Mezekir Meets the Beach

Sea Island is beautiful beyond belief. The homes are lovely, the landscaping gorgeous, the people are enjoyable, the beachcombing cannot be matched, and were I to order up weather, this is what I would request for a beach trip. We are enduring the rather milky, murky water and brown sand. Mezekir is not enduring anything. He loves all of it: the waves breaking on the sand where he is sitting, the sand, which he aptly puts in his mouth, the birds' noises as they fly overhead, the warm sun combined as it fights the breeze from the sea, and the pool, where we go to escape from the salt water. He is quickly acquiring a taste for American lifestyle and luxury. The Club environment lends itself to the feel of the 1950's or a movie set. Gentlemen walk around in sport coats and slacks; the ladies sport classic styles. Josh is not here, but he jokes it reminds him of Dirty Dancing. It reminds me that regardless of how luxurious and full of beauty and convenience the trips God allows us, my hole for Ethiopia, the simplicity, the kindness of my friends over the Atlantic, the fullness of a culture steeped in tradition cannot be filled except by His presence.

At Loss for Words

There's a song by Mercy Me, which expresses my sentiments better than I am able. The opening line says, "Finding myself at a loss for words, and the funny thing is it's okay." I haven't blogged since our return because I can't even put to words my feelings, my station, my struggles, my pains, my joys, my distractions, or my heart. I am, in so many ways, at a loss for words. So I force myself to recount it all. My joys. Those are easy to recount. My family is together. My son is home. God had allowed our desires to come to fruition. His hand went before us in epic proportion, in way that paralleled the Israelites journey to the Promise Land from Egypt. But the rest is harder. It baffles me. My words don't suffice. I wonder; maybe I don't need to be heard now. Instead, I need to listen more closely to the Lord. I need the truths of His words to be alive in me.

In Ethiopia, it was simple. It was simple to be still and know Him and hear Him. The distractions were small. Looking around, it was easy to see Him and to know where He would lead and direct me at each step. It was simple to know He was present. Continually, He made himself known in ways I had never experienced before. Here; here is different. Here is busy. Here is full of things. Here the noise of life overtakes. Here I can't find my way to the quite, still before His throne. Here is absent of the simplicity I crave in such an extravagant way. Maybe it isn't different or difficult, but I can't find the same place of hearing Him, walking with Him, touching Him, and seeking Him. Here, I can't find the place where His majesty is revealed to me in such a tangible way. And still, I know, He is the same. He is here. He doesn't change. He is consistent. I know He is ever present. I know He desires for me to find myself in His midst. But for me, I'm changed. This place doesn't seem to fit any longer. And here, I feel lost. The loud of life, the busy of life keeps trying to creep in. And I don't want it. For once, I feel like I moved from living in a shadow of reality and met life like He intended for me, for my family, my friends head on with such fullness that leaving it sucks the breath out of life. SO if I'm quite, know it's not you. If I'm quite, it's me. I'm trying. I'm trying to be still and hear Him and rest in Him. I'm trying to find contentment and fullness in the place He has me, here. I'm trying to find the place where He and I commune without distraction.

Today, as I type, my baby, Meze, is lying in my lap. He is curled up like he's been here forever. He doesn't realize life changed. For him, I think it just started. He may not know America. He may not know our home. He may not understand all the new faces. But for him, one thing remained consistent. The love of family. Parents. Trusting the ones who provide for his needs and love him beyond measure. When I look at him, I am reminded, this is exactly what the Lord says to me...I am here. Abide in me... Trust me,.. the one who loves you and provides. I did not leave you. I am constant. I am what you need. Not Ethiopia. Not America. Not friendship. Just me. I am enough. I am your portion.

There is a melancholy, a bittersweet. But the funny thing is, it's okay.

In the meantime, enjoy some eye candy.

