Welcome to My Blog


Finding My Roots Continued Finally-

Week 5

That night as I laid in bed my phone dinged.

“Whose texting you at this time?” My husband asked as I looked at the the clock.

“I don’t know?”

I grabbed my phone and was surprised to see that it was Paula. She had read my message I had sent her on messenger and had written back.

“Oh my gosh honey, look!” I showed him my phone.

“That’s great Kelly. Are you going to answer her back?”

“Yes, of course silly! She wants me to know that she is still processing everything but since I leave on my cruise tomorrow with Jen, she wants me to have lots of fun.

Scott leaned in. “What are you going to say to her?”

I started typing.”Um…that she can take all the time she needs to process things. I’m not going anywhere except on my cruise tomorrow. Haha.”

My phone dinged again.

“Wow, she can’t believe how much I look like her. She wants to know what color my eyes are and what my favorite color is. And she is worried that she is keeping me from packing.’

Scott laughed. “She doesn’t know you yet, if she did, she would know you packed a month ago.”

Rolling my eyes at him I began typing a reply. “Purple, eyes are green and no I’m completely packed don’t worry.”

I waited to see if my phone would ding again. A few more minutes went by and it remained silent. “I guess that’s it for tonight.”

My husband smiled at me.”It’s a good start right, more than you hoped for.”


Another ding had me snatching my phone off the nightstand. “She wants to know if my family was supportive when I got pregnant as a teen? Also if I’m close to my adopted mom?”

Scott let out a deep breath. “Both are pretty big questions.”

I stated to type back my response, not sure exactly how to answer either question really. On the one hand, I didn’t want her to feel bad for me and on the other hand I didn’t want her to think bad of my parents. How does one respond in a text to that?

Another ding made me smile. She asked if she could call me.

I said. “Sure.”

Read more next week










Writer’s Block

At some point in our writing careers, we can deal with writer’s block. This article provides some helpful tips for authors.

Whatever you may have heard, writer’s block is real. No, plumbers do not experience plumber’s block, as those who like to pass this hideous condition off as some permutation of laziness often claim. The truth is, that hypothetical plumber does not write novels. Those of us who do are intimately familiar with the arid wasteland that can stretch between the pages of a first draft. Learn more.


An Agent’s Perpspective

I wanted to share an interesting article on an agent’s perspective in the publishing world.

You’ve heard that it’s a women’s prerogative to change her mind. As an agent I’m going to claim the same prerogative. As I look back on some of the things I stated categorically about the craft of fiction writing over the years, I blush. Well, I strongly believed it at the time.

Here are a few of the things I’ve changed my mind about: Learn more.


Silly Boo Boo

I know you all are waiting for the next part in finding my roots. I sadly knocked liquid all over my keyboard and am now waiting on a replacement board. I am typing this a letter at a time from my touch screen. I’ll post as soon as I can. 😩

Finding My Roots

Part 4


6So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, 7rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.” Colossians 2:6-7 (NIV)


My hands shook as the phone rang. I took a deep breath trying to calm my nerves.

“This is Paula.”

“Hi, um … my name is Kelly.”

“Yes, Henry said you called and had gotten my name from some form from the state? What kind of form?”

“Um… a birth certificate.”

“That’s weird.”

“Does February 10th, have any meaning for you?”

It was so quiet on the other side of the phone I wasn’t sure if she was still there until she said, “Maybe, what year?”

“1976, I was born at St. Luke’s hospital in Denver.”


“My birth certificate say’s I was born to a Paula Sue Fabrizius.”

“Okay, what did you say your name was?”

“My name is Kelly Sumner”

“And how did you find me?”

“Well the law changed and starting this year all adopted children born in Colorado have the right to access their original birth certificate.”


“Do you have a smart phone?”

“Yes, why?”

“I want you to look me up on Facebook right now.”

“Okay, but I don’t see how …”

“Just do it, I promise it will help.”

I gave her the spelling of my name and waited as she typed it in. When I heard her cry out I knew she could see my picture. Tears were flooding my eyes.

“You look like me.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Can I get your information, this is a lot to take in and I’m in shock I think.”

