“After all these years of searching, I realize that what was calling me now was the same thing that was calling me as a child. I could not capture it because it was already a part of me, an extension of myself. It was me, projected, like a shadow. Ask yourself what is calling you—and then answer.”

– Victoria Clarynn Welch

In honor of National Adoption Awareness Month, here’s a look at semantics on the subject. And if you’re wondering how this piece fits into a work/life legacy blog, the last paragraph is all-inclusive to humanity. Plus, almost everyone is touched at least indirectly by adoption, by knowing someone (who knows someone) who is affected by the adoption triad. (And it’s always a good reminder to know that language equals power, so we need to choose our words carefully.)

I’ve known I am adopted for almost as long as I’ve known my name. Saying “I’m adopted,” is easy for me. Thanks to my sweet and loving parents, I’ve always felt special, chosen, legitimate (’cause they told me I was special—and chosen). The few times I’ve questioned my “authenticity” or wondered if maybe I did have something to feel ashamed about came as a result of other people’s misperceptions or attitudes of adoption or adoptees.

My parents surely felt upset, or at least cheated when birth parents used to be referred to routinely as the “real” or “natural” parents. (As if “adoptive” parents are “fake” or “unnatural”?) Such language could be argued as semantics, but for me it goes deeper than that. Words are powerful symbols. A fellow adoptee said it best: “They are not my ‘adoptive’ parents; they’re my parents. … A parent is someone who is there when you need them, through the good and bad times. Giving birth to someone doesn’t make you a parent.” It’s not the use but overuse of qualifiers that threaten to understate or wrongly label our parent/child relationships.

When I was in elementary school, a girl asked me if I knew what a bastard was. She then shared that “illegitimate children are bastards.” I was more outraged than hurt, and ran to my dictionary when I got home. She had to be mistaken! A bastard was somebody mean, bad—a terrible, awful person. But staring back at me from my World Book Dictionary was bastard: 1. a child whose parents are not legally married to each other; illegitimate child. 2. figurative. anything inferior or not genuine, especially anything of bad or spurious origin. 3. slang. an especially unpleasant, disliked, and usually unscrupulous person. Actually, I didn’t get to number 3. Tears blurred my vision. It was the first time I ever questioned my sense of worth. Was I inferior? After all, that’s what the dictionary stated. (And of course this means I previously had heard and knew that I, by definition, was “illegitimate”; otherwise, I never would’ve made the associated leap to bastard.)

That scene took place years ago. Multiple family situations abound now, domestic and international adoption are more prevalent and less cloaked in secrecy, and people are more sensitve, right? Nope. People are more aware, but it seems as if many people are less tolerable. They’re definitely less diplomatic.

The girl in the above incident wasn’t trying to be cruel; she was just sharing a new curse word she’d learned. Fast forward: A co-worker at the newspaper where I worked early in my career, a editor who was supposed to be discerning “red flag” words (“illegitimate” was one; to be replaced by “out of wedlock”), made a crass statement about “illegitmate children, the little bastards.” This time I didn’t question my self-worth; I questioned him. But he was steadfast in his opinion, regurgitating a belief he’d acquired. “But they are,” he repeated. “Illegitimate,” though less used now, remains on the forefront of some tongues and attitudes.

The old attitude and word seem to reignite when it’s budget time or a new research study comes out or politicians are enthralled in debates over welfare. That last one is especially tricky, when people dare to classify viable families from financially invalid ones, and then define children by their parentage. Completely apart from any intended message, what must be questioned is their language and underlying positions and beliefs. Forget about how thought-provoking direct messages or study results may be—the intent sometimes gets overshadowed and lost amid condescending, condemning language.

“Illegitimate” is much more than an unpleasant word. It carries with it a nasty, sour ring. And the people it affects the most are the children involved. Children have no say-so in their parentage, yet they are labeled with a negative, derogatory word that not only implies, but by definition (and often, a deeper opinion) says that they are “less than.” As soon as they are born, what should be every person’s birthright is voided, taken away: their title of genuineness. If “illegitimate” was just a word, it could be ignored. But the attitude that too often accompanies it hardens and narrows minds, and the resulting point of view can damage those children.

We probably can’t rid society of the word, but let’s at least put it in its proper place. Label the parents who abandon, abuse, ridicule their children. Surely people who viciously and purposely harm their offspring are not truly “legitimate” parents. Attach the stigma, the title, the word to them, not blameless children.

