Three Rights Make a Left

It’s Official: Welcome Home Fellow Texan

Several years ago I preached about disaster relief at several churches scattered throughout the San Joaquin Valley in the morning shadow of California’s Sierra Nevada Mountains. I stayed there for several weeks speaking at Visalia, Porterville, Exeter and many more towns. At almost every congregation they knew a friend who was a fellow Church member where I attend here in Texas.

Scott Osborn grew up in California but claimed to have really been a Texan all along. I vividly remember sitting at a pot-luck fellowship at Tulare, California with Scott’s family and friends. We had a great time, laughing and talking about Scott’s love for Texas ever since he was little. Last week he posted the story of how he was a Texan all along. In true Texas fashion, he was glad to let me share his story. Here it is y’all.

TEXAS 1880

I am adopted. I have always been very proud of that, and in fact, while others have struggled with being adopted, I always embraced it.

God blessed my sister Stacey and I with a Gold Standard Family. He couldn’t have found better parents for us than Larry Osborn and my precious late mother Linda. They told us we were adopted before I could even understand and told us both that we were ‘chosen’. In fact, until I was old enough to know better, I had pictured in my mind the produce department of a grocery store lined with babies and my parents walking along and saying, “That one! We want him!”

As I watched many of the other kids around me growing up, there was no doubt, that in being adopted, I had been blessed beyond what I could imagine.

We had two sets of incredible grandparents. As my cousin Paula and I discussed last week, our 4 cousins were never ‘cousins’. We are very close, much more like siblings. Our Aunts and Uncle were good and kind and loving. We even had awesome Great Aunts and Uncles. I had 3 wonderful Great Grandmothers until I was in the 5th grade and one until I was in my 20s. All incredible, including my awesome Aunt Kathy who has played the role of ‘adopted mom’ since her sister, my mother, passed away in 2001.

So, I never had a lot of interest in who my biological family was beyond light curiosity. In fact, I never even figured I would know anything, as it would be expensive to open the records and I definitely never saw the value in that.

This last 3 weeks changed all of that. My little sister, after getting tired of urging me for months, bought me the Ancestry DNA kit for my birthday. I received the results 3 weeks ago and it has been quite enlightening!

You see, my adopted family, the Osborns, settled in California in 1873. But as my closest friends will tell you, I have been a TEXAN all along, just stuck in California! I love this great state. I love its history and what it stands for. I love it’s character and its values. There is not one of my friends that do not know how much I love and have embraced, or you could say, ‘adopted’, Texas.

In fact, not long after we moved to Texas 8 years ago, my good friend Ken Leonard was preaching in Tulare, CA, where I spent my teen years, having lunch with some of my old church friends. They all agreed with that sentiment:

“Scott has been a Texan all along, just stuck in California!”

So back to the DNA test. As my sister and I began putting together the pieces of the results they provided, I learned much about my biological family. I immediately found a first cousin, who just happened to have a degree in ancestry and was more than willing to help fill in the gaps. She and my sister set out to put together all the pieces.

I now know who my biological mother was, and sisters, and grandparents. But, then the real exiting news hit!

As you can probably tell, the most exciting part of this new journey was to find out that both of my biological mother’s sets of grandparents...

Moved to TEXAS...

In 1880!

I AM a real Texan! I knew it!

It has been a fascinating road ever since as each day I learn more and more.

I had 3 older sisters by my mom, one passed away in January. My biological mother, Wanda, died in 2003.

I spoke to one biological older sister last week. It was not what I expected. She was told I died in childbirth as a child and discovered the truth later. She has been praying for me for decades and always hoped to find me. We had an incredible conversation and look forward to getting to know each other.

This is a wonderful beginning to a new journey and I will be excited to discover the heritage on the paternal side. So far, it looks like I am part Canadian, eh? We will see where THAT goes!