Looking for My Natural Father in the Mirror Can You Help Me Find Him?

Do you know a man whose face resembles the one above?

If so I need your help...

He might be the man I have been waiting to meet for 50 years.

One day as she was shampooing me, my hairdresser Ada said, "you should start wearing your hair natural more often."

 Although she’s also a good friend I secretly wondered whether she was saying this because of all the extra effort it takes her to straighten my hair. I was always willing to take the time at home. The main reason was that the natural curls were accompanied by frizz.


On this day as Ada finished trimming my hair she said, “Let's try something new. Let me put some product on you to tame the frizz and then lightly dry it with the diffuser and see what you think...” 

When she finished her first attempt at this technique and turned me around to look in the mirror at the finished product, I started to cry. 

 

"What's wrong?" she questioned. "Nothing is wrong," I answered through tears.

I explained that I realized I was looking at a part of my natural father.

The father I never knew.

There are parts of me that look like my natural mother, who died in the summer of 2013. But many things about me are not like her at all, and my curly hair is one of those things. She had straight hair and so does my sister. And every day I wake up with this mop of curls unless I take the time to straighten them out. 

I have started wearing my hair natural more often, for reasons having mostly nothing to do with looks. When I see my curls, I feel a connection to the father I never knew. 

I am not obsessed with my looks.  There are a number of things I’d change about my physical self if I could. And yet at least a few times a week, I find myself sitting in front of the mirror, staring at myself until my eyes go dry.  I scrutinize my facial features inspecting every nook and cranny, surveying the canvas of my face for clues. I gaze at the curls going around and around, trying to make sense of my very face. 

It's the strangest thing ever, trying to make sense of your own face.

People who aren't not adopted have no clue what it is to stare at your face that is half a century old and try to understand how it got that way. I literally look at myself in the mirror and say, "Where did this face come from?"

The easy answer is: "God."

I've been told this all my life.

Please understand, I love God. 

I love Him so much.

And yet I know He got two people's help in making my face. 

I know who one of those people was. 

Who was the other?

 

I focus in and try to block out my mother's features, making every effort to isolate his features and find his face in mine.

What does he look like...this man I come from?

On the first night of our reunion, my mother told me that I look just like him.  (The photo above was the night we reunited, when I was 27 years old. This picture was taken moments before I knocked on her door to introduce my adult self to her.) She immediately noted my curly hair and the color of it and said it reminded her of him. 

I knew he was Greek because that first night she also referred to him as a “Greek God.” My DNA tests bore that out, declaring me as half Greek.

 
Gazing at my face in the mirror is all that connects me to my natural father, aside from checking my results at Ancestry, 23 and Me, and Family Tree DNA on a regular basis to see if a new match came in. (I have tested at all three companies and at GedMatch.)

So here's where you come in...

Maybe you are reading this and you have a tie to Richmond, Virginia. 

Maybe you know something that you don't even realize will unlock the mystery that I've waited 50 years to finally know.

Many things that people believe are totally insignificant are the things that unlock another person's mystery and provide the piece of the puzzle they have needed.

So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to tell you all that I know, and maybe you will realize that you or someone you know, can help me.   

Your help is confidential. 

The details: 

My natural mother grew up on Kalmia Ave. in the Highland Springs area of Richmond, Virginia. Did you live nearby? Do you know someone who did? If so, I want to talk to you. 

My mother graduated from Highland Springs High School in Richmond in 1965.  Are you a member of the class of 1965? I'd like to talk to you.  Do you know someone who is in the Highland Springs class of '65? Can you please ask them to contact me?

My mother graduated from a beauty school in Richmond Virginia around that time, probably sometime between 1664-1965. I do not know which school. No one in the family seems to know what school. Maybe you or a friend or family member attended a beauty school in Richmond during that time.  If so, I'd like to talk to you.

My mother attended the United Methodist Church in Highland Springs. If you or a family member or friend were a regular attender there during the 1960's, I'd like to talk to you.  

