Imagine

Imagine the most precious child you know. Imagine him or her at age four, five, six, seven, you get the idea. Imagine my friends Enat and Abat, from Africa, taking that precious child on a plane ride with them back to Africa. Don't worry, Enat and Abat know 5-10 English words and will do their very best to take care of the precious child along the way.

In fact, Enat and Abat are extremely excited, as they have been dreaming about bringing a precious child from America to their home across the Atlantic. They have spent months preparing for the arrival. Their family and friends are eager as well, and hope to gather at the airport to welcome this sweet traveler at the end of the long, tiring and bewildering journey.

Are you still imaging your precious child? Can you picture him or her stumbling off the plane, perhaps clutching the arm of Enat or Abat? Will he or she be comforted by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells? What about the welcoming party at the end of the jetway? Would you want Enat and Abat to prod the precious child into the arms of the smiling strangers, who are speaking in foreign tongue? Should they expect him or her to rely comfortably on their lead after 20-plus hours of emphatic hand gesturing and ridiculous quips: hun-gry? thir-sty? toi-let? h-ome? hap-py? Are we asking too much?

Striking, isn't it? While adoption is wonderful and exciting, it can be terrifying, too. We've used our family trip to Kenya in 2010 with our children to make this point. They loved Kenya right from the start. Yet as social and adventurous as they are, I doubt any of the three would have had the same experience had they not been traveling with familiar, trusted people who could clearly communicate and relate to them each step of the way. Can you imagine it compounded by a background of trauma, grief, and loss?

As our travels draw near, we have to shift our thinking. We know the plan for A, but does he?
Each set of parents must choose what is best for their family, circumstances, and especially their new child. We've found this difficult because so many have encouraged and supported us as we've waited for A. Many have even come to love him already, and for that we cannot express enough gratitude.

We look forward to introducing A. However, for our seven year-old boy who likes a calm environment (Lord?), we have chosen a quiet (well as quiet as we can get given his traveling companions) airport homecoming, with few introductions (to our immediate families).

We will share more thoughts on this subject later, but for now, please imagine and pray.

Ready, Set, Wait

Ethiopian soccer jerseys and travel vouchers were a hit Christmas morning

It took a few tries, but Monday, December 31st, we made it to the final round of waiting to bring A home. That's means we were SUBMITTED to Embassy for those of you keeping up with the lingo. In keeping with the "Who Knows" theme, we have facebooked with a family (Hi, Meghan!) whose case was CLEARED in 2 days (woohoo!) and we've heard of a family who waited 5 months (what!?)

Obviously we're praying for a short turn-around, as it has already been 60 long days since we met our A. Madeline, Abby & John are getting antsy, too, and are very excited about going to Ethiopia with us. The past week has certainly put our wait into perspective, though, and I admit I have spent much time praying about situations I wouldn't have otherwise if God didn't have my heart in the place He does right now.

I have been so saddened over the Russian government's decision to ban adoptions of their orphans by US families. My heart hurts for the children, particularly those with special needs, and for the 46 families who, like us, had personally met their child and were weeks away from bringing them home. Others were packing their bags to see their son or daughter for the first time.

I have offered prayers for friends whose waiting daughter is sick, and also cried tears in recent days for another family who will not bring home the child they have fallen in love with. I want to challenge, "Lord, why? Why the heartbreak for those who are eager to care for the least of these?" and He counters, "Wait. Just wait until you see the rest of the story."

Devotion from Jesus Calling by Sarah Young

 

He Came For This

Every Christmas Eve, just before sending the children to bed, David & I gather them in the living room for THE Christmas Story. While David turns to the familiar passage in Luke chapter 2, I pull the well-loved nativity pieces from their box, figures which have played a part in this tradition for years. Sounds sweet, tender even, but the handful of family members who have witnessed this tradition know different.

2010

Though I am sure this year will be different (cough, cough,) the cacophony typically begins as I fetch the nativity, and it does not bear messages of peace and good will. Instead, voices defend their rights to wield favored pieces. The manger and a cow, each leaning on their three remaining legs, along with the one-eared donkey reflect aggressive maneuvers of years gone by.




My smile becomes more forced as we mediate the delegation, then relaxes as our participants settle into their roles. David reads and measures his pace as pieces are moved to and fro. I attempt to focus on the account, yet silently brace myself for the sound effects certain to come from one in the circle and the ensuing corrections, which will flow from the others. Both are equally predictable.

