Where Faith and Fate Collide

Joni and Friends, Murrietta

2009-07-25T22:04:00.003-06:00

So for those of you that don't know, my amazing church of NCC has sponsored our family to attend a family retreat for 5 days that caters to special needs families. It is called Joni and friends and is absolutely unbelievable. The staff is spectacular. We are hosted by the Calvary College in Murrietta, California. I have to say, if I could rewind the clock and go to college again, I wish I would have been at a place in my life to chose here. It really is exceptional. There are even natural hotsprings right on campus and their own lake with super friendly ducks! (Cole was very concerned that the ducks would get fed every day so that they would not go hungry.)

So what does a family do at camp? Well, there is a pretty packed program every day. It starts with a well balanced and freshly cooked breakfast. Then the parents go to groups sorted by age and the children do the same. While the kids are crafting, worshiping, and playing, the adults are being fed by pastors. Let me tell you, Pastor Bill is unlike any pastor that I have ever heard, in a good way. Really is a common sense guy and I wish that all could have heard his common sense approach to salvation and the validity of the Bible yesterday. Hard to deny the Lord with facts like that!

Anyway, after our morning programs we go back to lunch. Each special needs child is matched with a short term missionary so you have them caring for your children even during meal time. They are true servants and I feel so blessed to have their help while we are here. Fun activities are planned after lunch. Today we built bird houses and fed the ducks. Yesterday we had a water day in which there were really fun wet slides and rides and my children had their first snow cones, too! We even got to go in a hot air balloon yesterday. That was really something else.

We take the kids back to nap and Celia usually goes swimming at that time. Then we shower and head to dinner. The food is so good. REally good! Anyway, after dinner there is a family evening event. Yesterday it was a BBQ with an egg hunt and a balloon maker (WOW, was he good). Tonight was the talent show and end of the camp program (due to not so great behaviors from one of our kids, I have had to miss it! SO BUMMED.) The night before last we had a concert that was truly amazing! The kids got to dance on the stage which is super cute....

So what am I taking out of camp? I have grown even deeper in my faith. The Lord is so amazing. He is a God of miracles and a God of truth and I am so blessed to know Him as my Lord and savior. I am humbled by all that so many moms and dads go through every day with their children. I have met some incredibly strong people that really inspire me. I have met children that have such sweet souls. I desire to see things more through their eyes. I have also gained a deeper understanding for my own children and their individual needs. I knew I was coming to a camp with children with a lot greater needs than mine on the most part. I didn't know if I belonged here... what I have learned is that ALL of our children are unique and all delayed and specially challenged kids need to be seen for who they are, regardless of their abilities or lack their of. I belong here. My kids belong here. We have all taken a lot out of this experience to grow on and learn from. Thank you NCC and Joni and friends for really helping us to fully understand disabilities. Thannk you for a place to really relate!

America's Got Talent and SO DO I!!!!

2009-07-08T22:24:00.003-06:00

Once again I am naughty for not writing more. So sorry... I was afraid of not having enough to do to stay busy with the kids this summer but the opposite holds true!

I was watching America's Got Talent tonight in silence as my daughter is at summer camp in Picacho, Az. I miss her. She may be a challenging child at times, but she is so sweet and snuggly at night and I usually snuggle up with her to settle down for the evening. Anyway, as I saw a cancer survivor sing her heart out and the cutest 8 year old play the piano while singing, followed by big smiles and bold jokes, I just felt good. I love that show. It reminds me of what is right about people, Americans in particular. In a time where there is so much stress in our homes and in our economy, it is fresh to turn on the tv and see real people just believing that joy can be found in chasing their dreams.

I think of my children. I wonder what their dreams will be made of. What talents will they be blessed with? Though the world may not have the EXPRESSED PRIVELEDGE of seeing their talents as we do those on tv tonight, I am so excited to see them and perhaps even hoard them to myself!? Their smiles are so great. Their pleasures so simple and joys so huge... somewhere along the way most people get robbed of those simple pleasures and in their place comes worries of dating, social pressures, failed expectations, misnegotiated relationships, etc... we all give ourselves away to some of it if not all of it. But is that what has to be? I sit their tonight after a day I took to rest, for myself and away from my home and the chores within it, and I am reminded that in our youth we are naieve to all life demands so just enjoy all that we are surrounded by... I wonder if I could make a concious choice to enjoy those things again and find that inner youth again. I see my life as so joy filled and full of so many blessings, yet my children far surpass me in a daily smile count. I will let you know how it goes as I conciously seek joy in my every day... not letting anyone or anything come in between me and that joy that I have inside. Hmmm....

"This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it." Amen!

From the Coast

2009-06-01T10:55:00.002-06:00

The clouds are tucked in all around us... not an ounce of sun. I sit in the middle story of our three story condo with silence all around. I would be at the beach, but am content not to be. The cold weather has us somewhat locked in but honestly, locked in suits me well. These days, I have longed to be "locked in" to my home with nothing but time on my hands. Even better than being "locked in" to my own home, is to be here where I do not feel tempted to clean, do laundry, or tend the yard. I can sit, in totally peace. I am in my pajamas still and pondering what we should do today. Read? Watch rented movies? Nap?? So nice to have so many options.

I am looking forward to our children joining us on Tuesday. So many things Jason and I see remind us of how our children would respond. Last night we went out to dinner and then walking in the marina. There was a groovy two man band inspiring guests of a coffee shop along the way, and even though we are not avid coffee drinkers, we found ourselves ordering SOMETHING to drink, just so we could stay and listen. We can't wait to take our kids there. The little ones will love to dance to the music and Celia and her friend that she is bringing will love to poke around at the little shops in the area.

Yesterday was also cloudy and cold. Looks like nearly every day this week will be this way. Won't make for much fun at the beach, I am afraid. But it is a change of pace for us all and there are plenty of things to do that are inexpensive and different. We will make it work.

I am so bummed that I forgot my camera. How does that happen?? I love pictures and lately... well, I am not so good at taking them.

Anyway, just wanted to share my chillin' vibes for CA! Love to you all.

The Big Move is Coming

2009-05-29T09:15:00.003-06:00

Jason and I have come to a difficult decision. We are moving back into our old home, lovingly called our Villa Rita home, by the first week of so of August. This was a hard decision to come to for many reasons, but in weighing them all, we must get rid of all our homes but one. People are not traveling and long term tenancy will not work for our properties as we had hoped. This has led us to a point of needing to choose a home.

We heard a sermon the other day about discipline. How God disciplines us all our whole lives out of love. As I sat in my seat, I was thinking about all the decisions J and I have made that led to this point in our lives. I am humbled by the great blessings that have been poured onto us from the day of our creation, all the way to the recent blessings of our children and homes. And how now, we are being tought so much through consequences and tough choices with further consequences to follow them. I thank God for the choices before me, and I so much want to do the honoring thing in making them. We have prayed much, and talked much... and now we are moving.

A house is a house. I didn't use to feel that way. I felt like if I loved my house, I couldn't and wouldn't give it up! Seems so silly of a thought, for a while now. What makes my house a home moves with me. It is my family, my scrap books, my pictures on the walls, the quilts that have been so lovingly sewn for me, the four legged creatures that break it in with fresh pee confusions, and laughter between the walls and spin cycle completing on the washing machine. I feel so blessed that my family is nearby, that my friends, though we rarely see eachother these days, are close and able to remain my support system. (Loving you at a distance, Joyce! SOrry!)

Anyway, we will be packing in between our summer "stuff" and then preparing Villa Rita to become a home once again. I am sure the house misses our craziness... misses our gatherings, our walls being rammed with children's toys, a phone ringing, and dogs soiling the lawn. If my Villa Rita house could talk, I think it would say "I am tired of being a landing spot and just a house. I am ready to welcome you HOME." I would smile, thank my house, and then send the kids running and screaming through it while J and I held hands on the step in the foyer simply taking it all in.

Catch Up Before We are Gone!

2009-05-29T09:01:00.002-06:00

We are readying ourselves for a trip to Oceanside, California. We are so very grateful that we get to take a vacation this summer while so many families are not with the current economy. If it weren't for a vacation rental exchange, we would be home this summer along with so many other American families. Not only are we getting ready for a fun trip to the beach, we have a day of ALONE time, just me and J, before we ever leave! Nana and Papa were so kind and offered to take them starting last night. The kids will be with Nana and Papa until Tuesday morning and then for the second part of the trip, Nana and Papa will drive them to us in California so the second part of our trip will be a family trip. Celia was less than thrilled about us going to CA before them as she always hates being "left", but all the tots think Nana and Papa are super fun (so does Celia, she just doesn't like to be away from us). So last night we had our options of what to do while we were kid free.

First, we went to dinner at our new favorite Mexican food restaurant. It is called Crazy Carlos and is located by Safeway at the intersection of 83rd Avenue and Lake Pleasant Pkwy. It is cheaper and better than Macayos so it is a win, win. Afterwards, house empty, we decided to come home. Jason took off his jeans and sat in his underwear, just because he could! We sat on the couch and watched a movie we had rented weeks ago from Netflix and just hadn't gotten to due to the R rating and the limited time we have without children around! Tired, I crawled into bed at 10 and J stayed up to watch another movie.

Today I got up early, mowed the lawn. I am washing all the beds so they are clean when we get home and straightening up the house. I will be filling the kids car back packs and delivering them to them. For those of you who don't know what these are, let me explain. When driving 6 hours in a car with 2 four year olds, one 3 year old, and an over anxious 12 year old, it is best to have new and entertaining things for them to do in the car. Not for their sake, but for the sake of the drivers. In this case, Nana and Papa will greatly appreciate the back packs! So I will go by the 99 Cent Store and pick up some snacks and coloring boards and such and for the first 2 hours or so, the kids will be thuroughly entertained. THen it will be about time for them to stop for lunch. After that, they will likely play for another hour or so with their new items (somehow junk seems to entertain a while in the car, unlike at home!) and finally doze off. Celia refuses to sleep in the car stating it is just to uncomfortable and Lexi struggles to sleep in the car because of the stimulation of all she is passing by... after naps, the unsettleness of the situation sets in but by then, there is only about an hour left so singing and games can usually pass the time for the last stretch. Really, it is a fine science on driving that far and if California were any further, we likely wouldn't go much!

So this isn't the most poetic post but we have been so busy so wanted to just catch you up on where we are and what is happening. It has been SUPER busy around here settling into summer. I will have to post of my thoughts as a mother of four with summer break another time! YIKES! Love to you all.

Skippy is Scared!

2009-05-23T14:07:00.002-06:00

Welcome, the newest member of the Fremouw family... Skippy! I should post a pic but find myself too lazy to take the picture and upload it right now. Skippy is an unknown type of frog. We did decide that he is a frog, and not a toad. I guess smooth skin and a love for water means "frog", so that is about all we know of him. He/She is about 1.5" in diameter and scared out of its mind. The poor frog spent its first night in the bottom of a giant PlayDough tub. I came home from scrapbooking to find him curled up on the tin floor, panting like it was about to have a heart attack. I put a sock in there and a few larger river rocks from my front yard. A couple small branches from a bush provided a place for Skippy to hide and the dish of water that stood higher than the frog was replaced with a shallow Tupperware lid of water. Skippy chose to sit in the water. No food. No heat. Nothing familiar. Skippy was stunned into a catatonic state for the night.

So this morning we got the family around and headed to Petco to get some relief for Skippy. Sadly enough, no one could identify the type of frog we had from the picture we took (Ok, so now I am busted for being simply too lazy to upload it since the picture is already on the camera). They told us he would need a container to call home and both wet and dry places to remain within his new clear walls. They suggested a glass home, but $40 for a glass home was more than we could muster for a frog we are more likely to kill than raise. So we got our cheap plastic "aquarium" and decided to use yard rocks to give him a resting place.

Food was our next obstacle. The pet store help told us Skippy would eat crickets. So we bought 10 small crickets which is expected to be about a 2 day supply, assuming they don't gang up on Skippy and kill it. Yes, you heard me right. Apparently crickets can kill anything that eats them with enough fellow crickets and the will to do it. So for now, we have to keep an eye on Skippy to ensure that Skippy wins out over the food. The crickets as super small, which makes me feel better about it. (I did just pay a pest control company to kill all such bugs around my home and then find myself paying for MORE BUGS today. That does sit wrong within me.)

So we get home, put gravel in the bottom, water that was boiled before we left for the pet store and now cooled to room temperature, and more river rocks. Not perfect, but it should work. We release the crickets into the dry portion and then Celia picks up Skippy and places him carefully onto a river rock. He quickly relizes that we are all staring and him and started, Skippy slouches back into a crack in a desperate attempt to hide. It does him no good. There is really not much to hide in. Again, eyes bulging, lower chin skin moving back and forth at a record pace, Skippy is about to jump out of his skin or burst a heart valve. Not sure which.

We move him upstairs into a common area of our home and quickly, Skippy decides this is his/her last chance to escape. Skippy jumps into the plastic wall. And again, and again. Now realizing that it really isn't getting him/her anywhere, Skippy sits. Crickets move all around and Skippy could care less. I think the starving frog, expected to eat 5 crickets a day or more, can stand the thought of eating. Skippy has lost its appetite. Every time a child looks in on Skippy, he/she squirms with fear. Poor frog has no piece and would rather be in a cardboard Playdough tub with a tin bottom where the false security of feeling alone in a cave exists than to be in a free-for-all clear sided container, feeling completely vulnerable to small children that move with record speed and disregard.

So there you have it. Skippy. Our new family member that may or may not make it, all depending on how could its heart is at this point. I sure hope for my children's sake that Skippy decides to end the fast and eat before the crickets have time to colaborate for their own attack. And I hope that our new ecosystem is sufficient so that Skippy doesn't have a premature funeral. I will keep you posted!

The Olympic Hopefuls

2009-05-13T14:50:00.002-06:00

So, folks. I tend to tell it like it is. Someday, my children may read this blog and telling it like it is may come back to bite me in more ways than one... but for now, it doesn't stop me!

I got a recommendation on a gymnastics studio from my neighbor, Melody. She has a blog now linked on mine, so go check it out if you have time... Anyway, on Monday, we got free trial sessions for all of my children. I signed up last weekend and then prepared my children by dressing them in their tightest fitting shirts (happened to be pj tops) and put the girls' hair up in perfect pony tails with their bangs clipped in barrets. We were off at 4 for the younger classes, Cole , Lexi, and Abby. We arrived to a zoo of a front lobby. People were everywhere, shoes crowded the floor. The receptionists head was litterally spinning from the people spitting out requests and demands. My kids and I froze, not knowing where to go and feeling a bit overtaken by the situation. I told them to pile their shoes onto the floor and then wait for Mommy.

Nearly 15 minutes later I was given a form to fill out and then I escorted my timid children into the studio. Lexi was shy at first but also intrigued. Cole was happy and eager as always. Abby was hopeful and ready to explore, but then stopped in her tracks. Turns out that her class was cancelled and there was no where for her to go. Not unlike her first day of preschool when she was denied access to the bus that she was so excited to venture on, she was told she would have to wait. Her mouth turned down and she worked hard to fight tears back. I did too, if I am being honest. I felt so bad for her. She was just wanting to play, too...

Abby and I took a position behind the viewing glass, Abby held in my arms so she could see. Lexi was slow to get started but really took to the instruction quite quickly. She had her difficulties with standing in the line once through the task at hand, but other than that, it came pretty easy for her. It was super cute to watch. Cole, on the other hand, didn't even know where to begin. The kids would do as asked and COle would be stopped right in his tracks. The instructor would manually position him and then help him to "hop" or tumble in the right direction! I laughed and laughed, all while hiding it from my senstive young man! It was cute, and funny, and a bit sad! The great part was, though it didn't come easy, he didn't give up and he smiled the whole time! He loved it!! (In case you are wondering, they didn't ask them to do flips, or handstands, or any type of real gymnastics... all just beginner skills that COULD one day lead to more advanced skills... or, for some, Could Not. Yet to be seen.)

SO then at 7 that night was Celia's class. I knew she would be great, but WOW! She rocked my face off! She was the best in her class and though she needed a bit of direction to know what to do, she would listen, and then just DO IT! Yes, and do it right. And no, these weren't things like what Cole was being asked to do... real cartwheels, bar drills, beam exercises, etc. The girl was awesome and she loved every minute of it! Her teacher asked me after class if she had been at another studio... when told she hadn't, she said how naturally talented she was and that she would be promoted quickly. WOW! Way to go, C! That is MY GIRL!

So, there you have it. The next batch of USA OLYMPIC champions in the making... team Fremouw! Any time ya'll want to check it out for yourselves, C's class is Monday nights at 7 and the tots are Tuesday mornings at 9:30. All are welcome to admire their talents!

Ditch the Bags!

2009-04-10T15:05:00.003-06:00

The air was so much thicker than I remembered it being. The roads completely disorganized with animals, cars, and people all moving like bubbles on oil floating atop a shallow pan of water. Our driver introduced himself as Bicky (though he spells it with an "e" rather than an "i"). He was a man slightly younger in age than myself. His hair cut short, and his premature receeding hairline, and two of the brightest most honest eyes one could imagine. His accent was first hard to understand. Everything, the accent, the air, the streets... it all seemed new at first though I had been there only 6 months prior. It was as though the big, little things had somehow faded to the back of my memory. They were all now pushing their way to the front.

Bicky explained that we were going to our guest house. As he drove, I could see that we were in an all too familiar part of town. "Where did you say we are going"... "To the guest house, the Z house, " he replied. "No, no... that is not where I am staying this time. I do want to go there to see my friends, but we need to drop our bags." I was confused. He assured me that guy from Z's had contacted him and we were supposed to go there. The familiar shops, the river, the curve in the road and YES, the LOUD church... we took a left and the church and followed along the same road I had walked with Kim and Nettie so many times last year. This time, it was mounded with dirt along the side and a narrow, fairly steep trench. We pulled up to the garage that faces the street and we rang the bell. My good friend, Kabrom was there to greet me with a warm hug. His father greeted me in the same fashion and smiles were pasting among all faces. I felt like I was home.

Kabrom told me that the tenants in the family sweet had decided to leave early so the room was available for MY FAMILY! God had worked another miracle and I would get to stay with them. I was overjoyed. I was praising God for paving the path and the following news was also great... they had invested in a water pump to get more water and pressure to the family sweet. The only days we would miss out on showers should be because of the power, not the water! What a treat. I was delighted to show our room to J, Nana, and Celia. They seemed pleased with our accomodations. We dropped our personal belongings, as well as the Bible school supplied in our room and immediately headed to the Drop In Center to meet up with Fekadu and the amazing children. Any bit of exhaustion we had to this point was gone and replaced with pure excitement and adreneline. We were REALLY in Africa. We were really about to take on this adventure and we were so excited to see how God would use us for His glory in this trip.

Greeting Unexpected

2009-04-07T08:56:00.002-06:00

Our trip to Africa was a long three days in airports. No, not three days with time change- three days of flying and waiting. One layover was long enough to take a hotel room for the night only to head back to the airport first thing in the morning. The flights were long and dry, and to my amazement, Celia did very well with them.

As soon as the plane touched down in Addis, all the "things" came flushing back to my brain. The front and rear door were opened on the plane and the hot air came in as our fresh air went pouring out. I am sure you have never heard the air on an airplane described as "fresh", but that is only because you have not been to Addis. The city air was hot, smoky, and immediatly tightened my lungs.

We marched down the metal offloading steps and onto a bus. We were one of the last off the plane so fortunate for us, we had no one exposing their armpit in front of our nose as they held the hand rail, such as the last time I was in Addis. No, we had the tram pretty much to ourselves and it was great to take in the expressions of my family as we drove to what was likely one of the smallest international airports that either J or Nana had ever been in. Luggage was everywhere on the tarmic, apparently in an order that only made sense to the airport staff- but looked like a security issue to American ol' me.

We waited in line for Visas. We waited in line for customs... and out of no where I heard my name, "Brooke!" I turned, half expecting to see Kibrom from the guest house I stayed at last year. It was not. Instead, it was Pastor Surafel from Phoenix! He was supposed to have left Addis the day prior to my arrival, and yet here he was, standing on the other side of customs to greet me! I was so surprised and so happy to see a familiar face.