My mother reportedly worked at White Cross Drug Store or another drug store in the Richmond area in 1965.  This drug store may have been in the Highland Springs area. If you know anyone who worked at White Cross drugs or any other drug store in the area in 1965, I'd like to talk to you.

I'm looking for a man of Greek descent who was living in Richmond Virginia in November/December of 1965. 

I was conceived in late November or early December of 1965. 


My grandparents may have never lived in the USA. For that matter, my father may not be a US Citizen. Or he may be an immigrant who later became a citizen. 

His name may have been Gus. (I heard this name as I prayed about it in 2013, and in 2014 a maternal relative remembers hearing that my birth father's name was Gus.)

My mother could have met my birth father through any of these avenues – the drug store, the high school, the cosmetology school, the church, etc. I am looking for people who would have been in these places in 1965 who are still alive today and willing to talk to me.

I am not publishing my mother’s full name here on the blog but I will be glad to share that information with anyone who emails me with a desire to help identify my father. 

Email me at: findingmrgreek@gmail.com


I am grateful for anything those reading this can do to help. You are a tremendous help just by sharing this post!


Unfortunately there is no other choice before me at this time but to ask the general public for help. I  have a dedicated team of people who help me search. They have followed every lead that we have received.

My adoptive father is also very supportive, and my heart is glad. Just because I am searching for my natural father doesn't mean I don't love my adoptive father. And, the fact that I am searching doesn't mean I don't live a blessed and full life. I live an incredible life, and still this part of me that is missing - I long to find.

New matches come in on my DNA results all the time. The closest I have thus far is a third cousin match. We spend a lot of time trying to isolate the paternal matches. There aren't many but they are there, and at this time all are distant.  I know one day that big break could come - but my concern is - time goes by daily and my he may still be alive. Thus, time is of the essence and I need to appeal to the public.

No matter which way the road turns, I will always cherish those who have helped me along the way. People like my family, my persevering search team, my wonderful family and everyone who reads here.

You make the broken road a beautiful one. 

I love you all.  
~Deanna         

Quick links:

Email me at findingmrgreek@gmail.com

Like and share my Finding Mr. Greek Facebook Page
 

Paternal Search: Maybe God Doesn't Want You To Know

It’s not a match.


We tested with both Ancestry and 23 and Me.

The man presumed to be my paternal father - the man listed in the adoption agency files -- is dead. So I tested with his brother who is still alive.

I received the result weeks ago but haven’t written about it yet because I’ve needed to process things by myself. This was a bigger blow to me than any other because it didn’t just hurt me, but a family that very much wanted me to be theirs. They were so excited that their brother had a daughter they never knew about. I would have been his only child.

But I wasn't a match with his brother.

They didn't accept the results of the DNA tests.

They still don’t.

They want me to test with other companies, just between myself and one of their family members, preferably one of his sisters who are also still alive.

I am reluctant to do that because I can’t imagine that both Ancestry and 23andMe could be wrong. 

I trust the results. Two DNA companies of such reputation can't possibly be wrong.

The family has assured me there is no NPE in the family that would affect these test results. They would not be lying to me. They so badly want me to be one of them. They aren't afraid of family secrets and would do anything to get to the bottom of this. 

They rejoiced at my entrance into their lives, and they embraced me. 

At the Christmas holidays I received texts with photos of them at their family gatherings saying they were thinking of me. They are Christians as I am, and on Christmas morning they were in church just like I was. They texted afterwards to say that during church the pastor told everyone to get in little circles and hold hands and before they prayed share something each of them were thankful for. They said, "We shared that we are thankful for you." They couldn’t wait til’ my first visit…and for us to share many more things. They were planning a visit to Tampa to see me the first week of March.  Every one of them accepted me from the youngest to oldest family members. It seemed a match made in heaven. 

But ultimately we were not a match, although were brought together in life for some reason. And we still keep in touch. (And they continue to want me to test more. I am still thinking about it.)