Motherhood

I’ve always considered myself fairly resolved. As a teenager, I didn’t need much proof of friendships. I never consumed myself with thoughts of exclusion or inclusion. As an adult, I’m not compelled to question if I belong with or am included by those I know and love. However, parenting in general beckons my heart for proof of being enough, offering enough, loving enough, and meeting enough needs. I look for proof that my children see me as the parent I aspire to be. I am not proud of this. I am aware of it. And becoming a parent through the miracle of adoption leaves me looking for “proof” once again. Yesterday, God allowed me one of these glimpses.
For each set of traveling families, Gladney hosts a tour of the Gladney foster homes and a coffee ceremony. At the coffee ceremonies, the adopted children’s “special mother” (from their time in Gladney’s care) has special time with the child alone. They say goodbye. They dress the child. They mourn. A chapter of love, friendship, and parenting comes to an end. They share their last kisses and hugs, their last words of promise, their last memory. Many of the caregivers were orphans themselves. They relate with our adoptive children in a special way. The special mothers treasure this time. Tigist is Mezekir’s special mother. She loves Mezekir. And the story goes, during Meze’s time at Gladney, he loved and preferred Tigist to all others. On Wednesday, we attended the coffee ceremony. Tigist peered out the front gate as we approached the Gladney home in the van. She could barely contain herself. The evidence of her joy prevailed. She could not wait for us to disembark the van before taking Mezekir in her arms. And then, as quickly and magically as Mezekir was placed into our arms 2 and ½ weeks ago, he was swept away. Tigist’s time with him marked the beginning of the end for them. Mezekir appeared unaffected. He smiled at me as they walked away. I felt a lump in my throat. It began to grow. I was not sure why.
We toured the foster homes. Tigist and Mezekir stayed together. An hour later, we returned. From outside Gladney home #1, I could hear a familiar cry. Mezekir wailed loudly. He was unhappy. I hurried through the front door of the red brick house in the Ayat neighborhood, and Tigist saw me there. She held Mezekir tightly, but it was clear she knew things had changed. She looked to me, sadly, but certainly, and handed Mezekir to me. Mezekir’s cry had been inconsolable. His tear-stained face and red hue proved his cries were a long time in the making. Then, a surprise, a moment, the moment I had dreamt of happened. Mezekir looked at me, his cries quieted; he buried his face in my shoulder. His wailing softened to a whimper and then ceased all together. Tentatively, Tigist said in broken English (and a mix of Amharic), “I’m not mamma anymore. You are his mamma now. He loves you. Go to America and be happy.” The sweet but sad moment was the proof in the pudding; he did know me. He wanted me. He loved me. And, if even for only a moment, he knew I was his mom, and he longed to be with me. I’ve known for so long he was my son. And God granted a glimpse of Meze’s heart melding into mine.
Thursday, we attended Embassy. We expected an uneventful but long experience. I determined ahead of time, it would not be an emotional experience. But truth be told, all of the emotions of knowing Mezekir’s story, remembering his relinquishment, speaking about his birth mother and her story, remembering the time waiting for him, recounting each profitable and failed step in our adoption journey, praying for him and his country and his birth family, knowing soon we would depart this place and people, which we have grown to love, and looking toward the future together culminated when we approached the window for our embassy appointment. The man performing the interview was surely caught off-guard by my tears and smiles. His gentle voice did not lighten the blow as he asked about Mezekir’s background and his birth mom. My answers were brief. I provided what he needed. Inside, though, I remembered each detail of the pain and heartbreak surrounding his life before entering our family. After answering his questions, he looked at us and matter-of-factly reported, “Congratulations. You are free to take your son home with you to America.” Tears flooded and my smile beamed as I cried and thanked him. Even though he does this everyday and is accustomed to the miracle of adoption as it plays out in front of him, for me this experience cannot be replicated. I cannot imagine this journey without tangibly feeling and visibly seeing God at work in every step along the way. He has answered our prayers in the moments of our trials. His name proves to be our strong and mighty tower. He answered our hearts deepest dreams and desires. Each time we call on Him, He faithfully responds. We rejoice today more than ever as we recount our steps in this journey, His journey. He led us across continents, over oceans, to a situation of need and desperation, which evolved into hope and joy. Ethiopia, we love you! Thank you for the gift of a son, of friendships, and of unmatched kindness and love.

Friendship and Love

Driving through Ethiopia, in the country or in the city, I've seen many profound things. One I never tire of seeing is the love people share openly. This love is not contorted and misused in a sexual manner. Rather, the people here seem to understand and embrace friendship and love in a very tangible manner. I think in situations where possession and money are lacking, far greater gifts abound...like friendship and love.

