Day 6: Court is finished!

Anticlimactic is the best word to describe our court appointment today. It really was just a formality. One we flew half way around the world for. Ah, well.

We waited in a small room on the third floor of a very dirty building for about 3 hours. Standing room only. Fortunately it was not a hot day and the windows allowed a cool breeze into the room. By the time we were called, most of the room had been cleared out. We went in together with the three other adoptive families from our agency, and our lawyer. The judge and two other assistants, all younger looking Ethiopian women, were seated in a small office behind desks piled haphazardly with files. We took seats along the wall.

We answered in turn as they called out the names of our children. We then answered in unison as the judge asked six very simple questions to which we all answered yes. The last question got the most emphatic answer: "Have you seen your child and do you want to proceed with the adoption?"

"Yes!"

That was it. It all took less than 4 minutes.

The lawyer for CWA said our MoWA letters shouldn't hold anything up and expects they will come in the next few weeks. So, we are still hopeful we will be able to bring the boys home in July or August.

We had lunch at the Sheraton and walked their gardens. Such a contrast with the rest of Ethiopia. The Sheraton is considered one of the nicest hotels in the world. And from its beautiful gardens you can look out and see smoke arising from a corrugated metal shack where someone lives in extreme poverty.

We head to the airport at 6 PM (that would be 11 AM at home) and should arrive in DC at 8:40 the next morning. This will be one of the longest nights of our lives as we are flying into the night. Hope to get some more pictures up when we get home. Or maybe from the airport in DC. We have a 4 hour layover there... Thanks again for all the support. Look forward to seeing some of you very soon!

Court

Good morning from Addis! Today is the last day I can say this as we fly out tonight at 10:30 so thought I'd take full advantage. We are ready to come home.

A driver should be here at 10 to pick us all up and take us to court. We have been told it is a rather anti-climactic experience. We will go in with 4 other adoptive families and will all be asked the same questions. Simple, straight-forward questions. It should take no more than 10 minutes--for all of us. I know, anti-climactic.

Pray court goes smoothly. We were told a family recently came for their court appointment, got there and the court couldn't find their folder. I didn't hear the outcome. But anything can happen. Remember, we are in Africa.

None of the families appearing in court today have received their recommendations from MoWA. We cannot "pass court" until these come. Please pray they come quickly. If we do not pass court before it closes in July, we wait till it reopens in October. I am fairly confident the letters will make it in time.

The exciting news, which we didn't realize, is that after we pass court, the boys are legally ours. The Ethiopian government is done with us and we then begin waiting on the US Embassy to issue their travel passports and visas. So, if we were living in Ethiopia after we pass court, they would come to live with us. This is rather hard to get my mind around. And this is why one family chose to stay between court and embassy appointments. But, then they were here 10 weeks.

Thanks again for your prayers. We will be walking into that court room while most of you are still sleeping.

Here is a video clip from the Ethiopian traditional dance we saw. Casey wanted me to take this for him to use in his PT lectures. I thought it was a good visual of what international adoption can do to your head! Enjoy!

Day 5: God is faithful

We attended an International Church this morning on recommendation of one of the gals in our group and were a little disappointed. We were hoping for more of an authentic Ethiopian church service but instead got a very typical US mega-church-style service. Ah, well.

I did enjoy the opportunity to lift my voice and sing with other believers of our very faithful God. We sang “forever God is faithful, forever He is strong, forever God is with us…” You know the song.  I have a mental block for remembering song titles but I can give you the chorus line.

Anyhow, it rang true for me. So, so faithful is our God.

Our baby’s name means faithful and his middle name—good. Ethiopians name their children for the meaning, not how the name sounds like Americans usually do. I wish I could ask T’s mother why she named him faithful.

For me, he will always be a testimony to the faithfulness of our God.

As I was holding him on Friday, seated by the window on the third floor of Acacia Village, taking in his peaceful little face, I was struck with how faithful God has been to us.

I am finally where I’ve always dreamed of being. Holding a precious little black baby knowing that he was going to be… mine!! Most of you know me well enough to know I am—and always have been—a bit of a baby nut. My dream as an 8-year-old little girl was to have a children’s home and fill it full of babies who had no one to love and care for them. I would love them! I remember exactly where I was when God moved my heart this way. Our church was hosting its annual mission week and there were missionaries in from Burkina Faso. Their pictures of precious little black children, with big dark eyes and too big tummies captured my heart and broke it and I knew I had to do something to help. That was the day I decided to study medicine.