Each of us is a legitimate human being. We must ensure that all children receive in thought, word, and definition their innate and entitled blessing of complete authenticity.

Not content merely to change your language? Can you “Answer the Call” and give a child a loving family? There are currently about 129,000 children in foster care in the United States that would love a permanent place to call home—and someone to call Mom and Dad. Check out:

National Adoption Awareness Month

Child Welfare Information Gateway

Adoption.org

What won’t turn loose of your heart? No, not a nice, tidy little hobby you find fun. (And no, I don’t mean your newest favorite song or a particular person.) I’m talking about your all-out passion. What’s that one thing you can’t NOT do? It’s the awesome thing that would consume you (if you’d let it).

Now do you have an answer? Yeah, that thing that makes your heart hum. That cause or talent that you think might be the reason you’re on this earth.

So, are you doing it? Enough? Honoring the gift that not only jazzes you but brings joy to others? If yes, then inhale a deep breath…pray a prayer of gratitude…and you can stop reading.

If not, why not? Is it time constraints? Money restrictions? Lack of support? I know you have an answer. But what if you stopped stopping at the answer and its reasons? What if you stopped giving the answer space and instead devoted the mental energy toward getting closer to your passion? Work past the negative answer. (News Flash: You can also do this with almost any obstacle/challenge/”impossibility” in your life.)

“Take a deep breath of your life and consider how it should be lived,” says Don Quixote. We must be deliberate about what we do, the decisions we make, how we spend our time. We also must be proactive with our thoughts. (Sometimes your sweet mind will give you faulty answers, wrongly believing it’s protecting you from harm or heartbreak.)

So what’s wrapped around your heart? In the big-picture, what’s your life’s mission?

If that’s too, well, big to digest, then write down things that are super important to you which you’re also great at doing. Almost always you’ll find clues of your life’s mission tied to these answers. For me, examples are writing thank you notes and attempting to be intensely attuned to individuals who cross my path, realizing that a smile or kind word may do much more than merely lift their spirits.

Taking those two things, writing+helping, pretty much sums up my life’s mission. My life is wrapped around the written word, and my intent is to use writing as a broad, solid platform from which to give others’ situations and needs a voice. I thrive on helping others know and share their stories, their legacies, as well as giving ink to my own personal treasures now and then. Writing is the common denominator between my personal and professional life.

So now, I want to hear your answers. What burning passion are you either flaming or stifling, and why? And remember, don’t stop with a faulty answer. Keep working through any current perceived or real limitation until you find at least one action you can take to get on the path to fulfill your desire. Because after all, it may be your life’s legacy—and you don’t want to rob the world of what only you can give.

I saw General Colin Powell earlier this year at a speaking engagement in North Carolina, and three things surprised me:

1. He is shorter in person than he appears on television.
2. He is truly humorous.
3. He is more genuinely interesting and engaging than I anticipated.

Focusing on that third surprise (although the humor part was the biggest shock) and as we’re approaching another Veterans Day, I’m sharing a little of General Powell’s words about the U.S. and leadership. Nothing revolutionary here, but good advice. None of us is above a reminder, right?

How national sentiment shapes personal sentiment

General Powell says that “Every nation touches us, we touch every nation.” We can’t escape globalization, and he believes we must “protect ourselves but not shut ourselves off” from the world. “No terrorist can ever change the shape of what we are.”

We lose sight of that, don’t we? As a nation and as individuals. Especially when there’s a senseless tragedy that has any shade or hint of terrorism attached. Reactions come furiously fast. It’s the same for us on a more intimate level, too. Take out the terrorist angle but leave in the trauma, and whether it’s business or personal, our first response is that involuntary knee jerk if we don’t take a moment to process the “attack.” When a business project vanishes that wasn’t merely expected but promised, what’s your initial thought? When a friend betrays you, what do you do?

Yes, terrorism and tragedies and “failures” can and must certainly shape some of our “policies” and procedures and playbook rules so that we don’t fall prey to repeat them. And yet we should never allow a negative happening to change the shape of what we are. Of who we are. Not as a country or a family or an individual.

Genuine connectivity is crucial for leaders (and biz people and, well, anyone who has contact with others)

As a four-star general, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and Secretary of State, General Powell has filled some of our nation’s top leadership positions. And his philosophy as a leader has been one of not being content to command others (although of course he gave a lot of  orders as a general); his strategy has been to connect with others. Genuine connectivity is crucial if we are to be effective leaders. This applies to business owners, sales people, teachers, pastors, entrepreneurs, families, well, anyone who has any human contact with others.