As David's voice tightens and I contemplate the pros and cons of issuing admonishments of my own, God reminds me He Came For This. His Son, Jesus, came for selfishness, pride, and cacophony in our living rooms. He came for cacophony everywhere.

God is exposing the cacophony in my own heart this Christmas. I, too, have been wrestling for control over pieces. I, too, am disgruntled over not getting my way. I have been focused on moving to and fro and have forgotten He Came For This. He came for imperfection. He came for pain. He came for broken people in broken places.

She will bear a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus [..., which means Savior], 

for He will save His people from their sins 

[that is, prevent them from failing and missing the true end and scope of life, which is God].

Matthew 1:21 (AMP)

Between Court and Homecoming

Our family sits in limbo for the next few weeks.  We legally have a new son, but we can not bring him home yet.  When we traveled to Ethiopia, we were required to present ourselves to an Ethiopian judge who would decide if we were going to be able to adopt our son.  She had already reviewed all of the paperwork and had a few questions to ask us before approving the adoption.  Once she had asked her questions and was satisfied with the answers, she informed us that we had passed court and she was approving our adoption.  We were, at the same time, relieved, overjoyed, and saddened.

We were relieved and overjoyed that we passed court and it was now certain that A was going to be our son.  We were saddened because we now knew that we would leave a part of our family in Ethiopia until the U.S. Embassy was ready to allow us to bring him home.

Over the course of the adoption process, I have loved seeing how adoption mirrors God's plan of salvation.  There are numerous places in scripture where we are described as becoming children of God when we receive God's gift of grace and mercy through our trust in Christ's sacrificial death on our behalf.  Most everyone is familiar with John 3:16, which states that Jesus is God's only "begotten" son.  So, if Jesus is God's only biological son (to use adoption terminology), how are the rest of us children of God?  We are adopted.  God has adopted us as his children.  He has one biological kid and millions of adopted kids.

Romans 8 (from biblia.com) describes exactly where our family is in this adoption process:

 14 For all who are eled by the Spirit of God are fsons6 of God. 15 For gyou did not receive hthe spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of iadoption as sons, by whom we cry, j“Abba! Father!” 16 kThe Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, 17 and if children, then lheirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ

23 And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have uthe firstfruits of the Spirit, vgroan inwardly as wwe wait eagerly for adoption as sons, xthe redemption of our bodies.

We, as a family, are in between verse 15 and verse 23.  We have now legally adopted our son, but we can not yet be with him.  The legal adoption has occurred, just as the moment of salvation is our legal adoption as children of God, but the adoption has not been completely fulfilled.  The adoption of our son will be completed when we return to Ethiopia and take custody of him so that we can bring him home to be part of his forever family.  Our adoption as believers will be fulfilled when Christ returns to this foreign country, Earth, and takes us home to be with the Father as part of His forever family.  May God speed the fulfillment of both adoptions!

Our Day in Court: Final Day in Ethiopia

Here's the post about our final day in Ethiopia for the court trip:

Our final day in Addis Ababa had arrived.  We certainly had conflicting emotions.  We were a little nervous because our court appointment, where we would hopefully be approved to adopt our son, would occur after lunch.  We were looking forward to getting home to the kids and seeing them again.  We were sad to leave the other adoptive couples whom we had gotten to know, as well as the wonderful guest house and agency folks who worked so hard to make us feel at home in a foreign land (truly living out Leviticus 19:34:  you shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself...).  There was a chance we would get to see A again, so we were excited about that possibility.

Our day started with yet another wonderful breakfast at the guest house.  After breakfast, we returned to the Bethany office for our cultural training, which covered history, food, politics and the wonderful olfactory and gustatory experience that is the coffee ceremony.  I had the pleasure of meeting Tendai, the Bethany director for Africa.  He talked with me about possibly helping out with some medical training for some of the orphanages.  I hope to have the privilege of serving in that capacity.

We then had the opportunity to shop for crafts and spices from local vendors before heading back to Lucy restaurant for lunch.  Today, I decided to try their ravioli, which turned out to be just the right amount to satisfy my hunger.  My appetite was a bit limited since court was still upcoming and I was a little nervous because I did not know what to expect.  The fact that our family might expand by a seven-year-old depended on this court date.  