Looking out of my car window and walking down the street, I observe women walking hand in hand. I see men walking in full embrace. Arms wrap around shoulders. Hands interweave with hands. Bodies rub shoulder to shoulder. When greeting one another, we exchange kisses on the cheek, hugs, and the occasional shoulder bumping. One never departs without reminding each other of the gift they are and their appreciation for the time together. People do not concern themselves with the "appearance" of friendships or the love they share. Instead, there is full on embrace of one another and willingness to vocalize and exhibit the love shared. And people ALWAYS find time for one another. Conversely, it is not common to see boyfriends and girlfriends or husbands and wives openly displaying affection.

Yesterday, we drove to the country side. A continuous flow of people lined the streets. At every turn, friends embraced. Children with only the shirt covering them, no shoes, and no personal effects played together and hugged one another. We would stop to give away small packs of food or candy or water bottles. In the states, I would imagine those in need would hoard what little they were given. Here, the friends immediately beckoned their other friends to share their limited resources. I saw one boy caring his friend on his back when he tired of walking. And in turn, when that friend tired, they would change positions. I saw a small girl and her friend sharing the weight of the water they needed to transport to their homes. When they would stop for a rest, their hands immediately interlaced. A group of men loaded their infirmed friend on a portable mat and carried him from their village to the closest hospital. Many of them traveled together. Those whose hands were not occupied with the weight of their friend walked in full embrace. They waited to exchange positions and share the burden of care. I am touched and encouraged to display my love for others in a similar manner.

God has supplied friends for me in Ethiopia that have permanently touched my heart. Solomon, our driver, our friend, our brother, daily lays down his own desires for ours. He goes above and beyond all measure to communicate to us his commitment and friendship. Preston calls him Agot Soli, Uncle Soli. The name is fitting. He shows up with surprises, he delivers groceries without being asked, he takes the children to the toilet, he carries bags, he helps with bath time (only Preston), he asks about my heart while Josh is gone, he carries the babies, he plays games, he kisses the kids, he hugs, he goes without lunch and dinner without complaint in order to do whatever needs to be done. As we drove last night, I told Solomon I praise God for interweaving our lives. I asked him if he knew our hearts would have a hole when we were apart from him. He quietly teared up. He said, "We not friends. We are family...(bateseb)." I cannot begin to explain how his quiet, simple nature and his humility are a clear picture of his love for Jesus. Although our lives are literally a world apart, our hearts are knit tightly together. Marta, Genet, Aster, and Blein mirror the same kindness and sacrifice as Solomon. These women look after us daily. They never complain about the extra work our presence brings. They fellowship with us. They love our children. They are a gift. This reminds me of the deep gift of friendship in America, which awaits our return. Leaving will be brutal. Returning to the love and friendship waiting in the US will be bliss. WE MISS YOU.

Special Friend, Caleb

Yesterday, I made a new friend. We will call him "Caleb" because I can't share his given name. He resides at a Gladney Foster Care center. Most often, when families visit the orphanages, they fall in love with babies. They are cute. They hold promise. Their future still waits to be written. But in a small crib, tucked close to the corner, a small boy captured my heart. Caleb is not "cute". He doesn't have a bright future. It's hard to know how to interact with him. Caleb has special needs. He has severe CP and a brain atrophy. Caleb's frame is bent, his limbs are stiff, and his hands are drawn up. The bending of Caleb's frame causes and will continue to cause progressive breathing problems. Eventually, Caleb will know a painful death from the inability of his lungs to expand. But for now, Caleb is content to stare at a dull, blank wall and wait for a visitor to find the beauty in him that God sees and created. When I approached his crib, I was immediately captivated by his smile. Although he cannot utter a word, Caleb smiles with his entire face. His eyes light up when anyone talks to him. He coos when you take the time to gently rub his small, small body. Caleb cannot eat. He receives small amounts of food from a feeding tube. And his little body, at three years old, is smaller than Mezekir at seven months.