He had postponed his flight in order to greet my family. So sweet. So thoughtful. We walked with him as he arranged for our bags to be taken (which was no small feet with a total of 16 bags weighing over 600 lbs). I had to excuse myself to run off to the restroom... the first one I could get to since we landed (someone must talk to the airport about that since those lines can take some time!) . Anyway, Surafel escorted us outside as I scanned the people for our driver. I was expecting a sign with my name on it but instead, found 2 staff from HOpe for the HOpeless and 4 beautiful children from the Drop In Center at HOpe! They each had a beautiful boquet of flowers for each of us which brought tears to my eyes. We were hugged and greeted. It was SO GREAT to be in Africa with my extended family! It was just where I was supposed to be and felt completely right.

We found a sign for Carolyn Fremouw- And we were off to drop some things at our guest house and on to see the kids. The exhaustion faded to nothing and the excitement for our tasks ahead was all that was left. I felt whole. I felt at peace. I took in a breath of that smoky air and praised God for all that he had done to prepare me and to assure me. It was very right.

The Rant- PS. Sorry it all starts here!

2009-04-06T17:12:00.003-06:00

I have had a hard time getting back into the swing of things since our return from the great country of Ethiopia. I find myself feeling tired, sick, busy, and just kind of down. I don't want to come down on America, because I love America. But it is not the country today that it was intended to be back in 1787. When the Declaration of Independence was written, it was by men who had risked it all to stand for what was right. It was by people who had a vision of one nation, under God, and free from oppression. It was so that we, as Americans, could work hard, earn, and prosper. Today, I just feel so sad that we got it all backward. We prosper, work hard (most of us) and earn. But we have lived lives of EXPECTED prosperity. We only want the best, whether the best is what we can afford or not. So much so, that though we blame the banks for our current economy, that we, as American households, have overspent and underearned into unprecidented personal debt and subsequently, unprecidented national debt. I wonder how those that fought for our freedoms back then would feel about our choices today? And then, instead of owning the responsibility for our hardships, we ask why the government allowed this to happen. Don't get me wrong, there are REAL victims of this economy that could not have done anything differently to avoid their current hardships. Many, many people are in this situation. But it is their neighbors, not the government, that caused this. (Just my opinion.)

So here I sit, I have been home for over 2 weeks. I think of Africa every day, several times a day. I keep hearing my dear friend Fekadu tell me as we walked into his church that the whole corner of the church's land was seized by crooked officials in the government with no compensation. If you saw how much land we were talking about, it would make you as sick as it makes me. I hear Bicky, our super special friend and driver, tell stories about his protesting a fire set by the government when he was a young man to drive people out of the country and getting thrown into jail. He felt so defeated that at first, he acted out and landed in jail three times. Then he gave up his fight and has complacantly fallen in line like most other Ethiopians, knowing that their single voices are only squashed by the mighty government. I am angered for the people of Ethiopia, that they must go through so much to just survive, inspite of their government, in spite of the system. And here, we have a government that really is for us, and few of us really appreciate it. "I hate Obama." "The war sucks." "Our economy is in the dump and we are so poor." Statements of fact for many, yet also it shows how spoiled we are. First, we get to state our opinions without consequence. Second, we can't even begin to say we are poor. Third, of course war sucks. No one ever wants to kill others or die defending our nation... but complaining accomplishes nothing. I feel like we are so eager to put off the blame, to point fingers, to complain, etc... and what are we really willing to DO to change it?

So yes, today I am on my rampage. I don't know how else to begin telling about my trip... I suppose most sane people would begin with the arrival at the PHX airport. It just seems that in order for me to go back, I must first get off my chest what I feel now. Please don't feel as though I don't have empathy for where we are as a nation. I do. I get sick when I see our teachers losing their jobs. I see CPS not investigating allegations. I see hiring freezes and layoffs. I feel for these people. My family has been saved in many ways, and harmed in many others. My closest friends and extended family have all been hit hard. No one is without the effects of these times. There are MANY victims of our current circumstances. I am sad for where we are at- equally as sad for how we got here. Now I ask myself what can I do to help turn it around? How can I contribute to being a part of the solution, and not the problem? My heart is here, and in Africa. Both needed more than what I, just one woman, can do. I pray for miracles for two great nations and for an awakening of the people in both. That we, as Americans, can give more and expect less. That they, as Ethiopians, can continue to seek reform and mercy. That both nations, would fall on our knees in repentance for all we have and have not done and seek to live a life bound by Biblical morality.

The Perfect, Imperfect Puzzle.

2009-04-04T18:46:00.002-06:00

As you all know, we are in the process of adopting 3 children and have already adopted one. They are all such HUGE blessings in our life adding spice and sugar to just about everything we do or touch. Not a day goes by that I don't take a minute to thank the Lord for our children. And yet our children, as most everyone calls the kids they raise in their home, are not just ours. Each of our children has a second set of parents that they are not raised by. These other parents are some of the most important people in their lives, owing life itself to this mom and dad. And yet in the case of 2 of my children, they do not even know their dad. In the case of the other two, they fear their dad. In the case of all, they unconditionally love their birth mom and feel forever connected to her.

Today we met Celia's grandma, aunt, and aunt's boyfriend at the park today for a visit (about the 5th one now). As Celia's adoption nears, it was time to prepare Grandma, especially, for the fact that all of us were to soon be connected in a permanent and important way. Our family is growing not by one child, but by one whole other family, full of mostly strangers to us. And of course, it is scary. These are strangers that have both helped and hurt MY DAUGHTER over the years. There is healing that Celia needs to do with her family, and fond and fun memories that are yet to be made. All of it being governed by a relationship between Jason and I and the bio family. Tears rolled down the face of Grandma as we talked about Celia's future. She is in favor of the adoption, yet sad for the lack of ability she had to prevent her from coming into foster care and concerned for the other 2 siblings not out of relative care. The complexity of it all weighs heavily on her heart, and on mine. Celia's inability to cope has her indifferent to it by appearance, but certainly her short speech has me convinced that it weighs equally on her.

Grandma brought tons of pictures to the visit. Pictures of Celia smiling as she wore her best dress for her first birthday. Pictures of the dogs, cousins, siblings, bio mom and aunt. Many memories were placed on the picnic table for us all to see. No picture would be mistaken for a picture that would come from yours or my home- with the rooms being more cluttery and carpet stained more than unstained. Grandma's love for them was and is evident. The method, just different.

I wonder how to sort my feelings, Celia's feelings, the difficult relationship between the one caring for her siblings and Grandma... what Celia wants vs. what is best for her. It is not easy. Her bio mom is about to come back into the picture in 5 months with the power to heal or hurt her from her current state. It is more power than Mom can know and how will she handle it when she doesn't even know she has it? How will Celia respond to all that Mom is capable of giving.

Adoption is not easy. There are pieces to the puzzle of your child's life that are hard to fit together. Pieces missing. Pieces torn and tattered. But not unlike a well loved puzzle that hours and hours were poured into creating, this puzzle is worth the end result. The character created by such trials, history, and pains has more potential to be supreme than any other. The growth, the depth that is required for survival alone is hard for you or I to imagine. And too big for a young child to even know how to handle. I pray that in time, we can guide this depth, this empowerment to do great things for herself. To honor the Lord with her life, to rise above the pain and past to be a light in the future. I pray... oh, I pray, that in the end, all this diffuculty will result in one young woman who knows who she is and who she serves. Please stand in prayer with me as this journey is long and hard for us all.

It was a good visit. It was a good day. I feel so blessed to be in this struggle.

Home Sour Home

2009-04-03T17:19:00.003-06:00

So coming home from Africa is always a joy. I miss the kids so much that just thinking of them towards the end of the trip brings about tears. I was so eager to see them, have a warm shower that didn't require shutting off the faucet while soaping up, and some good ol' American food. And it was all as good as I knew it would be. We picked up our children and they seemed equally as happy to see us. We snuggled and then LIFE SET IN. It was laundry, cleaning, and emails. Fighting toddlers, dying grass, and doctor appointments. Ring worm on one child, marker on the other, too little sleep for another, and on and on. I love my life. I wouldn't trade it for anything... Home is SWEET... so why the title? Tut pees on the carpet when he is mad. Apparently, he was mad that we had left him for another continent. NICE!

Welcome a New Member

2009-04-03T17:04:00.005-06:00

Well, you think I am bad about technology..... My mom is worse. And my grandma is even worse yet! But that doesn't stop any of us from trying. I assisted my mom (I know, Jen, you find that amuzing, as you should) in putting together a BLOG today! Can we show her some support and check it out?! http://www.pureloveoflife.blogspot.com/

Most of you know that she has had GREAT success with a nutritional product. She went to the eye doctor just this week and after three years without an eye exam, her vision has IMPROVED. So she is super excited and has decided to sell the product to help others to acheive their best health, too. Many of her success stories will be posted over time on her site. It is interesting stuff!

Anyway, I know you are all less than happy that I haven't blogged about my recent trip to Africa yet... I will. Really, I mean it!

Love to you all!

SRP Court Today

2009-01-29T11:14:00.002-07:00

Court today was postponed until March 5th BUT...

There are no family visits for the next month plus. GREAT news.

Bio Dad is not allowed to contact us any more. GREAT news.

A Guardian Ad Lidem needs to be appointed and present at the March 5th hearing. GREAT news.

Keep the prayers coming. This is far from over but seemingly moving in the right direction!

What is Worse than Vaseline??

2009-01-23T14:12:00.002-07:00

Many of you will remember a certain scrap book weekend in which my husband called to tell me that something bad had happened. Remember? The kids, only Cole and Lexi at the time, had gotten into the diaper cabinet and spread Vaseline all over the house.

The next bad "spill" was a 5 gallon paint bucket. You have to remember that?? We were doing the addition at our other home and Tim had left the paint bucket on the living room carpet where he had been showing me a color sample. Cole and Lexi decided to use Daddy's work shoe to "paint" the surrounding area and themselves. Good times!

Well, this one is about that good. Want to know, don't you??

KARO SYRUP!!! YUP... Celia had left her backpack downstairs and the tots decided to get into it while I was outside washing the car. (She had Karo syrup in there for a science project.) Dad stepped out to help me with a few last details and at the time, I thought to myself," I don't know that it is a good idea that Dad left the kids in there alone." Well, turns out that my every instinct was right.

I walked into Abby with an empty, but quite sticky bottle pressed against the water dispenser on the fridge. Karo in her hair, in Cole's hair, and Lexi's too. There were 2 big puddles of this intensly sticky goo on the carpet as well as many invisible spots later to found as crunchy spots under ones bare feet when walking on the carpet. ANd yes, this is AFTER the spot cleaning and a thurough carpet shampooing. We all know that this sugary substance will be a magnet for every dirt that one didn't even know existed in my house, and ordinary dirts alike. I continue to spot clean and the fibers crunch below my feet but still have not gotten them all nearly a full week later.

So what is worse than Vaseline? Paint.

And what is worse than paint? Karo.

I should invite the school here to complete the science experiment that was once intended to be in Celia's science class.

Great Few Days

2009-01-03T19:08:00.002-07:00

The last few days have been SO PLEASANT. Everyone in the house has been so upbeat, happy, and uptimistic. It really helps to have fun when everyone is in a great mood... sounds like common sense, but it is easy to forget when typically atleast one of our children is either moody or just plain down.

We went to see Bolt at the theatre yesterday. It was awesome. No really, really good! We all had our laughs and enjoyed the completely original plot. It was like "Lassie Meets the Truman Show". Clever, and fun. Lexi was so proud of herself sitting with the kidpack that Daddie got her. She took the whole movie just to eat the little baggie of gummies that came with it but found great pride in putting her cup in the real cup holder and sitting behind a bag of popcorn. I put up the armrest and pulled her close to me. She looked at me like I was crazy and then put it back down and sat normal, as if to say" that is NOT how the big kids do it." Super cute!

Then Lolo and Papa came over for dinner and rocked out to Rockband with the fam. Super good times.

Today we had Anna and Rainy and Laurie over to watch the Cardinals WIN!!! That was awesome. Anyway, we have been working out as a family and having fun and just enjoying each other. I never thought I would say this, especially at the start of winter break, but I almost don't want it to end. We have really been having fun. The house is a real mess. The laundry is behind. But what has mattered most has happened and that was family fun. We got to see people we love. We got to play games, watch movies, eat fun food, and celebrate Christ. What more could a person ask for??

Swimming in December

2008-12-31T12:56:00.003-07:00

Well, after searching valley wide, we found an indoor swimming pool at a local hotel and decided to spend a day and night as a family just relaxing. We invited Aunt Laurie and the girls to join us for the swimming and dinner part and prepared for a night of fun!

The pool wasn't as heated as we would have liked. I think calling it 70 degrees may have been generous but all the same, we went in. COle would have nothing to do with it and chose to keep a towel swaddled around his shoulders and his feet in the spa instead. Lexi would only go in if held close to our heat emmitting bodies. Abby, as could be expected, swam until she was blue and shivering so hard that she was creating her own mini-waves. Celia is a fish. She really is an athletic child.

Anna and Celia played well together in the water. We all got in a few games of Marco Polo as well. We would periodically warm up in the spa and Aunt Laurie was quite a trooper with the kids in the cold pool.

That night we had brought our DVD player and rented a few movies from BLockBuster. Turns out the tv at the hotel wasn't compatible so that was a lost effort that cost us $14 in renting a movie to our room from the hotel. Grrrrr... the kids all ate gummy bears and licorice while snuggled in before the tv. It was really cute. Sleeping didn't go as well as everything else. We had made a bed on the floor out of blankets for Cole and Abby. Daddy and I were in a not-so-big full sized bed, and then Lexi and Celia in the other bed. First, Abby was moved to a make shift bed by the front door. Then Celia joined the ranks on the floor in a much nicer make shift bed. Lexi was queen having the only real bed all to herself. Daddy snored, Abby woke up with whimpering tears, and we even had the alarm pre-set to go off at midnight with the Mexican Cucarracha! So yes, we had fun. And YES, we are tired!

Next time, we ask what the pool temp is before settling on a reservation. And next time, we bring some sleeping bags. But I do hope that there will be a next time!

The Bikes

2008-12-26T14:17:00.002-07:00

Cole, Lexi, and Abby all got bicycles for their Christmas gifts from us. Cole and LExi's bikes are 16" and Abby's is a 12". They are super cute with their little training wheels. COle was excited to sit on it but knowing how to make it go was a whole new thing. The tricycles always allowed him to use his feet to propel the trike like a Flinstone car instead of using the pedals. Lexi had figured out the trike pedals but it was hard for her to reach them consistantly.

Well Lexi figured out the bike right away. She opted for Cole's red bike rather than her purple one. Should have known that! Around and around the living room she went with pride beaming from her. As she tired she would periodically whine when stuck but all in all, it was super successful. Cole gave up.

Today was a new day. We put Cole on his bike and he stuck with it out in our street. And sure enough, it was a matter of time and he got it... for the most part! He still tries to pedal backword at times which leads to some frustration.

Watching the kids struggle just to pedal the right direction actually reminds me of how it is that I struggle with the tasks in my life. The laundry, the kids, the house, the cooking, the errands, the doctor appointments, etc. And then the realization that the kids have figured out to pedal now and they don't even know that pedaling was just the beginning of what it really takes to ride the bike. They will one day have to balance without the 2 extra wheels and navigate a world of traffic, hills, and bumps. Yet they are just working so hard right now to just pedal. What does that say for me and where I am? Am I just pedaling, not even knowing that a whole balancing act and navigation process is ahead? I am sure of it. I doubt it not for a minute. Every time we master one task in our lives, the Lord presents us with a new degree to the challenge, or a new challenge all together. I suppose that is the point- to keep being challenged and grow through those experiences. Just interesting to see it all through the blind eyes of a 2 and three year old. They are so happy with their success... which I suppose is where I need to be. Happy in mine.

Christmas

2008-12-25T20:27:00.003-07:00

This Christmas has been truly crazy... always in the chaos there is a pause to reflect on the Lord's blessings of the year and to look at what God is doing in my life going into the new year. This pause has been so different than in years past.

Celia is here. She is the new light in our lives and though sometimes she is hard to truly understand, she brings so much joy and pleasure to each day. Her case plan has not changed and there is still no certainty of how long she will be here. All we can do is love her and pray each day for more days to hold her and hug her. It has been 4 months and 2 weeks now. She told us last night that it seems like so much longer. We have just done so much together and really have gotten to know and love one another. It is amazing how quickly a family can be bound.

And of course, there are Abby and Lexi. Visits with their bio dad have resumed for now, pending the court hearing toward the end of January. These new visits have come with big backlash and the children that I had refused to acknowledge as foster children, I am once again living with the awareness staring me in my face.

Africa. The lessons and awarenesses brought to me through my trip to Africa have forever changed me for the better. The trip brought me so much closer to the Lord and to doing what it is that God would have me do in my life. I have some friends in Africa now, bringing home their children, and I am just biting at the bit to hear all about it.

So to sum up the year as God would have me see it- Back to the Basics. Faith, Family, Friends. These are honestly all I need. I do not wish to attain more than that. I actually wish I could get rid of so much of this "stuff" that society has taught me to value. So many thought I was crazy when I recently shut off my cell phone. It was so liberating. We have given our time away... our time in the car. Our time running errands. Our time on the toilet. Honestly... you all know what I am talking about. Technology robs us of our ability to just be. It robs us of our time to just pray and ponder. Doing is so much better than having. I cleaned out our garage earlier this year and intend to do this throughout the house as time allows. Is it purposeful? Is it prudent? If not- let's find someone who thinks it is and let them have it. I don't need stuff. I need God and people. Not stuff.

ANyway, I know you all have had your awakenings this year as well and hope that when you look back upon this last year that you will see a new found excitement in your life with what you have learned, too.

For this next year, I am prioritizing two trips. I want to go on a trip with my grandma and hopefully my mom. I don't care where. It is something we have been wanting to do and the opportunity hasn't worked out as we had hoped. The other trip is to Africa. I love the kids there. I feel very connected to them. I want to go back and continue to grow in those relationships. Other than a simple love for them, I am not really sure why God has me feeling so pulled back. I do not understand why it can't just be a great memory from a past trip- but it isn't. I am saving up to go back and hope to take Jason and perhaps, Celia, too (she has to be adopted first). I wish to serve at the orphanage and just love on the kids.

As for my family, I am desperately praying for the girls' adoptions to go through. I would be honored to be their mom forever. I also am working to get more ME time at home. Wish me luck on this as I have never been good at carving that out!

Love to you all. God Bless and MERRY CHRISTMAS.

Who's the Turkey??

2008-11-28T19:36:00.002-07:00

Well, Thanksgiving is such a blessed family time. This year, like so many other things, it didn't get much thought or preparation until it was upon me. I feel like I juggle my tasks all day long, only to lye down at the end of the day and see what tomorrow may bring. It helps me to not feel overwhelmed but also robs me of the joy of anticipation for the good.

I did cook this year, and I must say, it was pretty darn good. I hopped online the day before the guests would arrive and found some amazing recipes for augratin potatoes and a recipe that Nana Fremouw had given me for some sweet potatoes that were really to die for. I made a from scratch green bean casserole and must say that though it looked decident, the canned beans just had more flavor as did the canned soup. Mine looked better but the easy stand by definately tastes better! I did some easy rise rolls and my mom brought some apples stuffing and grandma brought the pies... so where was the turkey? Not on the table! Nope- we had ham. The only turkey at the table was my grandpa whom asked grandma to leave near the end of a wild and unpredictable game of Sorry. He must have known that a defeat like that by a 12 year old diva would be just too much for her to handle!

It was a great day. And then today, we went to Dev and Belinda's for a SECOND meal. Brandy was a surprise guest from her schooling in the Navy and it was SO GREAT to see them all. It was our first time to their new home and it was really pretty and painted in nice neutrals. We jammed on rock band after stuffing ourselves to the point of being uncomfortable.

You ask, " What am I thankful for?" I have been blessed beyond comprehension in my life. My shout out first and foremost is obviously to the Lord Jesus for our salvation and the grace which has been bestowed upon us. Second, my husband. He is beyond any man I could invision and makes so many efforts every day to show me that he loves me more today than yesterday and 10 years into this dance, I wouldn't trade a day. My kids- they are perfect in every imperfection and I am SO BLESSED to still have them all in our home and to be speaking of adoption still. They are such a completion to our home. And of course, all of you- my extended family (no friends, you are extended family!) I feel loved and supported no matter how much time we have apart and I must say, there is no one who feels more blessed than I at this moment. Thank you for just being you and loving me the way you do.

