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