Those studies took me a number of places where I got to see children in need. I got to hold them and love them and… give them back. I was just a small—very, very small—touch in their lives of the love of God.

Staying at the guest house with us is a group of high school theatre students from the Midwest, here in Ethiopia to visit children’s homes and, in the words of one of the girls, “play with the orphans and let them know that while no else might love them, we do.” Noble. I tried not to be too judgmental. But, darn it, you have no idea, child, what love is! I said nothing. Could have been a perfect opportunity for me to share with her about the One who defines love, but, no, I said nothing.

Holding T the next day, I thought again about what she said. Thought about the team of college students from the states playing with the kids in the room below. And I thought back to myself—volunteering at the children’s hospital in Orlando and holding babies in the wee hours of the night, working as a PA in Sharon, providing medical care for filthy, poorly loved children. Feeling so powerless to do anything to make a difference. Feeling like I had more love to give than I was able.

And then it hit me: I am where I’ve always wanted to be. This—being here in Africa, holding this little fuzzy headed baby—is a dream coming true for me. This baby gets to be mine! I am in the position I’ve envied all my life. I get to make a big difference in this child’s life. For all of his life. I have the opportunity to touch him with God’s love every day. I get to be his mother.

I am blessed! God is faithful and good. And I have two little boys named accordingly to remind me of it for the rest of my life.

Reflections on saying goodbye to our boys

May 28th, 2011

We made our second trip to Acacia Village yesterday. I was rather self-absorbed as we arrived—hadn’t slept at all the night before and wasn’t feeling very well. Used those nocturnal hours to replay the events of the day before. Mental slideshow of the faces of two sweet little guys. A flashing smile with sunglasses slipping down a perfect button nose. Long dark lashes of baby sleeping, the gentle rhythm of peaceful breathing.

And then I began to analyze. Too much. Took me to a bad place. And as I lay wide awake on my bottom bunk, relentless barking dogs and bleating goat on the street below, fear wrapped its icy, life-strangling hands around my heart and squeezed.

What are we doing!?!?! Two babies as once? Are we crazy? What should I make of T’s contented look? Maybe he’s not content but flat. Due to an attachment problem? How come he didn’t show any emotion in the pictures of him with his birth mom? Did he make any eye contact with me yesterday? Did he show any emotion at all?

We were so preoccupied with getting B to let us near him I didn’t think that much about the quiet baby on my hip. Is this all a mistake?

Needless to say, it was a l-o-n-g night.

Finally got up from my restless bed and showered at 4:30 AM. At 5, a gently rain began patting down and a low, mesmerizing chant, the voices of early morning worshippers, drifted in our open door from across the valley.

Our driver was late again, but did come, and delivered us safely back to Acacia Village.

I found B up in his room, standing in his crib. I peeked around the door and caught his eye. That little face LIT UP and with outstretched arms he gave me one of those brilliant smiles of his. I scooped him up and took him to his daddy.

Josiah had helped me choose a frog puppet to bring to the kids in the orphanage and we pulled it out for B to see. He squealed. Happy or scared? Hmmm. Try again. Not so sure. We looked to the nanny for help. Happy or scared? She very politely told us, with a smile and nodding head, “Mm. Scared. Yes. Not like.” Right. Puppet back in bag.

Took him down to the play room and he hit the ground running and smiling. Future track star? The boy likes to run.

A video crew came in to film the parents meeting their new children (an interesting program our agency offers) and provided a situation for us to be with B and these two Ethiopian guys he’d never met before (ie they were the strangers and we were familiar). I was so very encouraged by the way B responded. He was shy, retreated to my lap, and sat there with that curious, questioning look on his face the whole time. He looked to me for support in an unknown situation. Treated them just like he’d treated us the day before and depended upon us the way just yesterday he’d depended up on his nanny. Can’t tell you how thankful I was for that.

We got to feed both boys their snacks of pureed avocado. T is just starting solids and has the oral skills equivalent to a 6 month old. He did display very clear opinion when he was done, which I was glad to see.

I took him up to a private room where I could put him on the floor and play with him. He crawls very well, displays interest in his surroundings, can pull himself to his knees, and stand with support.