“Good leaders,” he says, “reach out to followers—not just to motivate but to inspire.” He believes strongly that if you’re a leader, you must “get into the hearts and minds of people…and make a human connection.” And the real rub? “They’re not going to believe your words; they’re going to believe your deeds.” Ah, right, leaders have to set good examples. Isn’t this simple truth one that trips up a lot of folks?!

Giving others “a sense of purpose” plus being trustworthy is big stuff too

As you’d expect, he says leaders also “have to be tough,” discipling when needed. But way beyond that, he believes leaders must give others “a sense of purpose” as well as the proper training and tools—and deserved recognition. There’s also that whole trust thing. Another simple principle that some people, politicians especially, seem not to grasp. Trust, in a leader, says General Powell, manifests itself as “courage, integrity, character.”

Do you employ methods or uphold (and live out) values?

In short, General Powell believes that leaders need to “get back to fundamentals.” And here’s my phrase that I believe to the core of my being: We can’t treat fundamentals (trust, connection, recognition, whatever) as methods to employ, but values to uphold.

And to close with a national nod, I’ll leave you with how General Powell feels about our country: “We are still that place of hope and dreams and opportunities.” Even now.

Your challenge? Take that hopeful, there-are-still-opportunities attitude. Marry it (with divorce NOT an option) with my sentence above (about upholding values). Now, let’s get past lip-service leadership to live our lives in alignment with what we say we believe.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re a writer, a painter, a blogger, a lawyer or an executive. We all have within us the opportunity and the ability to create a profound body of work, a legacy.”

—Jonathan Fields

Great comments from the first part of this blog. Thank you for sharing! To recap: The most memorable birthdays are the ones that boast caring (whether self-care and/or deliberate thoughtfulness by others).

In reading your replies and talking with others about their best birthday memories (which included lots of smiles and wistful looks), I must confess: The above title is way too narrow. Candles—and care—should extend to every celebration. And, the real point, you need to have more celebrations. Mark more events. Deem more days “special” and worthy of a little care (and candles).

I’m not talking about spending money to throw parties or stressing yourself out by adding more “shoulds” to your list. Some celebrations can be as simple as getting out real plates and grabbing your family to all sit down for dinner at the same time. Others could involve a two-minute phone call to rejoice with someone else on their special day.

Commemorate birthdays and anniversaries—not only marriages but all the milestone events: when you stopped smoking; when you moved into your new home; when you started your business; when you met your best friend. The possibilities are endless. Determine which occasions you want to declare as special. Don’t reserve celebrations only for “established” or “monumental” events; start new traditions and claim “lesser” happenings as reasons to spread cheer.

Why should we declare more special occasions? It’s back to the whole “care and thoughtfulness” thing. There’s no better, easier, and more genuine way to show that we care than when we remember and observe the happenings in our lives and the lives of those around us. Because by doing so, what we’re really doing is honoring people. And as we saw in the previous post, when we take a little time to celebrate and love one another, that joy can keep circulating for decades.

What will you celebrate and who can you honor this week?

Related Articles:

• Why Candles Are Crucial for Birthdays (Part 1)
• Make Every Day a Special Occasion

Before you say that “crucial” is a bit of a stretch, stop…and stretch your view. Use a wide angle lens and grasp the big picture. Candles are indeed of paramount importance for birthdays because having candles means (1) somebody has remembered the occasion; (2) somebody found or bought candles; (3) somebody has secured something to stick the candles into (preferrably a dessert, but any dish deemed yummy will do); (4) somebody will find a match if they’ve forgotten to bring any; and—this is the most important reason—(5) somebody has taken a moment out of time to celebrate the fact that you’re simply, wonderfully alive. In other words, candles equal caring. (And yes, it absolutely counts if some years the somebody poking the candles in your cake is none other than yourself.)

It’s worth saying again: Candles, and other numerous manifestations of setting apart and marking birthdays, equal caring. How cool is that? This is monumental stuff!

I have started taking my mom, Aldine, to task for her terrible birthday response the last few years. Happy birthday!” begins my morning phone call to her. “How’s your day so far?” To which she replies with no trace of sarcasm: “Just fine. Just another day.” That has been our a.m. scenario for the last few February 22nds.