God Bless and Happy Thanksgiving, you TURKEYS!!!

As the World Turns

2008-11-09T13:03:00.002-07:00

So, I know it has been a long time since I have written. You have my appologese. It has been busy but no more than usual. Usual is plain and simply, busy.

We have had good days and bad, just as everyone. Celia has been a great addition to our home but the transition isn't always smooth. It is what we had expected and for the most part, she is really doing great. We love her very much and thank God for her every day. COle and Lexi are doing great at preschool. THey really do love it and are talking more and more all of the time. It is really fun to see what they bring home from school as their projects! Abby is my little fire cracker for sure. She is enjoying her time with me, finally. I think she was sad that school started and for a time was protesting being alone with me in the mornings. Now, she seems to enjoy the attention and running errands and helping around the house.

We went to Telle and Kristen's new place in Surprise last night. The newlyweds are doing good and I love their dog, Rusty. Kristen cooked us an amazing meal including the best dessert I have had in months!

J's work is holding out. The Lord has really protected us through this rough market. Every month we should be broke and yet, J keeps getting deals. We are really blessed to have the referalls still coming in on deals that can actually be done and we take none of them for granted.

Celia doesn't know it yet but we are moving Lexi and Abby into the same room and putting Celia into Lexi's old room. We will not be painting it or doing too much to it until we know whether she is going to be adopted but we have decided to give her a space of her own. I think she will be super excited... and Lexi's stuff will all fit nicely into the other room. Fairy princesses belong in a garden anyway, don't they?!

We are preparing to celebrate my 30th birthday at Disneyland this upcoming weekend. We are SUPER excited to go. It will be all 4 kids' first time there and J and I have not been in over 10 years so it will be like a whole new experience for us- especially seeing it through our children's eyes.

So I know that was a catch up posting but wanted to do it in the hopes of being able to log on more frequently to post. Love to you all.

Where Have I Been?

2008-09-21T22:18:00.003-06:00

I know, it has been way too long since I last wrote. My appologese.

Most of you know that God blessed our family with a new daughter. Her name is Celia and she has been with us for 5 weeks now. She is an amazing 11 year old young lady. A gem, a true gem in all ways. She is so thoughtful of others, very polite, and is really very happy to be in our home. I love her more than I knew would be possible and though at this point she is a foster child, I can not imagine my family without her. I can not post picture of her due to her foster status, but just imagine this hispanic child with pure, dark eyes, smooth skin, mid length straight, brown hair. Her smile is infectious though in pictures she closes her mouth to smile and it loses its genuine character. She is petite but upon meeting her it is so easy to see something special and amazing within her.

So the last 5 weeks have been incredible in so many ways. And exhausting I might add. I had no idea how many appointments Celia's case manager would have for me. This child has a schedule more rigorous than most adults. She has case plan meetings, doctor evaluations, more doctor evaluations, school, counseling, and then her fun church program on Wed. nights. You would think that she would never be bored though she does not want to sit still and think about all that life has dealt her so if she finds herself sitting for more than a moment, "I'm bored" usually follows.

Cole, Lexi, and Abby think she is the greatest thing to land on this house. At first, it was fine. They followed her everywhere watching her every move and mimicing it with great precision. They went upstairs when she did just so they wouldn't lose sight of her. They would wake from a nap and ask where she was before even saying hello to me. And as I knew it would, this soon became annoying to the one being parrotted. She has found a good balance and maintains her respect toward the tots, so I am really happy with how it is all working out.

J and I also just went on a vacation to Aruba to celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. It is hard to believe that 10 years has gone by but I am truly proud to say that it has been nothing but a pleasure to call myself "Fremouw". It was never so hard to leave for vacation as it was this time. Actually, to clarify, usually leaving on vacation is quite easy for me. I have no guilt. This time was so very different. It was during the school year which required transporting the tots to one school and Celia to another. And Celia was only with us for 3 weeks before we left. That was entirely too soon. I am not sure why God put this in the week that He did, but the whole trip I was concerned for Celia and her emotional state. She and the tots stayed with grandparents which was good and the children survived just fine- but it was really hard. It was really hard to know that so much was being put onto the grandparents while we were away, too. That was likely the hardest part.

So how was Aruba? Well, it was simply FANTASTIC! We had iguanas coming onto the beach with us! We had talking parrots greet us every day at our hotel with a pathetic plea for crackers. We had the warmest ocean water one could imagine. We ate, we shopped a little, and gambled a little as well. We slept often and layed under an umbrella on the beach for countless hours. To sow our wild oats, we did an off roading Jeep island tour and took in the views and culture. It was a great trip and ended all too soon in some ways. But it is always good to come home.

We had a few rough days getting back into the swing of things once home but we are back to "normal". I don't really like the word "normal" because in our case, controlled chaos is normal. The two words can nearly be used interchangably.

So I guess that gets you caught up on what is happening. Not so much caught up on my feelings and thoughts, just on the facts of where I have been for the last long while. I know- after reading about Africa to skip to this is a plunge into Phoenix, isn't it?! Believe me, I know. It is hard to balance the lessons of Africa with the life of Phoenix. I hope to post more soon.

So how did it end?

2008-08-17T22:50:00.003-06:00

Well, Ethiopia was amazing. The last day was full of trying to figure out how we were going to get Kim home with Netzanette and then her realizing that though I was originally supposed to leave after her, she would be leaving the day after me. She would have to brave it alone for a day and I must say, I wasn't ready to leave her there. She was full of stress and anxiety over the embassy and paperwork and I just felt like I should be there with her until she was boarding a plane. God's plan was different than that and I had to board at 10PM that Monday night.

I went to the airport with time to spare. I was tired, but energized at the idea of heading home to see my family. I looked through the shops in the airport and found some really neat home made albums to buy for Kim as a thank you gift for an amazing time. I found the cutest tshirts there too, but decided against them as they were unbelievably expensive. I waited. I saw other adoptive families all waiting with their new family members in the terminal. I waited some more.

Finally it was time to go. My section was called and I boarded a plane for Germany and connecting through Sudan. I don't know if I mentioned it, but I discovered that just weeks prior to my departure to Africa, a plane had crashed in the rugged airport of Sudan because of the sand storm interfering with the plane engine. I had to admit, I was not looking forward to stopping in Sudan and just wanted to get on to a European nation where it just felt more familiar.

The flight went slow. I was trying to stay awake so that my nights and days could be swapped upon my arrival in Phoenix. I had brought sleeping pills and decided to take them on the leg from Germany to Chicago, thus remaining awake from Chicago into Phoenix and hopefully feeling like I could sleep once my head hit the pillow of my own bed. I only slept about 30 minutes when the plane touched down in Sudan. I was happy to have fought off the sleep my body was desperately wanting.

The plane was not full upon landing. Upon take off from Sudan, it was a different story. A darkly colored Sudanian sat next to me in our two seat row. I was against the window but offered to exchange the seat for him because he was unhappy with the way he seat reclined. I look back and what was I thinking?? He was an educated man. He was a doctor of obstetrics in Sudan and had a wife and two beautiful children. He proudly showed them to me on his cell phone. He was on his way to London to stay with friends and take some classes to further his education. He seemed nice and innocent at first. We laughed a bit, I shared my thoughts on all I had seen in Africa and he shared about Sudan and the ups and downs of African life there. He told me I should actually get off the plane next time I came through and for a moment, a short moment I now claim and temporary insanity, I thought I might. It sounded like a nice pit stop to a tired and delirious woman.

As conversation dried up and I worked to force my eyelids open, I found this man's hand on my leg. I moved my leg away and shifted my body. He told me that he liked me. That I was nice... then began to tell me about how in his country, some men take second wives. I pulled away and told him that I was a Christian and very opposed to that idea and that it was really offensive to me that any man would or could do that to a wife he loved. He, of course, agreed with me. Just like a creepy man, right? YUCK. Anyway, he then grabs my hand to hold and and continues to tell me about the women in his country. I felt a need to remain polite. I was trapped. The plane was full. I had 3 hours left to go and no way out... I pulled my hand away and used it to open my back pack to remove a book I had no interest in reading. Avoidance would be my strategy of survival and let's just say that my fear of sleeping too long on the flight was nothing to be worried about at all. I could not sleep because of the broken seat, the creep next to me, and the time zone change I was struggling to uphold.

When the plane landed, I did my best to act unterrified. Is that a word? Well, that is what I was shooting for. I waited patiently as the people filed off the plane ahead of me and made my way as I always did, until we got to the tunnel. From there, my pace exponentially increased until I was clearly on my own and heading in who knows what direction. I had time to spare so figured I would discover my location once I knew I was alone and safe to do so.

Well, (boys don't read this part!) wouldn't you know my period started. I was having cramps the last hour of the flight and the realization that all sanitary products were checked in and likely somewhere between Ethiopia and Arizona. First thing I needed to do was to change my money back into either euros or dollars. I had saved enough to get me home comfortably and to account for any missed flights, etc. I was now familiar with the airport from my trip to Ethiopia, so headed for the changing counter once I knew I was alone and free to do so. They would NOT take Ethiopian birr. I sorted through my euros from my first pass through and counted a total of 7 euros. I headed for the restroom to find a vending machine. Apparently in Germany, people are less concerned with their periods and more concerned with "welcome home sex" because tampons and pads were no where to be found in any of the machines in all three bathrooms I could find. Should I ask someone? What should I do?? I didn't know who would speak english and what they called what I needed there anyway. I opted to see if the little shop would take a credit card. I lucked out and they did. I bought my "supplies" and an applejuice. (Yes, it cost me about $35 to do so) and decided that I would not get to eat this time through Germany. I had about 2 hours before I needed to worry about my next flight at this point and knew that I would have about 3 security checks before I got to my gate. I checked to see if my flight was on time and headed in the general direction of my gate. There I found some lounge chairs in a long walkway connecting terminals.

I sat. I put my bag down beside me and pulled the last granola bar from it. I opened my magazine, cracked open my juice, and munched on my bar. My legs were out on the footrest, my seat slightly reclined and boy did it feel good to be lounging. I could see the first security check at the end of the walkway and knew that I would sit here and read until my juice was gone. It was about a $15 bottle of juice and I was NOT going to throw it in the trash because of security.

I startled myself awake, realizing that I had dozed off for a few minutes. I didn't know how long I had been out but hadn't slept hard since I had left Phoenix 9 days ago and knew it couldn't have been for long. I decided that my juice would take but a minute and if I were going to doze off, I had better be seated at my terminal to do so to insure I made my flight. I gathered my things and went to pull my passport out of my.... I had not put it in my bag. I had used it as ID for my credit card since my drivers license was not with me and had put it on the top of my magazine. It was not there. My mind raced. I knew it was not in my bag but tried to convince my tired mind otherwise and searched for it several times. I found the employee who had helped me find my gate number and asked her if she had seen it. She advised me to go to the police and I did.

What was I going to do? I was in Germany with no ID at all. My tickets were also with my passport and missing. I had no tickets for my flight. No ID. No cash that they would take and now even my credit cards were no good because my ID was gone. I was stranded. I broke down as I told the police man my situation. He made it clear that I was inferring that someone had stollen it. I knew they had. I did not move and knew where it was. I was kicking myself for closing my eyes. How did this happen to me? How?

I was advised to go and get my flight tickets reprinted and to ask them if they would allow me to board since I was heading to my native country. I knew that would not work. How would they know it was my native country? All languages reside all over these days. The line was long. I cried as I explained to the lady behind the counter what had happened and she reprinted my tickets though I heard all of the other ticketing ladies tell their clients that they were on strike and could not help them. I was thankful that she pittied me. She told me that I would need to go back to the police and get my ID back or I would be stuck.

I could hardly look the police officer in the eyes. I was so wanting to be home. I just wanted these long flights to all be over. I was exhausted and starving. He could see the panic in my face and called our department of Homeland Security. It turns out that there is an unofficial branch there in Germany and the director met me at the police station in the airport. He was James Bond, only bald, fat, and a bit cocky rather than suave. He asked me a bunch of questions and within minutes had a picture of my face sent from Texas to him on his phone. WOW! That was super sleuth. He would have to escort me all the way to the gate and I would be unable to leave. My tickets got stamped at the last ID check as having a passport and when I asked this man if I could get some documentation that all this had happened so that when I got to Chicago I would not have to go through this again, he told me simply that I could not because he and his department did not exist. I could have NOTHING from him. He wished me luck as I took my seat in the terminal.

I prayed a prayer of thanks that I was able to get back to the states. I knew I could figure it out from there. Next to me was a pay phone. I slid my credit card and called home. I needed to speak to J. I needed something familiar and reassuring and when he answered, I could not contain my tears. I cried. I cried a lot, holding nothing back. I could tell that fellow passengers were listening in but I didn't care. When I hung up the phone, I sat and propped my head against my backpack and went to sleep.

My sleep was light. I could tell that the volume of people had really picked up around me. Turns out our flight was delayed by the strike. It was delayed for 4 hours. People were on the floors, in chairs, and standing. It was hot and the mood was- not nice. I didn't care. I was so tired that I worked to get comfortable in my chair and sleep. Suddenly, I heard my name over the loud speaker. I ran to the counter within the terminal, asking the gentleman next to me to hold my seat, and I just knew there was only one reason they would be calling me. Sure enough, they had my passport! They were calling my name all over the airport for the last hour and finally tried the terminal. They knew I couldn't get into it without the ID so assumed that I would not answer, but there I was. I was overjoyed and relieved. I explained how I got in and they were happy to have helped. In the crowd of angry people, I was the one that now smiled from ear to ear. I would not have to worry about my connection in Chicago and if the plane left soon, I could make the connection.

I resumed my seat and announced to my unfriends that I was sorry but God delayed the plane so that I could get my passport back. Most didn't find it amuzing, but the gentleman next to me that had heard my phone call earlier was thrilled for me.

The flight was long and I slept nearly the whole way. I needed it, too! We arrived to complete chaos in Chicago and had to clear customs. I was told I would not make my connection and was waiting to re-ticket when I noticed that my connecting flight was also delayed by 30 minutes. It COULD be just enough time. I bolted. I boarded the tram, found my terminal, and sprinted to the security check point. There was a long line. I asked in the most pleading voice I could summons if I could go through to the security guard and was promptly denied. I was litterally dancing in my spot in line when a man got in line behind me. He offered to hold my spot while I tried again! How could I not. I had 10 minutes to clear security and get to my gate. It was looking dim. I asked the grumpy guard again. Could she not see how pathetic I was? I was dirty, smelly, puffy eyed... Her boss overheard and allowed me to the pilot line! And the pilots graciously let me cut ahead. My shoes were in the xray machine and I grabbed them. 5 minutes and counting. I flung my backpack on and ran barfooted to the furthest gate. Sweat poured. My breath was gone and my heart was pounding from the stress of the situation. I was the last passenger on as the gate doors closed behind me.

So there I was... on the plane and headed for home. So grateful to be on that plane. So grateful to be going home to a land of so much opportunity. So very grateful to be going home to a family I loved and missed so much. God was so good to get me through my trip and my flight home obstacles. It was incredibly crazy and incredibly beautiful at the same time. The last bit of the trip was really just the icing on the cake, teaching me that I AM NOT IN CONTROL and that I have nothing without Him. I get it. I got it. It is good!

School has started

2008-08-13T21:46:00.002-06:00

Well, I am not done with my thoughts on the trip to Ethiopia but I am so slow about writing it all that I am not posting anything about real life around here. So I will now bounce back and forth.

Preschool started for both Cole and Lexi this week. I have to tell you, I don't know who is more excited about it- them or me. They are having so much fun and are so very, very excited to get on that bus and get to their class. Cole has friends that he calls by name and Lexi brought home her first homework assignment today. They are so excited to see me and "tell" me all about there day though they are really short on words at this stage of development.

Abby and I have our time together in the morning but so far most of the time the kids are at preschool (only 2. 5 hours Monday through Thursday) I have been running errands for our rental property and life in general. So many things that got put off or half done this summer while having all three kids with me virtually all of the time.

Being a stay at home mom is such a blessing. I adore my children and enjoy them very much. It does not come without negatives, too, though. I get a bit tired of whining, crying, and fighting. All three kids are so close in age and not fully able to express themselves with words so the end result is that I play mediator more than mother these days. At times I feel guilty for just wanting to put myself in time out rather than them. I try to stay consistent, knowing that this is a phase that one day I will wish I could have back. I also know that being consistent with the rules and consequences will shorten the severity and duration of the phase, or so I hope!

So it is official. School is back in session. I am a bit more sane. They are a bit more sane. And we are all excited to see their little sponge brains soak it all in.

What are my school kids doing right now:

Cole- counts to 10 but usually skips the 7, knows all of his colors, identifies many numbers and letters, knows his name, knows his teacher's name and is nearly toilet trained

Lexi- counts to 5, is an amazing artist drawing faces and coloring in objects, starting to sing "Jesus Loves Me"

Ah, it all goes by so fast!

The Aquaintance Becomes The Friend

2008-07-27T22:37:00.003-06:00

We drove back, sharing our thoughts as we could. We cried, we smiled. It was a mixed up time for us all. Poor Tom had already told his friends how crazy we were, praying and crying all of the time. He liked the praying part... but as most men, he didn't know what to do with crying ladies.

We got a bite to eat and headed straight for home. It would be my last night. I took a walk to the little "grocery store" that was accrossed the street from our home. I bought my children some native treats and some local home made soap to take back. Upon checking out, I gave them my flashlight that they had been so impressed with on my many trips. It had a latern feature that would work out nicely in power outages, plus give them something to remember the "crazy white lady" by. Again, I hate to have to remind you of this, but I had quite a reputation and was famous in Ethiopia. They were grateful and laughed as I bounced home.

Up stairs, Kim was packing in hopes of getting a flight first thing the next morning. We would be going to the Visa office to get a British Visa and then Tom and I would spend the day killing time until my flight later that day. That was the plan anyway. Kim was wiped of energy. She could hardly think to pack. Nettie was comfortably resting in bed.

As Kim retired for the night and I lyed snuggly tucked into my bed, there was knock on my door. Who could this be and why? We were ready for bed!

It was the property managing young man, son of the owners, Kibrom. He came in and was seemingly unaware as to what our intentions were at that hour. He sat on the couch, asked about our trip, and finalized a few minor details of us getting checked out. We owed him some money for the phone card we used, internet , etc that we needed to pay up by morning. Kim paid him then and called it a night. KB and I continued to talk.

Without going into much detail, let's suffice it to say that God did not want me sleeping that night. He wanted me THINKING! He wanted KB thinking, too. KB had been going through a discovery period about how God wanted to use him to make a difference for poor people and KB had never even realized just how poor they all really were. He thought that the kids working on the streets were success stories and when I told him that I felt like they were sad stories, he finally got it. He shared many things with me that made me realize just how wasteful and selfish I had been in my life and I felt more convicted at that point, than ever. So many thoughts had been bouncing in my mind and heart the whole trip and I got to spew them all over KB and get honest feedback. It was amazing. He and I cried. We talked. We thought about what could be. We stayed up until the wee hours of morning and when I finally went to sleep, I had the most peaceful sleep of the trip. I had some kind of spiritual cleansing with KB that night and finally was able to put into words so many things that I had been thinking.

I found a friend in KB that night. I grew to trust him and to know him on a level that most people don't know new aquantances on. He was not like many Ethiopians who have money. His family has money and like so many, the sisters of KB all came to America for their lives. KB did not because he wants to make an impact where he is and make a difference for the future of Ethiopia. You ask how? He does, too. He has no miracle solution. He admits that the problems there are too plentiful to have all the answers for, but he knows that if people would begin investing themselves in the solution, that one family at a time could be transformed. He is starting a non-profit of family to family sponsorship. He does not pay beggers. He pays organizations that help homeless to get off the streets and get jobs. He finds other families in need and helps them to get steady income and thus changing the future for the children in the home and the children's children. He is well intended.