And he giggles!! Cradling him in my arms, I’d tip him way back and then get his neck, delighted in his delight. From that vantage point I could see he is just about to cut a tooth through on the upper left.

I spent most of my time in that little room with him, sharing the quiet space with Leah and James and their new 5 month old. He cuddled with me a long time, the cool breeze from the window on our faces. A nanny came in and brought another bottle. He wasn’t very interested but obediently took it and drank. As soon as she walked out, he pushed it away, sat up and spit out his milk. Wouldn’t take any more. Leah’s baby did the exact same thing and we all laughed.

He fell asleep on me again and I held him till it was time to go. Perfectly content.

Spent the afternoon at our guest house, crying, and went out for dinner to a cultural restaurant where we got to experience Ethiopian traditional dance. Very cool! Took some video on my little camera that I look forward to sharing. Don’t have the battery juice to upload now, but it is worth seeing. The guy who came with us, a native Ethiopian, said he knew the dances also. Explain, please? They are truly traditional dances, that are passed down as part of their heritage and are practiced at celebrations and events. Just wait till you see them. Our whiteness was seriously magnified!

It is currently Sunday morning. We are waiting for a driver to take us to a church service. I’m looking forward to worshipping with part of God’s family so far from my own. Abundant blessings to you all!

~emily

Thank you all SO MUCH for your emails & comments!!

Our internet connection is very unpredictable, and seems to be especially bad at night, when I am ready to blog about our day. So, while I haven't been able to respond to all emails and comments, know that I treasure your words and prayers and thoughts. And, thank you all for sharing tears with us as well. We do not feel alone here. Between the fellowship we know we have back home from friends who have known us long, and the fellowship we have from people we have just met, we are so blessed and thankful to be part of a big, forever family. So, thank you!!!


For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility  by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility. And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near.

For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father.  So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God,  built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone,  in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord.  In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.

Ephesians 2:14-22

Guest Post from James

The morning after our first night in Addis we were waiting for breakfast in the common room. As people trickled down from their bedrooms, everyone had the same comment. What was going on with those dogs last night???

James must be the curious one in the group because he was the only one who had gotten out of bed to watch the show. Here is his interpretation of our first night in Addis. Enjoy!

The trio, a tenor, a deep chested alto and a thin soprano, began their performance at 2 AM sharp. It was a dimly lit intersection but sufficient for a good view in any direction. A few pedestrians and some lone vehicle were the only passersby, but clearly the trio were not performing to please the crowd anyway…at least, not that crowd.

The alto was the unquestioned leader in the group. With a very relaxed demeanor, he took the stage first, a small triangular island in the center of the intersection. He confidently scanned the horizon for any would-be critics, took a deep breath, and with the penetrating force of a train horn in an opera house, he belted out the show-starting “WOO WOO WOO WOOF” as proudly as any hound ever could. But, he was a capital city mut, as were his companions, and Addis is their town.

Well, with an opening as grand as that, no one else could help themselves. The tenor in the group caught the last note of the opening so smoothly it sounded as if one continuous voice had just changed songs without ever taking a breath. When the soprano caught the rhythm he punctuated it so well that every self-respecting mutt within earshot, and that’s a long, long shot, had to contribute.

An entire square mile of city turned into the sort of echoing roar you would have at a super bowl or a world cup or a very, very large unsupervised dog pound. It seemed nothing could stop the celebration of how absolutely wonderful it is to bark at the top of your lungs against the glorious acoustic and visual backdrop of a thunderstorm that had just passed into the shallow mountain valley that already serves such an occasion so well. Nothing, that is, except two official looking men with large, matching sticks approaching the stage at a quickly metered step.

The group, obviously familiar with these critics, retreated backstage with a quick, but not panicked, stride. In the same time it took for the critics to disappear down the ally the group seemed to have taken, the alto’s head popped out from the bushes just behind the stage, carefully scanned the horizon, and then victoriously returned to front and center. As the others took their places, he took in a deep draw of the cool night air, paused for effect, and with a self-satisfied tilt of his nose to the sky, he belted out again what the masses had apparently been anxiously waiting for—for at least a full minute. This time, before the first measure could even be finished, the raucous cheer consumed the entire valley. On and on the celebration continued into the night, with no further interruption. 

