I grew up listening to stories about my mom’s life in South Korea. She had lost her parents at a young age and grew up on the heels of war. Eventually, through a number of circumstances, she lost contact with all of her family and immigrated to the States. I’ll never forget being young and asking her question after question about her life in Korea and about the grandparents I never met and would spend hours imagining in my head. And then, when I was seven years old, we visited Korea after my Mom and Dad had spent countless hours and trips searching for any of my mom’s living relatives. We walked down a narrow stair way into a basement restaurant  and were soon surrounded by a flurry of bodies and voices.  I was wrapped in hug after hug, and watched my mom weep in a way I had never seen anyone weep before. It was a mixture of joy for what was found, and grief for all that had been lost. 

Something made sense to me that day as young girl: family is forever and our God-given roots keep us, no matter how far away our branches reach.


I never would have imagined the way my own family’s journey would someday intersect with the stories my mom told me as a child, but five years ago, it became clear to my husband and I that our family would grow from four to five through an adoption from South Korea. The journey was long, but the day we met our daughter Everly for the first time, a little over two years ago, all I could think about was the bigger story of redemption that had been playing out for longer than I was alive. It stretched over generations, families and continents, through culture and languages, like an invisible but indestructible bridge.


It was true for my mom and for me, and I’m praying that all three of our kids would know that family is forever and our God-given roots keep us, no matter how far away our branches reach.

**Thank you so much @tashajunb for sharing your story!

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