One of my closest friends recently returned from a trip to Sweden. It’s a long story but the gist is her daughter was selected to participate in a Swedish television show last summer. The show is about Americans finding their Swedish relatives and along the journey participate in various competitions. Anyway, through the course of this program, my friend’s daughter was introduced to several of their relatives who invited them to come to Sweden for a family reunion of sorts.

A few days after my friend returned home, she called and we talked about her trip. She said it was a wonderful experience and her Swedish relatives were all extremely gracious and welcoming. She made a reference about how cool it was to connect to family—family who, before last summer she didn’t even know existed. As soon as we ended our phone call I felt the need to write these words: I realize once again how important it is to feel connected—connected to people who are, by blood, connected to us.

Needing to feel connected is nothing new to me and it’s not new to you either. We all need to connect to other people. We were never intended to live in isolation—we are not made to live solitary lives. But given my circumstances, I had to explore my initial thoughts about needing a blood connection.

As an only child I obviously never had a sibling relationship. However, I did have a lot of extended family on both sides and growing up I felt a bond to a few of them—not a strong connection—but a connection nonetheless. But with the loss of my dad when I was twelve, and the remarriage of my mother by the time I was fourteen, I slowly lost almost all communication with my dad’s side of the family. And with the existence of widespread emotional cutoff in my mother’s family, it was easy to lose touch with most of them. As I approached my early teens, I began forming strong friendship bonds with a select few girlfriends and I became like an “extra” child within their families—I was made to feel like a part of their family even to the point of being invited to go on vacation with them a few times. Looking back I felt connected but I knew deep down, I wasn’t one of them—I was welcomed but I “belonged” somewhere else to someone else.

After a rough beginning in my early twenties, I found the love of my life, we married and had two beautiful children—a son then a daughter. Five years into our marriage we moved to Texas. Shortly thereafter, I was able to stay home and raise our children. I cherished my role as a stay-at-home mom.

So fast forward and here I am, married for over thirty years, both children are married and have families of their own. Funny, how that happens. You spend your youthful adult years raising children and then one day, you have to let them go—that’s what it means to raise a family—we raise them to launch them but I found it not only redefined our nuclear family unit, it redefined my role as a mom in ways I didn’t and couldn’t see coming.

The void created with the onset of my empty nest was tough. It took a few years but my old adversary “aloneness” crept back into my consciousness when I no longer had the day-to-day interaction with my children. I found that simply getting busy didn’t help—this was a deep sense of being alone—not lonely but alone. I found myself thinking about myself as an orphan—a lot. One synonym of the word orphan is stray which is interesting to me because the word stray can refer to losing one’s way, to drift. Have you ever felt like you have somehow lost your way? Do you ever feel like you are merely drifting through each day all alone? It was during this very difficult time that I had the following experience and I pray that in sharing this story you are encouraged.

Jen and I were attending a monthly mentor leadership meeting. As is customary, after the meeting anyone who desires prayer takes a seat in the middle of the room and everyone else gathers around and prays over her. Jen asked to be prayed over that morning. After we finished praying but before she got up from the chair, she asked where I was, was I still there? I said “I’m right here” then she said “I believe the Lord wants me to tell you “you are not an orphan.” The moment she spoke those words I fell to my knees and sobbed almost uncontrollably. There was no human explanation as to why Jen would speak those words…I had never shared with Jen or anyone else how I felt like an orphan…how alone I have felt much of my life. God met me where I was that day and through Jen, reassured me I am not an orphan, I am not alone.

Now back to my thought “I realize once again how important it is to feel connected—connected to people who are, by blood, connected to us.” Biological family ties can be wonderful, rich relationships. They can also be difficult and heartbreaking. Thankfully, we are not, as Jesus followers, limited to our bio families for blood connections. We are, as believers in Jesus, connected to each other through our salvation, our new birth—we are brothers and sisters—heirs through the blood of Christ.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy he gave us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, that is, into an inheritance imperishable, undefiled, and unfading. 1 Peter 1:3-4 (NET)

How thankful I am that Jesus looked upon this only child and knew I would want/need connections that extended well beyond my familial ties. He has so graciously provided those all my life. And when those tough days come and I feel like an orphan—a little lost and alone—I know that I know I am not! I am sealed in the blood of Christ. I am not alone! Amen.

C. Deni Johnson