When I walked into the movie theater to watch The Prince of Egypt, I never imagined God would use that moment to soften my heart toward my adoption. I had spent years with a concrete barrier around my heart, daring anyone to mention my adoption. I wrestled with feelings of rejection and abandonment, questioning why I wasn’t wanted. As I sat in the nearly empty theater, tears streamed down my face, and watching Moses’ journey caused my heart to swell as I thought of the process that led me to my  parents, as I, like Moses, was a “foundling” abandoned as an infant. But, through the tears,  I also began to wonder—what about the family who had let me go?

Ten years later, as I met my three older biological siblings, I was transported back to that movie theater, remembering Miriam, Moses’ sister who had been commissioned to witness the relinquishment of her brother. Could I truly love and be loved by the siblings she had kept? Deeper still, would I ever be fully embraced by her and the family she built? 

When I met my biological mother, we exchanged photos, each trying to fill in the gaps of the 35 years we’d been apart. I noticed the features of each brother and immediately wondered why did they look older than me? I was certain I wasn’t my biological mother’s only child, but it never occurred to me that my siblings might have been born before my adoption. This revelation carried another painful truth: I was the last child born, the only girl  and the only one she didn’t keep.

In the biblical narrative, Miriam stood watch as her baby brother floated away on the Nile, carrying his family’s deep grief as a result of Pharaoh’s decree. When I learned of my older siblings, I wondered if they, too, had been witnesses to a profound separation, though they likely carried memories I would never have. Like Moses who returned to his people as an adult, I entered their lives as a familial stranger – someone both deeply connected and yet fully unknown.

Did they talk about me and pray that I was safe?

Did they celebrate my birthday and mourn the day I was relinquished?

Did they also look for my faces in the strangers they encountered?

Did they long for the day of our reunion?

Did they care?

Navigating sibling relationships fractured by adoption creates a unique tension. Every shared story about birthdays, graduations, weddings, and other memorable moments serves as both connection and a stark reminder of the years lost. As we exchange precious memories, guilt often shadows our conversations: their guilt for having what I didn’t, my guilt for the family who raised me, our shared guilt over feelings we can’t quite name–or are afraid to. Like Moses and Miriam, we dance around questions that have no easy answers: What if things had been different? Who would we have been to each other if we’d grown up together? What right do we have to claim these bonds now, after so much time? And the most complicated question of them all, the unanswered Why?

The dual status of member and outsider within a family can evoke feelings of conformity and people-pleasing. Moses had been raised as an Egyptian prince, yet his heart ached for the Hebrew people. I, too, wrestled with belonging—wanting to honor my parents who raised me while also longing to understand and be fully accepted by the family I had been separated from. Moses’ reaction to the injustice he witnessed (Exodus 2:11-15) was an outward expression of an internal struggle I deeply understood. Silent loyalty is the unspoken commitment to protect or honor a family, even at the cost of one’s own identity. Moses’ silent loyalty to Pharaoh’s household kept him from fully embracing his Hebrew roots—until the moment he could no longer ignore the suffering of his people. In my own journey, silent loyalty surfaced in my hesitancy to ask hard questions, to express my pain, or to acknowledge the tension I felt between my two families. Silent loyalty can also show up in hurtful and harmful family dynamics, including unspoken rules that inflict pain on the relinquished sibling. For example, perhaps there’s an unspoken rule that adoption is never discussed, or that the adopted child should feel only gratitude and never express any pain or loss. This ‘silent loyalty’ to maintaining the family’s image can prevent true healing. This occurs because there may be an unconscious, deeply ingrained commitment to maintain family patterns, secrets, or even traumas across generations–even when those systems cause harm. 

Maybe like me, you have experienced challenges while establishing or re-establishing relationships with your siblings. It is critically important that we allow our faith to anchor us during misunderstandings and growing pains. My prayer for you, my friend, is the prayer that I prayed daily during the early stages of our reunion – I Peter 5:10 NKJV: “But may the God of all grace, who called us to His eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after you have suffered a while, perfect, establish, strengthen, and settle you.” As the relationships developed and we learned more about each other, and understood the differences in our upbringing and lived experiences, I used this scripture to ground me and keep me steady–even when life and relationships were not: “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” Philippians 4:6-7 NKJV

Navigating sibling relationships, whether by birth or adoption, presents unique joys and challenges. While we hope for smooth connections, it’s important to acknowledge that complexities and even conflict can arise. Separation, in whatever form it takes, always comes with a cost. This might include feelings of loss, grief, confusion about identity, or a sense of displacement. Each sibling brings unique experiences to the relationship, and these experiences should be honored as siblings build connections, create new memories, and establish shared traditions. Extending grace and offering compassion are essential, especially when understanding the different journeys each sibling has traveled. It is through faith that we find the strength to offer this grace and compassion. God, the Author of our story,  is the ultimate source of healing, reconciliation, and restoration. It is through Him that we can find hope for building strong and lasting sibling bonds. May we all seek His guidance as we navigate these important relationships.