Preston is often overcome by the activity of the foster care homes. So many children and babies live in these homes, he is not sure of himself. When we visited the home where Caleb lives, Preston instantaneously was drawn to Caleb's crib. Preston found a stool. He took it over to the crib. He climbed up and stared at Caleb. At first, I was concerned Preston was gawking. Within minutes , I could see Preston talking to Caleb. Preston looked up at me and said, "Mommy, his smile is big like my friend Cademon at church. He is happy. I love him." Then for more than half an hour, without prompting, Preston stood and talked and sang to Caleb. Caleb celebrated each moment. Preston told him the story of Noah and the Ark and about Spiderman. Preston sang "Jesus Loves Me" to Caleb. He told Caleb, "Jesus loves you, Caleb." Then, Preston and I stood together and celebrated the fact that God had given Caleb three years on this earth to bring Him glory.

Because Caleb's body is rigid, it is not easy to hold and cuddle him. But I loved picking him up and turning him and the moments of holding that were allowed. I wondered if anyone has ever told him the promise of fullness of life God offers. I wondered if Caleb knew one day he would be made whole in Jesus Christ. As I held him, I whispered in his ear. I told him I could not wait for the time we would meet in eternity and celebrate that he too knows a father, the most perfect Father ever, who claimed him before the foundations of the world. I told him I was sure God had a special purpose for him. And I told him I love him. I do. I will always pray for Caleb. He touched my heart. Caleb has a special way. His eyes draw you in if you take the time to embrace him. He may not have the ability to share words, but he can share so much love.

To Him Be The Glory!

My awe for Ethiopia and its people has not diminished over the past 16 days. The culture, the people, the joy in the midst of circumstances cannot be described. We've enjoyed time fellowshipping with the abesha, or local people. Relocated Americans, who we met at the beginning of our trip, offered to get together any time we tired of the locals. We haven't called them yet. I don't believe we would (due to tiring of locals) even if we lived here a lifetime.

Today, we had the privilege of visting The Hamlin Fistula Hospital. For those who have read the book "Hospital by the River", you could not imagine the beauty of the grounds, which Dr. Catherine Hamlin built and describes in her book. And although the words she writes are profound, there is no way to put into words the work going on at the hospital. As we found out today, at the age of 86, Dr. Hamlin still operates and heads up the gardening. In all of Ethiopia, The Fistula Hospital proves to be an oasis to the downcast, who are stricken by fistulas, both in beauty and for rehabilitation of the emotional, physical, spiritual, mental, and financial needs. Photography is prohibited. Pictures are engraved in my mind. I will never forget. The women. The sounds. The smell. The sadness. The joy. The hope. The loneliness of some. The friendships formed by common pain. God gave Dr. Hamlin a calling. She obeyed. He has touched so many through her. There is a new book, which was written by John Little after "The Hospital by the River." I believe is it "Catherine's Gift." I will read it upon my return to the US. I recommend both.

Tomorrow, we will return to the foster care homes. The children enjoy visitors. We love the children. It's always nice to hold babies. But, oh, to love on the older children and see the hope it gives them...priceless. Last visit, our group visited Gladney houses 3 and 4. We sang and danced with the kids. We shared candy. We took loads of pictures. The caregivers love pictures. We held the children and shared the little hope and love we could. What we offer is so little. But each hug and kiss is treasured. I trust the Lord will use it to encourage the least of these one day when life seems hopeless. He has used it to encourage me to continue to love in His name, in His perfect love, and His perfect way and timing. What I offer in my flesh proves over and over to be useless. What is done in His strength and love abounds beyond measure. I remain grateful, indebted, for His faithfulness.

Months ago, Ann told us she believed "God told her in her heart that she has a sister in Ethiopia, and she believes she will know her when she sees her eyes." We've prayed and asked for God's guidance in this. Not knowing what is ahead, no promises have been made. Ann approached me as we left the older foster care home and whispered, "Mom, I think the little girl I danced with and held might be who God has for my sister. I need to pray and see." Shock! I trust His leading. Ann continues to think of and pray for her sister. She is sure the Lord's word is in her heart.

Hunter and Mark's safari sounds fabulous. They wrote of chasing elephant, giraffe, wildebeest, ostrich, hippo, lion, grants gazelle, and many other animals (in a car of course). Their truck backed away from a charging elephant just in the nick of time. Supposedly, they visited a village, Massi Burma, and they met the chief. He holds ten wives and more children than he can count. Mark reported to the chief his one wife was more than he could handle. The chief enjoyed this. A village girl then tried to take Hunter as her boyfriend or husband. She continually pulled him back to the camp. Hunter was not as flattered as she hoped. They report top notch service and food and many bugs. Hunter's toe swelled up after a sting from a local wasp. This didn't prohibit him from climbing a stream to natural waterfalls where they swam. They will be hard pressed to top this adventure.

