How I know I'm Not Adopted.

For as long as I can remember, I haven't been good at sitting still - or just doing one thing at a time. I'm the girl who is always playing a game on her phone, reading a book while watching television, or typing while you're talking at work. Sorry. I know it's terrible. But it is part of who I am. 

As a kid, my fabulous Kindergarten teacher Mrs. Szostek and her family would pick me up and take me to church for all the years of grade school. During the service we were required to take down notes. It was perfect for me. Pay attention to the sermon and write down notes. I never stopped this habit. I do it while I'm on the phone at work, when people are talking, etc. It's probably distracting to those around me. But you also can't say "But I never said that," to me. Because I probably wrote it down. 

Which leads me to this picture:

I didn't draw it. My dad did. But it was done at church. If I remember correctly, the pastor was discussing not thinking the world revolved around you. Which means (of course) that I proceeded to draw myself, then the gravitational pull of the Earth around me. Yeah, yeah - probably not the best thing to be drawing in church. However, I won't forget the message to that sermon anytime soon, right? 

Dad peeked over my shoulder, shook his head and said I was adopted (note the arrow at the top). I leaned back far enough that the arrow was no longer pointing at me, but instead my sister. 

To drive his point home he then sketched me. Or, I suppose what I look like to him. I forget this picture existed, but was scanning my old Facebook pictures looking for something and ran across it this morning. 

The world doesn't revolve around me still. Or it probably would have stopped turning the day my father passed away. That's how it felt (and still does, at times) to me. But I think the fact that I have moved along my days, that I write blogs here, that I have put on my (somewhat) brave face every day for the last 7 weeks proves I am not adopted. I'm every bit a part of my parents as is scientifically possible. 

My Dad fought cancer for more than 8 years. And every day, he got up, he put on his (totally) brave face, and he went to work. He came home and picked up around the house. He made my mom dinner. He harassed his children for sport. His world continued to turn. And he knew the world didn't revolve around him - except for my mother's that is. My mom was the same way as he was. She continued to go to work every day. She smiled. She laughed. She hid how tired she was from taking on the emotional and physical toll of taking care of Dad. She made him dinner. She made sure she was still available to us. She still volunteered her time when possible, to help others. She raised money for the American Cancer Society. She saw past just the dark skies above her. The world didn't stop turning then. And it isn't going to stop turning now. 

And that, my friends, is how I know I'm not adopted. Because my parents' DNA is what keeps me going. What makes me see opportunities to help others. What proves to me that the world keeps going, even when we are facing the hardest times of our lives. Even when we want to curl up or give up. We don't. Jim never did. So why would we? It's sort of set a precedent. 

Also, his drawing skills pretty much seal the deal. I'm not much better.

Exhibit A, pictured above.

So here's hoping. Hoping that your world keeps spinning, that you realize it doesn't revolve around you, and that they got Dad a better set of glasses in Heaven - because I SO don't look like that.