Recent Stories

Finding My Mother – Sara’s Story

Finding My Mother – Sara’s Story

I have known that I am adopted for as long as I can remember. My parents encouraged me to find my birth parents but it never really interested me, although I did think about my birth mother on my birthday and Mother’s day. I am so thankful that she chose life for me and I told my friends and family ‘if I ever do meet her I want to say thank you for my life.’ …....

Read More

He is Faithful – Laurie’s Story

He is Faithful – Laurie’s Story

From as young as I can remember I dreamed of being a mother. As the eldest child in our family I embraced the role of protective big sister to my two younger sisters and brother. My dreams for my life were traditional and uncomplicated. I would become a nurse like my mom and then a wife and mother. I was not a natural student and did not enjoy school. As a shy and quiet teenage....

Read More

Family Ties – Getrude’s Story – South Africa

Family Ties – Getrude’s Story

Growing up I never really understood the value of Mother’s Day, Father’s Day or Valentine’s Day. When I asked my friends why they celebrated these occasions, their answers always related to wanting to honour their family. But what if you don’t feel like your family is worth celebrating? My two siblings and I grew up in a home that was defined by abuse; abuse of alcohol,....

Read More

Am I Enough? – Gillians’ Story – South Africa

Am I Enough? – Gillians’ Story

I was born in South Africa to a 16 year old unwed mother. My mom was too young to take on the responsibility of motherhood so my granny stepped in and she raised me as her 11th child. My mom has since gone on to have five more children. It was many years before my siblings were told that I was their sister and not their aunty. My grandparents were very strict, especially my gra....

Read More

When Earthly Fathers Falter – Michelle’s Story

When Earthly Fathers Falter – Michelle’s Story

Dad took a hammer to the walls late one night. The next morning, the kitchen was covered in dents left by the hammer’s blows. Before I headed off to school, my mother and I ate breakfast in our newly “decorated” kitchen. No one said a word. My father was an alcoholic. His disease consumed our lives. I was told that there was a time, prior to my adoption, when my dad was a....

Read More