One thing we do know…my mother had a relationship with this man. He is the man listed in my adoption agency file. He worked with my mother at the drug store in Richmond, VA.

It seems maybe this (multiple men) was what she didn’t want to tell me about. There was more than one man, possibly even in the same month.  So somewhere in all this mix there is a Greek man. My DNA tests also indicate Balkan heritage. Specifically it points to the area of Tripolis and the Peloponnese area. 

He’s out there.

I just don’t know who he is.

Yet.

When I first got the results, I wanted to stop searching. It hurt so much. And it all gets too overwhelming at times to deal with anymore.  

My sister and her husband were visiting at the time I got the results. I excused myself for about an hour and went into my room to cry alone. While I was in there, my niece Lexi and my sister Kim headed off to Publix. They got a Marie Callender's Razzleberry Pie for me because Lex knows it's my favorite. They started baking it and when I came out of the room, gave me a slice because they knew it would cheer me up. (Food always does. I've used it like a drug since I was born.) I was depressed a lot the first few days after getting results and ate all the things that usually help me feel better, at first. Now I'm back on a plan and exercising and trying to get it under control.

 My resolve to quit searching was short lived, as my husband said it would be. On the first day I said, “I quit!” but my friend Gayle told me she wouldn’t give up no matter what. Gayle rocks.

One thing that this situation shows me is that a lot of people can want you but it doesn’t stop you from wanting to know the truth. 

My husband and children want me.
My adoptive family wants me. 
My friends want me. 
This family I thought was my paternal family wants me…and still does. 

And all of that means the world. But I still want to know the truth.

 I want to know who He is. 

I want to know where I originally came from. 

And that doesn’t mean the love of all these other people means any less. 

It just means that my heart longs to know. 

Recently a friend said to me, “Maybe God doesn’t want you to know.” 

Is that how God works?

Would we say to a friend whose legs were amputated, “Maybe God doesn't want you to have legs?"

Surely not. 

But people say this kind of thing all the time related to adoption.

Even good friends.

Because they just don't know.

Adoption is in a category all it's own, a world all it's own that many people even in it don't understand.

But back to my question...

Does God work like that? 

Does He not want some people to know who their original parents are?  

It’s a question I ask myself often.  

And I also ask Him..."God, do you really not want me to know?"

      

Reunion: When You're Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Bride

Thanksgiving Day found me 32,000 feet in the air on my journey home from a missions trip to Africa. While we were traveling over the Atlantic, I received a Facebook message from a stranger. (Thank God for technology that enables one to be online on a long flight.) She said, "This may sound like a strange request, but I believe you may be related to my long lost cousin..."  She wanted to know if I could give her any insight to connect with him as they were close as children and she greatly missed him. 

I quickly realized, the woman's long lost cousin happens to be my step-father. He is the husband to my first mother (birth mother) who is now deceased. I could help her reconnect and was glad to. 

Knowing my stepfather well (those of you who read my blog know him as "Tom") I knew without even asking that he would be overjoyed at this connection and welcome her call even on a holiday. She proceeded to pick up the phone and call him and a few hours later, circled back with me. “We were on the phone for over an hour!” and said. “You have absolutely made my Thanksgiving! Thank you sooooo much!”

At the airport with my friends who accompanied me to Africa

I am more than glad to help people in this way.  I can’t even count the number of people I have helped by pointing the way to their family members through various means. Some of them were my own relatives whether birth or adopted. And others, I am not related to at all. However, I have connected many people with the right search angel who helped them, or someone in the adoption community who led to the discovery of their long lost family member. I have had a small part in so many people’s story who thank me for making their reunion possible. And I’m happy for that. I really and truly am.

And at the same time with each one of these situations I think to myself, “Will I always be the bridesmaid and never the bride?”

My traveling companions and I were on our next layover and so glad to be eating American food again when I decided to pop a question. I never shared what had just transpired with my facebook message on the plane but I simply asked them, “Did you have the experience for a long time of always being the bridesmaid and never the bride?”

