I went to church meetings for the first time in over a year today. Because of the snowstorm in December, here in Washington, we had our Christmas program. Beautiful readings. I almost didn't go, because, well, "it was just going to be the Christmas program". But, one of my goals for the year, is to get my spiritual life in order. I know many of you don't believe, but I always have.

There are reasons in my background. I was put in a foster home at around the age of 1year or so, my sister, who is 21 months younger was put in the same foster home at 6 mos. We were not released for adoption right away-but when we were, the state notated that we were not to be separated because "the older girl has bonded with the younger sibling and it would be detrimental to her mental health to separate the two." I remember some visits with my birth mother but not many. Anyway, I understood Canadian French when I was adopted at the age of 5, and when we moved to a new apartment with a landlady who spoke French, she told my mother that I still understood quite a bit and would respond to her. My mother told her not to speak French to me any more if possible, since they had just gotten me to respond to my new name and they were trying not to confuse me any more.
OK, enough background. Today as part of the Christmas Program, the French group sang some carols. It was on the printed program and I didn't think anything of it. When the music started, still nothing. Then they started singing. And I started singing. A friend that I was sitting with said, "I didn't know you speak French." I shook my head. "I don't." Then a memory came.

It must have been shortly before my sister was born. (December birthday for her). I am being held by my mother and she is singing this carol. I can smell her. I can see her hair-dark brown with lots of curls, and shiny. Her stomach is big, she is wearking a stripped dress with a white collar. I think that I am at her house. She is in a rocking chair, and I am on a stool next to her-not quite in her lap-there is not much room. There are tears in her eyes. I can smell her. And I feel her love for me. SHE LOVES ME!!!!!!!

You see, I don't know why we were given up for adoption. She was married. The state couldn't find the father when it came time to sign the paperwork; it was believed he had gone to the UK. But in the back of my mind, I believed that I was unlovable. Even as an adult, that stays with you. You work around it. But that insecurity is there. I have many memories from the foster home I was in, from the early years of my adoption; but this was the first time I can say that I had a memory of my birth mother. MY adopted parents were 2nd generation Italian-American, and didn't even talk Italian to us-so it is not a memory from then. But the hug I remember, and the feeling. And her perfume, a cross between baby powder, and something else-I am not sure what else, nothing that I have smelled since. The reason I think that it is right before my sister is born is that my sister was born in December, My birthmonth is April. I now believe that she fully intended for me to go back to her once my sister was born-I don't think that it was planned that my sister be placed in foster care at all. This was a gift to me today.