July 28, 2010

A Bone to Pick


We're enjoying a much needed vacation, and this morning I happened to turn on the morning news and caught the breaking news of the "mislabeled" graves at our nation's Arlington Cemetery. A Legislator from Missouri was speaking about the "heartbreak" of thousands of American families because of not knowing the true place of their loved-one's burial.

My gut jerked with sadness ~ not only over the facts of this story, but also over the hypocrisy of the way we treat the living. Those buried bones will never live again (at least in this life), but there are MILLIONS of Americans still living and breathing every day with the confusion of not knowing their own identity. Adult adoptee's live every day with their own original birth certificate's sealed in a fraudulent ("amended") grave.

Ezekiel 37:12 in the Old Testament says this: "I will breathe upon your graves and cause you to come up, and bring you into the land." This is God's promise I am standing on for all 6 million adult adoptees in our nation.

Legislator's: Please think about the living bones of adopted individuals as you consider the tragedy of mistaken and fraudulent places of rest. Pass laws which will give truth and rest to the living as well.

5 comments:

Lori said...

Nice post! I would like to link it to my Edu blog. I think that this is an awesome look at the life of an adoptee and their feelings.

Amanda said...

Awesome post!!! ((hugs))

Amanda

joven said...

beautiful blog..pls visit mine and be a follower.. thanks and God bless..

http://forlots.blogspot.com/

halforhan56 said...

mislabeled graves...denied access to knowing our roots...I have one more to add:

For the first 18 years of my life, I was denied knowledge of the true nature of my natural mother's death. I was also denied access to her grave. I was denied knowledge of her name. By doing this, my adoptive parents and my extended adoptive family (all of them knew the truth) denied me the chance to pray for my own mother during the time in a Catholic Mass where the congregation is asked to remember the names of the souls who have died in this physical life. Is it any wonder why I reacted with anger and rage at age 18 in 1974? When all of my adoptive relatives knew and did not tell me...this was done out of love for me. This is not love, but cruelty.

I left the Catholic Church for this and other reasons. Every Sunday, when my minister calls the congregation to remember the names of people who have died, I not only say the name of my natural mother, but that of my adoptive father, too, and many relatives as well.

Lorraine Dusky said...

What is surprising is how adoption seeps into so many nooks and crannies of one's life: You are on vacation, and hear a comment about people not knowing where their loved ones are buried; I go shopping and see the older Caucasian mother with the Asian little girl and the college girl along with her who is obviously the nanny; we watch television and adoption comes up over and over and over; I spy a mother and daughter together and internally comment on how much they look alike. It never ends. It's always a fresh burst of sadness.

Lorraine from First Mother Forum