Except to our sleep. 

 

Casey's thoughts on our second visit with our boys

I write this Saturday morning, as neither one of us had the gusto to write yesterday.  Yesterday was a roller coaster.  We began the morning with the excitement of knowing that we were traveling back to Acacia Village to see our boys again.  We also knew that it would be the last time we would see them for a long while.  

When we walked in the door, B broke out a huge smile, and ran to Emily.  This was very different than our first visit (not that the first visit was bad).  He was much more comfortable with us today, and let us both hold him.  He seemed at peace.   At one point, he clung to me with a bear hug I haven’t felt since my nephew Jack wrung my neck out last time we were in Florida.  It felt incredible.  B smiled, he played, he interacted, and he rested with us.  He felt like my son, no longer a face on a paper.  I longed to watch him play with Josiah.

T was also much more interactive yesterday.  He is making eye contact, and is exploring his surroundings.  He crawls like a champ, and can sleep with the best of them.  He is precious.  I loved every minute I got to hold him, though I know my pleasure was only a sliver of the enjoyment Emily had with this precious, sleeping child in her arms.    

It was a fantastic visit, and an affirmation that in the middle of our broken world and broken relationships, our little family is made to take in these two boys.

Then Helen came.  I avoided Helen during our time at Acacia Village, knowing that despite how sweet she is, she was the one who would tell us our visit was over.  Well, our visit was over; I couldn’t hide from Helen any longer. We gave B final high fives, and we each received our first kiss from him.  We watched his nannies change his wet clothes prior to nap-time, and for the first time got see him in only a diaper.  He sure is a little guy.  We then realized that the next step was to put our sleeping T in his crib.  Emily was holding him, yet as she laid him down in his crib, both of our hearts broke.

We left the room, held each other and cried, knowing that if all goes well, we’ll be back in approximately 8 weeks to bring them home.  We also knew that there are no guarantees with any of this.  It was an abrupt reminder that life, and our adoption, is out of our hands.  One of our fellow travelers, who has every reason to morn more than I do, read to me a portion of Romans 4 from the Message.  It met me where I was.

If those who get what God gives them only get it by doing everything they are told to do and filling out all the right forms properly signed, that eliminates personal trust completely and turns the promise into an ironclad contract! That's not a holy promise; that's a business deal. A contract drawn up by a hard-nosed lawyer and with plenty of fine print only makes sure that you will never be able to collect. But if there is no contract in the first place, simply a promise—and God's promise at that—you can't break it. This is why the fulfillment of God's promise depends entirely on trusting God and his way, and then simply embracing him and what he does.  God's promise arrives as pure gift.

The van ride was filled with sorrow… ourselves in the middle seat unable to talk through the tears, one family heartbroken to leave their child especially knowing that an important document hadn’t arrived in court yet (our court appointments are Monday), another individual having seen her child on several trips to Ethiopia and coming to grips with the fact that this time around doesn’t look promising, and another family on cloud 9 having just met their two children for the first time; they will likely share in our heartache on Monday, when the see their children for the second time, and avoid Helen as we all did yesterday.

I don’t know what happens now.  My heart is just as heavy as it was as when the corrugated steel gait opened on our way out of Acacia Village.  We have traveled across the world to adopt these children, and now they are just 20 kilometers away, yet I can’t hold them.  

 Despite this, I know my Father is good, that he is with us, and that he loves T & B more than I ever can.  I know that he is faithful, worthy of my trust, and that he weeps with us.  We are loved by an amazing God.   

On our way back from dinner last night, a friend shared a song with us.  She said it has sustained her this trip.  I hope it encourages you as it did us.  Click on the link below.  Not too sure about the video, but I like the song.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhrMuJ8HCRg&feature=related

Day 3: Saying goodbye

Today was a hard day. I laid my sweet, sleeping baby boy down in his crib, watched him flip over and wriggle down to get comfortable. I then covered his little body with his blanket, kissed his cheek after his daddy kissed him, said goodbye, and walked away. To then drive away. And fly away. All the way back across Africa and the ocean. And we cried. My arms are empty once again and seem to feel more empty than before.

It felt so good to hold that baby. So right. Thankful for tears and the opportunity to  worship our faithful God with them. No other words to say.

Lessons From An Ethiopian Soccer Field

This is Casey… Emily is sleeping, thankfully.  I am not a writer, but I do have a story worth telling.   