“Yes, I give you my home and my cell number. You can call me anytime.”

“I just need some time to process this all.”

“I understand, take all the time you need.”

After I hung up with her, I didn’t know if I would hear from her again or if she would contact me the next day. I had no choice but to trust in God.

Look for what happens next in Finding My Roots Part 5 Next week

Finding My Roots

Part 3

I couldn’t sleep that night, I kept checking my Facebook account to see if Paula had responded to my message in the messenger apt. She hadn’t opened it yet. I wondered if she was tech savvy or like some of my other older friends shied away from technology. What if she didn’t know what messenger was? A million thoughts raced through my mind as I read and reread what I had written to her. Would she like it? Was it everything I could have said or should I have sent it to my writing friends for editing?

The next morning in my prayer time I asked the Lord if there was something else I should do? It wasn’t until later that day that I felt led to look up in the white pages on line if she might be listed and was surprised to find that she was.

Without thinking I picked up the phone and dialed the number.

“Hello.” A man’s voice came through the ear piece.

Surprised I looked at the phone, had I actually dialed the number? “Um. . . hello is Paula there?”

“No, she’s not home from work yet.”

“Oh, my name is Kelly, she doesn’t know me. When will she be home?”

“She doesn’t know you?”

“Well no. . . not exactly, but she is going to want to talk to me.”

“Okay, who are you?”

“My name is Kelly, but I don’t know how much I can tell you, because I don’t know if she told you about me.”

“I see, and how did you get her name?”

“On a paper from the state.”

“What kind of paper?”

“Um. . . I’d rather not say.”

“Well, she is going to be home around 7:15-7:30.”

I smiled into the phone. “Great, I’ll call back, thanks.”

When the line went dead I hung my head. What was I thinking? He must think I’m nuts. I watched the hands on the clock tick by, there was no way I was going to call before 7:30 now.

Finally, the clock said 7:30, I picked up the phone again. I quickly prayed a silent prayer for courage as I dialed the number again.

“Hello” the same voice answered.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Hi, it’s Kelly again is Paula there now?”

“No, she’s still not home.”

My heart sank. “Oh okay.”

“How did you get this number?”

“I looked it up in the white pages on line?”

“And you said you got her name from the state?”

“Um. . . yes.”

“Okay, well I’m going to give you her cell phone number, its …”

“Oh, thank you. Have a good night.”

I glanced down at the number I jotted down and began to dial it.

Look for Part 4 next week

Finding My Roots

Part 2


“That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
whatever they do prospers.”

Psalm 1:3 (NIV)

I had a name to go by for my mother. In today’s age with social media could it be so easy just to type in her name on Facebook and see if she pops up? Why not, what could it hurt to see? I slowly typed in her name, wondering if she was married now, 40 years was a long time. When an image of a woman popped up. It was hard to doubt what my eyes were seeing, the same teeth, nose, and shape of the face. I dared to hope that this could be my mother, but still held back a little. I didn’t know what to do, I decided I could send her a message on Facebook. If she replied maybe that might open the door.

A million things ran through my mind, what do you tell the woman who gave you life?

Here is what I wrote:

Hi Paula,

My name is Kelly and I live in Thornton CO with my husband of nearly 20 years and our two children Michael 15 and Elizabeth 13. I’m sure you are wondering why I am telling you this, I know a little strange. A few days ago I turned 40, actually yesterday. Please don’t panic, I haven’t reached out to tear apart your life. I too, understand what giving up a child for adoption is like. Only I was 17, and I was able to pick open adoption. I nearly died having my first son, and it was only by the grace of God that he and I both made it. He will be 23 this May, time does fly. His mother and I coauthored a book that is coming out this year on adoption. Ironically, I went through the same agency as you. Most of my life, I’ve thought about you, and always hoped I’d get a chance to thank you for giving me life. I realize you could have aborted me and I’m grateful you didn’t. I also realize, having been in your shoes that you might think I’d never forgive you for giving me up, but I do forgive you. You gave me life and a chance to live it, thank you.

I wiped the tears that streamed down my face as I pushed send. It was in God’s hands now.


Look for Part 3 next week.