you-never-know what’s out there for you argument when I resisted. 

Experts say there are degrees of thought in adoptees regarding search mentality; Some adoptees are search curious. These folks often want to know a few facts but don’t want to give up privacy or emotional safety. Then are folks that are search-driven. They must know, must find, will sacrifice resources, seven go to the length of sacrificing relationships to know and find. Through life and ministry opportunities, I have had the privilege of meeting several of these searchers, and I always commit to pray as they search, they will seek God for wisdom. Then there is a group that falls into a mentality referred to as search indifferent. A position of letting sleeping dogs lie etc. I more closely identified with this thinking than any other and was always pretty content. My folks had been told that a young unwed mom surrendered me, and I felt she probably would have married, started a family. I felt in my heart that it would be unfair to disrupt her life and mine to merely satisfy curiosity. This was a conscious choice I made in my adult life. Until one day, someone else made a choice that would challenge my thinking.

It was a warm evening in August, and I had been out to dinner with colleagues from the hospital. Ric and Erin were away at college, and Jim was on duty at the firehouse. The phone rang, and a person on the other end of the line asked me if I was indeed Sharon Michelle Bundo? I replied, “Yes.” The person asked if I was Lemuel Edison and Beulah Philips’s daughter, and I went into a panic, asking if something had happened to my parents as they lived several hundred miles away. The caller assured me all was well but did inquire if I was able to have a private discussion. This turn in the conversation led me to demand to know who I was speaking with.

The caller identified themself by name, sharing that they were a court-appointed search advocate retained by the Wayne County Family Court. This person informed me I had a half-sibling who had petitioned the court to find me. Further, the advocate shared their role was to protect my interest and privacy and serve as a liaison should I want to move forward with a reunion. I share at that moment; I felt as if I was standing on a glass floor, and it shattered. All I could do was ask the person to hold on for a moment; I took a deep breath and cried out to God to calm me. When I returned to the line, we spoke for several minutes as my options were explained to me. I was assured I could take as much time as I needed to make a choice. A choice? No, no. I was chosen. At that moment, I did not want to take on the role of the chooser! The advocate gave me a phone number and an address where I could send for a release and obtain info like my name, health records, but I would have to release my own identity information. This sweet advocate inquired if I was ok and assured me they knew it was a shock and that they would call me the next day to check on me. I stayed up all night.

After sharing the news with Jim the next morning, we agreed not to tell my parents or our children until I could get a grip, get more information. In that hour, all I wanted to get was away. Period.

It took a few weeks, but through prayer and reassurance from a counselor friend, I made a decision to inform my family. I arranged for Erin and Ric to be together and shared that I had something important to tell them and we needed to have a conference call. We chose September 11. I felt terrible sharing my news with my family after the horrific attack on the world trade center that day, but I knew they had sensed something was amiss, and I wanted to reassure them. They were shocked but supportive. My parents were up in age, and I worried how this might affect them. However, I was reminded and still know God is faithful to a thousand generations, and He was big enough to see all of us through this revelation. I took a few months to decide.

During that time, I felt God was very quiet, and I was angry about what seemed like an unwanted intrusion into my life. I prayed and prayed about what to do. Out of frustration, I said to God one day, “It’s not a hard question to answer, yes or no. Why don’t you answer me?” God spoke ever so softly that day to my spirit and said, “you haven’t asked me the right question.”

“What is it, God? What is the right question?” 

He replied, “You have not asked me how I could best be served through these circumstances.”

Oh, the life of the chosen. At that moment, I gave thanks for such a stable life and a loving home but recognized too much is given, much is required. If I am honest, I hoped it would be quick, and I could return to my existence, a little more informed but unchanged. Even now, as I type these words, I laugh at the logic of that!

Shortly after this, I felt peace and signed the release and began to seek how God could glory out of this. Only God could help me embrace being found when I had not felt lost, to begin with.

As you probably have guessed by now, this was a very unsettling time in my life. I was in my forties, but while I thought it was untimely, it was in God’s perfect time. I went into the situation holding to the thought about how much I would learn about myself and came out having gained so much more about who God is. His faithfulness to guide me every step of the way and help me keep myself balanced was an anchor for my soul. The counsel I received during that time from Sam Sherian was invaluable. A man of God and great wisdom who reminded me frequently that God had gone to great lengths to give me an identity in Him and that I should be a good steward of that. He told me, “Sharon, you are like a kidney transplant when you were adopted.  It was totally successful. Now don’t go into rejection with all this swirling around you. Just because you were found, doesn’t mean you were lost”.

There is a deep spiritual truth in these advising words. God loves us so much; He gave His only son to make us His family, His very own. We must be careful not to allow others and the world around us to define or alter our sense of identity in Him. The danger of being unsettled is that we will look for other things like relationships, success, status, color, ethnicity, nationality, talents, occupation to give us a sense of self wholeness. While these are significant attributes, God uses to mold us and manifest His presence and work in our lives, until we find Him. We remain lost…

Next time the 5 o’clock worker will share the last portion of the Chosen Life and the harvest that came from the vineyard in that season.