Trip #2, Part III

Hey Friends!

In my last blog post, I told you a bit more about our trip to meet Ellie Claire.  After a couple days of spending wonderful time with her and seeing more of Ethiopia, the long-awaited day had come- court day.

We loaded up the van and began the trek across Addis to court.  I gripped Billy’s hand and we attempted chatting with our new friends who were also headed to court to adopt their daughter, but our heads were reeling and our hearts about to explode.  We were excited, nervous, eager, and quite frankly, there was a bit of dread in my heart.  We were headed to sit before the same judge (in the same room) where, on our last trip, the judge had told us our case was “pending” (in other words, paperwork was missing).  This was the same judge who two weeks after we returned home, declared Addie legally a Baker.  This was the same judge (and the same room again) that had chosen to give Addie back to her biological father. 

We pulled up to the rather ragged court building and the grief that filled me was overwhelming.  This was the spot.  This was where my girl had been taken from me.  I could barely control my emotion.

And then, quite suddenly, I heard His voice- as clearly as I have ever heard Him before- “I am going to redeem this place for you.”  

The Holy Spirit whispered through my inner sobs, and in His tender, yet strong and powerful voice, assured me, in this one short sentence, that He was (and is) sovereign.  He knew my pain.  He cared.  He was working all things together for my good.  He has redeemed me from my sin and made me good- and not only has He redeemed my very life, He redeems every struggle, every tear, every painful step.  

I still clung to Billy’s hand as we stepped off the elevator into the hall, where I had last sat with Addie’s birth mother and biological sister.  I was reliving every moment in what seemed like slow motion. - There I was- on the steps with her sister singing and playing, telling her in English, though she couldn’t understand, that Jesus loved her.  She was sitting in the window swirling my strange hair around my head, and mischievously eating the Skittles I had given her (though she had dropped them on the dirty floor).  I was sitting with her birth mother, giving her a tissue for her tears, showing her pictures of our family, trying to offer what little comfort I could, hugging her, wishing I could just load her up and take her and her children home, too. 

As we continued down the hall and into the room where Woudneh had first pulled Billy into the hall to tell him that Addie’s birth mother had been found, I prayed and remembered- redemption.  We sat down and prepared, like before, to wait to be called before the judge.  As He has done so many times through this journey, the Holy Spirit called to mind a verse I had memorized shortly before our trip- “They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord.” (Psalm 112:7)   We sat there for only about two minutes before our friend, Ebenezer, motioned for us to head into the court room.

We sat before the same judge.  We answered the same questions.

But thank you, Jesus, we heard a different answer this time.-

“Yetnayet is ALL yours.”

And just like that, REDEEMED.  This room that I had grown to loathe took on all new meaning.  This was now where Ellie Claire became mine. 

In front of the "courthouse" after Ellie legally became our daughter

We spent the next day with our girl, soaking up every tiny detail of her that we possibly could.  We were all too keenly aware that although she was legally ours, nothing was a given.  We hoped and prayed that we would return to bring her home, but knew that was not a guarantee.  As always, our one guarantee was that we could trust our good and holy God.

The time came to say goodbye, and I pretty much fell to pieces.  I carried her to her tiny dorm room in the gloomy evening, weeping, assuring her that I loved her and that I was sorry I had to leave.  I kissed her face, held her close, and reluctantly passed her to her daddy, who had the job of handing her off to her nannies.  The nurse, who remembered that we were “Mihret’s family” tenderly said, “Don’t cry, Mommy,” as her nanny took her to get her ready for her bath.  I left the room and trudged back to the guest house, unable to control the sobs. 

A dear friend’s daughter, Hanan, came running as fast as she could across the court yard to hug me goodbye.  She told me she loved me, and I fell apart again.  We went upstairs to the room where the rest of the children were hanging out, playing and singing, and we were immediately swarmed by twenty beautiful faces, pushing and shoving to give us hugs and kisses.  I kissed their sweet cheeks and looked in their eyes, reminding them that I loved them, and that Jesus loved them.  These children, that we had prayed with, laughed with, sung with, danced with, and played with, had stolen  and broken my heart, and I could hardly bare to leave them, either.  Girls and boys of all ages- starving for affection- took our hugs and kisses as if we were offering them treasure. The last little one to break through the crowd, grinned from ear to ear as I scooped him up in my arms- the heaviest thing I had lifted since my surgery, but so worth it. 

They followed us out as we piled in the van.  Another friend’s daughter wiped away my tears and repeatedly told me, “No cry.”  They crowded around the windows and I tried to imprint their faces forever in my memory.  Hanan reached in the window and told me again that she loved me.  I assured her I loved her too, and that her family was desperate to come back for her. 

We cried as we drove through the crowded streets of Addis, back to the airport.  We were broken to our cores, leaving our child behind, but full of hope that we would return for her.