I have been in touch with KB since I have been back. We write back and forth a few times a week, as power allows. He is doing well. He has sponsored a new family. This is his second sponsored family. It is a mother and daughter. The mother is new to Christianity and is a prostitute, though they don't call them that there. She wants out but their prositution is a lot like sex slavery and she must pay to get out. She has to pay 600 birr a month for 7 months to get out. This is impossible for her and that is how they own her. If KB can get her out, KB's family will put her up in housing and take her to church and find her a job. She is willing to do any kind of work that is moral. Jason and I are working with KB to help get her out and sponsoring her out for the first month at the cost of $64. I am not sharing this with you to pat ourselves on the back or to have you think us crazy for trusting in a man "I hardly know", but only to show you how complex the problems are between the food shortages, medical problems, sex slavery, famine, etc... and how impossible it is for them to resolve the problems on their own. I do think KB has something right. If the daughter, Betsolot, grew up with a mother that was a sex slave, what do you think would become of the daughter? If her mother finds a way out and can provide a different example, Betsolot will likely do differently as well. And Betsolot's children will follow that same example. By helping the mother, we have likely saved generations. This will take a lot of personal time and resources from KB and his family, but God bless him for doing it. The money is the small part in the grand scheme of what needs to be done for this family, so we are happy to help where we can. Please lift up mother Tsion and daughter Betsolot in your prayers. They have a long way to go from where they are to where the Lord wants them to be.

Saying Goodbye

2008-07-27T22:28:00.002-06:00

Saying goodbye. Where do I even begin. It was something I did not want to do. I did not know how attached I would become to these children. How could I? It was only in 4 days of which most of them were no more than a few hours of interaction. And yet, I was. Hard to understand as I sit to write, but to this day, three weeks later, there is not a day that goes by that I do not think of them. I still cry tears over them.

The long walk back could have been much longer and I would have been fine with it. The children grabbed their Bibles first thing upon their return and the flashlight pens that they had tied to them (for night time reading during power outages). They all came running up to Kim and I. They were hugging us.

Fikadu broke up the mob and gathered us all into one big circle. With hands held, he asked if I could pray for them. Of course I would not leave without praying over them. I was happy for the formal opportunity. With heads bowed I began thanking God for these amazing children, for the staff that cared for them daily, for the purpose and plan that he had in each child and that the Lord would reveal His purpose and plan to these children. I prayed in thanks for the time, the opportunity, the blessings that they were to us. I prayed for their food, safety and comfort. And as I prayed I fought back tears but they came anyway. My nose ran and I sniffed to try and keep from making an even bigger scene. Many children joined me in my tears. Following my "Amen", Fikadu began praying in Amharic. He, too, began to cry. When we were done praying, the children all began to hug us. We presented Fikadu with a cash gift to use for the orphans and they were beyond grateful. The children clapped.

Each child, one by one, came for a kiss on the cheek and a hug. My girls that drew me pictures and held my hands so often held me so tight. My camera boy could not look me in the eye and sobbed as he held me. I made him look at me in the eyes and promised him I would be back, but no time soon. He held me more.

Many children began to bring us their Bibles and have us write them a message of hope inside the cover page. We did. But we would have been there all night if the kids would have had their way so Fikadu broke it up. We gave our final hugs to Fikadu and left the center. Our hearts were heavy over having to leave. We honestly could not process it all... too many emotions for these fragile hearts to handle.

Gopher Field?

2008-07-27T21:59:00.003-06:00

So the children were fed and eager to play. The "football" players and volleyball players were also ready for their chance to show off. Fikadu asked if we were up for the walk and we knew the boys' home was just a 5 minute walk up the street. We also knew they had a big, grass, front yard to play in so readily agreed to go.

The children fought over the opportunity to hold my hand. One boy held my right hand and the girl that usually had it pushed him aside which was quite a feat given her size compared to his. He would not stand for it and pushed back while clenching my hand firmly to insure being shown up like that again would not happen. I shook the children off both of my hands. I told the boy that he was older and that he could play with my camera while she held my hand. He didn't speak much English at all but his eyes lit up as I passed my camera to him. The girl was crying at this point and I bent down to hug her telling her that I had enough love to go around. She held my hand. The usual girl held my other hand. The boy pushed the buttons on my camera to flip through the pictures I had taken so far on the trip. We all began to walk as a group.

As we walked down the emensly rocky road the children would ask me to "sing English". And we would take turns singing songs to eachother. Periodically, they would recognize the tune though the words they did not, and sing the same song in their language. Funny how when languages could devide people that music connects, and ultimatly, God keeps us connected. They love the same Lord that I love. For that reason, there is already a given understanding.

As we walked, the boys home was on the right. But no one was turning into it. I was confused, but went along with the group. Fikadu was walking faster than our hand-holding-string of 5 plus kids. As he passed, I stopped him. I asked if we were going the right way. He said we were. Then, the boy with the camera was SO EXCITED about the camera and kept telling me "thank you" over and over so I was concerned that the boy thought that I had given him the camera. I asked Fikadu to tell him that he was only looking at the pictures. Fikadu did, then looked at me as though I was a bit crazy for thinking that to begin with and shrugged his shoulders while saying, "yeh, he knows." I was relieved and then just amazed that looking at the back of a digital camera was just that special for him.

WE walked. We went passed all the homes. 20 minutes had gone by. We were now headed down a hill with a canal that had been cut through it by the rains. It was grass covered and had power poles here and there. 10 more minutes passed. We were at the bottom and could see "the fields". This was not at all what I had expected. This was an area for grazing and irrigation. Donkeys and cattle were all about. There were no goals, no nets. There were holes from some kind of burrowing animal that were just right to twist an ankle in, and they were everywhere. The kids walked faster as we got closer. They were obviously excited. The boys in the lead began to run to their field and called the best spot as theres. A game of "street home kids" vs "boys home kids" broke out upon our arrival.

At this point, my string of kids was approaching. Some of the staff had taken a seat in the grass to watch the kids play and get off their feet. The boy with my camera handed it back to me, pointed to the camera, then promptly posed on the lawn. I have attached this picture. He had obviously seen this before since he could not have practiced in mirrors that don't exist and it was really cute.

Now a girl I had promised to play volleyball with hit me the ball. The "camera boy" joined in. We bumped the ball back and forth though it was obvious that no one had ever taught them how to do it properly. 3-4 hits without it hitting the ground was a record. We had barely begun playing when a girl I had promised to play soccer with interrupted. Fikadu helped us set up the "playing field" since some cattle were in the more ideal spot to play. I was relieved when he turned our field from end-to-end to side-to-side... this would save me when it came to running. And boy did I run. It was all girls playing and they were surprisingly good. All girls, except my "camera boy". He did not want to play with the boys. He just wanted to be by me. He started as my goalie and then relieved me 20 minutes into it as I found myself gasping for every breath.

We played and played. The staff headed back and we just played. Fikadu was reffing the all boy game and periodically we would hear a cheer. No one from either girl team scored. Kind of funny, huh? The sun was starting to set. The children had not had dinner. Neither had we and we had no fruit or cake because of our "only cooked food" rule. It would be a long walk back.

I had more fun than I can describe. I was a child playing with children. I was in love with their energy. Their smiles. Their willingness to give all that they had, and that was just themselves. I walked back more full than I had been in years. Sad, I know. My children give me themselves every day. So does my husband. But it is not all that they have to give and so it feels different. It is amongst their struggles of "my do" " I want" or "What a day..." and so it feels different. These children were so longing for a mother like figure to play with. To hold their hands. To hug them and tell them how special they are. They valued the time like no child I have ever seen and I valued it because of that, too. I knew that saying goodbye would be near impossible.

On the long walk back, the boy with the camera points behind to Nettie. He says "Netzanette. Go America?" I nodded and said "Yes." He looks down ," I go, with you." My heart broke right there. How could I explain to this child that if I could, I would steal him up right then but that it just wasn't that simple. " I can't. You have to do a lot of papers and pay a lot of money. It is not easy. " I knew his broken English barely caught a word I said but that he knew the answer was no. He just looked down. The girl holding my left hand looked up to me, "Than take me." They just couldn't understand. And I just couldn't explain it to them. How could I explain something that I didn't fully understand myself and I was deeply saddened.

We kept walking. God provided us with a donkey that was peeing right next to us and we all laughed. The kids began to try and teach me words in Amharic. Now that must have been funny because the donkey peeing was just the start of the laughter. Each word started a whole new bound of giggles.

So- I saw their talents. I played with them. I walked with them, talked with them, and loved them. What more can I say?

Festivities and Gifts

2008-07-26T22:52:00.004-06:00

When the feasting was done and staff and children were full alike, we announced that we had gifts for them. A box with shiny wrapped gifts was brought front and center and brown curled ribbon adorned each package. The children looked on with excitement. Whatever was in those beautiful packages must be special. Must be worth while... and indeed they were. This would be a gift that we hope would be with them their whole lives and that the same feeling they had when they first saw their first ever wrapped gift, would be the same feeling they would have for this book for their whole lives.

One by one, each child's name was read allowed. The children would chant the chosen child's name while clapping in a slow, rythmic way as the kid would make his/her way to the front. It began to rain. No one cared. The children moved to one side or the other of the hole in the awning above to avoid the water getting on them or their gift while seated. Every child waited to open their gift until all children were called. And all at once, they opened their gifts. The children were pleased. Very pleased. They leafed through their Bibles and held them to their chests. Yes, this was the only personal thing that many of them owned. It was theirs and they had a sense of ownership over it.

In unison "Thank You".

The children then told us that they had something for us. Kim and I sat down on their benches as many children arose. They gathered in front and sang us the most beautiful songs. We loved to see them smile as they sung and moved their bodies to the music in meaningful motions. They sung of Jesus, His great love for them, His healing ways, and His joy. It warmed our hearts.

Next the gymnists arose. The rain had stopped and we all came out from the awning. They boys SCARED me to death as they tumbled down the angled drive, off the edge, onto the dirt and then used a rock as a spring board onto a grass mat. The children and adults gasped and clapped in amazement. They flipped and twisted from place to place and though it was truly amazing, I was shocked to see them all in one piece at the conclusion. I asked Fikadu where they learned such things and was told that it was from watching it on tv. I could only imagine how scary it must have been to watch them teach themselves in such a rough terrain!

The soccer players, vollyball stars, and other athletes were all eager to join in and share their talents. We were invited to the "soccer field" and agreed. We presented them with 6 soccer balls and 4 jump ropes to take along and together, all 64 of us left for the fields. This would be the first time EVER that the cooks came along to the fields and everyone was excited to participate.

2008-07-26T22:37:00.002-06:00

Fikadu had the kids all prepared. They knew that this was their day. Many had promised to show us their special skills and talents in days prior and we were just as excited to spend time with the children on a fun and intimate level, as we were in sharing our "gifts" for them.

I greeted the children on Kim's and my behalf. Fikadu translated. The children were smiling and excited to see what was waiting for their snack. Row by row, they were released into the dining hall. I waited at the door to give them a hug and welcome them since we didn't get to at the gate as we normally did. It was funny though, they were so eager to get inside and experience their treats, that most barely made eye contact with me and gave me brief hugs compared to the days prior.

They would grab a plate. Then pick from the fruit. Most took both a banana and an orange. Then the CAKE! Yes, chocolate and vanilla with the fluffiest icing both on top and layered within. It looked and smelled heavenly (though I didn't eat any!). On to the candy table where 2 pieces were selected. The last table would have the first cup of milk these children have seen in months. With their hands full and walking ever so carefully so as not spill from cup or plate, the children would exit out the same door they came. They would be lit like a Christmas tree and find a seat to devour their food.

They dove into their cake with their fingers. No forks, and no care! The would lick the icing from their fingers as they went. And it all went so fast. Most slowed down when it came to peeling their oranges. I tried to help and found myself considering that an American peeling tool wouldn't have even been helpful. It was only a minor stumbling block as the determined children worked to get at the meat of the fruit. There was not much talk as they ate... it was like a race to the finish line. And yet I believe they really did savor every bite.

As I watched on, I found myself fighting back tears. I find myself fighting them now. Cake. Fruit. A couple pieces of hard candy. Milk. So simple, right? For us anyway. For them, most had never had an iced cake before. Most never will again. Most have not had milk in many months, and likely won't again for many more. And most Americans would have pitched the green oranges aside, discounting them because of the extreme effort it took just to get the peel off. For them, nothing was discounted. The plates were virtually licked clean, and the children were full of more sugar than was probably smart on our parts! But boy were they indulged like the special kids that they were and are. I was silent as I watched on in amazement.

Final Preparations, Finally

2008-07-26T22:21:00.002-06:00

So I waited and waited for Tom. We had eaten a late breakfast at a place we found, shopped, and Kim took Netzie inside a little street side shop where Kim befriended the owner and her son while I stood in our meeting place to wait. Tom did not come. 20 minutes, 30 minutes, 50 minutes... still no sign of him. I was watched by the police, the beggers, the store owners. Everyone looked at me as if to ask "what is this crazy lady doing just standing in one spot?" I asked myself the same question. What was I doing?? Obviously, I felt I should do something other than to just stand there and wait, but I didn't know what more to do.

Over an hour passed. With appologese flying, Tom screeched in to pick me up. We stopped by and picked up Kim and Netzie. We were on our way. We needed milk and candy and then our planning would be complete.

We stopped at the butcher where we had priced milk the day before. They were closed because of it being SUnday. Tom immediately picked another shop. This was a "convenience" type store. Everything we did at this point was with a sense of urgency. We were going to be late. We were not going to have time to set up before everyone arrived. The milk and candy were picked out and though I had been warned against running accross the streets in Ethiopia because that is considered crazy, I went sprinting from the store back to the car, acrossed the street- all while hollering "Com'on Tom... let's go!" I knew he would think me crazy and laughed as I did it. Some men on the street corner found me amuzing as well! Tom got in after his normal Ethiopian stroll back to the car and smiled, laughed half embarrassed and said "You are crazy. Those people were laughing at you." I told him that I was glad to make them smile and that I was just even more famous in Ethiopia now!

We had all we needed. The car smelled of the cake warming in the sun and of bananas that were already over ripe, ripening even more. But we had all we needed and we were on our 25 minute drive back to the Hope orphanage.

We had arranged to pay for a taxi bus for the street home children to be able to get to the party. We had also arranged for the staff to be able to take public transit from their homes at our expense. We knew that everyone would be there by the time we had arrived and we were going to have to find a way to get all of the children out of sight in order to set up the party. This proved easier than we thought.

Upon our arrival, we asked the staff to put all of the children into the common area room. Now this could not have been fun or comfortable for the kids, but we knew that it would be worth it in the end. Bag after bag of food was unloaded from the car. Boxes of Bibles, cake, jump ropes, and soccer balls were all lugged in and placed in the dining hall. The tables were pushed to the side and used for a buffet style set up and the staff worked with us to lay out all the food items. In a matter of 15 minutes, we were ready for the big reveal. Would they be as excited as we were? Would they feel the love we had for them in the things we brought?

They were all seated on their benches as we came out after the final preparations. The party was ready to begin!

Cake Confections

2008-07-20T22:07:00.002-06:00

Sunday was a day of pure excitement. Kim and I were SO TIRED when we had finally made it to bed after wrapping the Bibles and crashed out as good as you can given where we were and all the noise we had to contend with nightly. And like every day, I woke up amazingly refreshed. It was as if adrenaline was the thing that just kept me going. The night of Kim's freak out (referenced many times between our two blogs but kept confidential in detail to protect both of our real identities) I had only slept 2 hours prior to "the incident" and yet, I thought it was near morning. Honestly, time and energy were just dimensions that were warped beyond explination. They were not at all the way they are at home.

Anyway, so I woke up SO EXCITED about the day ahead. We were going to have a real party that we planned in a foreign country on spur of the moment and somehow, by the grace of God, we actually were going to pull it off! Amazing... and so truly, truly exciting. Our new kids were going to get their first gifts and REAL cake! Too cool.

But there was much to do. We had to figure out the cake situation first thing. This was going to be the hardest part of the day and with church requiring our driver to take a time out from his driving duties for 2 hours, we had to be sure that we got this done first thing. I had remembered eating lunch at the National Cafe and seeing cake down stairs. The kind of cake I would love to eat and then lick off my plate any left over icing, if no one was around to see me. The kind of cake I had been craving but afraid to eat for fear of the uncooked icing giving me the travelers runs... so I asked if we could stop by there.

Did you know that I am famous in Ethiopia? Well, I am. We ate at the National Cafe quite often and now, we bought nearly their entire cake supply all before breakfast was served. I was a face they never forgot from that point on. Not to mention, I was easy to pick out of the crowd! Anyway, they had no boxes to put the cake in. They had no Saran wrap to cover it with... nope, TO GO is not a word in Ethiopian. (Or two words for that matter.) They made Tom promise to bring back the huge serving trays they were displayed on and then put torn up pieces of cardboard in between a few of the slices to keep the paper they placed over the top and sides, from falling into the frosting. It worked, kind of. Good enough. What other options did we really have. Tom was excited. I could see it in his face. He whispered "The kids would never think they were getting THIS kind of cake even if you told them they were getting cake today. Most of them have never had this." It made me feel so good to think that this was going to be the special and memorable day that we wanted it to be for these worthy children. I was worried about the frosting spoiling. After all, the party wasn't until 3 and no one even owned a refrigerator. We would not have time to come back to the cafe, so we had to take it. Tom assured me that their stomachs could handle it and that we would keep it in the shade of the trunk. YIKES! With no other option, that is what we did. It was 5 birr per piece. And each piece was BIG! To give it to you in relatable terms, a wole lunch with meat and veggies was 14 birr there. A whole loaf of bread was 5 birr. This was indeed, a special treat. 69 pieces of cake which was 3 full trays, and we were off.

It was now time for Tom to drop us off and head to church to translate from the pulpit. He picked the shopping area (remember my story about the boy who took the beating... this is when it happened). Anyway, we would kill a couple of hours here while we waited for Tom. And then- we would need to get milk for the kids, candy, and head to the party.

Fikadu's Truth

2008-07-20T21:46:00.004-06:00

Fikadu was the director of Hope for the Hopeless. He was a middle aged family man. He told his story to us the day we drove to the country side, and like all people in Ethiopia, his story was remarkable. Fikadu had worked for an international company that headed up 160 child projects. It was at this time that the Muslim influence in Ethiopia pushed Christians to leave the area and the projects closed because of this. Fikadu found himself without a job and in following his calling, he linked up with Pastor Surefel and Hope for the Hopeless. His work began along side Surefel over eight years ago.

Fikadu is the leader and pastor of a local Lutheran church in Ethiopia. His heart is burdened to love the children and to teach them, though his role at church is much bigger than that. His favorite thing about his job is helping orphans to grow in their spiritual life and to educate them on the truth of Christ. He loves the children he cares for and treats them as if they are his own, with one exception. Years ago, when Fikadu was much younger, he fell in love with an older orphan that he was ministering to. The Lord brought them together and they later wed. They are now the proud parents of an 8 year old girl and a 10 year old boy. His relationship with his orphans is so personal that years after the children have left and begun their own lives, they will come back to visit and serve Hope for the Hopeless and the churches the kids attend.

Fikadu was with us our last four days and hosted us at all the Hope for the Hopeless facilities. He was an organized man, an obviously respected man, but above all, he was a man of great love and compassion that was wore on his sleeve for the world to see. When you saw him, you could see Christ living in him. He was warm with the children and encouraged them to smile, play, and sing us songs. He would work to translate between us and the children and he was a man I knew I could trust immediately. There was a peace in him that just made me at ease.

On the drive back from the boys' and girls' home, I asked Fikadu if he ever brought his children to the orphanage. He was reluctant to answer, and a slow "no" finally sqeaked out. I was wanting to invite his family to the party planned the next day but wanted to be sure he was comfortable with it. He went on to say that he didn't bring his children to "work" because how would he be able to explain to his children that his own children would not be able to eat the desireable food that the orphans were getting? My heart sank. The orphans have had their food cut to bare bones that we would consider neglectful by American standards and yet HIS children would have lesser quality? How could this be true? Yet, I knew it was.

Over the course of the days, we learned that with increased costs, Fikadu no longer can take public transportation to work most days. It is NOT a short walk, but he walks it all the same. His daughter cries herself to sleep at night because of a tooth ache, and yet he can not take her to the dentist for the required work. His children have been enrolled in private school and now, he is really struggling with having to cut them out of it (public school is NOT a good option there and many children without families, including the children from his orphanage, go to private school instead). He is not sure how he will afford to send them. And yet, with the huge food cuts and empty beds at Hope for the Hopeless, he also can not take a pay raise. This is the kind of problem that SO MANY people, even the working people, face daily in Ethiopia. There is simply not enough to go around and get NEEDS met.