We arrived at the court building about 2 minutes after our scheduled time.  Since we are American, our group was a little worried about the fact that we were not early.  The Bethany staff don't seem to be surprised by this American anxiety with time.  On Friday, when our new friends Mitchell and Teresa were scheduled for court, Teresa asked, "It's 1:45 now, what time do need to be at court for our 2 o'clock appointment?".  Abel, always gracious, answered with a smile "2 o'clock".  Having had previous exposure to the flexibility of African time, we had a little laugh with Abel over the question.

We arrived at the courtroom and were struck by the fact that less security was in effect at court than when we went to dinner at Yod Abysinia.  We had to go through metal detectors to enter the restaurant, but there was no such security at the courthouse.  After a short wait, all four couples were called in to the judge's chambers at once.  After answering a number of brief questions, the judge proceeded to inform us that we passed, along with 2 of the other 3 couples.  The third couple did not pass simply because a particular piece of paperwork had the gender of the child listed incorrectly.  After court, Firew, the Bethany worker took us to a coffee shop for a celebratory macchiato while we waited to be picked up again.  You periodically have to take a leap of dietary faith while in Africa, and this was such an occasion.  Foods and beverages that have been boiled or cooked are generally safe, so coffee is usually o.k.  The debate with a macchiato is whether the milk is pasteurized and, if not, did it reach an adequate temperature to take care of any bacterial organisms.  Four weeks later, I can say that no problems have yet arisen from this particular leap.

After our macchiatos and coffees, which collectively (for 4 couples and Firew) cost around 5 bucks, we all went to the hospital to visit Jay and Noelle's boy, who was doing better.  Following the hospital, we returned to our son's orphanage and were able to spend another hour or so kicking the soccer ball around.  Amy thought that A had figured out that we were going to be his family and noted that every time A got the ball, he kicked it to me.  Being male, I am much less observant and did not catch that fact.  I was aware, though, that my lack of soccer skills became obvious.  When it was time to leave, we were able to tell A good-bye and give a quick hug.  

We returned to the guest house to finish packing and ate dinner again with group.  Since we didn't have the chance to print the medical letter for the embassy earlier in the day, I handwrote a letter, to which Chris added his thoughts and concurrence.   We gave our handwritten, notebook paper letter to Jay and Noelle and then finished our final preparations to leave.  We had a group prayer before heading to the airport.  Birtukan prayed for us this time.  I couldn't understand a word of her Amharic prayer, but it was powerful and passionate.  Three (couples) of us were on the same flight and had a little extra time at the airport to socialize before boarding the flight for the trip home.  

As we boarded and settled in, we wondered how long it would be until we could return to this beautiful country and be reunited with our new son.  We wondered how difficult it would be to wait for the invitation to come back, knowing that A was now legally ours.  We have discovered since our return that it is definitely not easy to know you have a son halfway around the world that you cannot yet be with.  A few hours into the flight, I looked over at Amy to find her in tears.  I knew what was wrong, but I questioned what triggered the tears at this point rather than at takeoff.  She told me that she had just looked at the map tracking our flight path and our plane was just exiting the African continent. 

Once we reached Frankfurt, we had a short opportunity to say good-bye to our friends before we all headed to our respective flights home.  It was terrific to get home and be with our kids again, but we cannot wait to return to claim our son and have all of our family together for the first time.  We hope our kids will be able to make the second trip with us, but we are not yet certain if that will be possible.

Faith Walks, Ugly Cries, and Light Bulb Moments

One thing predictable about international adoption is the unpredictability. Prospective adoptive parents do sign approximately 250 forms acknowledging this certainty, yet the faith walks are hard. I'll admit from the onset we come in DEAD LAST in the waiting time category for current Ethiopia adoptions. So far, our process has gone about as quickly as it could, and while there's probably someone out there with a shorter time line, there aren't many.
But guess what? Waiting is still hard.


Forty-five days ago, we met our son (A). It wasn't a slow motion movie reel scene of us running across the orphanage drive, arms flung open wide, but it meant something. He didn't know who we were or why we were there. There were no tears when we left the orphanage, just waves and awkward smiles. A didn't really know who we were, but he does now; and, I can't help but wonder what he is thinking.

 

I've experienced a range of emotions since we left Ethiopia. Somewhere I admitted to the wave of difficulty that hit me as our plane left Africa. There have been other ebbs and flows. Last week, I experienced just about every negative emotion (stress, worry, heaviness, uncertainty, overload, you name it), but in the end, my brain grasped at the logistics mode, blocking out guesses of how A might be feeling.



