Digging Up Worms

Flat Out Like A Lizard Drinking
Originally uploaded by ianmichaelthomas
One definition of WORM most fitting for this entry is as follows:
"an insidiously tormenting or devouring force."
~ American Heritage Dictionary

At the Easter gathering with my family yesterday, there was an unearthing of sorts about some secrets still maintained by my mother. These occurrences of withholding and only revealing bit by bit are the kind of worms that I have been wanting to dig up for a greater portion of my adult life. One such worm that has been slippery and elusive to date is the information about mine and my sister's adoptions.

Right before I was to leave for home yesterday, my sister pulled me to the side, as she had something very important to share with me. She proceeded to tell me that, out of the seemingly clear blue sky, my mother gave her the full packet of her adoption papers, which included her full name and her parents' names. My sister has already gone to the local court house to get a release of additional information connected to this adoption, as she is very interested in finding out as much as she can given that she has 2 generations of children who may benefit from the genetic/medical history.

While I was delighted beyond words for my sister, I was simultaneously furious and hurt. This subject, this unsightly worm, has been the subject of contention between my mother and I for at least 20 plus years. She has never wanted to discuss it, nor offer up any information, making vague statements like: "You'll have all you need to know when I die."

I must also note this:  a different kind of crawling creature,  a more pleasant one but a worm nonetheless,  was removed from its muddy living quarters.   My mother told each of us at the dinner table yesterday about how she chose our names.   I have spent the majority of my life,  since my teens,  with a story that she told me and other relatives about how I was named after a character on Peyton Place.   I would find out yesterday that this was a ruse.   That she did not think it would be okay until now to tell me the truth.   My mother goes on to share about how a few months before she brought me home,  she read a story in the newspaper of a tragic plane crash.   A little girl was one of the passengers.   She could not stop thinking about that little girl and her name came up repeatedly.   She wanted to give "life"  back to her namesake.   I have that little girl's name.   I was so touched by this and yet stunned and incredulous about the fact that my mother was not able to share this with me until now.     And I was deeply grateful I got to hear this before she died, as it may have just gone with her to the grave.

Leaving there yesterday with this literal "can of worms" opened, I felt out of sorts,  knocked off my center,  especially about receiving the information from my sister, and, even more so, how to proceed about obtaining my own adoption information now. I called my sponsor on my drive and she offered this sage advice: " Pray on this and wait 3 days. Ask God to let you know, from that place in your insides, to guide you to the next right action." She also validated for me that it is time and it is my right to have this information. And that I should approach my mother gently and with kindness, given the sensitivity she has about my sister and I pursuing connection with our biological parents and her own fears about us abandoning her. That much I am aware has been at the core of her withholding; it is the one thing that allowed me to have more compassionate discretion yesterday and to hug my mother lovingly when I said goodbye, rather than confront her impulsively and angrily. I am grateful for that God-voice/Tiferet that I am building muscles around in my interior.

When I awoke today, I felt quiet, cautious,  wanting to stay close to myself.  I am not angry at my mother. I do not feel urgency. I trust in my ability to handle this as an adult and not as a victimized child. It is time to put the shovel down. I have spent too much of my life efforting, desperately digging up worms. Coming face-to-face, daughter to mother, with the one who buried them feels like the next right action. I will keep praying and sitting and listening.