First Meetings

Ethiopia has my heart.

These people, this deep culture and history, this place....it came inside me and it won't ever get out.  This is the country of two of my children. 

I don't even know where to start although that famous Sound of Music song, "Let's start at the very beginning.  A very good place to start..." is on auto repeat in my brain right now.

We met the nugget.  He is just everything I expected him to be.  I know what a first encounter can look like.  That mental image of arms outstretched, running towards one another, arms around the neck while Little One weeps, "Mommy!" is just pretty much ridiculous.  Instead there more often are  tears and looking away and struggling to get out of those mama arms.  But little Judah had about five minutes of sceptism and then was a happy, drooly, bubble blowing baby and we were buddies from then on.  He puked on me three times which just confirmed our union as family.  He is our boy.  If not for the fear of arrest, I would have gladly smuggled him in a suitcase and called this adoption final.  But for now he's loved.  And he's happy.  And he's growing.  And he'll be just fine until I get back.  That difficult last visit is only difficult for me because little Judah is already home in his mind.  He has a bunch of moms and a dozen big brothers and a cozy little bed by the window.  And when I come back, I will be taking him from everything he knows to be secure and trustworthy and that thought alone makes it ok to leave him for now. 

But Judah is here because of someone and we met her and she broke my heart.

I can't imagine the feelings of riding to the orphanage where you left your baby to meet the foreign couple that will now raise him.  But she showed up and that was very brave.  And I can't imagine how intimidating it is to have these people turn on a video camera pointed directly at you while they run down a list of personal questions.  But she answered and that was very brave.  To relive the pain, the disownment from your family, the day you left him, the details of your delivery must be excruciating.  But she told it all and that was very brave.  And when I asked her, "What are your hopes and dreams for your son when he gets older?", she looked down and said,

"I hope he doesn't grow up to be like me."

I struggled to keep it together.   I think my hand may have come up to cover my mouth as I took a deep breath and paused for a moment.  That was a powerfully honest answer and it was a window into this woman's past, present, and future. "I hope he doesn't grow up to be like me."

I watched this young woman carefully page through the picture book we made for her when she thought no one was watching.  She traced the face of the baby she gave birth to with her fingertips.

 

And all too soon it was time to leave and I stood and I hugged her.  She hugged me back.  Tightly.  And as I started to pull away, she held on tighter.  In that moment, sentences and words and similar languages weren't needed because we both communicated a single message but with a very different meaning.

Thank you.

I told her that her child was a gift to our family.  He will be loved and have every opportunity that we can give him.  She smiled.  And then she walked out the door.

I will probably never see her again.  I know that she has a piece of my heart and it hurts for her loss, her past, her shame, her rotten draw of luck in this world of those with and without.  And I know that when I look at her son, I will be reminded of her and my hopes for her future.

May you think about your son and his future and smile.

May you come to forgive yourself and find forgiveness from others.

When the world has turned its back on you, may you feel how vast and how wide and how deep is the love the Father has for you.

May you know how blessed I am for meeting you.
 

Nudges and High-Fives

A few years ago, I felt something I know to be Spirit prompted.  And I'm not really one to make that claim very often.  I would much prefer a God sticky note with clear instructions written on it.  When it comes to Holy Spirit nudges,  I wish he worked with something bigger....like maybe a bat or a blow horn.

But this started in my basement as I watched a video about children leaving their homes before dark and seeking refuge in a "safe" place to sleep.   They were afraid of being stolen by an army and forced to do unspeakable things to others.   Someone was in that room documenting these children in this "safe" place.  They were sitting near the ceiling, camera angled down into the room. The camera panned from one end of the room to the other and showed hundreds of little bodies lying one after another filling every inch of the floor. 

And then the camera panned over a rafter and showed room number two with hundreds of little bodies lying one after another filling every inch of the floor.

Oh, that pissed me off.  I had a good ugly cry and after that a deep anger came rising up that had to do with me and my apathy towards needy people.   I don't know why poverty and injustice can so unmove us at times. But this day, at this time, I was moved.

The Spirit instilled a feeling, a thought, a whisper in me that sounded like this, "Do something."

And I did.

First, I brought in some unsuspecting groupies.  They sat wide-eyed at me as I told them I had planned a year of growing towards hurting people.  We studied Scripture and got educated and traveled out of the country.  The "I" had turned to "WE" and kept getting bigger.  We promised popcorn and a Bono video at the next elder's meeting and those men took it in and jumped on board.   And then came a call to action to our congregation and a Christmas offering for Haiti. Oh, I can feel the emotion rising up even as I type and think back to the Sunday we announced a grand total that EXCEEDED more than we could have imagined.  Well, not more than God could have imagined.  Our little makeshift team questioned "What do we do now?  What do we do with all this money???"  Two weeks later, the earthquake happened.  And we knew.

Now there's all this amazing stuff going on in Haiti and I just revel in what God has done after a few years of Christmas giving.  When we're reminded that Christmas is not our birthday.  It's Jesus' birthday.  I can't wait to get to heaven and high-five him.   I no longer buy into that obnoxious statement (excuse) of  "What can one person do?  The problem is just too big."

About 8 weeks ago, I was debating whether or not to blog this adoption story.  I sometimes feel like we are the squeaky adoption wheel that everyone is tired of hearing about.  Maybe we just go, I send home an email or two and we'll call it good.  And in response I heard clearly,

"Judah's adoption story is for someone else to hear."  

Like that exact statement popped into my head.  And I kind of blew it off, but it kept coming over and over throughout the day.  It was the same feeling I had years ago when I know God told me to "Do something."

Uh, I don't know what that means. It feels a little hokey pokey to even write that down, let alone hit the publish button.  I don't know what part of his story is intended for unsuspecting ears.   I find it a little vague and I'm kind of a details sort of gal.  I just know that it was clear enough for me to be sure.  In small ways, this is already being affirmed.  OK...even some big ways. But I like to dream that for whatever reason, God is using our story and it needs to be shared because someone needs to hear it.  Because someone needs to do something.

And if you're heart is starting to beat a little faster or you feel or will feel an unexpected emotion filling your chest, I'm pretty sure this has nothing to do with you.  If you feel a spirit breathed, "Do something," that is TOTALLY just your imagination.  Yeah, so sorry about that.  And if my readership suddenly starts plummeting, I have one word for you....scaredy cats.

So, here it goes.  Tomorrow, I board an airplane, cross the ocean, enter a foreign land, drive to a small orphanage, and meet this little nugget who will be my son.  It's going to be great and it's going to be hard and it's going to be everything else in between.  I can't wait to look into his big, brown eyes for the first time and know that he is here and his story is already being used for something bigger.  High-five, God.  I love how you work.