***This page is STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION***
I am adopted. I have known I was adopted since I was able to understand that word. In fact, one of my bedtime stories was "The 'dopted story" where I vividly recall my daddy telling me how he and my mother came to pick out their very own little girl. He really emphasized how special I was and how very much I was loved.
My mother and father were unable to have children because my mother had a hysterectomy early in her married life due to extreme complications from endometriosis. Not long after they applied for adoption through the department of social services, they were told they had a little girl waiting. My adoption was a state adoption so my parents came to pick me up at the Children's Bureau in Columbia, South Carolina.
I am so incredibly blessed to have been adopted by a father with such strength and integrity and a mother with such compassion and devotion. They provided me with every opportunity to pursue my dreams by nurturing my talents and building my self-confidence. They stood tall as role models and unwavering as a support system in every area of my life. They worked very hard to give me and my brother, David, a stable family life.
I am adopted. I have known I was adopted since I was able to understand that word. In fact, one of my bedtime stories was "The 'dopted story" where I vividly recall my daddy telling me how he and my mother came to pick out their very own little girl. He really emphasized how special I was and how very much I was loved.
Curtis and Norma Powell, about the time they adopted me
Curtis Furman Powell, 30 years old
Norma Ruth Henderson Powell, age 28
I am so incredibly blessed to have been adopted by a father with such strength and integrity and a mother with such compassion and devotion. They provided me with every opportunity to pursue my dreams by nurturing my talents and building my self-confidence. They stood tall as role models and unwavering as a support system in every area of my life. They worked very hard to give me and my brother, David, a stable family life.
with my little brother, David, around 1975.
David graduated from Dorman High School the same year I graduated
from Winthrop College, 1992.
When I look at the way adoptions are arranged
these days, I am even more amazed at how “normal” I turned out. I was always so
comfortable with being adopted knowing that I was not different in any inferior
way but rather completely set apart BECAUSE I was chosen to be in this family,
with this couple as my parents. Every part of being adopted was special; never something to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. I did not go through identity
crises because of being adopted and I know it is because of the way Mama and Daddy
built me up and assured me…how they believed in me.
We celebrated my special day on May 1st every year.
Growing up, people would often ask me if I
would ever look for my birth parents. I
would always answer that I would like to see my birth mother across the room
and know it was her but never interfere in her life. Later when I was old enough to realize that I
could have easily been aborted instead of adopted, I wanted to write my mother
and thank her for having me and giving me the opportunity to live. Sounds
sappy, I know, but that was how I felt. And
what a wonderfully rich life I have lived.
I am so proud of my brother, David, who graduated from
the University of Georgia.
Not long after I turned thirty-four, it started
to concern me that I did not have a medical history. After losing both of my grandmothers, I began
thinking about how my birth mother was getting older and would not be around
forever. If I wanted any chance of
finding out anything about her, I needed to do something. Being such a research geek, I started looking
at online adoption bulletin boards finding out what kinds of information could be
posted and what kinds of things could be searched. I found a site that was free of charge and free
of risk. I distinctly remember experiencing two things that night: feeling that
I did not want to be responsible for preventing someone else from finding me, if
they were looking, and praying that God would be in control of the whole
situation…if He wanted me to be found, He would orchestrate it. All I would do is post what I knew and leave
the rest in His hands.
The anecdotal notes my mother had dictated from the social worker
who handled my adoption case. Mama shared this with me when I was about 18 years old.
That is exactly what I did. In fact, I pretty
much forgot about it. I never even went back to look at the bulletin boards.
But six months later in January of 2005, I was astounded when God chose to
reunite me with the mother of my birth. A woman called and left a message on my
answering machine saying that she worked with the ALMA Society and she thought she
had found a match for my birth mother. I
was very skeptical at first. I kept
expecting it to be a scam, but something about the way she told me how long she
would be up that night and how she was taking her husband to an appointment the
next morning just seemed so sincere. I
remember standing there in front of the phone with my head spinning and my
heart pounding. Could this really be it?
Was I about to find my mother? I was so
nervous. What was I about to discover in this Pandora’s box? Would it be a good thing with good news? Or
would it open up wounds and cause pain for my loved ones? Again I trusted God
because I believed He had made this happen.
So I picked up the phone and called her back. Together we compared what information we knew
about my adoption. Since my adoption was done through the State Department, my
records were sealed and never opened. I knew only what my mom had shared with
me from anecdotal notes provided from the case worker. After verifying my birth
date, birth place, and birth name, the ALMA Society representative was convinced we had a match.
She gave me the name and number of my birthmother and let me decide on
the next step.
I just could not believe that I was on the
verge of finding this person who had been missing from my life. I was nervous
as I called her that next night. But nothing could have ever prepared me for how
overwhelmed I would be with joy to hear her voice and her laughter, to sense a
connection with a perfect stranger that was no stranger at all.
For a few weeks, we just exchanged emails and letters and photos. When I saw the first photo of Wilma, I knew we were mother and daughter.
For a few weeks, we just exchanged emails and letters and photos. When I saw the first photo of Wilma, I knew we were mother and daughter.
Wilma Faye Parvin at about one year
Lee Anne Powell at about one year
Wilma Faye Parvin marries Michael Leary, 1975
On my wedding day November 18, 1995
Then on a winter day less than a week before
my birthday, February 9th,
2005 , I sat in a café in the mountains of Western
North Carolina looking into the brown, dewy eyes of the woman who
brought me into the world. In that café, I heard the story of how I came to be,
the story of my birth. She shared all the details of me literally being born,
something that touched me deeper than I could have ever imagined. Having given birth to my son Benjamin and
entered into that maternal world, I finally was able to know what my mother
went through in giving me birth, in giving me life.
How can I explain to you the significance of connecting
with my flesh and blood? How can I put into words the feeling of wholeness I
felt when I did not even realize the need I had of it? How do I describe the mysterious peace I
found within myself and in the world around me?
The feelings I experienced are so deep and sacred. I can only praise God for blessing me and
making it all happen as it did. I thank
Him for giving me this supernatural ability to love and finally understand Him
giving me the BIG heart I have. I certainly need it to embrace all the emotions
and number of family members I have encountered.
Wilma Parvin and Michael (Mickey) Lloyd Miller
attending a formal in 1968
The closest Parvin/Leary family members came to our wedding May 14, 2005
Words are still hard to choose in describing
my feelings about that reunion. So many
questions were answered. So many holes were filled, holes I did not even know I
had. I finally understood where I got my
dark eyes and dark skin-from my birthfather who is of Cherokee descent. I
finally understood why I was destined to be a teacher-from my birthmother who
just retired from teaching elementary school, second grade to be exact, same as
me! I finally understood why I loved the
Bible and longed to be a “preacher” even though my denomination did not allow
women preachers-from my maternal granddaddy who was a Presbyterian
minister. And I finally came to realize
where my musical talents began-from both sides of my birth families, they are
all musicians. These were just a few of
the pieces of my life that finally began to fit. Not to mention, there were odd
coincidences such as my birthmother living so close, just in Asheville , NC
For a powerpoint showing a little book about my story...
The Story of Me
For a powerpoint showing a little book about my story...
The Story of Me
