A Daughter of the Revolution
From adoption to discovery, my roots run deep in America’s fight for freedom.
Ada Nestor | My Reflections From The Edge
Growing up adopted, I often carried a quiet sense of not fitting in. It wasn’t because of my parents, they loved and raised me and my brother with everything they had. That void wasn’t planted by them, but it lurked deep inside, something I couldn’t name.
When my father fell ill, I turned to genealogy research. At first, it was a distraction. But it became more than that. I was looking for pieces of myself, hoping history might explain what I had always felt.
What I found floored me.
On my birth father’s side, I discovered I am not just connected to the story of America—I descend directly from it.
I am a Daughter of the Revolution.
Not through one patriot, but through multiple.
My Bishop and Rockwell lines trace straight back to men who fought in the Continental Army, endured the bitter winter at Valley Forge, and carried the struggle for independence on their shoulders.
Jabez Rockwell, my great-grandfather many times over, fought alongside George Washington. He was present at Valley Forge, and some accounts place him crossing the Delaware on that frozen Christmas Eve. His powder horn, given to him by General Washington, is displayed in the museum at Valley Forge today.
John Bishop, another direct ancestor, also fought, and later helped build some of the earliest settlements in Pennsylvania.
The deeper I dove into records, the clearer it became: my roots are anchored in American Revolutionary soil.
For a touch of historical irony, the Bishop name is etched into one of America’s darkest chapters, the Salem Witch Trials. Bridget Bishop was the first woman executed in 1692, hanged on Gallows Hill. Other Bishops, like Edward and Sarah, were accused, jailed, and escaped with their lives.
These Bishops aren’t in my direct line. But my Bishop ancestors came from the very same corner of Europe, Dorset and the Channel Islands, and the families were almost certainly related. The difference is simply which ship they boarded and which coast they landed on. One branch endured the hysteria of Salem; another carried forward into Connecticut, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania.
In that way, the Bishop name tells both sides of America’s earliest story, those unjustly persecuted, and those who later fought to secure liberty for all.
I would be remiss if I didn’t pause to honor the two people who made me who I am, not by blood, but by choice. Joe and Peg. They chose me and my brother. They gave us a home, a name, and a love so steady it anchored us through every storm.
They are the reason I grew up with the strength to dig into my story in the first place. Their decision to raise us wasn’t an accident of lineage, it was an act of love. And that act is every bit as much a part of my inheritance as the bloodlines I’ve uncovered.
This discovery was first pointed out to me in 2021, when I was running for school board on a platform to reopen schools and keep them open, consistently. It wasn’t meant as encouragement. The person who showed it to me did so with ill intent, thinking it might somehow weaken me. What they didn’t realize was that it explained everything. It made sense of why I felt such fire to stand my ground, why I could endure the hatred of those who misunderstood me, and why I remained standing through it all.
That rebellious streak wasn’t new, it was an inheritance.
As an adopted child, I used to feel like parts of me were missing. What I’ve learned is that those parts were never gone, they were simply waiting to be found.
This isn’t just a story of being raised by parents who chose love. It is also a story of discovering that my blood runs through patriots who fought for this country’s birth.
I am adopted.
I am a Bishop.
I am a Rockwell.
I am a Daughter of the Revolution.
Editor’s Note
History doesn’t just live in dusty archives or on plaques at battlefields. It lives in us. The same blood that endured Valley Forge and crossed the Delaware runs through me, and it carries a lesson I didn’t expect to find.
When I was told about this lineage back in 2021, it was meant to shake me. Instead, it became the explanation for why I could stand firm in the storm, why I could take the blows of criticism and keep fighting. Rebellion, resilience, and resolve are not flaws—they are the inheritance of those who came before me.
That’s what being a daughter of the Revolution means. And it’s what gives me the strength to keep standing, even when others would rather I sit down.
If this story resonates, hit Subscribe. I’ll keep sharing the threads of history I’ve uncovered, because the past doesn’t just shape where we came from, it explains who we are, and why we stand where we do today.
Have a great weekend!