Kim and I agreed to pay for his family to have meat for dinner. We sent him back to work that Saturday with 500 birr to stop by the butcher on the way home and have his wife cook up a feast for his whole family. He was humble and appologetic. We would not accept his appology. We wanted to do this for a man whom has done so much for so many. It was the least we could do. He was wishing he had said nothing of his children not going to the home... we didn't want to make him feel over indulged, but wanted to help where we could. He took the money. He was very grateful, and said thank you many times. And yet you could see a big part of him that was weighing whether it was right. Did the kids at Hope deserve the money more? I could see him working to make peace with it.

Since I have been home, people have asked if they were to give money to this organization if the money would get to the kids. This post serves as my answer to that question.

Party Prep

2008-07-19T23:10:00.002-06:00

Kids in Ethiopia don't get to really have a childhood. They are orphaned at young ages and most of them find themselves fending for themselves as only an adult should, with very few years under their belt. So Kim and I decided that giving them Bibles and a few soccer balls would just not be enough. We wanted to throw them a special party like none they had ever had and like most would never have again.

When we left the orphage that day, we went to find wrapping paper for the Bibles. We got luck and the first place we stopped at had shiny tissue paper and tape. It would take several more stops to find the ribbon. In Ethiopia, people don't commonly spend money on gifts. Let alone, on paper to wrap gifts. This would be EXTRA special, and what a neat way for them to remember the day they all got their very own, leather bound Bible.

Tom and I took Nettie and Kim back to the guest house. Nettie was going to nap while Kim and the house cleaner would work on wrapping all 50 Bibles. Kim and I had devised a list of wants for the party and Tom and I were to get that while the ladies wrapped like elves back home. The cleaner was so thrilled to help. We intended to pay her for her time, but she was so excited that the money really wasn't why she was there. She smelled the Bibles and held it close to her chest. She loved the Bible and was excited about the task at hand. She asked me how to wrap it, and I told her to cut the tissue in half and then do it. She was confused. I had Tom show her how to cut it in half, but it turns out that the confusion was over how to fold it and tape it. She had NEVER wrapped a gift before. This was her first time.

The girls got to work (Nettie was not thrilled about her end of the bargain and kept Kim from her elfish duties for a short while at the start. Remember the first REAL tantrum, Kim!). Tom took me out. We had 64 oranges and 64 bananas to buy. That was the total number of people to be at the party tomorrow at 3:00. There were 19 staff and the rest were children. We would stuff gift bags for each staff member to take home, serve cake and milk and fruit to the children. It was all planned out in our heads, and the reality of making it happen was a totally different thing.

We went to a fruit stand. They had bananas and no oranges. (Side note, their oranges are green. There limes are yellow.) Anyway, we went to two different fruit stands just to get the fruit. Everything was sold by the weight, not the piece. This made for more challenges and we found ourselves getting too much in order to avoid not getting enough. Anyway, then the realities of the bag shortage were now setting in. We bough many, many oranges, and yet our plastic sacks were way over stuffed. I wanted extra sacks to make bags for the staff and we were refused. We ended up having to buy plastic sacks for 25 cents each because bags are a real cost for businesses there and they do not have enough to give them out. That took me back! Anyway, the bananas...always gettign side tracked... Tom ordered TOO many bananas. The vendor would show us a bunch, Tom would pick off the ones he didn't approve of and the rest would go onto the scale. The ones weighed and agreed upon would go onto a table to the side for me to purchase. And I think we ended up with over 100 bananas in all but they worked so hard at it that I didn't have the heart to ask for some to go back. Besides, they would get eaten and they were not that expensive. Once we got them all on the purchase table, the assistant began to cram these already over ripe gems into a bag. Several pounds to one bag. I just HAD to protest. I mean, I know that bags are rare and special, but the bananas would be bruising eachother... They gave in with reluctancy. I paid 100 birr, and the total was 95 birr. They searched for change. There was none to be had. I asked for 5 birr worth of tomatoes. That was about 25 tomatos. What a deal! So with the stand nearly out of bananas and rich beyond their hope for the day, we drove off. I shouted my AMISAGANADO as we drove away (wow, did I even get close to spelling that right? It is supposed to be "thank you" in Amharic). They would all laugh at my attempt to speak their language.

So we went to the bakery. We ordered 19 loaves of bread. 5 to a bag, of course! They had cake, normal cake. It was like a coffee cake or pound cake. Not a special cake. I refused. I wanted this to be a SPECIAL party with very special food. We would keep looking. Kim and I were paying for this party from our personal money, so a decision about milk had to be made. Each cup of milk was an American 25 cents. With so much being spent already, could we do it?! OF COURSE we could! We would have to get the cake and milk in the morning but there was one more thing I needed for our staff bags- nuts. We went back to my favorite place to buy soccer balls (Yes, I bought soccer balls there 3 times in three days by the time it was said and done)... I bought each staff member a packet of nuts and then broke down and bought 2 more balls. The kids just love them... how could I pass. Off to find jump ropes for the girls... which proved to be time consuming and difficult, but we got them. Now it was after 7pm. I had not eaten dinner and Kim was still at home with Nettie.

The trunk was now full. Really full. I asked Tom to take me to get take out food to bring back to Kim and Nettie. He took me to a pizza place where we paid a "carton fee" and "service fee" for our pizza order. It cracked me up. Anyway, I get home and the Bibles were all wrapped. They were ready for the ribbon that Tom and I found. Tom carried up all the food. Then we ate together.

Kim and I stayed up curling ribbon and writing names on each package. (Second side note- I hope Santa does the ribbon at Kim's house. Her ribbons were REALLY short!) We laughed and chatted, giddy with excitement over what lie ahead. We stuffed bags for each staff member. Oh yeh, and tom and I found pens with flashlights built into them so we tied one into each ribbon so even in power outages the kids could read their books.

We were beyond exhausted, both emotionally and physically. We needed rest. We still had a lot to do before the party the next day and EVERYTHING takes so much longer in Ethiopia than what we were used to. It was time to call it another day and get some sleep... all to the sound of dogs howling and the smell of fresh baked bread.

I Gave Them "Me"

2008-07-19T16:43:00.003-06:00

First on the list to do today was to go to the boys' and girls' home and meet the children. We needed to pick up Fikadu at the street home before we could head out.

The drive was about 20-30 minutes. We passed a real leper colony on the way. That was a real shocker that made me again, so sad for the state of health care in Ethiopia. We got on a freeway and that was an interesting experience. We felt like we were flying as we honked slightly before weaving in and out of the few cars that were there. And we even passed a truck that was stacked likely 3 stories high with grain. The truck was slowly coasting along as his load shifted to the side. I reached for my camera but missed the opportunity to take the picture as we passed. You never see anything quite like that in America and the next day, it was proven why. A similar truck was stacked up with charcoal bags (product sticking out the top and bottom of each bag) and the load fell off the truck and into the road.

Anyway, we are on the edge of the city and pull into a residential area. There are fairly decent homes for city homes here and yet the road was just as rough as most everywhere else. We bob up and down as we make our way to the gate. The metal gates are opened and children are all coming to greet up. They hug us, kiss our cheeks, hold our hands and smile. They all line up to the side after their turn and each child watches our every move to see where we will go next. The boys and girls are together when we arrive. They eat together and worship together at the girls' home. Then the boys walk down the street to their facility. In anticipation of our arrival, they were all in one place for now.

Fikadu was eager to show us the facility. It was nice. It had a small yard, a nice sized patio, dorm rooms, a free room with couches and a tv, and then cook quarters and dining quarters. The buildings were painted white and were a putty type stucco exterior. Bunk beds were made to fit as many as possible in each dorm. The clothes were all kept in one closet and made available to all the children. The children had no personal belongings that one could tell.

We took time before heading to the boys' facility to interview each child. We wanted to know their names, what they liked, their favorite hobbies and foods, and what their dreams were. There seemed to be themes of career ideas and favorite sports activities. Most likes soccer, jump rope, or gymnastics (which they called it "circus") and most desired to be a pilot, astronomer, or doctor. A few wanted to take their sports professional and travel while playing. They were pretty timid to share with us at first, and understandably so. We kept it short. Thanked them for their time. And before letting them go, asked if they wanted to say something to their sponsors in America. All of the children said that they thanked God for their sponsors, that they loved them, and that they pray for their sponsor every day. I was so touched.

We had been here several hours at this point and were ready to see the boys' dorms. It was a short walk. Only about a 10 minute walk down the rockiest of roads. The children held our hands as we walked. They would ask us to sing to them songs from English Sunday school. I was happy to ablige! They would work to pronounce my name and then try and teach me theirs. They were lighting up. The timidness that first was present, was quickly washing away and being replaced with a spirit of excitment.

The boys home was equally as nice, though it had much more yard for playing games in. This facility had no kitchen or dining hall. It was just many rooms, with many beds. They, too, had a community clothing closet.

Our day was nearly spent. We had been there for hours and hours. Lunch was gone and missed and the children needed to get some food in their stomachs. We had to make our way onward but left them with a promise of returning the following day.

As I got in the car to leave, my heart was full. The children had moved me. Each child took time to hug us goodbye and the hugs were genuine. They had enjoyed us as much as I had enjoyed them. They felt loved by me, the way that I had felt loved by them. And though their obvious need for personal love and affection was very real and present, I think for that short day, they were able to set aside their losses and just enjoy the attention that they had. It made me feel good to give to them in this way, yet made me so sad that no matter how much of "me" that I gave them, it would not be enough in the time I was allotted.

Just Call Me Cinderella

2008-07-19T16:27:00.004-06:00

So it was the next morning. The days were all running together. The date, unknown. We never really did know what day it was until the day we left.

Anyway, in my normal morning haze, I was really optimistic that I would get to shower. I needed it, or so I thought. I was up first. Read some in my Bible, a story about the loin cloth spoiling when it was burried...I prayed over the story, over our day, and for the children we had met. I felt ready to start my day.

I went to the shower and turned the hot water knob on. Not even a drip of water came out. I went to teh sink... a slight trickle. The kitchen sink, another slight trickle. I was not going to go without cleaning up. I had black dirt on my skin that could be wiped with my index finger from the the time spent in the car on the way to the orphanage the day prior. I had not bathed before bed because i knew the power would be on in the morning and that I was sure to have enough water to bathe. Turns out that I was wrong.

When the water pressure is really low, you can go to the main house and they will have some. Our suite being on a second story, the water won't go up to our floor without more pressure so I was hopeful that I could atleast fill a pot.

I took a boiling pot and tea pot down to the water spicket at the garden. IT took time, but it filled. I carried the pots up stairs and lit our gas burners. In less than 5 minutes, I had warm water in which to sponge bathe. I stripped naked and of course, that was the moment that Kim awoke.

I explained the situation to Kim. Told her I had tried the shower water supply twice, knowing how disappointed she would be. And believe me, she was not happy. I told her I would help rinse her hair after she was done with mine and that we were going to have a great day despite this! She watched as I rinsed GRAY water from my hair. I am telling you, the smog was thick! The picture I will post will be black soot taken from the tip of Kim's nose! YES, I know. Totally disgusting. But she insisted I take the pic because no one could believe this without a picture.

Anyway, I had finished my "bath" and was changing in the living area. I was combing through my hair and silently thanking the Lord that atleast I got clean and telling Him I was grateful for that. Then I am interrupted with a heckling laugh!

Kim shouts from in the bathroom that there IS hot water and that while I am in there getting ready, she will be taking a NICE, HOT shower! She had just finished ranting about how she was going to ask the owners to use their personal shower, hoping the elevation change would account for atleast one shower and how she was NOT going to go another day without a shower. Apparently, the Lord knew she really did need this shower and like magic, warm water fell from the shower head.

I was shocked. Amazed. And slightly pissed. She slept in. She didn't read her Bible. She didn't start her day with prayer. No... to the contrary. And yet, SHE got the shower! And then where was the humility for this gift- HECKLES! I laughed then, and laugh now. I had even turned off the water heater at the shower knowing that it sat empty and in an attempt to conserve much needed power. Where did this water come from? Why was it hot? And what did I do to become the ugly step sister?? We laughed as she came from the bathroom, clean and refreshed. I proudly stated "Just call me Cinderella" as I went back to my planning for the day ahead!

Nettie is the Mommy!

2008-07-15T22:51:00.003-06:00

Netzanette was really into shopping. She wanted it all! She would point to jewelry and before you could answer her silent request for it to be bought for her, she would be trying to put it on. She had to be on a short leash when shopping. She loved the clothes, loved the jewerly, and LOVED her new doll.

Kim had found a cloth doll that was dressed in tradional Ethiopian clothing. The doll was flatish (I know, that isn't a word yet!). She had huge eyes, big arms and legs, and a cloth scarf that matched the dress. I wanted to get my girls dolls, too, but this doll was less than beautiful and hardly reflected the beauty that the Ethiopian women really do have. Anyway, it was the doll that Nettie needed and wanted and likely the best money that Kim spent on our trip.

This doll went everywhere with us. And what was amazing, was to see how Nettie played with this doll. Nettie was the mom, and this was her baby. It was like looking into a time machine for us- a glimpse into Netza's past. Nettie got home and began to put real clothes onto this 12 inch doll. She would laugh. She would put the doll to sleep and wrap the doll's head with the scarf, tucking her in for "the long night ahead". And the cutest thing happened, she wanted to carry the doll on her back the way the people in Ethiopia carry their babies. They take a large piece of cloth and tie the baby onto their back, stomach of the baby is to the back of the mother. Nettie would throw her baby up over her head, holding the hands. Then try and hold the baby still and put the scarf that came with her over the baby's back. She clearly did not have enough hands for this so hired Mom for the job. Kim TRIED and TRIED to tie the baby and Nettie would get more and more mad. Though the baby was tied and it looked right to us, it was NOT right and Nettie knew it. She would pull the baby from her back in complete disgust, only to ask for it to be done again. I tried. I was no better, apparently! Anyway, it was really neat to see. She did know how to take care of the baby and it encouraged us that someone, at some point, took care of her.

Bees to Honey

2008-07-15T22:37:00.003-06:00

Souvenier shopping wasn't all that we hoped. It wasn't that there weren't many items of great interest. They were all made of local woods, grasses, bone, wool, etc and very unique to the area. The clothes were truly amazing and Kim was sure that everyone in her family needed atleast 2 outfits. No, there was plenty to buy and the prices were cheaper than one could even imagine. It almost felt wrong to purchase something for so little- like we were stealing in a way. The part that was so very difficult were the children.

Children saw our car pull up. They had no doubt that we were tourists and no doubt that we had money and intended to spend it on unnecessary items to put on a shelf or give to a family member's coffee machine back home. This place was unlike the place I wrote about earlier with the police. There was no one keeping back the beggers and from little shop to little shop, all about 4 foot wide with the owner standing in front as they do in Mexico, the people were like bees to honey. And I guess this honey was sticky because even though Kim and I knew better than to reach in our bags for food or money, the children stuck to us the whole time we attempted to shop.

Kim does not much like to shop anyway. Basically, she went into one store that sold traditional clothing and stayed there. When she tried to leave, the children were overwhelming to her and she was really ready to go. I had visited several shops while she was looking for corrected sizes and such... bought some native pottery, a little wall hanging, and some spoons. I loved their wooden spoons with cow horn handles that had been painted. (No, the horn wasn't as it is on a cow, it was carved and looked like ivory.) Anyway, back toward one of the first booths I visited, a persistant boy trying to sell gum wouldn't give me space. I pulled him aside and quietly told him that if he let me be, I would give him food on our way out. That he could not tell his friends, and I would give it to him out the car window. It bought me some space, and I intended to keep my promise.

Kim and I, both a little stressed from trying to shop in this already stressful day, decided to cut it short and finish at another time. Tom cleared a path to the car and we both got in, Nettie on hip. I reached into by bag and pulled out one of our last PowerBars. He took it. And then it was as if I didn't see what happened. Tom had turned the car around, and the boy apparently handed off his gum to another child. He placed his hands onto the driver's window which was half rolled down and asked for money, just 1 Birr. I told him no, that I had already given it to him. The car went a bit faster. He begged and kept pace with us. I looked at Kim. I looked at Tom. I repeated my answer.

My mind was starting to spin as the car went faster. Tom was being careful to not hurt him as he accelerated. We all expected that he would let go and give up. As my mind raced, I weighed the pros and cons. If I paid him, he would likely do it again to the next car. And he may very well get hurt and become one of the cripples we would see at most every intersection. If I didn't pay him, we may be the ones to cripple him. The car sped up. My eyes grew big with shock and worry and Tom finally snaps at me ," Just pay him a birr". I did. I immediately did. I just needed someone to tell me what to do. As we drove off, Tom said that in Amharic he was saying that I had promised him food or money when we left. Which I gave him the food I promised him as soon as we got in the car. I was confused. Had I in some way caused this? Was this child aware of just how dangerous he was being? If he was aware, was he just that desperate? Kim, Tom, and I were shaken for some time.

Bibles and Balls

2008-07-13T23:22:00.002-06:00

So in all of this, Kim and I had decided that we were going to buy a bible for every child at the Hope for the Hopeless. We had decided it earlier in the day and now that the embassy and visa situation was clearly out of our hands, we had some shopping to do.

Tom had a friend of a friend that owned a book store. We drove around looking for it and then found that it had been moved to a back alley. And lucky us, it was closed. About an hour after the search for this store began, Tom was not eager to give up. He called and found that it was an inventory day and that with a purchase as large as ours, they would accomodate us coming in if were wern't opposed to leaving without a receipt. Kim and I laughed. We had not gotten a receipt for one thing we had bought to this point and didn't even know that they knew what a receipt was! We agreed to buy knowing that we would not be looking to exchange or return!

We stepped in and purchased 50 Bibles in Amharic. Each Bible cost 47 birr ($4.70) and they were nice quality leather bound books. We were pleased. We also bought 4 soccer balls of the highest quality you can find there which is just a vinyl ball for 30 birr each. While buying the soccer balls, I got approached by a boy and his brother. The boy asked if he could have a ball and Tom quickly shooed the boy away. I stopped him in his tracks and told the boys I would buy them a ball. After all, it was only $3 to me and I knew it would mean the world to these kids. Tom encouraged me to buy the cheaper one and I refused. I told the boys that it was because Jesus loved them and they smiled with delight as they ran off to their mother whom was working in a shop down the way that they also lived in. Kim said that I couldn't see but the boys were so overjoyed as they ran off that they litterally were glowing. As we drove off, I pointed to my camera to ask if I could take a picture and the boy proudly raised his new ball for me to capture. It made my heart happy! So simple and yet it meant so much.

We Meet a Little Grown Man

2008-07-13T23:05:00.002-06:00

As I stated, it was not all without purpose. It never is, right?

In our quest to get the passport, Tom had to take us back to the orphanage where we had picked up Nettie. There were many errands that only Kim could do and obviously, poor Nettie just needed to rest. I took Nettie and propped her against my arm and the door so that she could lie down and nap. Kim went in and out of the car, doing the necessary things. Well, this lands us back to the rough road into Nettie's orphanage. And Tom doesn't know the way. As I mentioned before, there are few street signs so getting confused is easy to do.

Tom pulls up to a young boy on the street and asks him in Amharic where to go. The boy agrees to hop in and show us the way. The boys eyes seem a little lazy or just hard to focus. He does not smile. He casts a glance back to us without acknowledging our presence. He tells us to turn, then to turn again. We are closer, and yet still lost. The car door next to the boy opens a crack as the boy motions to get out but Tom stops him, telling him that once we are done, we will take him back where we picked him up. The boy agrees and reaffirms his place in the seat.

We finally make our way. Kim runs in to get the paperwork and I wait in the car with Nettie resting peacefully for now over and hour in my lap. I ask Tom to translate for me.

What is your name? How old are you? Do you live around here?

He was 12 years old, his name too hard to write or rember, and yes, he lived with his uncle.

What happened to your parents?

He lived in the country and his mom died from an eye disease, his dad from a stomach illness.
He works as a gardener for 3 meals a day and 50 birr a month (that is $5). With that money, he buys his education and his exercise book. He sleeps on the floor next to his Uncle's bed.

Are you happy?
The child has yet to make eye contact with me. He has yet to have any expression of emotion on his face. And still, as stoic as can be, he answers that if he lived in the country still, he would have no one and this is better than that.