“No,” each of them answered, “I didn’t have that experience." They all shared that they either hadn't ever been a bridesmaid or were rarely a bridesmaid -- or, they were a bride in the period of time when they wanted to be.

It reinforced what I was feeling.

And what I still feel.
Alone when it comes to this.

It seems like everyone else is finding and announcing their impending reunions. 

Every day on DNA Detectives I see another person with a breakthrough.

I check my DNA results on all the sites every week. 
Same thing, nothing new. (Sigh)  

I come to grips with the fact that I may never walk down the aisle of reunion on the paternal side.

I’m running out of time.

I may forever watch others reunite, while I never do.

I am happy to help others but I wonder, "will this ever happen for me or will I just help others and see their dream come true?"

Many people have helped me on my paternal search and for this I am grateful. I hesitated to even write this post for fear of making any of them sad. Because they have been so good! My friend Gayle has tried so hard to make this dream come true for me that sometimes I think her heart hurts worse over it than mine has.  I have also had several complete strangers have compassion on me and take DNA tests for me in hopes of helping me. And yes, that's amazing.

For as many who have helped me, many have also slammed the door. I am currently trying to get information from a man who may well be a paternal relative. There is so much that points to the possibility of us being related, but he is reluctant to tell me anything and has stopped talking to me altogether. I am sure it's because he knows if we are indeed related it's going to be extremely painful for at least one person in his family. I understand that but still want to know the truth. 

I wonder why the same grace and help I've given to others doesn't always come back to me. I keep holding on that some day, it will.

Another side of me chastises myself with, "You had a reunion on your maternal side. Thank God for that blessing and stop focusing on what you don't have."  I do that for a while but my heart still longs for the truth no matter how much I focus on my blessings.

One of the big keys for me while waiting is to keep a  good attitude. I remind myself to be happy for others. And to continue to be willing to help anyone I possibly can, even if I never get the desire of my heart. That’s what a loving person, a healthy – whole person, does.  Although the longing in my heart doesn't go away, it does do my heart good to see another person's dream fulfilled.

I want to be the person that continues to support others and keeps a good attitude about it even while my own need goes unfulfilled.   I know I’m not alone – there are many of us who are always the bridesmaid and never the bride. And we are surrounded by friends who were brides in the time frame of their dreams.

I ask God to help me me stay loving and supportive. To stay soft and sensitive, not hard and calloused. "Make me better, never bitter" is my prayer.  I want to love big and be happy for my friends, no matter what.  God help me.

How Does Family Preservation Work?

We don’t have custody of Livvy anymore. But, she still lives with us. Her mom has custody again and she and Livvy's four year old brother have moved in and joined us in our home at our invitation. We have this arrangement for as long as they need, while she gets on her feet. It could be months or years and it matters not – the offer stands for her to live with us for as long as she needs to. 

Lexi completed the one year program she was in, a few weeks ago. She not only completed the program - she did it with excellence. She was an R.A. of her dormitory there, sang in the choir, and worked hard and got her GED. She is a transformed person. We are so proud of her.  

It has been awesome to see mother – daughter – son reunited. To see them laugh together, eat together, attend church together, play together and drift off to sleep together. It’s a beautiful thing.

Many great things have happened in the past week. Some of those things were nothing short of a miracle. To name a few things – Lexi got her driver’s license reinstated. She got a job! (Yes!!!) Enrolled Brody in school, (an A-rated school, close by), put Livvy on the  waiting list for Early Head Start and more.

In the past week Lexi went with me to a few places that I preached and at one of those places the pastor’s wife said that she was given $100 to help a single mom and God laid it on her heart to give the money to Lexi. (Actually, that is all she has to her name right now until she gets her first paycheck.)