To give you a picture of life here, it is 4:45AM, and three of us are down in the dining room sipping strong Ethiopian brew.  None can sleep, and we all sit here working out life with its author.  One man with me is free-spirited poet, whose has encouraged me since I met him.  He and his wife are adopting a child found in a latrine.  The other is a young lady who has tried 3 times to adopt the same child; this time may not work either.  Her faith, her perspective, and her perseverance reminds me that our adoption, thus far, has been comparatively smooth.  I ache for her as I think about her going home yet again without her son.  On many levels, she has humbled me.

The chanting has started below us, as the Muslims compete with the Orthodox church to see who is the loudest, and who can turn on their PA the earliest.  The Muslims would have won this morning with a 4:45AM start time, though the fighting street dogs beat even them by about 4 hours.

I have been humbled on several occasions this trip, and have been amazed that when I come to serve, I am served.  I have particularly enjoyed playing soccer with the local street kids.  We play outside our guest house in the street.  If I tell the kids that I’ll play at 3:00, they are waiting outside our guarded gate at 2:00.  Obviously, there isn’t a “pitch” here for which to play… the street is rocky, with a ravine running along one side.  In the open ravine rests rain water from the last soaking, as well as the local sewer.  There is trash, dead animals, and feces in there… and as much as we try to avoid the ball from falling in, it is inevitable. 

Early in our first game, I managed to shank a shot on goal, and the ball landed in the ravine with a splash.  I knew the splash was a bad sign.  The ball was covered in slop, for lack of better words, and as I reach down to get it, a little boy we were playing with us stopped me, saying “No, I get it.” 

We keep playing, and I manage to trap a slop covered ball on my thigh.  As I looked at my new, $49 Columbia “captain travel pants,” now covered in feces, I wonder what to do.  Before I could decide on the best action, another young boy runs to me, looks me in the eyes, and begins using his bare hand to wipe the feces off my leg.  I stood there, unable to express what was going on in me.

This was all Thursday.

We went to play again yesterday (Friday), but realized that we had no ball.  The guard at our guest house was kind enough to lend us his ball.  2 hours into it, we popped it.  I made the executive decision that it was a good time for a Coca Cola break.  I walked down the street, and bought 14 glass, warm Coca Cola bottles for “Team Ethiopia” for 49 burr, or $3.25 US money.  As we enjoyed our Coca Cola, there was more gratitude in those children’s hearts then my heart has felt in a long while. They didn’t demand anything, and were grateful for what they received. Every single child, from 7-16 years old, made a point of coming up to me and saying thank you.

I sat down to talk to the kids, and soon began talking with a 16 year old boy with a make-shift cast and sling on his arm.  I asked him what he did, and he said he broke his arm a long time ago.  He asked me to go to his “house,” and look at his x-rays.  I did just this, and needless to say, the house isn’t a house by our standards.  Tin roof, one room about the size of my breakfast nook, and a goat wandering throughout the place… no abode is complete here without a goat.  This boy hadn’t moved his arm in 2 months, and had no idea when he was supposed to get his cast removed.  We talked through what kind of fracture it was, the fact that he would probably never be able to rotate his hand again (pronation, supination) as the fracture was never set.  He smiled with joy, and was incredibly grateful for my time, and for answers.

We now faced the reality of a popped ball.  I knew this wouldn’t go over well with the guard, and I knew I didn’t want to upset the man who guards the gates to our little abode.  He demanded, “What you do!  You popped my ball.”  I tried to convince him that I would pay him for it, and he told me it would cost $150 burr. About the time I go in to get my wallet, the kids start yelling at me.  They tell me that one child has ran home to get his soccer ball, and that he will give it to the guard in order to replace the popped one.  I told them that I could pay for it, and yet they persisted.  They were going to give up their one possession that they hold dearly so that I wouldn’t have to pay ~$9 for a new ball.    

The children here have been given little, yet they give so much.  They have every reason to be bitter, yet they have joy.  They outrun me, and hustle with more vigor than I could muster at 8500 feet elevation.  They are compassionate, caring, and humble.  They look out for eachother, and serve one another.  Lord, please make me more like an Ethiopian street kid. 

Today we met our boys...

Today we met- and held and kissed and fed and played with- the two little boys we are grafting into our family.