Puddles form in my eyes. I verify with Tom, " He is not happy, is he?" Tom shakes his head and looks down, softly saying no.

The boy looks at me as I wipe the tears off my cheek as they roll down. I didn't want to cry before the children. I just could not help it this time. Kim returns to find me the mess that I am. I tell her about the boy and she places her hands on his shoulders as we drive back. She prays in silence over him and together, we agree to give cash to this boy. Kim pulls 100 birr from her belt and places it in his hand. This is two months wages for this boy. Likely the most he has ever received in one sum. He makes eye contact and nods in thanks. We tell him to hide the money as he gets out of the car at his original pick up point, and from there, we cry our way back toward the embassy.

I am sure I don't need to explain why we were so sad, but I will, in case it is only something understood by being there. This child is considered a success in Ethiopian culture. He is not begging. He is working, going to school, and has a place to go home to every night. The fact that the child is emotionally numb and bankrupt, that he works all day and then studies all night... that he knows no joy and even when given a great gift can not find a smile in his spirit... Wow... how very, very wrong. And yet, how can we not feel some what good for this boy because atleast he does sleep under a roof at night and get food every day. Many of the children around him have neither. It was simply too much to take in.

Finally, A Satisfied Stomach

2008-07-13T22:51:00.005-06:00

So I told you that the day was a stressful one. That doesn't mean that it wasn't a day full of God's purpose. The orphanage took up the morning. We still had not heard from Grace. We were hungry at at this point, just needed to get some good food into us. Tom knew a place and he took us there. It was a restaurant we fell in love with. We asked for fast food, thinking of something in a to-go bag that would likely take 5 minutes to make. And this is what we got.

It was by a photo place and Nettie needed 2 pictures for her paperwork. We got that taken care of and then we headed up stairs and got a seat in a crowded little diner. So apparently, and after trying our theory in several ways, ther is no fast food. We sit down, ask for a menu in English, and yes, I order a Fanta. I order the MOST FABULOUS meat and rich dish. And Kim orders the same. The boys order spaghetti and meatballs and it looked like true Italian sauce. YUM! Now Nettie had enough of the day already. This made an already stressful day for Kim- well... worse. Kim had to leave the restaurant with her stomach half full. Later returning for an attempt to fill her and Nettie up. I felt bad for poor Nettie. She had done so much transitioning in the past couple of days and had been so good through it all. She was tired. She was hungry... and most certainly, she was confused. So this amazing meal came to 89 birr for all 5 of us to eat and drink. Yes, that is $8.90 US dollars. I tipped as I always did- about 30%. This always takes the servers back. No one there does that. We even got asked if we made a mistake one time by the server. I assured her that I did not. Then the manager followed up her questioning and stood in shock as I told him that I was certain that I intended to leave the tip. Anyway, how could I not. The WHOLE meal, the best meal I had eaten, was only a couple dollars per person.

So as to not bring back the real stress of the day as I write. Or as not to cause poor Kim a meltdown as she recalls the events while reading my blog, let's suffice it to say that getting the passport and the visa proved to take up the ENTIRE rest of our day through supper time. And though we got the passport, we did not get the visa and had little hope of getting it on Monday. This meant that there was a very low chance of Kim leaving on Monday when she had planned. But again, it was all a part of God's plan even though it wasn't part of ours!

Life in the Country

2008-07-13T22:20:00.003-06:00

So another night of shallow sleep. Every night was of shallow sleep. Dogs howling like the scene in 101 Dalmations where they are spreading news of the missing puppies, except it doesn't end. One dog starts it and then they all join in. Why are they howling? I am not sure. They are all hungry and thin. Without enough food to feed the people, there is nothing left for pets. Certainly the local people are bothered by the noise as well, right? I was given some ear plugs by Kim and put them under my pillow. Seems I can get to sleep fine, but the constant noise seems to keep me alert. And then I really can't handle it once the music starts. That is the point at which the discomfort of the ear plugs is well worth it.

Today we got our new driver. His name was Tom. He was quite different than Lsanu. He was a well dressed and handsome man. Kim said he made her hot! I was shocked! She was married and picking up her baby for goodness sakes! Then she revealed she was talking about how warm he dressed, which was true. It was rainy season while we were there and though it was hot outside, it was there coldest time thus everyone dressed as we dress in the dead of winter in Arizona (which of course is still moderate due to our warm temperatures). Anyway, he was on time and his car was in a more stable condition, so we were off to a good start. Until we got into the car and realized that he was not the gentleman we were used to. He did not open our doors. He did not carry our bags. I guess we all have our good and bad, and for now, I was thrilled with his "good's" and we were on our way.

Where we were going and when was all up in question this day. Top priority was obtaining Nettie's passport so that we could apply for a traveling visa for her. Grace had the passport and we were unable to get ahold of her. The lady heading the home where she was staying was frustrated with our english and irritated for the time we took of her, so we were at a dead end. We decided to get on with what the Lord had brought us to do and in the event we heard from Grace, we would just take a detour for the passport and resume with the day as time allowed.

So Tom took us back to the street home to pick up Fikadu. The big gate slid open at the short honk of our horn. And today- the kids lit up as they saw us. They were eager to greet us and wore ear to ear grins at our sight. It felt so good. And so very right.

As we drove out of the town , up and then down a steep hill, we saw country women with large piles of sticks tied to their backs. They were down trodden from the intense hike but wore determination on their faces. They were taking their sticks to town to sell as fire wood. There were men carrying bushels of eggs, one on each end of a large wooden pole that was resting across their back as they walked. Two men to one pole so that they could take turns with the heavy, yet delicate load. And then there were mules in which wooden boxes were made to fit along their backs with produce from the country side. The nearest little town which was where we were headed, took 25 minutes by car to get to from Addis. This was the walk in which all of these people and animals were headed. Now that is work.

The countryside was better than I had imagined. As we drove out of the smoke and smog, out of the smells of filth and urine, out of the tin propped homes and begger ridden streets, there was this beautiful, lush, clean countryside. It reminded me of driving in Northern California's wine country. The houses were not big, but bigger. The people were purposeful working to sort grains and produce. The streets were clean and for the first time, I felt a real peace come over me.

We pulled off the main road and not to far. There it was. There were acres of land that Hope for the Hopeless had bought and begun contructing their future boys and girls home on. Two dormatories were already built of concrete cinder block. Water had been run to the property. A foundation for a dining hall and kitchen was in place. There was land to build a total of nine dorms on. This one facility would house over 360 children one day. And it was truly beautiful. I had visions of the children working in the garden, playing football, talking over the fence to the boy who road backward on his donkey just for laughs. I could see this being an amazing place of healing for these children that had lost so much. It would be a place for them to be educated, cared for, trained in trades, and spiritually fed. They could leave behind the city life, the street life. They could start fresh breathing in fresh air and playing in lush, green grass. This was a true place of hope for these children. It felt so great.

We wanted to see where the children would go to church upon the completion of construction. It was only about a five minute drive to a tall barn like building with large glass windows forming a cross on the front. The gate was closed and we stepped out of our car to take pictures. The country children stopped and stared in amazement. Had they seen white folks before? I think if they had, it had been a really long time. Kim went to the car and brought them out some candy. They lit up with joy.

The logistics of getting this project complete are tough. There is not enough money. Not enough man power. And yet, as the project is stalled, the government can seize the land for it not being completed "on time". And the project has to be guarded by the super intendant daily which results in cab fare and labor expense even when construction is not under way. And yet, with no ongoing sponsorship, the two existing dorms are 80% complete. The dining hall is 10% complete. And God has protected the land from being seized already one time.

As we drove away, I was in awe. I could see a normal life in the country for a family like mine. Kim was ready to move there right then, I think! It was truly amazing. It was beautiful and right. The people were beautiful and right. And yet, the news that is coming out of the countrysides are stories of children being orphaned to disease and famine. The scarcity of food is causing people to mix dirt with their grains to make it stretch further and orphans are coming to the city at record rates to try and survive. Addis is growing exponentially with jobless, and most often times, parentless settlers. Now that I have been there, it is not hard to believe. I do believe it. I have seen it. It is not hard to believe, or to imagine. Just hard to accept.

Fasica

2008-07-11T16:31:00.006-06:00

We had to cut our visit at Hope for the Hopeless short because of more embassy paper work. This turned out to be a typical thing for us to have to deal with day in and day out, with the exception of the weekend. Nothing ever really seemed to be the end with Nettie's papers but today was the day that they finalized the adoption on the Ethiopian end. Her blood work was drawn the day before and today she would be processed. We waited, and then it happened. In true anticlimatic style, we left and Nettie was officially Kim and Gary's baby! That was cause for celebration and Grace, the director from her agency, had invited all 4 families that were adopting that day, to join her at a cultural restaurant called Fasica that night.

We went back to the guest house for some much needed rest and asked Lsanu to pick us up and join us for dinner. We would also pick up Dess.

Our car full arrived at the restaurant first. It was obvious that this was a place locals could not afford. It was very elaborate. There was even a hand dryer in the bathroom! Walking into the dining area we passed security. And then the dining hall was amazing. Huge paintings adorned their ceilings. Little stools were all about for the guests to sit at. Yup, I ordered a fanta. Dess was a gentleman and ordered for us all. That was nice. He knew what we would like. The other members of the party arrived one at a time over the next half hour.

Food was served and then music began to play. Singers stepped up to the microphone and then dancers dressed in wigs, dresses, etc came forth to represent their culture in Ethiopia. For those of you that have been to the cultural center in Hawaii, it was not unlike that. Really neat. Really, really neat. Of course, Nettie knew her dance. Lsanu even took a turn at dancing though he says that his religion is too conservative for that and he only did it to make us happy. We enjoyed nice conversation and the food was pretty good. Darn that injera, though!

I saw my first coffee ceremony. Ethiopia claims that they were the first to discover coffee. They roast it over open flames and then grind it with motor and pestal. They lay grass beneath the cups and light some incents over charcoal. It smells so good. They use a ceremonial pot and pour a first serving into what we would call VERY small cups. Every drinks. Then they serve a second round out of the same pot. Everyone drinks again. Now they pour water into the coffee in the pot to fill it back up. They pour another round of now dilluted coffee and then repeat this one more time. This is considered three rounds since it is dilluted three times, but yet you get 4 cups! Three, four... who knows! Anyway, a very neat tradition.

We head to the car and the car doesn't start. We get a push and then off we are to Dess's mom's house. It was a nice house and we were invited inside. We could not stay long. Nettie was very tired and Lsanu had to stay in the car and keep it running. There was a dog in a tiny metal cage at the door. He is never allowed out and is only to act as a security alarm for the gate. The house was very nice and only cost Dess $40,000 to build. It was no mansion but was really quite nice with a seating area, linoleum floors, plastered walls, plumbing and electricity.

It was late. Very late. 11:00 by this time and we needed some rest. Tomorrow would prove to be our first stressful day!

Ordinary AMAZING kids

2008-07-11T16:02:00.004-06:00

The street home was amazing. Again, a large door was opened and our car went inside. From outside appearances, no one would know what was behind the gate. Inside, we were welcomed by timid children. They were slow to make eye contact. They were not generous with smiles. We waived and shook hands with the employees before being welcomed inside. The first room was a worship center. It was beautifully done with red curtains, wood benches, and a large cross. Jesus bumper stickers could be found here and there. They have service a few times a week in the hall and have devotionals daily.

I was then taken around the corner to the office. Fikadu is the director of all the homes and he was eager to welcome me in and have me sit before him. He took out the first folder. It contained the police report and care report for all the boys in care. Next was the girl's folder. Then was a folder of children that we would consider either adopted or in a long term foster care situation. Last was his accounting books. I never asked to see his accounting, but was glad he offered it because I knew that when asking for financial support for Hope for the Hopeless, people would want to know how we knew where it went and what accountability there was for it. Every donation or wire from the states corresponded with a receipt that was carbon copied. The receipt number would log into the book and into an asset entry column. All receipt numbers were accounted for. I was so impressed. It seemed so well organized.

I was taken into their storage area where bags of their grains were kept. I was given the cost and breakdown for the food the children would receive. Then I was shown the little closet where the food was prepared. It was mostly injera and breads that the children were fed. (I will go into diet more at the girls' home.) The next few rooms were crammed full of bunk beds. 14 beds in all. 2 of which were just recently emptied. It was an adequate facility, with a small driveway area for the children to play.

So who were these kids and what were they doing here? The street home is a dropping center. The children are between the ages of 5 and 17 years old, normally in the middle of that range and the police have picked them up off of the street either committing crimes or begging. A police report is presented to Fikadu along with the child. The child is then taken for a medical screening. If the child tests positive to HIV, the child will go to another agency that specializes in care of HIV children and receive government funded medication. If not, the child will remain in the care of the street home for no more than 90 days. The goal of the street home is to find a family for the child to live with. Knowing that all children do best in families and deserve families, every effort is made to place this child with relatives if they can be found. If finances is the reason that the next closest relative can not care for them, they try to work with the family to help with food, clothes, medical care, and education for the child. This allows the extended family to not be burdened financially by the new member as well as ensures that the child's basic needs are met in a loving, family atmosphere. As long as the child is receiving food and care from Hope, the child is monitored to ensure that the family is treating them well and that the child is succeeding.

If no family can be found, the child will be transferred to the next available bed at either the boy home or the girl home. Because the child is not in the street home for more than 90 days, a private tutor is provided to help with reading and writing basics at the street home. A child with no permanent address can not be enrolled in school and this helps to ensure that any educational gap is kept to a minimum.

I was moved. Totally and completely impressed! This is a facility that is taking what society considers "the unadoptables" and is teaching them the truth of Jesus Christ as well as supporting the family structure whenever possible. This is a facility of hope for these children and when looking at the children, you can see that hope is something that many of them have never had.

By the time we were ready to leave and get to our embassy appointment, the children had come to smile and engage. They played some soccer and sang us a bible song. Their problems were gone for the moment and they were happy to pose for pictures. The children here had not been here as long as the children we had seen days prior at the "little kid orphanage". These children were older, street smart, and knew life was uncertain and cruel. They had no promise of being adopted by American parents- only the promise of Christ. My heart went out to each of them.

They hugged us goodbye and we promised to return the next day. They waived and smiled knowing that we brought good with us when we came and that tomorrow, more good would come. We left our first donation bag and drove away.

Sitting Ducks

2008-07-11T15:35:00.003-06:00

My journal becomes vague at this point. Every date has a day written with a question mark by it? All time became a blur. What was one day at home was another in Ethiopia. Our sleep was shollow our meals, less than satisfying to this point. We were tired, and hungry. But most of all, we were just caught up in emotional and spiritual confusion. I have never experience this feeling to this extent. Purpose, right and wrong, waste, selfishness vs. selflessness all came into question. Was my life right? Were the things I did enough or did I just justify it to be enough? How did I feel about who and where to adopt my next child? So many thoughts that they litterally clogged my brain. Kim and I had an ongoing joke that between her half a brain (she has a legitimate medical excuse for her other half) and my half a brain- we were one whole brain out to represent the women in America! Look out Ethiopia.

And though I had so much goin on inside, I had no real stress. That is right. How is that possible? I was sad, confused, disoriented and yet overjoyed, pleased, amazed, and overwhelmed with a feeling of being blessed. But NO STRESS! I knew that I was where I was supposed to be. I was learning to let go of myself and not rely on my own understanding, as the Bible has been teaching us all for years. In the confusion and in NOT trying to figure it all out, I found a peace. I was able to crack jokes and laugh. I was smiling, and child like most all of the time. It felt so great. I didn't need a shower to feel at peace. I didn't need a warm meal to make me complete. I needed to LET GO of my own need to fix it all and control it all, and just do what I could with what the Lord lead me to do. (Keep re-reading this part, Brooke.)

So day three is upon us. We are ready to embark on the next BIG part of our trip. It is Hope for the Hopeless. Backround: Pastor Surefel lives in Phoenix. He is a native Ethiopian Christian that during the communist regiem was imprisoned 4 times for preaching his faith. Upon his release last time, he claimed asilem in America and could not go back unless the government fell. The communist party fell out of control in 1989 and Pastor Surefel has committed his life and personal resources to helping further the kingdom in Ethiopia and specifically has been called to orphan care. Surefel has a street home, a boys home, and a girls home. He also has land that he is building a replacment boy and girl home on in an attempt to improve the care as well as to eliminate the rent costs.

Lsanu picks us up. He is late today and offers us no explination. We drive past the Prime Minister's palace and veer to the right. Down past some little stands and then turn off the paved road onto another bumpy and rocky road. Now remember what I told you about Lsanu's car. I am holding my breath as we drive. We waive to the people that are staring in as we pass. We approach an open area from this alley. It is like the center with spokes of roads coming off of it. There are 2 large dumpsters in it. The first and only dumpsters we ever saw there. A boy pulls himself up and into the dumpster, sifting through it for food. Kim thinks we are not being watched at this point and pulls out the video camera. She begins taping with a heavy heart. Mind you, in our culture, we waste perfectly good food and put it into the trash. In their culture, they do not. Anything that would resemble food in this bin would not even be considered as ONCE consumable by American standards. We are both just staring in disbelief.

Then the shouting begins! Kim was caught! Some men had sought relief from the sun by sitting behind a wall which was now within our view. They were very offended that Kim would tape this boy and Kim immediately regretted her decision. She had no ill intentions. She just wanted to show people the lengths that people were going to in order to eat in Ethiopia. There was not even an opportunity to explain. The men were slowing following behind our car, fists raised, and speaking loud Amharic. When we asked Lsanu what they were saying, a smart " I don't know" followed. Apparently he forgot his native language at that moment!

The stress of it all fell on Lsanu and us alike. He had made a wrong turn and needed to go in REVERSE! YIKES! So as we went backward, so did the men following us. Some returned to their spots behind the wall, a few others didn't. Then it happened. Yup... it really did! Right there. Our car got stuck on a rock. It was a big rock that as we approached and I thought to myself "why are we not trying to go AROUND this rock" but given the visible stress on Lsanu's face, I chose to say nothing. He pressed the gas harder. The car rocked forward on the rock. He put it in reverse and we rocked back.

Now here is the amazing part. The people, that moments ago we had offended so deeply, lowered their fists and placed their hands on the rear of the car. They became silent and then pushed us off of the rock. I nodded in gratitude. Lsanu did the same. Kim was in shock and likely remembers nothing past shutting off her camera!!! Do you think that would have happened in LA? Phoenix? We were again moving forward and this time down the right path. We were just moments away from the street home to Hope for the Hopeless.

The Late Early Night

2008-07-11T14:19:00.005-06:00

So here we were hoping to have an early end to our day. We had packed our bags full of granola bars and energy bars and wanted to put them in needy hands before we fed ourselves. We crossed the bridge from day one... still looking for the mom and her babies. They were not there. We followed the curve in the sidewalk past a large and open restaurant decorated with blue triangular flags. Up the street further, we found person after person sitting in destitute. We would look them in the eye, trying to validate their importance in any way we could. We would reach into our bags and pull out some food. The children on the street would tell their friends and within minutes all of our food would be gone. We had so many bars, and it literally took a matter of minutes to have none left. It made the work we were trying to do feel so insignificant. We were not able to converse with the people we fed because of a language barrier. They would nod in thanks and appreciation, we would smile place our hand on their shoulder... was that all we were supposed to do?

We walked further. We passed a man that failed to catch our attention. And from behind we hear "You are american". We turn and Kim steps toward him. He introduces himself as a man now living in Dallas, TX, originally from Ethiopia. He was back in town visiting his mother and sister for a month. I am leary at first. I don't talk to strange men in America. That is not safe and most anyone that would stop you when walking where I am from- they want something. They want you to visit a time share or they want a hand out. They may want a ride or even to hurt you. No, I just don't talk to men I don't know from where I am from. Kim was warm with him immediately. I moved closer to him as Kim did. And then a peace came over me. In Ethiopia, people are just nice. That is right. I will say it again. They are just PLAIN NICE. No agenda. And that became obvious.

He was sitting on a stool that the shoe cleaning boys use for their clients. The boy stood behind him. This man had his shoes cleaned and was just sitting and taking in the street before we had walked by. We wanted to hear more about the boy.