Most of all, a very generous friend from a neighboring church stepped up and offered to pay for Lexi’s training to be certified nursing assistant. She’s wanted to get into the field of nursing, unbeknownst to the friend. She will start training for that in September.  This is just a first step.  We have so much to be thankful for, and none of what I’m about to say negates our gratefulness.   

This past week is a  revelation.

It's a revelation about single moms and about family preservation.

Here it is:   

If a lot of people don’t want a single mom to succeed they will have a really hard time doing it. 

It really does take an advocate and a village.

 In one week’s time I have learned so much about Medicaid, Early Head Start, School Readiness, WIC, food stamps, and more.

On her third day here, Lexi got a job. (Praise God.) She will be starting at $8.07 an hour. The other night I spent a few hours with her filling out the Medicaid application. She and the kids don't have insurance and are desperately in need.  My husband checked the application over after we prepared it. We pressed “send” and she was immediately rejected.  Whaaaaaat? How the heck do you make $8.07 an hour with two children and get turned down for medical care?  (Yes, she will be working the required number of hours -- actually more.)

So I spent hours the next day while I was at work, trying to call these people while simultaneously working. I heard a recording to press this number, press that number, and then waited on hold on speaker phone while I worked for about two hours. Finally sick of this, I looked up my local Access Office (I didn’t even know what an Access office was before)  left work, got in my car and drove over there. Peeved about being on hold for two hours, I walked right up to the desk and said, “Hey, nobody’s answering the phone, so I’m here.” Yes, I truly did. Then I proceeded to ask them how the heck my niece who makes $8.07 an hour was just turned down for Medicaid. They were actually really nice to me, but explained that I must have filled the application out wrong. I have no idea what was wrong. They didn't give a reason for turning it down. But they said what would have to happen is that we would have to wait about 30 days to get turned down again and appeal it. And keep appealing no matter what. "You need to be relentless they said." No problem, Relentless is my middle name. 

What a system. Forget about making America great again. Make America answer the phone again.

So my husband called an insurance specialist and he said she and the children are  is definitely eligible for Medicaid but they will give us the runaround forevermore and we need to stay on them until they give in.  

Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. Your government dollars at work, my friends.

We pay all this tax money so folks in need can be provided for.  Then we who have paid these thousands of dollars in taxes have to CHASE the government down and try to force them  to cough up the money to the people who are in need? How crazy is that?  

The rejection letter from Medicaid said to check about Obama care. We did and those folks said she was not eligible either. Something about having to make $18 K a year. I don't understand this reasoning at all. The insurance specialist said that with her salary she would never have enough to pay the deductibles.  So much for hope and change.

With all the money we pay in taxes, I was thinking they may roll out a red carpet for Lexi and the children and even send a marching band to the house. I was wrong. They didn't even give us a set of coasters or a pen.

The government doesn’t do go out of their way for anybody, and it still takes people like me and you, family members, friends, non-profits and churches and the like who give a rip about people.    

At the end of the day it's not the government who helps people.

It's people who help people.

Government is just one big ball of red tape that you have to keep chasing .

I am soooooooooooooo grateful to all of the family and friends and the church (not just our church but many church folks from all over) who have reached out to help Lexi with everything from a package of diapers to clothes and shoes, to training to be a CNA. She couldn't move forward without this kind of help. It's the grace of God and this kind of help that has kept her alive! (One year ago she was literally on the verge of death!!!)

More than ever I believe in not only the hope and help of faith, family and friends, but in people like Carolyn Espina and the New Life Center for Family Preservation. They do amazing work. Day in and day out. I believe in them. I believe in what they do.  (By the way, I'm their speaker again at their annual fundraising banquet this year in November. If you live in Florida, maybe you can come! It's on Thursday night, November 3 at Harvest Assembly of God in Lakeland.)

We are praying that Medicaid’s decision will be reversed and will stay on them until it is.  Even if it’s until Jesus comes back they will have to put up with hearing  my relentless voice.