Our agency sent a driver for us at 10:30 this morning but we had been told to be ready between 9 and 10, so of course we were ready to go by 8:30, just in case they were early. Silly thought. We are in Africa.

Really, the time waiting passed just fine as I got to talk with Leah about homeschooling, adoption, parenting, church… Casey and I have enjoyed getting to know Leah and James and being able to share this experience with like-minded believers. James entertained us at breakfast with his creative narrative of the 2 AM barking dogs. Perhaps he’ll share later…

We had a twenty minute ride to Acacia Village and were amazed at the amount of new construction going on everywhere. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to what is built where. No such thing as zoning here. Shops set in metal shacks next to huts made of wooden poles with thatched roofs, vegetable gardens butted up to garbage dumps, fresh (ie bloody) goat skins sold from the concrete medians of the road. Always plenty to look at as you zip down the road, dodging donkeys, people, goats and cars.

The Acacia Village Children’s Home, our boys’ home for the last 2 weeks, was built just a year or so ago and is set outside the city in the Oromio region. The mountainous countryside is very beautiful. The home is not what I had pictured. Because it is new, I guess I imagined it to be more… American. Nice lawn, or at least some yard for the kids to play in, right? Rather than a paved driveway we pulled up to a metal corrugated fence with razor wire atop.

We entered into an open foyer with gray marble steps going up to the two sleeping floors above. On either side of us were two large open play rooms, full of happy children and a group of volunteers from the States. We met the very kind, all-Ethiopian staff and then waited at the bottom of those marble stairs.

There were five of us, all looking up in eager, nervous anticipation of meeting our children for the first time. Casey remarked that it felt kinda like prom, waiting for “ours” to come down.

A nanny soon came walking down with a sweet 2-year-old boy in hand. She announced his name and Daniel, traveling alone from NC, stepped forward to claim his son. Casey and I cried. Didn’t want to. Told myself I wouldn’t. Figured meeting two white strangers is weird enough for these little boys—without us sniffling and sobbing.

Helen (the lady who took the smiling pictures for us) motioned for the rest of us to follow her up the stairs. As we got to the first landing, another darling little boy was brought down with a nanny and announced. Nothing familiar registered. I took a good second look and then looked back at Leah. He didn’t look like ours and he didn’t look like theirs. We were both very confused and asked for his name again. Ephraim. Nope, not ours. Not theirs. Poor little guy was then taken back upstairs. (His mother did come later—our driver had forgotten to pick her up. Remember, we are in Africa.)

Leah and James’ baby was napping so they were taken into the nursery. Our boys needed diapers changed so we waited a little more, now outside on the back patio.

And then a nanny showed up with a little boy we recognized. His name means “our blessing.” B was very shy, but warmed up a little when we set him down with a little soccer ball. We kicked it around and he was definitely more interested in the ball than in us strangers. He was… tolerating us. Then T joined us.

Honestly, I thought they’d made another mistake and brought the wrong child. They shaved his head since the pictures yesterday and he just looked so much smaller than I thought he would. More babyish (which I’m just fine with).

Casey knew him right away. He is very content and mellow, has no teeth, little paws for hands, and long crimped eyelashes. We got a few smiles from him and got to see him crawl and roll over and suck his thumb. Fed him his bottle and watched most contentedly as he fell asleep in my arms. He looked just as content as I felt. He is beautiful. Just sat there watching him sleep for 45 minutes or so, until Casey wanted his turn and then till they came and told us it was time to go.  

B was a little wary of us. We were taken to a private room and he wasn’t so sure about that. After a few unsuccessful attempts to distract him and cheer him up, I took him back down to the room with all the other kids and he took off running to his buddies. Another little boy took a liking to me and came and sat in my lap. Then another. Now I wasn’t quite so scary to B and he wasn’t quite so stingy with that beautiful smile of his. Boy, is he a social kid!

I pulled the rubber band out of my hair and began a game of shooting it up to the ceiling or across the room so they could run and fetch it. They would race to it and then race it back to me, grinning and squealing all the while. I taught them how to do it and was glad I had four bands in my purse as everyone wanted to play. Now we were on pretty good terms with B. I ran to get Casey and he joined the game.