Part of her reasoning is that she’s had so many birthdays that it isn’t necessary to set her birthday apart from other days. (She’ll be 76 next year.) She’s in good shape and can do what she wants, and that’s enough for her; nothing additional required. She doesn’t care about celebrating or have any need or desire for hoopla. Another part stems from the fact that birthdays weren’t really noted when she was a child.

Just a few years ago I learned that the very first birthday cake she ever remembers being baked for her was when she was 19 years old. Her then-fiance’s mother made and decorated it. (My granny was a big believer in the specialness of birthdays.) To hear and see my mom retell seeing her first cake (complete with candles and “so pretty!”), you quickly witness (by her words, excitement, smiling face) this truth: Birthdays that are distinguished by caring acts produce great joy…even more than a half-century later.

Drop in next week when we continue this discussion. (And please leave comments for us to interact.) Think of your best birthdays: What do they have in common? And yeah, smarty pants, some celebrations may not have included literal candles, but the memorable ones most definitely boasted caring (whether self-care and/or deliberate thoughtfulness by others).

sacred: adjective, something deemed worthy of respect and honor (and observance); dedicated to or set apart as holy for religious purposes (relating to rituals, rites, practices, or objects for use in worshiping an entity).

Sacred exudes having and displaying a sense of respect with awe and reverence in the mix. It’s all about the person doing the respecting, not the object or ritual upon which this emotion is projected or reflected. A candle, a building, the act of Holy Communion? They truly mean nothing on their own. Zip. Nada. (To those that say communion is always holy, I’d argue that without knowledge and belief, it’s merely a wafer and grape juice/wine.) A relationship, a home, building a business with heart? Ditto.

We claim something as sacred and assign to it that elevated meaning. We first have to believe in its sacredness. When we believe something is sacred, we bestow upon it heightened significance, symbolism, and power.

Synonyms to this word include “holy” but the opposite of sacred isn’t “unholy.” A better antonym is “casual.” If we treat a thing or an event or a person with casualness, then getting a replacement or doing away with it entirely is easy.

My grandmother's ring is sacred to me because of what it represents.

I have a ring from my grandmother that holds for me an element of sacredness, and I treat it as such. In what has become a ritual, I look at her initials engraved on the underside before wearing it. I think of her life—the good, the bad, the mellowing in her later years. I wear it carefully, respectfully, lovingly. If you saw it you’d see a cool vintage ring, period. Nothing sacred, for sure. You’d likely never notice the tiny hand-etched initials, or if you did, not be able to decipher them. It doesn’t own its sacredness; I impart it.

A wedding ring, on its own, is just a ring. We make the the round band sacred. (Whether or not we actually adhere to its contractual, covenant bond speaks to how sacred {or not} we hold our promise, the ring, and what society says marriage symbolizes.)

What and who are you treating casually that you should instead view as sacred? Your business partner? Coworkers? Spouse? Child? Parents? Your dwelling place that you complain about for its faults or shortcomings instead of being grateful for all it does provide and offer you? (Applies to people too.) Your health? Your work? Your talents? Your community? And on and on it goes.

Stop looking at your life and the people and things in it casually. Enlighten your perspective and extend a sacred attitude to those people and places and possibilities within your life-sphere. Do you look at your significant other/your business agreements/your promise given as sacred? Do your actions match your words?

Don’t diminish the definition of “sacred,” but take inventory of who and what currently resides in your life that you need to “upgrade” to a more sacred level. How would your life look and feel if you treated most of the people and things and happenings in it as sacred? (And how would they respond? And what kind of radical sacred-cycle might that induce, produce, and manifest into your life, your community, and the world?)

“The best legacy I can leave my children is free speech, and the example of using it.”

—Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586), poet, courtier, and soldier

testify: verb, to declare a truth or fact; bear witness; publicly profess or proclaim.

What do you think of when you hear “testify”? Court, being under oath? Religious, decreeing belief?

What about a passionate biz-life component?

As in, I testify to living out a radical commitment to my spouse and family. Or I testify that my business services or products are, at their core, designed to enhance people’s daily lives. Or I testify that all I do today, at home and at work, will be done with the intent to improve my life and others’.

What would your day look like with such a statement? How does it make you feel? What evidence and witnesses would you produce to support such a proclamation?

We’re all testifying to something, whether we’re intentional about it or not. What’s your testimony?