This past Friday marked six months to the day, that Addie's case was first re-heard before the judge.  That day we waited on pins and needles only to hear that she would not give her ruling for another week... which turned into ten days...  This past Friday also marked seven weeks since I last held my sweet Ellie Claire.  Not gonna lie.  I AM TIRED OF WAITING.  We are weary, crazy emotional, and on edge.  The Lord is good, though, and He gives us the strength we need to face each day.  This journey has proven to be way harder and longer than we ever anticipated, but I am beyond thankful for His overwhelming presence through it all.  I am reminded of the story of Joseph- who lived through trial, after trial, after trial, but the recurring phrase through his story in the Bible is "the Lord was with Him."  And then the well-known scripture, spoken by Joseph, himself, - "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done..."(Genesis 50:20)

We were THRILLED when our case was submitted to the US Embassy on June 12.  The embassy basically does their own investigation to make sure that children being adopted are orphans by US standards.  Though this slows the process down considerably, it is a very good thing.  Our country must be diligent in making sure that we are never a part of child trafficking and other un-ethical adoption practices.  Tomorrow morning at 6 a.m. our time, there will be an interview regarding Ellie’s case.  Typically this interview is the last step before the embassy clears you to come get your child.  We are praying desperately that this would be the case for us.  We hope to hear tomorrow, although it may be Tuesday, that we have cleared embassy.  If that is the word we get tomorrow, we will then schedule a time to have our own appointment at the embassy.  We are hoping to be scheduled for Monday, July 1.  This means that if all works out, we will be heading to Ethiopia Thursday, and that our girl will be home with us on July 4!!!!!!!!! 

Please, please, please pray- 1.  That the interview at the embassy tomorrow goes smoothly.  2.  That we get word that we’ve cleared tomorrow.  3.  That we get our first choice of dates for our appointment (July 1)  4.  That we are able to find affordable plane tickets, as they are ridiculously high this time of year.

Can’t tell you how eager we are to get that email from the embassy.  Don’t think we’ll be getting a whole lot of sleep tonight.  We so hope we have good news to share tomorrow!  Thanks for all your love, support, encouragement, and your prayers!!!

Trip #2, Part II

Hey Friends!

Last blog I started to tell you a bit about our first trip to meet Ellie Claire, and so, I’ll pick up where I left off. 

We left the airport and headed to the West Sands Transition Home where Ellie currently lives, and where we would be staying.  We drove past familiar sights and finally reached the front gate of the home.  My stomach twisted and my heart beat a million miles a minute as we pulled up.  The last time I was here, I was kissing Addie good-bye, promising her that I would be back for her.  I knew that beyond that gate was also where my Ellie was waiting for me.

West Sands Transition Home and Guest House

Once inside, we met a few other wonderful adoptive families and waited eagerly for the nannies to bring us Ellie.  We didn’t have to wait long- about thirty minutes after our arrival the moment came.  I really cannot begin to describe to you how it feels to watch as someone walks up the sidewalk carrying the child whose face you’ve been dreaming of for months.  I get choked up just thinking about holding her for the first time, kissing her face, and telling her, “I’m Mama.” 

First meeting!  

She was wide-eyed and curious, a little unsure of what to think.  The babies at the transition home pretty much never leave their tiny, dimly lit dorm rooms, so in a few moments’ time she was being carried outside in the bright sunshine, and then into another new, unfamiliar room with these pale people who spoke bizarre sounds and whose eyes were leaking. J She was quick to adjust, though, and was happy and giggly with us within the hour.  We were able to feed her a bottle, and she even christened her daddy’s shirt and pants.

She has great aim!

Each day, we were able to spend several hours with her, playing with her- pretty sure she’d never even seen a rattle-, feeding her, rocking her, singing to her, and cuddling her while she napped.  We were once again head over heals in love, and in awe that the Lord would bless us with the honor of being this beautiful child’s parents. 

One of the highlights of our trip was the day we got to go to Adama (also known as Nazaret), the city where Ellie was born.  We must never forget that although adoption is an absolutely beautiful gift, it begins with tragedy.  I am not going to divulge much about the beginning of Ellie’s life here, because this is a public blog, and I feel it is her story to share.  Like any orphan, though, her story starts with loss.  I am forever grateful to her birth mother for giving her life, and I am just completely heartbroken for her that she will never know her sweet daughter.   There’s no way around the fact that our young Ellie has experienced tragedy and grief beyond what we can imagine. 

Street view in Nazaret, Ellie's home town

While in Nazaret, we had the privilege of going to the orphanage where Ellie lived for a few months, and we met the amazing woman who runs it.  We also met with the police officer who found and rescued Ellie.  The officer told us and the other families there that adoptive parents are “kings and queens,” and I said this then, I’ll say it now- looking into the eyes of orphans, you don’t feel like much of a queen. 