As we reflected on the news that our case would be submitted to Embassy today, it was exciting to entertain the possibility of being together in Ethiopia soon. But this morning we hit a snag when a phone call at 9:40 brought unexpected news. Our paperwork had been taken to the Embassy, but it didn't stay there. Another form of one of the documents was requested. I appreciate the processes in place to protect children like A, but the delay was still disappointing.

An opportunity to sit alone with the Lord and my thoughts did not come until about 5:00 this afternoon. All day, I had bounced my feelings off of Him, but I had not yet been able to sit down by myself and listen. I was pleasantly surprised the elephant-sized burdens from last week were staying at bay, the worries I had carried over the unknowns: would our 3 biological kiddos stay here or or travel with us? would there be flights available? flights that didn't surpass desired on-plane time limits? flights with aisle seats open? flights that didn't cost $5,000 a person? Assuredly, there were many outbound prayers on our behalf before and after the phone call came.

No doubt I will pick up and lay down those unnecessary elephant burdens many times in the days (and weeks?) to come, but as I quietly shared with the Lord, there was still one pressing emotion: a disappointing sadness over the fact that we cannot yet be physically present with our son. Struggling against a full-blown ugly cry, I offered the admission, half-expecting to be chastised for some lack of faith, but my Jesus sweetly answered, "I feel the same."

He reminded me God also wants to be physically present with His children here on earth, but the day has not yet come. He reminded me I can long for time with our son, as long as I trust Him for the time line. He reminded me I can feel weak in my sadness, as long as I trade my weakness for His strength. He reminded me I am not alone.

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:26-28

A Church, A Shop, A Hospital, and A Letter: Day 4

Ethiopia day 4

Our fourth day in Ethiopia was a Sunday.  We awoke and had another wonderful breakfast and were then taken to the International Church by Abel (whose shoulder was still hurt and who still promised us he was going to go to the doctor that day).  We were blessed again to worship with believers from around the world that morning and met a number of interesting people after the service.  Following the service, Abel took us to the market so that we could shop for souvenirs (still in obvious pain, but with his ever-present smile as he patiently waited for everyone to finish shopping).  Abel encouraged us to haggle with the shop owners.  The best negotiator by far was Noelle.  My favorite quote: "I love to shop!  If you give me a good price, I will come back here and buy more."

We returned to the guest house for a traditional lunch of injera and wat.  Shortly after lunch, we received the news that the child of Jay and Noelle had made it to Addis Ababa and was ready to be admitted to the hospital.  Brandi, Chris (the other pediatrician with us), and I joined Jay and Noelle for the trip to the hospital.  Along the way, we picked up the social worker from Bethany.  We continued toward the hospital and then pulled over after the driver and social worker said they saw the baby and the orphanage workers.  It turns out that the person who drove them from the orphanage in the south had agreed to get them to Addis, so he let them out (in the median of a 4 lane highway!) once he got into the city.  The orphanage director, the nanny, and the baby crossed the street and hopped into the van with us to ride the rest of the way to the hospital.

The hospital is the building on the right

The gate to the hospital

We arrived at the hospital and were quite quickly taken upstairs to a "private" room (Privacy in Africa is not the same as privacy in the U.S.  We had several people spend time in the hospital room who were either random strangers or who really had no good reason to be in the room). The admissions process was tremendously more efficient that an admission here in the U.S.  Once the child was checked in, we waited for the pediatrician to arrive after church.  Chris and I were able to take a peek at the child and share our thoughts with Jay and Noelle.  Hopefully we were able to give some reassurance. 

What you do when you don't have a stethoscope.

I will not include any medical details, but I will make a few observations.  First, it really is a luxury to have a private room, even if it is not always private.  When we were in Kenya, there would be 8 beds in some of the rooms with each bed being shared by a child AND his/her mother.  There was no privacy at all in those rooms.  Second, I felt like the pediatrician was very good and that the child was in good hands.  Third, you could tell that the nanny really cared for the child.  As a parent who is adopting, it is a great relief to know that the people caring for your child before you adopt them are truly caring for your child.

We returned to the guest house and had a tasty spaghetti dinner.  I composed a letter after dinner to the U.S. Embassy in hopes of being able to help expedite the rest of the adoption process for Jay and Noelle.  My plan was to print it at the Bethany office on Monday and sign it, so they would have a physician letter in hand when they went to embassy.  More on that in my next post.  After finishing the letter, we headed up to our room to start packing, since we would be leaving the next day.  Our time in Ethiopia was drawing to a close, but our day in court would have to happen first.