I searched for my biological grandmother and found my Heavenly Father
By Polly Garrett
I had just got engaged at the very young age of eighteen years old after being in a fairy-tale relationship for just over two years. It was as though Jason had been designed for me – a tall, dark, and handsome young man with a heart so generous, so kind, so accepting.
My life seemed to be filled with promise. It was July 2011, I was about to do my A-Levels, which would qualify me for university to become a teacher. Attending secondary school in the small town of Northampton, about 70 miles northwest of London, was tough. In my tiny village, everything seemed frozen in time -- and I was ready to broaden my horizons.
Yet one thing had been bothering me – I had grown up without my father and he did not want me to be a part of his life.
Memories flashed of the times when I had tried to see him, but he ran away from that seven-year-old girl with the Christmas card.
I knew that he had been adopted when he was a child, so I desperately hoped that perhaps his biological family might want to be involved in my life. I even thought, if things went well and I found them, maybe they might come to my wedding.
I was longing to belong.
Questions and answers I was not ready for
I knew searching for my father’s biological mother was not going to be easy, I did not think I would find them. I thought just knowing the family name would be enough.
A paper trail was the easiest route to begin. So I bought my father’s birth certificate and waited for it to arrive. Within a week I had it in my hands – there was his birth name and there was his mother’s name. No father was written there.
I began to imagine what my grandmother was like, was she still alive?
Would she want to meet me?
Did I look like her?
I searched on Ancestry.com, I tried to buy her birth certificate by guessing her date of birth, but all these routes led to a dead end. I was stuck.
Months passed by and my attention turned to wedding planning and setting a date for the year after, in 2012.
We decided to have our wedding in a church, although I had not set foot in one for a long while. I was not a Christian. I did not know God. We were getting married in a church because it was beautiful. It felt dreamlike.
Just as the search for my biological family was growing cold, my mother offered a suggestion:
“Why don’t you ask the churches in the area on the birth certificate? Churches always help.”
I emailed every church in the area. One offered further help – to put an advert in their newsletter of my search.
Within a few weeks, I had two email responses – both were relatives of my grandmother! I could not believe I had found her. I was beyond excited. It felt like everything was falling in place and I was desperate to meet her.
One of the relatives emailed with pictures and a long story of my grandmother’s life, of how she had been a mental health nurse, had two more children but was suffering from dementia in a care home.
I was deflated knowing I probably would never get to trade stories with my grandmother, but there was still hope I could know her.
A devastating turn of events
On the day we set the official date for our wedding, I had a video call with the other relative, a cousin of my father’s. Near the end of the call, she grew contemplative.
She said, “Your grandmother has Huntington’s Chorea. I can’t really tell you about it but if you look it up yourself you will understand.”
I looked it up on Google, and England’s National Health Service website came up.
‘Huntington's disease is an inherited condition that damages certain nerve cells in the brain.’
The word “inherited” transfixed my eyes.
My fiancé Jason was sitting next to me. My Mum also had come into the room. I looked at them both and said, “I could have this, it’s inherited, and it says here that there is a 50/50 chance.”
I decided to get in contact with my father to tell him about it and — to my surprise — he decided to also be tested for the disease.
Six months later I was holding a brown envelope with my test results in. We both tested positive for Huntington’s disease. If I had known Job at the time, I think I would have felt like him. I felt cursed.
Then my world fell apart. Jason said he needed space and wasn’t sure about getting married anymore. A hellish week followed where I begged him to speak to me. I was devastated and felt broken.
For the first time, I reached out to God for help. I did not know God but I came to know Him as a loving Father — my perfect, loving, and always with me Heavenly Father — who was restoring me and healing me.
Jason and I began writing letters to one another to say what we could not say in person. That summer was a long one of recovery between us but one thing became clear — we loved each other despite the terrible circumstances.
After reuniting eight months later, in an intimate ceremony, Jason and I stood before the same vicar and before God and got married in the same beautiful church. I no longer cared about wedding dresses, venues, or invites – I just wanted to marry the one who was willing to stand by me through it all.
In 2015, Father God restored my relationship with my father after walking through a path of forgiveness, and to surprise me even more, my father and mother reunited and then got married in 2017 after realizing their story was unfinished.
Even though my father now has symptoms of Huntington’s disease, I have had the blessing of becoming a daughter to him these years.
I gave my life to Jesus in 2016 as He called me to be baptized. He has been walking me through life, not death; blessings, not curses.
My story is still unfinished, yet I know my Heavenly Father has more for me than even I can imagine. Despite my diagnosis, I know my future is bright.
Polly Garrett is a writer, wife to Jason for nearly eight years, and dog momma to Chihuahua Beatrix. She lives in Northampton, England, and when she is not writing, she is reading, in particular Christian fiction. She shares about her journey with writing and God at pollythekingdomcreative.com. You can follow her on Instagram and Facebook.