How I Met My Mother

     In order for you to fully understand my story I need to start 26 years ago in Tacoma, Washington. Born into the world was a little brown starfish with more hair than cousin It. She was cute. She was 4 pounds. She was me.
     I won't go in to too much detail in order to respect my mother's privacy, but she wasn't at a place in her life where she could take care of me so I went into foster care. My birth mother came to a couple visits to see me, but shortly after, she disappeared. Two years later this awesome couple adopted me and a family was born. My parents were open with me about my adoption from Day 1. I never knew anything about my birth mother except what I could find on my birth certificate: name, birth date, etc.

     Despite being happy, there was always a missing piece. I just wanted to KNOW. I wanted to know where I came from. I wanted to know what happened. I wanted to meet the person whose toes I inherited! That sounds really silly but it's true. You never realize the joy of sharing features with someone unless you don't. I had a single picture of my birth mother and it excited me beyond belief when people said I looked like my mother. I promise that little tidbit is important to the story.

     So while I was in high school I started searching for my mother. It is REALLY hard to find someone based on a name, birthday and approximate location. Almost impossible (plus this was before social media really took off). Try it sometime. The summer of 2011 is when I gave up. I didn't give up hope, I gave up control. I was preparing to serve a mission and I said a prayer one day as I was feeling extra frustrated that I wasn't getting anywhere. I told Heavenly Father, "Okay. This is important to me. But so is serving a mission. So I will let go of this for now, put it in your hands and focus on preparing for that. I know that if I'm meant to find her, you'll make it happen."

     I received my mission call (fingers crossed for France or England) to the California Roseville Mission (where?!). Here I was being called to some random little mission that nobody had ever heard of. I certainly wasn't disappointed, just caught off guard.

    Fast forward to the first Sunday on my mission in my first area: the lovely Yuba City. The man who taught our Sunday school class knew a lot about family history research. He mentioned in passing that he had done some searches for biological parents for people who were looking. After class I asked him some questions and told him my story (a much shorter version than this one) and he said he'd be happy to search for me. So I gave him the name and birthday that I had and moved on with life. Days later he calls us up:

     Him: "Hi Sister Williams. So, I found lots of information on your family."
     Me: "Really?"
     Him: "I even think I found your birth mom."
     Me: "Really?!?!?!"
     Him: "This next part might shock you."
     (Keep in mind, as far as I know at this point, she is still living somewhere in the Tacoma-Seattle area)
     Me: "Okay."
     Him: "She lives in our mission. Five minutes from your mission office."
     Me: "........."
     I didn't even know what to say. What do you say to that?

     So my companion and I met up with him to get the information and he explained the experiences he's had in the past with children meeting their biological parents. Basically he said be careful and don't get your hopes too high. She could have a family now and have moved on. I may just be a reminder of her not so pleasant past. She may not be in a good place STILL. She may want to see me. She may not.
     Over the next 4 months I talked with my mission president A LOT. I even think I called home and talked to my adopted parents. Most importantly, I prayed day and night. I wanted to make the right decision for my life, for my mission and for my mother. In the end I decided to meet her. I had turned it over to God that summer and I was pretty sure this was his result.

     December 31, 2011
     We met in the mission office. My companion, my mission president, and his wife were all there. I felt everything from complete gratitude to extreme fear. She was SO happy to meet me. She cried as she hugged me for the first time in 22 years. On her end, she was happy to meet her daughter, to know that I was okay, that I'd been loved and provided for and that I wasn't angry with her. On my end, I think the first thing I thought was, "Do we have the same toes?" Seriously. First thing I thought. It was the little things that brought me joy, like us having the same smile and laugh. I didn't have a lot to say, I'm pretty sure I was in shock a little bit, but I felt something I'd never felt before. I knew where I came from and that gave me such peace.

My birth mother and I have kept in touch ever since. It isn't always easy. There's no way to make up for all those lost years, but we are building a one of a kind relationship. It's kind of weird having two moms.You can't really love multiple mothers the same way a parent loves multiple children, but I'm learning as I go. I love both my mothers for different reasons and in different ways, and I love my unique family.

I know God loves me. I know that he knows me. He knows all the deepest desires of my heart. I've always known this, but I've had days that I questioned it. After this experience I don't question it anymore. If there wasn't a God in heaven who loved "Mary Berry" more than she will ever know and knew exactly what she needed, this experience would not have played out so perfectly. This is one of the many reasons I was called to serve in the California Roseville Mission. I chose to serve so I could help God change lives, and in exchange, he changed mine.