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Writer's picturePenni Elaine

Well, That Is A Beautiful Mess




These are five of the most important people in my world.  Four of them came directly from me.  Two are children, two are grandchildren.  One married in, and thus became as much mine as the others.  All of them, as you can clearly see, look just like me.  The resemblance is uncanny, isn’t it? Stop laughing.  All of them look just like me. I will accept no other assessment.


We, as a family, have our share of messes.  We have choices in our past that we regret.  We have been victim to other people’s foolishness, and other people’s evil.  We have had to work our way out of cataclysmic situations.  In all of it we are family, and even when mad at one another, we remember to whom we are connected.


Recently, I have been looking at personal heritage.  I know little about my birth family, so, with a desire to show my children their familial history, have been wandering around the world of ancestry research.  I did not know that a curiosity that led to a DNA test on an ancestry site would lead to this current mess.  Genetic ties pop up on those things and family members are confirmed, or in my case, found. 


I have been contacted by a niece or a cousin.  It appears that the man I have always known as my father has a child born of a secret affair.  He was never told, and the child was adopted out.  This is not a problem, as it is common for adopted children to go looking for a birth family.  However, it is a mess, as it appears that this adoptee may not be my half-brother but my cousin.  This means one of two things.  The adoptee has the wrong information, or my dad is not my dad.  If she is correct, the man I know as my father is really my uncle and there was more than one messy affair going on at that time. 


Now, before you assume I am all up in arms about the discrepancy and get worried about my heart, relax.  I am not upset.  I am curious.  I don’t have a problem with the people in my past having historical messes.  Messes are common to all humanity.  I have never met a person without a tangled history.  My own messes implore humility, and I grant it willingly. I don’t resent my parents or their high consequence choices.  I am curious though, as to the DNA connection and who is actually my father. 


In the great scheme of things, does it matter?  No.  My parents divorced before my birth.  However, everyone has always said he was my father.  My mother, who could answer this question immediately, died 7 years ago.  So, I am left with the task of searching it out. I have no intention of anger or judgement.  I simply want to know the truth.  Honestly, once this is all untangled, I sense this mess may end up beautiful. 


A beautiful mess?  That is an oxymoron of my hyper organized personality. My brain wants to believe messes mean one thing. 


It’s time to clean up. 


If only it were that easy.  Messes are not cooperative.  Tidying up may only last moments before life flips out of control once again.  It could be the death of my sanity, but, I have lived long enough to understand that messes are the substance on which the character of life is built. It is in the messes that we are forced to become. Take this ministry transition.  We are praying over the process.  We are waiting on God’s timing.  We are building an educational program that we can do with or without property.  We are coaching, compassion training, pastoring, and counseling over zoom and in our homes, and we are dealing with the collateral happenings that go with doing things this way.  We are also wading through personalities of leadership and donors.  We are processing through who will be near and who will be held at a loving distance.  We are working through our own faith journey and fussing over the messiness within our lives, and we are sorting through our own should and should not haves.    


In all of it, we are growing into people who will be kind to those who have made their own messes, for we know that we ourselves have also done so.  We are becoming the most nonjudgmental people I know, as we are all, without the forgiveness of a God who is the only one who can truly pardon us, worthy of the most severe consequences.  We are forming patience, for we know how long it is taking to untangle ourselves and sort out those things we have in our past and present. Mostly, we are learning what true love is, for some of the messes we encounter are pretty horrific, and to love someone that tangled up is an absolute act of grace—the same grace we have so often received.


We are working through our transition, pulling, sorting, and setting things in order so that the ministry is one that is true to the Gospel, the Word and the character of God as we know it.  Why? Because I have never met a soul who had true, perfect peace outside of those three things.  God is the Master mess detangler. 


I sent a message to my new relative—cousin or niece—and told her I am going to try and figure this all out.  Then, I sent a message to my four living siblings and asked them about DNA tests.  This precious soul shares my DNA, and for me, that means something.  I will do my best to detangle this so that she can know her history. 


In the ministry and my family, in time the messes will be a testimony.  In the end, I will look around at both in wonder, thanking God for the mess that led to the beautiful story I will be able to tell.






***** If you are supporting and praying for our ministry, we thank you!  We continue to walk the process of acquiring such a perfect property.  We need your prayers for wisdom and finances as we walk in God's direction.***** !

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