We were able to spend just a short time with the children there at the orphanage, but in that short time, our hearts were shattered.  It was rest time and so they were in their beds.  We brought them chocolate candy bars, and they each graciously accepted.  To hug and kiss these children and look into their eyes and tell them Jesus loves them, but then to have to walk away, leaving them in an orphanage felt like the last thing a queen would do.  While we sit in our nice, cool houses with our cute little families, kids are going to bed each night without stories, kisses, prayers, and songs.  They wake up each morning to a world without hope.  We have to do more.  We just have to.   I have no idea of what exactly “more” looks like to you or me, but I know what it doesn’t look like- turning our heads and pretending not to notice that people are hurting deeply in this world.  It does not look like sitting in our churches arguing over whether or not the bi-laws were followed to a T while kids go hungry.  It doesn't mean sitting in committee meetings acting like we're all holy and important while kids die every hour from a stomach bug.  Jesus did far more for us than we ever deserved when He simply left heaven and came down to earth to be among us.  These beautiful children need to know He came for them too.  I can only imagine that it is very difficult to completely understand the love of a holy, perfect Father when you have never even known an earthly father or mother.  There are kids in Ethiopia and right here in my own city that have no idea how a parent is supposed to love and care for his children because they've never experienced anyone caring for them, let alone a mom or dad.  

God cares about kids.  His Word tells us so.  We sing "Jesus loves the little children..." and think happily, "Aw, isn't that nice."  But do we get that his love for children isn't just a precious, sweet little love?  His love is intense and it's real.  It's so big and serious that He tells us we best be loving children, too.  It's a mandate, a requirement- not a suggestion.  His love should compel us to to action for the kids in this world.  And I'm not just speaking to you- there are far too many times I choose to sit on my bum doing nothing,.... Okay, sermon over- at least for now...

These are the dorms where the kiddos live at the transition home. 

This is the courtyard area at the transition home.  So many happy memories there!

While we were at the transition home, one of our favorite things to do was to hang out with the children living there.  We sang songs, blew bubbles, played soccer and basketball (okay, Billy played soccer and basketball…).  These kids absolutely stole my heart, and it was so much fun to spend time with them.  Several of them could not wait to show us pictures of their families that they were waiting on to come back and get them.  One particular sweet boy, we’ll call “S” told us, “No family.”  As I looked into his eyes and saw the despair and sadness, it was all I could do to keep from telling him, "No worries, you’ll just come home with me.”  (By the way, that is highly frowned upon, so I did NOT say that to this child J )  A day or two after we got home, I pulled up Facebook to see a new blog post written by another adoptive mom.  I followed the link to her blog and began weeping.  She and her husband had accepted the referral of sweet “S.”  I yelled to Billy through the house, “’S’ has a family!!!! ‘S’ has a family!!!”  Thank you, Jesus, “S” has a family.  I am so grateful that this awesome couple (who by the way, lives in the same county as us- how crazy is that?!) has chosen him.  They have listened carefully to the Lord’s call upon their lives, and “S” has a family.  Just awesome.

Another child that just made me a complete mess was a sweet young girl named Mihret.  (“Mihret” was Addie’s Ethiopian name.)  When we met her, I had to walk away because of the tears, and Billy just sat there with her wrapped up in his arms.  She probably initially thought we were a couple of crazy Americans, but by the end of the day, she was our precious little friend. 

There were countless others whose names and faces I will never forget.  However, as much as I loved playing, singing, dancing, and just hanging out with them, I loved seeing them interact with Billy even more.  These kids are constantly surrounded and cared for by women there, so they ate up his attention.  To see fatherless children held and loved by a godly man is a powerful image.  I love this picture of him with our Ellie- safe, secure, and content in his arms-

It is very possible that Ellie had never been held by another man, other than Woudneh, the Ethiopia program director for West Sands.  The strong, protective arms of a father are incomparable.  I am so thankful that my husband has lead us through this journey and that he was and is determined to see it through to completion, even on days when his wife is a crazy woman (all who have been through an adoption know the crazy I’m talking about.)  Ellie has been blessed with a daddy that loves her beyond belief- a daddy that loves Jesus even more, and who will make sure that she is raised in the truth of His love.  I’m so very grateful.

Once Ellie was in bed at night, the children were up for a bit longer, and so we would go find them.  Each day we would go to them, armed with stickers or candy.  You would have thought we were handing out gold. J  Here is my official apology to West Sands for giving them stickers, which ended up on their walls.  I have to say, though, it was pretty cool walking into some of their rooms the next day to see where they had spelled out “Jesus loves me” with the stickers.  The faith of these children is amazing and humbling.  This was one of their favorite songs-

“Hallelujah,

Holy Holy,

God almighty,

The Great I am.

Who is worthy,

None beside Thee,

God Almighty,

The Great I Am”

Hearing an orphan sing those words pretty much sends you to your knees.  Talk about praising God and giving thanks in all circumstances… Wow.  Think we could learn a thing or two from these little ones.

It was a great trip, and it just kept getting better… more to come!