84: My Time to Move

84: My Time to Move

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Miracles and More

My Time to Move

Faith is not without worry or care, but faith is fear that has said a prayer.

~Author Unknown

I always knew I was adopted. I remember obsessing over who my biological parents were, grilling my parents for information, and even, for a while, convincing myself that Bernadette Peters was my biological mom. My parents were open with me, but they also knew what would happen if they gave a Type-A teenager too much information. “When you’re twenty-one, we’ll tell you their names,” they told me. I can’t even count the number of times I heard that.

It was a private adoption, which means my parents actually got to meet the people who gave me life. They knew their names. They saw their faces. I held on to their promise of “when you’re twenty-one” until the day finally came. I was in my final semester of college, working on a capstone presentation and taking seven courses. I was also working thirty-five hours a week. But I didn’t wait one extra day past my birthday before asking for the names of my biological parents.

As soon as I had them, I took to the Internet. After thirty minutes, I found them. I remember calling my best friend to have her look at my biological mother on Facebook. “Do you think this is her? Do you think I look like her?”

My brain couldn’t process it. I didn’t sleep at all that night. In the morning, I told my parents I had found my birth parents and my dad said, “Kimberley, you have a lot going on right now. Please, for your own sake, wait until after you graduate to contact anyone.”

He was right. I did have a lot going on. Then my mom made another request of me: “When you reach out, reach out to Laura first.” Laura was my biological grandmother. My research showed that she still lived in the area, while my biological mother and father did not. It made sense, so I agreed to that as well.

The month that followed was torturous. I was filled with insecurity. What if they didn’t like me? What if they didn’t want to know me? Was I setting myself up for the greatest disappointment of my life by reaching out to these people?

Graduation came and went, as did the week after it. I barely remember that time now. What I do remember is agonizing over whether or not I should call the phone number I found for Laura. I was in church one Sunday morning in December, still thinking about it. I had been praying about whether to call or not for days. I wasn’t really paying attention to the sermon because I was so distracted. Then, something registered.

The pastor said, “Sometimes, it feels like God isn’t moving because he’s waiting for you to move.” I had fulfilled my parents’ wishes and waited till after graduation. I had nothing pressing in my life now. I had Laura’s phone number saved in my cell phone. The only thing holding me back from reaching out was me!

The pastor’s words were life changing for me. I finally realized it was all in my hands. I prayed differently after that. I asked God for the interaction to go well. I prayed that Laura would want to get to know me, and that she would say my biological mother wanted to know me, too. I prayed for acceptance. I don’t even remember walking to the parking lot and getting into my car because I was praying so hard. After fifteen more minutes of sitting in my car, staring at the number on my cell phone, I hit Call. The phone rang twice, and I hung up. It was a first step, though!

I realized I didn’t know what message I would leave if she didn’t answer. I mean, you can’t really tell someone, “Hey, I’m your long-lost granddaughter. Wanna get coffee?” in a voicemail. I prayed again for courage and the right words to say, and hit Redial. The call went to voicemail, and I left the most awkward, vague message of my life. I think I said my name and phone number four times!

I didn’t want to go to my parents’ house. It just seemed weird to get that call back while I was there, so I went to my best friend’s apartment. We sat there in her living room, staring at my phone. I had the ringer turned all the way up. When it actually started ringing, I almost fell over. I grabbed the phone and went outside. I was scared I’d lose the signal in the apartment, and this was one time I certainly didn’t want my phone to cut out.


“Hi, this is Laura. I received a call from this number.”

I asked what her daughter’s name was. We had a winner.

“Well, like I said in the message, my name is Kimberley Diane Sorrells, and I think I’m your biological granddaughter.”

Her next words sent me into shock. She said, “I was praying for you in church this morning.” A new family in her Sunday school class had adopted a baby, and she said it reminded her of the granddaughter she had never met. She prayed I was doing well with my life and was safe.

I couldn’t believe it! I said, “I was praying for you in church this morning, too.”

Laura and I spent the next five minutes crying, not speaking a word. We eventually got to my biological mother’s contact information and how my parents were. I learned I had a brother.

Now I have two families. All because I listened to the pastor and found the faith to make the first move.

~Kimberley Sorrells

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