To all of you, we miss and love you. Our hearts are full. The letters you have written lift our spirits. The encouragement according to the word of the Lord could not be sweeter. We wait anxiously to join you again and tell you of the beauty of God's creation and the work He continues to do in us. He is faithful to all measures. To Him be the Glory!

Gotcha Day!

Dear Western World,
So sorry our correspondence lacks greatly. It is not an indication of our love for you or our longing for our loved ones. The Internet is difficult to come by. The extra time I have is spent loving on our newest, most perfect gift from above. Easter Sunday at 1:15 p.m., Mezekir entered our arms and forever family. I cannot tell you how well God scripted our meeting. Our family enjoyed our Easter lunch on the lawn at the BeJoe Guest House. As we sat outside BeJoe, we could hear the passing traffic from Bole Rd. We knew Travis planned to bring our son to us. I suppose I thought I could determine "the car". Thousands of cars frequent the street, so there was no distinguishing each passing car from Travis' car carrying our love. Finished with lunch, we took up a game of tag and foot racing in the lawn. The beep of a horn begged entrance from the guard of BeJoe. Without much warning, a white Land Cruiser pulled into BeJoe's parking lot. Immediately, the family rushed together. Tentatively, we walked down the stairs toward the car. None of us were sure if we should wait or rush Travis, who was driving. Travis rather cavalierly pulled the pudgiest, perfect baby boy from the back seat. Mezekir was "chill"...just as Gladney so often described him. He looked at us. We all stared at him. Years of waiting didn't prepare us for the moment. I'm sure not an eye was dry when we finally got him into our arms. I don't think anyone has actually died of dehydration due to crying, but I made a decent attempt to be the first. Mezekir is every ounce of 18 lbs. His lips are full. His cheeks are fuller. His deep brown eyes warm up a room. And everyone comments on the tuft of hair atop his round head. Travis handed this perfect baby to me. It was like the moments after birth, when you've labored so long, anticipated each moment, and finally the small, precious child you've waited for arrives. This scenario offers too many opportunities for disappointment. There wasn't a moment of that here. Mezekir easily transitioned into our brood. All of the Knights and Brookshires showered him with love. He didn't seem overwhelmed. Instead, his little mouth curled up perfectly on the edges, and he smiled for the first time in our arms. My only regret was the absence of those we love, who seem to belong at these life changing moments.
We delighted in the remaining moments of the afternoon. Mezekir hung with us on the lawn while we played; he visited all the laps available, and he smiled and giggled his way into our first evening. He is the easiest baby the Knight family has ever seen. By rubbing his eyes at 7:00, he let us know he was ready for bed. he laid down easily in his crib. He slept until 4:00 when he wanted a bottle. Mezekir went back to sleep immediately. He naps without protest. He whimpers and makes sucking noises for a bottle. He readily accepts bedtime. REALLY EASY BABY...FINALLY!
Over the last few day, Mez has become more accustomed to his family. During a game of peek-a-boo, he laughed for Ann-E and I. When his burly, big brothers come into the room, he wriggles in delight and squeals. We went to the Gladney foster care house #1 on Monday to see the doctor. We had to leave him there for a few hours. When I came back and he saw Mommy, he cried as I turned away from the crib to snap a picture of a friend's baby. He really is adapting well to this idea of family. I'm sure he will have moments of protest, too; but now, he is simply a delight and happy to be loved. God's faithfulness is clear. So many prayed for our trip and our transition. We can see HIM at every step. I love to see the Lord at work.
Thank you to each of you. Please, continue to lift us up. Josh departs for America tonight. Hunter leaves for a safari in Tanzania tomorrow. I don't like my guys being stripped away from my side. It is necessary though. And it only offers more opportunity for me to find God sufficient. Pray for health. Pray for strength in parenting four while Josh is away. Pray for Josh's heart as he is apart from those he loves. Mostly, please, pray for those who care for us on a daily basis, that we might be a light to their lives. Our greatest desire is to see them know the Lord fully and intimately.

Many Moments of Loving Thoughts to You and Yours,
The Knights, 6 strong