Okay, Sr. Mary Josephine, from where did I come?
Many of you long-time blog readers will know that I have
written in the past about the fact that my little sister, Kathleen, and I were adopted.
We were both "orphaluns" at the orphan's home, St. Anthony's, in Kansas City, Missouri.
We were not blood sisters.
My parents, Joe and Mary, had two natural sons, my big brothers Pete and Mike.
As my dad told us many times, their family was not complete without two little girls.
My sister was always tortured by the fact that her mother had given her away. I never thought about my parents until my birthday rolled around yearly, when I said a prayer for them.
So, my sister found her large family.
I did not look for mine because my "real" family has always been my Dad, my Mom, Pete, Mike and
OK,back story is finished.
I have always wondered if I really was Welsh and Irish, as the
orphanage told my parents.
So, last week...I did this.
I know some of you have wondered about it, too.
The kit is simple.
The instruction card is clear.
You literally fill the tube to a certain line with spit.
You then mix the contents of the cap tube with it
to stabilize it.
Enclose it in a protective sleeve.
Pop it in the prepaid box and voila, it is ready to go.
They do warn you it is a six to eight week process, and they do try
to get you to join Ancestry. I had been a member before, so renewed my membership.
I have to admit it would make me laugh to find out I was Welsh and Irish.
So...the rest of the story...
I am picking this story out with my left index finger and thumb.
I fell on Friday at the Ag and broke my right wrist, my dominant wrist.
The morose face is for real. Everything is hard to do, that is my dominant wrist...
but I am so grateful it was not leg or hip, and thank God for that.
A hard cast will go on after Christmas.
Anyway, I am eager to know the test results and will share them with you when I