I was abandoned by my birthmother in a motel room when I was three years old. She told me to stay on the bed or I’d die a horrible death. A private detective found me a few days later lying on the motel bed in my own filth.


While serving prison time for armed robbery, I often daydreamed about finding my birthmother. Although I’d been adopted by a loving family, I’d never been able to accept their love and even blamed them for how my life had turned out. If I could only find my real mother, I imagined, maybe she would answer the big “WHY?” that had reverberated in my mind since childhood.


One day the Lord opened my eyes to my selfishness. Whatever reason my mother might’ve had for abandoning me, it would never “make sense.” As a Christian, I needed to forgive her just as God had forgiven me and pray that she might know the same forgiveness I now had in Jesus. I needed to remember the parents God had granted me and rest in the truth that my heavenly Father had been right with me all along.