The boy was 11 years old. He used to live in the country. Like stories were heard so many times by the end of our trip, this boys mother and father died from starvation, malnutrition, and disease. He had no one to care for him so he came to the city and found his aunt. He lives on the floor of his aunt's place. I can not call it a house for you would get the wrong impression of the places these people call home. It just a place. He works cleaning shoes for 1 bur which is 10 cents US money a shoe. He does this for 10 hours a day amongst many other boys hoping that people will chose him to do the work. At the end of his work day, he uses his money to pay for his schooling and his exercise book (which is what they call their work books). He pays for his clothes, food, and schooling. Sleeps on a mat on a dirt floor at night. He does not smile as he stands there knowing that this man we met is telling his story.

Our hearts sink. He is trying to make an honest living. He is not begging like so many of the boys we have seen. He has every right to beg. His situation is no less bleak. And yet he is working... cleaning piss and mud off of people's shoes. His joy has been stolen. All those boys' joy has been stolen. I reach into my bag and hand him one of our last bars. The first and only smile we see the whole time we are there. He had seen us hand the food out to children right in front of him and had asked for none. You could see validation come acrossed his face with that smile.

The man from Dallas introduces himself by name. Dess. He runs a limo driving service in Dallas and has someone covering for him. One of his sisters also lives in the states, and one lives here with his mother in a house that Dess had built for them. He has a girlfriend that he intends to marry in Ethiopia one day, etc., etc. Dess invites us to dine in a restaurant he knows well. It is a traditional restaurant and at first our American side was reluctant to go anywhere with this man. But in a crowded place, Kim and I look at each other to see if we are in agreement, and then we begin walking to get a bite to eat. Dess explains that he is Orthodox and that they can not eat meat on Wed and Fridays due to fasting. He will only have wine and bread, no meat. We walk. We walk some more. Thinking it has got to be close, we walk more. Nettie will not walk. She will only be carried. I can tell that the 40 lb love was turning into a 50 and 60 lb love as the walk was journeying forward.

We come to a door along the shops on the street. It is a busy area. But if you asked me what kind of business was behind the door, I wouldn't have even had an educated guess. It was all in Amharic and looked nothing like a restaurant in the states. There were no windows, no menu. We walk in and it looked more like a scene from an Asian movie. Minus the chopsticks. People were seated at very low tables. Either sitting on a pillow on the ground or in a low and small stool, people were eating food with their fingers. No forks. No plates. Just reaching into the center of the table and eating. He tells us to keep moving forward that there is a better room in the back.

It is dark. I can not take it all in. The people, the food, the music, the paintings, the SMELLS... We walk into a small hall and up a step. There is another dining area here. Dess escorts us to a table. I look up. The ceiling is made of twigs. It is circular and the tigs line up to make a cone. There are native weavings, paintings, writings, instruments, etc all around the room. They are colorful and realistic in depiction.

Kim and I move to the back where there is a low bench style seat. Dess sits opposite on a stool. He orders a honey wine for him and Kim and I opt for a bottled Fanta. (I drank a lot of Fanta there! No caffeine or alcohol for my bad kidney.) Dess orders in Amharic after an instruction from me that anything we eat must be well cooked.

Music is playing and we are sharing with Dess our lives, our experience thus far, and of course, Nettie. Nettie has a bottle of water in her hand, lid on. As the music plays she shakes the water front to back with her hands clasped around it. Her head nods. Dess points it out. What we thought was just cute, actually clued us into her heritage. She understood the music and was doing a cultural dance to it. Nettie's native language we knew was not Amharic, but until then, we did not know what it was. Gonjagay (am I saying or spelling this right?) was her native language. Dess called over a server that spoke in Gonjagay and though Nettie got shy, the waiter felt like she did understand what was being said to her. God brought us Dess to help teach us about Nettie! How cool is that!

Anyway, a little fire pit with a serving bowl on top was brought out. It had WELL DONE lamb in it. A few seasonings, no sauce... You are to eat it like this. You tear of a piece of injera (sp?) which is like a mix between a pancake and tortilla in nature but quite sour. You use this piece of "bread" to pinch up some meat. Then you put the whole thing into your mouth. Of course, before we can do any of this, we must all get up and go wash our hands! The flavor of the meet was ok. The injera I wasn't too fond of. My fanta was great! And the company was great. Someone, pinch me! Am I really here? In Ethiopia, with a stranger and my friend- her NEW daughter, eating out of a community dish with my hands??

We spend over an hour there. The meat was small in portion. I left hungry but didn't care. I had been concerned before I left on the trip about how I would be able to eat while people outside were starving. It was definately at this point that I realized that was not a valid concern. I hadn't had a decent meal yet, really. And all the portions were much smaller than in america. I guess that was just more answered prayers, huh?!

The check came and Dess paid. Yes. A complete stranger that was fasting paid for our meal. He was really sweet. We gave him our number and told him to call us the following day. We had an appointment with some people from Kim's adoption agency to meet for a dinner date and knew that he would enjoy the time. It would be our turn to pick up the tab and he could eat meat!

We thanked him and began the long walk back. Nettie still refused to walk! She was scared. The sun had set. It was dark. The streets lights were off and I pulled out my flashlight. We were so tourists. the locals don't use flashlights! We traded Nettie back and forth. Then we came to the tall and dark stair well. Kim had the flashlight and was ahead. Problem was that SHE WAS AHEAD! I could not see where I was going. I would squeal as I stepped in puddles. It was the first time I was a bit scared. People were sparce. And they were quiet and earie. I was stepping in mud and puddles otherwise known as feces and pee. And I was carrying a 40 lb love bug, too! We reached the top and Kim and I looked at eachother with pure amazement. We had done that! Thin air, no light, smells, mud and all. We were finally half a block from home.

The early night we anticipated actually had us up and talking about the crazy events of the day. We had lost all track of time... saying that we had done things a couple days ago only to realize that we had really only been there 2 days. We were both blown away. We were in love with Ethiopia. In love with the people. And yet sick to our core over the poverty. Over how so many children worked for a living and didn't even know how to play. How could such a beautiful culture be so caught in despair. What could we do? How could we help? We wanted to pray for people and with people. We didn't know how to...

Your time or my time?

2008-07-11T13:54:00.003-06:00

So day to starts early. Every day there starts early there. Dogs bark through out the night and our guest house is located near an Orthodox church that starts their scary, Islamic sounding music around 4 am. Yes, that is before the sun even rises.

So let me take a minute to explain the time in Ethiopia. Many things in Ethiopia are not as we would call them. For example, the first floor of a building is what we would call the second floor. A couch is what we would call a fouton. Kim wrote down many examples of this but my memory is sliding on such things as of now. Back to the time... There is WESTERN Ethiopian time. The airport runs off of this time and some people use this time to speak to visitors and keep schedule with them. This was the time that I used to call home. It was 10 hours different than in Arizona. So... If it was 7am in Ethiopia on Sunday, it was 9pm on Saturday in Arizona. But when asked by our driver if he should come to pick us up at 2:00... let's just say that I was really confused. A debate about coming at 7-8am like he did yesterday broke out and then he just agreed to come in the morning and left.

I had to figure out what was going on. Where was this breakdown coming from? Well, there is Ethiopian Ethiopian time and then Western Ethiopian time. I did not know this- obviously. The poeple in Ethiopia count sunrise which is 6:00 am in Western time as midnight? Why would the start of the day be in the middle of the night? (Yes I was asked that when it was being explained to me as the more logical approach to time). So there you have it. Noon is 6, 6 is noon, 9:00 is 3:00 and so on. So when asked if he should pick us up at 2:00, he was saying 8am. Hmmmm... When someone says what time to be somewhere, they never clarify so you just have to do the logical math and see what makes more sense!

So our second day started. We were fed by the cook at our guest house and back in the car by 2:00 or 8:00. (Yes, really.) We needed to go back to Nettie's orphanage to finalize paper work. Back in the car, through the town, up and down on the really rough road, through the black double gates and into the home. The kids recognized us immediately. Nettie knew where we were, too. She held onto Mommy. The kids all greated us this time with warm hugs, kisses, and ear to ear grins. My little "Christmas Angel" covered her eyes to play peek-a-boo with me. She remembered! I played with the children while Kim did paper work. And this time, I was invited up to the top two floors where the infants were. That was incredible. There was a premie that in the states would still be in the NICU trying hard to make it. He didn't look well. Odds are that he won't make it. I prayed for him. Other babies were doing much better than him. Crying was all about as the women tended one child and then the next. Amazing women who really do seem to care.

We spent a lot of time finalizing things with the orphanage and then went on to lunch and the US Embassy. We had to finish Netza's paperwork in order for her to cross the US lines. This was the official moment for Nettie.

It was all a lot to take in. In typing it, it seems rather short and to the point, but it took a full day. By now it was 4:00 and with little sleep to date, we were pretty tired. We decided to send our driver home early that day and had him drop us off in the street by our home. We had him help us look for the mom and her babies from day one, but there were no where to be found. He agreed to see us between "1 and 2:00" tomorrow. We set out to look at some shops, grab a bite for dinner, and call it an early day.

Day one is DONE.

2008-07-09T16:14:00.004-06:00

Our first day was finally over. We went back to our room and had thoughts of taking a shower. They were just thoughts because as of 9 the previous, the power was off and any shower would have amounted to know more heat than glacier run off. It would be a spit bath or nothing. Or staying up unti l 10 that night instead of going to bed then which was only 7:30. So there it happened. My first spit bath... I asked Kim to just get used to a locker room mentality because she was about to get to know me MUCH better than before! She would need to help me with rinsing the shampoo out of my hair into the floor drain.

We talked over our day, Kim called home, and we called it a night. We were both emotionally and physically exhausted. We were also hungry because the last meal we had was that pizza in the late afternoon. Vowing to do a better job with eating, time management, prayer time, journaling, etc the next day- we granted ourselves mercy for the things we just didn't have the energy to muster and climbed into our foam mattress beds and warm covers. Nettie tucked in with her new mamma. Thank you, Lord Jesus, for an amazing first day.

Left (Nettie and Mamma climb into bed. Right (My first shower)

Lsanu, more than a driver.

2008-07-09T15:47:00.002-06:00

So here we are with Nettie ready to head out of the orphanage and back into "the real world" of Ethiopia. It was well past 2:00 and we were very, very hungry. Lsanu, our driver, agreed that we should find some food before continuing on with our day.

Now let me tell you what we knew about Lsanu at this point in time. He was a gentleman. He opened doors for us, carried our bags for us (or in my case offered and was denied). He spoke pretty good English and drove a very run down car. No air conditioning is normal for the cars there, lack of power windows and locks... all normal. Black sooty smog, again... normal. But this car was boardering on not running as we later found out, the boardering part was even optimistic. And yet this was the key to his career and to his future. He lived alone in an apartment which was down the street from a Turkish restaurant that he had us frequent. And underneath this tough, protective, and gentlemanly exterior, was a BROKEN 7 year old boy. "Whatever do you mean?" you ask. He confessed to us that he was placed into an orphanage at the age of 7. He spent 4-5 years there before being told that he needed to go and make it on his own and was turned out. That is all he would say. When asked more questions about it, it was never clear to me if he didn't understand what we were trying to ask him or if he just didn't want to talk about it. So we still have more questions than answers about his time in the orphanage. But this was not a tall tale, and I can assure you of that. Though Lsanu aged in appearance, he still struggles to not be that validation seeking, lonely and desperate young boy that he was back then.

When we went to the orphanage to get Nettie, he was quiet at first. And his emotions hit all ends of the spectrum the longer we stayed. He cried at times, laughed at others. He obviously connected to the children and loved them while he was there... and then would be in deep thought at other times. Toward the end of the trip, he was virtually lost into this deep and solemn thought. When asked why he was quiet and what was wrong- he never had much more to say than he "is thinking about what he can do, and he is sad."

So we left for food. We drove down the intensly dirty and rough road. Hit the main drag, passed along wher goats had once gathered but now which was just hides, and we were on our way to food. This would be the first meal Kim or I had since leaving Arizona that we would really count. Those of you who have had plane food know exactly what we mean when saying that. Anyway, we pull over to a restaurant located within a motel type thing. We pick a table in the back yard area under an awning. The waiter is a nervous and young man. He is trying to look professional and not make any mistakes. A shy server, and slow to make eye contact.

We order. Kim and I get pizza as it is the only recognizeable food on the menu. We don't even know what it was that Lsanu orders. The waiter brings us our drinks of Coke and Fanta in the bottle and empty glasses to pour them in. We are just grateful to have something to put into our stomach. I reach for my soda, noticing the dirt on the outside of the bottle but justifying it that "atleast it is on the outside" and Lsanu grabs it away from me- motioning to the waiter. He asks the waiter to bring us colder drinks and then smells the glasses. He declines the glasses as well. WOW! Are you kidding me?? In a country where people have nothing, I was completely prepared to just be glad for what I got. And yet this man wanted nothing but the best for us. Sweet. Really sweet... but also really sad. My poor waiter! What he must have thought.

We enjoyed our meal. Lsanu helped translate with Nettie and Nettie laughed, smiled, and played with us. She also ate. Have I told you how that girl can EAT! Really... she likes food.

After lunch we needed to change money and Kim wanted to get some clothes for Nettie that would actually fit her. The clothes she packed were much to small. Lsanu took us to the bank, changed our money, and counted it to be sure that we were not taken.

We only used Lsanu for the first 3 days. We grew comfortable with him, almost too comfortable. When the prearranged driver that was to take over had his time coming up, I was ready for the change. Not because Lsanu wasn't great, because he was. He was wonderfully helpful to carry our bags, play with Nettie, make us feel safe and secure... but the child in him was also very apparent. His car was not running by our last day and even required a good old fashioned push start, and his issues from his past weighed more and more on him with time and it made me feel more and more uncomfortable. A little good ol' fleshly greed was also showing color...

Anyway, I look back and what comes to mind to say about Lsanu is this- we missed him as of the very next day. His spirit of love and of giving was apparent and truly appreciated. And I was too hard on him. Too quick to judge when I am not supposed to judge at all. And when what he needed the most was unconditional acceptance and love, that not unlike a 7 year old orphaned child, I wanted to turn away and did. I ask the Lord for forgiveness here. And Lsanu, I ask for that same forgiveness. I pray for him, then and now. He knows the Lord. He has asked for prayer, knowing that he needs it. How humble of him. He was a part of the culture, the past and present. And I am a richer woman for my time with him. God bless my Lsanu!

Netza Wasn't the Only Jewel

2008-07-07T15:22:00.004-06:00

After my brief meeting with Netza (AKA, Nettie), I wound down the marble steps to a basement. Right in front of the steps was a rug with the pre-walkers on it. They looked up to me with blank faces. To the left of them were the young walkers all lined up in plastic chairs. Again, looking at me with blank stares. Behind them were the preschoolers, and the far wall lined up the real school aged kids. I knelt to the carpet of the little tots in front of me. Their stares softened to curiousity and the welcoming began.

I pulled a packet of stickers from my bag. The video camera was now put away. A vibrant young girl wearing a bright red Christmas sweater stood up and pulled my face to her saying "Hello, Mommy." She was beaming. A few more stood up and before I knew it, I had older kids helping me to pass out stickers and real mob of pre-walkers crawling on parts of me that I didn't know existed! They were all cute. All special. I thought them to play "peek-a-boo". They laughed and from that point on, would initiate play each time they saw me fresh. My heart melted for each one. Each one had a story... A story I was never told but that moved me all the same. They were orphans. They all had lost all that mattered most. They had pain like no child should ever have, and yet found joy in just the touch a woman they would all call "mamma". That is what they longed for and did not have. My heart was filled with mixed feelings... I was enjoying each of them for the spirit that they brought and the laughter they brought out of me. And yet my heart hurt for each of them as well.

One child cried most of the time I was there. She just wanted to be held. She would quiet when I held her and fuss again when left to be. She was new to the orphanage and in need of a lot. She was emotionally very unsettled and physically, very, very weak. When picked up, her limbs would go limp. And yet when she looked into my eyes I saw a really beauty inside of her. A sadness that seemed at least for the moment, to be ok. I loved her. I connected to her. My heart broke for her as I saw a bit of my own child from home in her. I knew the struggles this child would have and knew that this child's would even be greater.

And there was a boy I have so now named "Puss N Boots" from the cat in Shrek. All the children had piled onto me and pulled at my camera and face for attention. This boy stayed to the back. He inched my direction but refused to participate in the chaos. He didn't want to fight for my attention. He looked up to me, chin down and BIG brown eyes lifted. No smile... His eyes spoke volumes saying "Please value me enough to reach to me and NOT make me fight for you. See me. " I reached down to him and spoke in a soft and reassuring voice. His stoic face broke into an easy smile. He was validated and the validation did not leave his face. He was content to go onto his business with that.

I can not post pictures of these children because they are not yet adopted. I wish I could. I wish you could see their faces. I wish you could see the joy that just being with them brought. All of the children had an energy when we left that they did not have when we came. The touch of a new hand, the love for them that they could see in us was caught. They knew they were valued if only for a moment. It felt amazing to be with them. I felt SO HONORED to have had that moment in their lives. I have not had a day go by since that I have not thought about them and prayed for them.

Meeting Netzanette

2008-07-07T15:05:00.002-06:00

So I had jumped ahead. Let's get back to day one in Africa!

Kim and I were tired from our long night, smelled less than beautiful but had hopes of a shower perhaps that night, and were already heart stricken since our walk that morning. Unsure of exactly how any of our trip would play out, we sat down to a home made breakfast at our guest house to chart out the day. It looked like this...

1) Eat breakfast

2) Get Nettie

Beyond that, we didn't really know what to do or where to begin but Kim's long wait for her new daughter was definately top of the priority list for conquering. We called the orphanage and got into the car that our guest house had arranged for us. We were on our way.

THe streets were crowded. Traffic moved in a mostly orderly fashion and yet there was no real traffic control. Just being on the streets was an experience. Our windows were rolled down to circulate air- but not fresh air. Exhaust of black came from neighboring tail pipes and the air with thick with dust and smog. We passed the Prime Minister's place. Down through the town and on a straight shot out of the town. Just as the town reached its edge, we turned onto a very rocky and rough road. No street signs marked the way. Yet the driver knew more by area than real street where we were going. We bounced back and forth and made our way to a solid black gate. We honked. A young man slid the gate open and we pulled inside. The gates closed behind us.

IT was a three story home with a small patio area. Ahead of teh car was a sort of laundry and storage area. Clothes hung on the line to dry and cloth diapers hung here and there. Up the steps to the "ground floor"... Inside we were greeted by a man. He was a striking man, dressed well and had a warm smile. Ganano was later told to me to be his name. He took us inside and as instructed by Kim, I followed their every move with my video camera.

A young boy, about 10 years of age, grabbed my still camera. His name was Antone and later I was told that TOMORROW would be his last day at the orphanage. He was being adopted by Grace, the director of the agency and located in Texas. Armed with our cameras, Antone and I wound up the steps behind Kim and Ganano.

There she was. She was wearing a yellow outfit that Kim had sent for her. Her hair done up in little ties all about. She looked to the ground. Timid, and curious. She had seen many pictures of Kim and been told what would happen. And here it was- and it was scary. The fear was obvious for all to see. Kim opened her arms and picked her up. Her eyes watered with joy. This was the child she had been praying for. This was the child she had longed to see and hold. Her name was Netzanette. And she was perfect.

We went back to the main room and Kim sat next to her new treasure. A cookie was taken from the front pocket of Kim's bag and placed into the tiny four year old hands. She didn't know what to do with it. Prompting from Ganano lead to not one, but 2 cookies filling the little tummy. She began to warm up. (Remember this trick, men. All us ladies, of all ages, can warm up with the right sweet!) Now Kim was needing to get to paperwork so I was invited to meet the other children. Netza was finally with her mom. And it was perfect.

Boy took a beating.

2008-07-05T16:48:00.005-06:00

There are so many stories to share but as I relaxed this afternoon, one came to mind. It was toward the end of the trip... and yes, I will tell you all about the in between when there is more time, I just want to jump ahead for a minute. We were at a street that had several little shops of locally made goods for tourists. The beggers and street salesman of all ages frequent this area because they know that everyone who comes there typically has money to burn. They want their piece of that money.

Our driver was late coming to pick us up. We hadn't intended to be there very long and really needed to get to some SERIOUS shopping for the orphanage party we were hosting later that day, but God had a LONG and important message to deliver at our driver, Tom's, church. Tom is a translator at the pulpit for their bi-lingual service and had been dressed in his Sunday best. At this point, we didn't know why he was late... only that he was. Kim stayed in the shop with Netza where she was welcomed and purchased most of her goodies for home. I waiting at the meeting place for Tom which was in front of a specific shop. Boys ranging between 6 and 11 years old by best guess would come by wanting to sell cheap nothings, clean shoes, or just beg. A woman with her daughter did the same.