My sunglasses were the next big hit. Picture six toddlers sitting in bucket seats around a kidney shaped table with B in the teacher’s spot on a big chair. I’d place the glasses on his face at his request and he would look around at his audience with a huge grin as if to say, “Would ya’ll just look at me!” Then he’d pull them off and ask me to do it again.

Twenty times later I remembered what it was like to have a 2-year-old and do things again and again and again. Josiah is going to get a kick out of this kid… and a run for his money.

Fortunately, lunch was served before my glasses were broken. I was handed a bowl of rice and told B cannot feed himself. So I sat him on my lap and fed my boy. Halfway through his meal he made it clear he wanted to sit at the table and I obliged. I let him hold the spoon and helped him get a bite to his mouth. He then proceeded, all by himself, to get about six bites into his mouth and just one flung on the floor. Good job!

Casey and I both look forward to being parents to these two little boys. Teaching them simple things like how to hold a spoon and not so simple things, like self-control.

B is a little fire-cracker. Our work is cut out for us, but both of us are very hopeful. Both boys are healthy, slightly developmentally delayed but nothing alarming. Both seem friendly and happy. We’ll think they’ll be perfect additions to our family.

Can’t wait for you to meet them and are so thankful that they get to know you! Thanks for caring and reading. More tomorrow. It’s bedtime now. 

Oh, we still haven't gotten our letter from MoWA. Please keep praying. Not having it just stalls things. 

A few pictures for you

I spent A LOT of time looking at this map of our route to Addis. Even at 500 mph that little plane  moved really slowly across the screen.

 

 

The Sahara Desert from 30,000 feet. Looks more like its taken from outer space, but really, it's the Sahara.

In Bole Airport. So glad to be on the ground.

A cebu!!

For all the builders in our lives, check out their scaffolding, also used for framing.

Pack mules are often seen without masters, as they know how to get home by themselves.

Our home: Ethiopian Guest House #1

Morning sun warming the city. Taken from our balcony.

Our room.

More of our living quarters.

Meet Leah and James.

Meet two proud parents of three boys.

Soccer in the street. Casey and James' second highlight of the day.

A typical store front.

Team photo.

Day 1: Arriving in Addis

So, that authentic Ethiopian dinner turned out to be an all-American spaghetti casserole, kicked up a notch with an Ethiopian spice mix called berebere. Very yummy! We eat our meals family style with other adopting families, which provides a great environment for picking up tips from the people who have been here awhile. And allows us to see more of the beautiful children of this country.

A couple from Portland, OR, who now have an 11 month old son who is just as chunky as our little T,  have been here for 10 1/2 weeks as they opted to stay between court and embassy dates. They are a wealth of information!! They walked a small posse of us down to a little market after dinner to buy water and cheap spices. Now I have enough berebere to add it to everything I cook so come on over and I'll make you a killer spaghetti casserole.

But, I need to back up and tell you about our flight.
1. it was long
2. we didn't sleep... at all.
We flew Ethiopian Airlines and they were very kind and accommodating. The Ethiopian people are lovely people. And I am going to have to finish this tomorrow. I am exhausted. I think I slept a total of 5 hours in the last 72 and now the patter of the rain on the tin roof is doing me in.

Sweet, sweet sleep. 

We made it!!!

Writing from the Ethiopian Guest House, our home for the next 6 days. We are sharing the third floor of the house with our travel companions, Leah and James. Two rooms and a little living room in between with lots of windows and two balconies. There is a thunder storm on the horizon so the air is cool and lovely. We just got the dinner call so are off to enjoy some authentic Ethiopian fare. Mmm. Promise more later...

In Pittsburgh

Waiting to board in Pitt for DC. Casey set 4 alarms for a 3:15 wake up time. Neither of us slept much as we're running on glorious adrenaline. We lay-over in DC until 12:30 when we board a direct flight to Addis. Should land in the capital city of Ethiopia at 7:30 Wednesday morning. Africa!

I have pictures of Josiah in my mind racing down the sidewalk on his red triggy as we were driving away last night. He is very content to spend a week with Grandaddy having "man time" and eating "man food." I will miss him, as will his daddy. If you get to see him while we are gone, let him know his mama and daddy love him lots.

We are meeting up in DC with another couple from CWA who are adopting and share our court date. They are red-eyeing it from Arizona as we speak.  I have really enjoyed emailing Leah and am looking forward to sharing this whole adoption experience with new friends, fellow believers.

