A story of gratitude, identity, and the Father who never left
For most of my life, I felt like the odd one out.
I took the long road—longer than most. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t have the guidance so many others did. I grew up without a father. Not only was he absent—I didn’t even know his name. No stories. No photos. No explanation. Just a question mark where a foundation should have been.
That absence shaped me more than I realized at the time.
I searched for belonging in all the wrong places. I made choices that caused pain—both to myself and to people who loved me. And yet, through all of it, God was there. Watching over me. Protecting me. Whispering truth into my heart when I was willing to listen.
At some point along the way, God made something very clear to me:
He was my Father.
“Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.”
— Psalm 27:10
I didn’t always understand that verse. But I lived it.
God carried me through seasons of hardship, confusion, and consequences—some of my own making. He never excused my behavior, but He never abandoned me either. He corrected me, restored me, and slowly began to show me who I really was in Him.
Still, there was always that unanswered question lingering in the background:
Who was my earthly father?
This past Christmas—after 56 years of walking this earth without that answer—something unexpected happened.
Years ago, I had submitted my DNA to a database, not really expecting anything to come of it. Then one day, I received a message. A woman had matched with my DNA. She believed she was my half-sister.
We talked on the phone for over an hour.
Just like that, I learned I have a half-sister and a half-brother. I learned my father’s name. I saw pictures of the man whose face I’d never known. I learned he served in both the Korean and Vietnam wars. I also learned something else that mattered deeply to me:
He never knew I existed.
I was one of many Ameri-Asian babies left behind after the war. That reality carries a lot of weight—but also a strange sense of peace. The absence wasn’t rejection. It was history. Broken, complicated, human history.
My father has since passed away, so I’ll never meet him this side of heaven. I won’t get to ask questions or hear his voice. But I now have something I never had before: truth.
And in the middle of processing all of this, one thing stands out above everything else:
God never left me fatherless.
While I searched for identity, God was forming it.
While I felt unseen, God was watching.
While I wondered where I belonged, God was preparing me to help others find their way home—to Him.
“I will be a Father to you, and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty.”
— 2 Corinthians 6:18
Today, my heart is filled with gratitude—not just for answers, but for redemption, for protection I didn’t recognize at the time. For grace that covered me when I didn’t deserve it. And for a calling that has become clear through it all:
To walk alongside others the way God walked alongside me.
To point them to the Father who never abandons His children.
If you feel like the odd one out…
If your story feels fractured or incomplete…
If you’re carrying questions you think may never be answered…
I want you to know this:
God sees you. He knows you. And He has been with you the whole time.
And sometimes—when we least expect it—He redeems even the unanswered parts.
My prayer – Father God, thank You for being the Father to the fatherless. Thank You for Your protection, Your patience, and Your relentless love. Help us trust You with both the answers we receive and the ones we never will. Teach us to rest in our identity as Your children. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
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