We are praying for a compassionate dentist to help her, pro bono. Do doctors do stuff pro bono or is that just lawyers? Well, you know what I mean.   At least one of her teeth are infected to the point where it has to be extracted. I have written emails to local dentists asking for help and asked friends if they know anyone who does this kind of work as charity.

We are praying provision for a car for her, to get her to work and Livvy to head start, and Brody to school and back.  (There is little to no public transportation in our area.) She will save what little bit she can each week toward it, and we know God is able.

We are praying that a spot with Early Head Start will open for Livvy. Until then we will keep up our juggling act. We could be in the circus by now. She is used to going to Uncle Larry and Aunt Deanna's office when we do not have child care, and traveling all over the state of Florida staying in hotels when I have to preach.

We are praying that with the provision of a job, her bills will be covered.

We are praying most of all that she and the children feel secure and loved in their new place here, and that they thrive and reach the destiny God has for them.

What’s the point of this post?

People talk about how the church isn’t pro-family preservation in many ways.

Sometimes that is true. Other times, it isn't.

Right now in addition to my sister (her mother) -- and our family -- it's the church who is helping Lexi.

I see that the government isn’t set up to promote family preservation.

Family preservation only works when people care.

Family preservation only works when people want it to. 

Photo credit: freedigitalphotos.net

No Explanation Needed

Shifts are happening with people becoming greater educated about what adoptees face. Even so, the adoptee experience remains vastly misunderstood or not understood at all by many. Once I came out of the fog, I used to try so desperately to try to make the people around me understand.  Now I realize that not only can you not make someone understand but they have to have a desire to understand in the first place.  If something affected me, I would try to explain it. If I was going to do something or not do something, I would give a reason.  But that has changed.

In the past if my family asked me to go to a movie and I was apprehensive because I thought it may have a triggering theme, I would go into an explanation of why I’d rather not participate. Sometimes this led to my family trying to convince me to change my mind and go. This led to a heated discussion a few times as I didn’t want to be pressured to go through something that for them was pleasure and for me, pain. I just wanted to be at peace. And for me, peace in that instance meant staying home. Now I don't talk about triggers, I just say, "No, I don't want to go to the movies tonight."(By the way if you want to have a heads up about movies beforehand, go to Addison Cooper's Adoption at the Movies. He has given me perspective and saved me from a bad experience quite a few times.)

In the past if I made a leadership decision based upon a trigger or potential trigger, I felt the need to talk to somebody about it even if just one close friend. Perhaps this was to unburden myself more than anything - I'm not sure.  A while back, I sat in a room with a group of leaders who were all encouraged to host a speaker who had just given a presentation about their organization. The short talk itself was unsettling for me and I couldn’t wait until it was over. However many of the leaders around me were already pulling out their calendars to see when they could schedule the person. I just smiled and went to the coffee station for a few minutes and then went about my day, continuing on with the rest of the meetings. No need to talk to anyone about it. I just made a choice and that was that.

In retrospect, I have come to see that a lot of my stress came in the times where I tried to explain my decisions. Why I chose something or why I did not.  Why I go to certain places or not, why I participate in different things or I don’t…why I host various people or I don’t…why I support specific people, causes or organizations or I don’t. I now see that a boatload of my stress came because I didn’t just give a simple no and let it go at that.

There’s a popular meme that says, “You don’t have to attend every argument you’re invited to.” I have come to realize that explaining my feelings or experience is often nothing but an invitation to an argument.  I refrain from commenting on some people’s posts on social media because it’s not worth the emotional energy that it takes to share the truth, although it is…the truth. It will still be the truth whether they believe it or not. And sometimes as an adoptee I find I am alone in the room with the truth. And, it’s okay. Although it wasn't okay a few years ago. In fact I felt like I would explode if I didn't say something. But I’ve had to make peace with it being okay because if not I would have driven myself to the nuthouse trying to change people who are not open to thinking new thoughts.

I can sense when people are open to education, or not. And particularly in the time when I sense they are not, greater peace comes when I realize that no is a whole sentence.