Thank you all for your prayers!! They mean so much to us. We'll post next from Addis~

A few updates

Got an email from our case manager this morning informing us that the Ministry of Woman, Children and Youth (MoWCY) did not get their recommendation to the judges in time for any of the court dates for today. This means that we may or may not have our recommendation for next Monday, the day we appear in court, which means we will have to wait until we get home to get a final decision on the adoptions. Pray, please?


Much bigger news, and better news for us, is that T's mother made her court appointment yesterday and gave her consent for his adoption. We are very thankful for this. Wish I had the opportunity to meet her and thank her and promise her that I will love him with all I have. Can't even imagine how hard it would be to be on her side of this adoption. I'm praying that someone would have the opportunity to share the good news of the gospel with her and that we'll meet one day, after this life is over and we've really started living.

And last, and definitely least, bunny #2 has been brought into custody and relocated to a new home.

Free to start again

Sleep is elusive, this night before we leave. This isn’t how I planned to start our trip. I have seen 2:00 in green digital numbers just about every night for the last week. Couple that with sinus pressure and that telling tickle in the back of my throat and I am not feeling rested and strong and ready to board a plane for the beginning of a 20+ hour journey to Africa.

As I was lying in bed, working really hard at trying to go to sleep, my mind was composing lists of all I need to do tomorrow before we head to the airport in the evening. Things that should be done by now but were not because I’ve been preoccupied with protecting my plants from ruthless bunnies.

Never could I have guessed that the weekend before we fly to meet our boys bunnies would take #1 place in my thoughts! Grrr.

We have, er, had, three little furry friends living under our deck. Now there are two. Their attack on the climatis climbing the fence at the corner of our house did me in. Made it all personal for me.  Made me realize that perhaps these plants are all too important to me? Well, I didn’t get there that quickly. Did plenty of ranting and raving and refusing to admit that I had become obsessed with getting bunnies. Did plenty of damage to the one I’ll be traveling with tomorrow. Not how I planned to start our trip.

As I was lying in bed, I was convicted. Damaged plants aren’t worth damaging relationships. I recalled a little saying, a litmus test, for identifying idols in my heart. If I am willing to sin to get something, it is probably an idol. I was darn willing to sin to protect my plants!

A friend just yesterday sent the link to a blog article entitled “In the beginning, man created gods…” Good read. Good reminder.

Michael Card has a song called In the Beginning that we’ve being listening to in the car. 

                  The beginning will make all things new

New life belongs to Him

He hands us each new moment saying

My child, begin again

My child, begin again

 You’re free to start again.

Just last week as we were driving and this song was playing, Josiah piped up from the back seat, “Mom, that’s really good news that we're free to start again.”

It is really good news. It’s life-giving news.

I would have never chosen to begin our trip this way, but our God is full of grace and I know His strength is made perfect in our weakness. So, we start again.

Just one of the reasons we are adopting...

Doesn't this only child look like he needs someone to play with?

They smile!

Our boys were moved from the Awassa children’s home to Acacia Village last week where apparently someone knows how to use a camera. We just got about two dozen pictures of each of them at their new, temporary, home. And they are smiling. Big, toothy smiles from B and big, gummy smiles from T. I didn’t know if my boys did smile. We had not seen evidence of it, thus far. 

I now know, from these pictures, that B likes to play. With toys and books and curtains. He looks like a fun little boy with beautiful big dark eyes. And he sure looks handsome in boy clothes!

I know that T can sit up and stand at the side of his crib. He might be crawling even. From the pictures I've seen of him up until now he just looked like a content, placid little fella with not much emotion to show. But, now I know he can smile. He plays and moves and does make other faces. And he looks like a little angel when he sleeps. 

We got an email last week with a picture of them together. And a note from their caregiver: 

They are always together and enjoy together.

Other than how big their heads are and how much they weigh, whether they've had any illnesses in the last month, this is the most we know about them. They enjoy being together! They enjoy! Someone is making an effort to put them together because, by the grace of God, they will be brothers soon. 

They look happy, and healthy and in just one more week we get to meet them. My heart is full. I am so very, very thankful that the Lord has moved on behalf of these two little boys. That He has moved on our behalf and has seen it good to give us more children to fill the rooms of our house, our hearts and our arms.