The police do not want tourists bothered as they attempt to shop. A police woman came down and most of the "beggers" went to the opposite side of the street, still motioning to me as I waited. The mother with the child sat on a half wall and the little girl, no more than 2 years old, would wave to me as she played on a dirt mound saying in her best English "Hello, Lady!!". Time went by. I crossed the street. The girl was precious wearing her blue little coat. I reached out to her with a folded bur in hand. (That is their currency there.) She reached out smiling from ear to ear and placed the bur tightly in the palm of her hand. I spoke softly to her and the mother watched on. I asked to take the child's picture and was told it was not ok. That was fine... I stayed a few minutes longer and as I was about to leave, the mother allowed me to take the chil'd picture. (As on this blog).

I went back to the meeting spot. Watched the child more as I waited. Saw kids get hit with a wooden stick by the police woman as they tried to approach tourists to beg. My heart sank. The kids were only slightly deterred dispite the insuing bruises which would be there in time. The police would now pick up baseball sized rocks and pitch them their direction. My heart sank more. WHERE WAS TOM? How much of this could I take.

A boy came my way with a wooden box. I asked him if he could clean my shoes. It was more to help the child than due to the filth of my shoes. I honestly didn't even know what to do now that I had inlisted his services. He told me to sit on the step of a shop. That didn't seem right since obviously no one could get in or out, but I did as directed. He picked up my sneaker and placed it on the box. Dipped a sponge into murky water which he carried in a yellow, plastic pail that was once filled with vegetable oil, and began to wash my shoe. I quickly told him it was good enough and he moved to the next shoe.

Out of no where, the police woman came at us. She struck him in the back with her open hand and his body jerked. I sat straight and stern- in my most serious voice told her that I had ASKED for his services as she then walked off. The boy cocked his head sideways and his eyes met mine. His heart was broken. His spirit shattered... What could I do? I felt so terrible for him. Like most all of the other boys who clean shoes, he does it to pay for his food, school, and school books. They usually live on the floor of a nearest relative and their parents are usually deceased. He is trying all he knows to do when he should be playing and not worrying about such grown up matters. And then to be beaten and told his efforts are of no value- Just wrong. Sick.

I overpaid him. Way overpaid him. I didn't know what more one could possibly do. He nodded his head in thanks and scurried away in order to avoid another lashing from the police. I took a moment and prayed for him... Tom then finally arrived.

The Awakening

2008-07-05T12:11:00.003-06:00

Out the gates of our property was life like I had never seen. We went to the right. Saw the "super market" the owners spoke of. I am now disgusted that I never took a picture of it. It smelled of dirt. Not clean dirt, either. There road was unpaved, uneven, and contained puddles here and there. It was lush. Like I had not imagined. Everything was green with grass and plants. People walked both directions on either side of the road and cast glances at us as if to ask "who ARE these people". We walked quietly at first, meeting peoples glances with a smile and a wish of "hello". Some would nod or smile back. We veared back the way we came on a lower street. Sheep crossed our path. Dogs layed matted and thin in front of what people would call their homes but what we would call less than a storage shed where we are from. The "homes" were built of tin, sticks, and mud. They varied in size from about 6x6 to two to three times that size. Some sold goods in a basket in front of their homes. We went past a place for children, not knowing fully what it was. We waved and the children were happy to see us. We approached them and placed stickers into their hands and onto their heads. They laughed, smiled, and spoke in their native Amharic language. We still don't know what that place was. We came to a paved road that curved. A bridge led this road over the water. And there, on the bridge, was the woman and her children that we will never forget. We do not know her name. She spoke no English and understood nothing of what we said. She was a mother of two. She had no home. Her youngest daughter's eyes were sealed shut with a yellow crust as she drank milk from her mother's breast. The older daughter walked about freely with her teddy bear hat and glowing smile. We stopped and presented them with PowerBars. We also removed bread from our bag. We silently said a prayer for this family and pulled ourselves to move on. We walked a bit further and decided we had better head back for home, breakfast, and a plan on getting Nettie from the orphanage later that day.

We passed back by the mother and children. They had been given a few coins of minor denominations. Kim reaches down to the mother's shoulders. We ask if we can take a picture. She agrees. The older daughter is seemingly playing a few feet away and I go ahead for a photo opportunity. Kim reaches out to the bigger of the kids- I stop her. The child has pulled down her pants right there on the bridge and has the worst bowel movement I have seen in ages. She was and is sick. Very sick. This child needs to be at a doctor or hospital... We nod goodbye in shock and complete disbelief. We turn the corner and begin to cry. We want to fight back the tears as everyone is already watching us. But how can we? For days we spoke of this family. We tried to find them again and offer to take the children to the medical clinic but they were no longer there when we returned. If they were, we just couldn't find them. It was there, and on this first outing, that we knew we were to forever be changed from this trip. I have seen children on the street in Mexico before. I had known that there was poverty in these places of the world. But dying children- right before your eyes? And not just one or two, but everywhere? With no one to really help? Parents relinquishing their children to orphanages because if they do not, they will dye? They can not care for them and can not care for themselves and it is not just a handful of families in the situation, it is hundreds of thousands of families as we came to learn later on. Numb and in shock, we return to our "plush" quarters so we can gather our thoughts and plans for the day.

Two NUTS in Ethiopia

2008-07-05T11:57:00.003-06:00

So SHE FINALLY ARRIVES!!!

I hear many little sounds that I mistake for my friend and security blanket, Kim. None to be her. I have lost all track of time. I spring from bed only to be disappointed time and time again and then FINALLY, I hear KB talking to her and coming to the door. I spring from bed internally speaking though I don't know that it looked like that physically given the state I was in and welcome her! We were so excited to see each other. We were both so ready for a bit of home and we were all of home that we would have for the next many days. We appreciated and loved each other for that from the very moment we reconnected.

She told me of her travels. How hard it really was to leave home with so much unknown to conquer between there and here. I totally understood. We caught up... the sun rose as we spoke. She wanted a shower... I know... we were both really disappointed by this. All the normal comforts were stripped away and yet, we had each other. That was comfort enough for now. I told her about court. We both sat in shock. She hugged me as I cried. Enough of that- we had a world to explore and great work to be done. Neither of us could sleep dispite our exhaustion... we changed into something clean though we were not, and at my suggestion, we went outside the confines of our property and headed into the GREAT UNKNOWN! We made it. Only by the strength of God did we make it there... and we finally were able to see and do what we were sent to. Boy did it feel good. It made all the wrongs right, in that moment.

The Phone Call Home

2008-07-05T11:46:00.003-06:00

So there would be no shower. Kim would come soon. All that was left was to call home. You can not call directly from the phone in our room. And when the power is out, you can not call from the phone at all. I sent KB down to his home accross the court yard (pictured) to dial Jason for me. I just had to know what happened in court and knew that it would be about time that he should know.

For those of you that don't know, my daughters are not yet adopted. I use that term as a vow of optimism, but they are foster children and I just believe that 3.5 years into being blessed with the older of the siblings, that it is a matter of when and not if. After all, the hearing that I was calling to get more information on was a pre-termination hearing. If all went well, I would have so much to celebrate and a high likelyhood of an adoption in the coming few months.

My room phone buzzes. KB puts me through. Jason is happy to hear I am there and safe. I am so happy to share with him of my safe arrival. Small talk is fast and I get to the point. What happened in court?! I say it with anticipation of what I just KNEW was finally coming... and he hesitates. My heart sank. He didn't even have to say it. I was ready to vomit. I sank to the floor and fought back the tears. I couldn't fight them back for long. How was it that there was STILL no good news to be had.

It wasn't just a lack of good news, it was a deliverance of bad news. The pretermination case plan has been changed. The prosecutor no longer feels that he can ask the courts to sever the parental rights and we are back where we started with having to re-establish cause for severance. I sobbed. I tried to keep it together knowing that every minute we were on the phone was costing $1 at this point... what more was there to say? Nothing. We hung up.

I layed down in my unusual bed of 4 inch foam and no box spring. I cried until I fell asleep knowing that once Kim got there, she would give me the hug I much needed. This rocked me to the core. I was tired, dirty, hungry, and weak. And none of it even mattered to me at that moment...

2 of 3 is not TOO BAD!

2008-07-05T11:34:00.003-06:00

So yes, all I longed for upon arrival from my 2 days of travel was that I could figure out how to get where I was staying so that I could

1) See Kim and no longer feel so alone

2) Call Jason to let him know I was in Ethiopia and to find out about court at home

3) Get the 2 day old grime out of my hair with a warm shower

And as I mentioned, 2 of three turns out to not be too bad when you are in a third world country! A boy I came to know as KB picked me up from the airport. He was holding a sign with my name on it and I was so relieved to see him. He escorted me out to a small, red, and dust covered Jeep type car (if you can call it that) and told me that his parents were with him and dressed up from an event that they had just gone to. I was welcomed with warm smiles and deep accents that lent itself hard to recognize the English language I knew they were speaking. We pulled out of the airport and the car coughed its way down the street.

Taking it all in as they tried to tell me what we were passing- meat was hanging in little wooden shacks right on the carcus and clearly not refrigerated. Police stood with their semi-automatic riffles on the street corner. Dust was everywhere, and though it was late, the streets were lined with pedestrians that in Arizona, would all be at home and in front of a television or tucked neatly in a bed. It was a lot to take in-

I tried to make small talk. I asked the parents about their show, thinking with their dressy attire that they would have a fun story to share. Turns out that the glances of confusion passed to me and KB lead to a correction. It was no show, it was a funeral! Did I honestly make that mistake right on arrival. Oops! That was a bit embarrassing!

So we get to the guest house. The streets were dark and I was informed that when the street lights are off, the power inside is on. Maybe that meant the shower would be good?! I asked to call Jason. They helped to make that happen. I was informed that Kim would be landing in another 5 hours. That was great to hear. BUt as KB turned the shower on to show me how to work it- barely a trickle ran. There was no water. We came to learn that between the water shortages and power outages, showers were a rare and wonderful thing. But for tonight, there would be no shower.

Leaving and Lonely

2008-07-05T11:16:00.003-06:00

So I am home. It has taken me a couple of days to actually sit down and begin to share my stories. Some are easier to share than others. It was an amazing trip for sure. And I feel so very blessed to have had the opportunity to go. I thank all of you that helped make it possible by watching my children, praying for my family, and encouraging me to "take the plunge". It was a trip I will never forget and hope to repeat in the near future!!!

So I guess I begin at the airport. I know that doesn't sound like an exciting place to begin and ordinarily, I would have nothing to write about being in the airport. I have done this part of traveling dozens of times and have yet to find it very eventful. Of course, this time has not one, but two exceptions. I will tell of the journey home later. I was told to pack all my necessities on my carryon bag just in case the real luggage got lost. Sounded like great advise and I took it to heart.

I packed 3 outfits all inclusive of bras, socks, and underwear. I packed my medications, my toothbrush, my shampoo, conditioner, bug spray/sunscreen, face cleansers and creams, sanitizers, and more all in my carry on bag. Now those of you that have traveled more recently than I by plane already know where the problem lies. That is right- NO LIQUIDS on the plane. Not even the 2 bottles of water that were sealed and in my backpack. Nothing larger than 3.5 ounces and it all has to fit in a baggie.

Well my huband had already said his goodbye's and was on the way home and here I was, feeling more alone than ever as the airport security guard tosses all my toiletries, including my toothpaste, into the trash. I was informed in a very gruff manner that if I was going to Africa I should have had the foresight to look up the rules for the airport! As if that was what I was thinkin of prior to my departure.

It was as if I was punched in the gutt. The reality check was too sobering. I was all alone. I didn't know what I was doing. I had 2 days of flying ahead of me and I didn't even know once I landed how I was going to get to the guest house where I was staying and when my Kim would be showing up. I could not ask my husband how much money I should change at the stop in Germany. I could not hug him when I was scolding like a child from a crude airport guard. I could not turn to the distractions of rearing my children. It was what it was at this point and what it was - Was LONELY. I was about to board a plane and head for the opposite side of the world and I had to do it completely alone... I prayed. I reflected. When was the last time I was completely alone like this? Nearly 10 years ago was the answer... and I wasn't headed around the world. WOW! I really had gotten to a place of earthly dependency and I hadn't even realized to what extent.

I called J as I cried. I told him about Ms. Mean at the airport and how my comforts of home had been tossed into the trash like contraban. Just hearing his voice reaffirmed to me that I would be ok. I could do this.

I boarded the plane and at every stop, called home. I just needed to hear a voice of comfort and it spurred me on. 2 days later, the plane landed in my final destination. I just longed for three things- To see Kim, to take a warm shower, and to call J and let him know I was finally there! As you read on, you will see that 2 of three isn't too bad!

The Clouds are Calling, the Coaster is Falling

2008-06-21T11:47:00.003-06:00

Well, it is tomorrow morning, EARLY morning, that I join the rankings with the birds in the sky. I take flight for my big Ethiopian adventure. I am mostly packed. Mostly ready. Of course a wife and mother is never really ready to say goodbye to her family for 10 days. And though one may
"think" they are ready for a trip like this, I think I know better than to even pretend to really be ready. Of course I have every medicine that I don't likely even need but know I could not buy if I did, my clothes, my waterproof all leather sneakers, my passport, crisp money (hard to find by the way), camera, notebooks, Bible, gum, etc... all the donations to take over (1 full suitcase and half another!!). But am I ready?? I can't even really begin to answer that. It is like asking if you are ready for your first BIG roller coaster. You think you know what it will be like and you think it will be great, but the reality of the matter is that you could come off puking in your hands! And though my odds of diarhhea are much greater than puke, I know that whether I am really ready of not, the Lord has prepared my heart and soul for whatever it is I am supposed to get out of this. And if there is diarhhea or luggage lost or camera malfunctions (a bad dream last night on that) or my roller coaster is just much faster than I bargained for... It will be just as it is intended to be and I have a great peace about going. You will not hear from me for some time, and when you finally do- BOY WILL I HAVE A LOT TO SAY!!! God bless family and friends. I will be back late on the 1st of July!

On behalf of this foster boy

2008-06-19T00:09:00.004-06:00

I sit here tonight fighting back tears as I write. It doesn't take much for me to cry these days. It is rather normal, common, and quite pathetic in many cases. But tonight it is for good reason that I feel like crying. I am so grateful for my family. I know many people say this and think they mean it. Yet their actions aren't those of deep appreciation when they cheat on their spouses, beat their kids, buy toys and not food, etc. I don't want this to be a judgement, I just feel that our life experience have lead to a very deep appreciation. And having a spouse that has been through it all with me... I just feel so incredibly blessed.

Yet this is NOT the point. Or the reason for my emotions. Nor the reason that it is 20 past 11 and I am up and writing this now. My good friend Lynn has a foster child from an Indian Reservation and through their foster care system. He is an amazing, now 6 year old boy. He has a life shortening disease called cystic fybrosis and Lynn brough him home now nearly 4 years ago and has loved him as her own. She brought him from a state of near death to a thriving member of their large and connected family. So that is the backround. And tonight- she asks for all our prayers. This child has had a case plan that was supposed to lead to adoption for about 2 years now. And instead of a severance hearing and an adoption date, she is getting word that there will now be BM visitation starting regularly. Yes, that is right. 4 years later, and visitations will be starting. She is being told to be prepared for her son to be removed and put into a family of which he knows no one.

Of course this story rings too close to home for me with my girls. You may have noticed that there are no pictures of my girls on my blog. They can not be until they are adopted (I speak as if it is a matter of when and not if, as Lynn once also spoke of her son). I went through a time where my girls' case plan looked grim at best. I was a wreck. And as soon as I could see some blue sky through the clouds, I GRABBED ON! And I am still holding on to the hopes and prayers that "THE COURT HEARING" will sometime happen. If I hadn't this hope, I would be just lost. I would go through my days as I once did and I will not do that again. I can not.

I love this boy. I love Lynn. I love her whole family. And I hate the system. Raising the children is the easy part. Meeting their "special needs" is CAKE compared to dealing with courts and case plans. What will it be like parenting without the burden of courts and case plan? I can not say that I know. I can only say that I hope to know soon.

Please take a moment and say a prayer for Lynn and her LAST unadopted child. Lynn is tired and needs strength. And if you could, please add my girls to the list. The system is so broken and these children need mercy. They deserve it.

When Burdens are Bigger than Excuses

2008-06-17T21:11:00.004-06:00

It was only about 2 weeks ago that I made an impromptu decision to go to Africa. If you would have asked me at the start of this year if I would get to Africa, the answer would have been a firm "no" followed by "I have wanted to go for a long time and hope to go one day, but this is not the year". And so as it always seems, my plans for this year are different than the Lord's.

I have a friend, Kim, who is adopting a BEAUTIFUL girl from Ethiopia. She is a three year old that just seeing her smile melts my heart. She, like all too many of the children in Ethiopia, is in need a the love and support of a forever family. Anyway, Kim found herself in a situation where her husband was going to stay back state side to care for the house and kids while Kim wondered across the world to pick up this wonderful child. So in this, I prayed about whether I was to join her and support her in this quest.

It seems like an easy decision now that I look back on it. Though at the time, I was in huge internal turmoil. The financial cost of going, the strain on the caregivers for the kids while I was away, the added pressures put on my J, the appointments that would need to moved, the vaccines, finding the passport, who would do this and that... There are always reasons to just stay. To sit comfortably at home with the daily grind and not challenge myself beyond the norm. I layed in bed the last night before the decision and asked myself at what point would there be no more excuses for NOT going? At what point would I be willing to stop rationalizing and start trusting... and so it has begun.

For those of you that don't have faith in our Lord, you may not fully ever understand why I am going. Though there are practical things that Kim and I will be doing on this trip to help orphans and with The Grafted Tree, in addition to picking up Kim's new child, the reasons go so much further than that. Ethiopia is a place of grief and loss. It is a place of true despair. And though I have heard that it is beautiful in many ways, it is a place without Christ, without medicine, without basic health, without food, without shelter... just plain WITHOUT. I feel burdened by so much of Africa. Ethiopia being a part of that. I feel burdened on a spiritual level. It is this burden that spoke louder than all the excuses I could drum up. It was this burden that plunged me onto the phone with the travel agent the very next day (and a few numbers given to me by Kim!). So what will come of this deep burden once I am there? Or when I return?? I don't know. It is scary to think, really. If I see it, feel it, smell it... how can I not do something about it? And what does that look like? What is that cost of the action vs. the inaction?

Excuses. Why do we do what we do? Why don't we do what we don't? When is the time to take the plunge into the unknown and step out in faith? Now is my time.

Hats off to Mom this Father's Day!

2008-06-16T15:33:00.004-06:00

Father's Day is full of fun memories as a child. My mom would always arrange a fun family day at the lake, zoo, theatre, park, etc. We would shop in advance for that perfect gift for Dad and often times make him a special card or extra special picture. Dad would wake to his favorite breakfast and a cup of steaming coffee. He would relax as he read his paper and then the day's activities would ensue.

So now that J and I are blessed to have three children, it was my turn to plan this special day. And due to my mom being out of town, we wanted to include my dad in this day as well. Finding time to just think of what would be fun wasn't easy. It was only 5 days before the BIG day that the plan came to me- we would go to church as a family and then I would pack a picnic and we would all go the the Glendale Rec Center for family swimming. After swimming we would head back to home and put the kids down for a nap. I would then spend the afternoon prepping a favorite dinner of J's that my dear friend Joyce hooked us on- CHINESE food of egg rolls, crab puffs, and pork fried rice. We would gorge until we were about to burst and then fat and happy, simply call it a day!

The plan was revealed and all the pieces were put into place. First we did church, then we explored the water park. The boys rocked out on Rock Band while the kids napped and I diced carrots and browned pork. Food was cooked, we ate, and then FAT AND HAPPY, we sat to rest. It was the great day I had imagined it to be. Dad number 1 had fun. Dad number 2 had fun. The three babies thought it was Child's Day they had so much fun. AND I WAS WORE TO THE CORE!!! After enjoying (and I did despite the exhaustion) this perfect day, I now know who I really need to thank this Father's Day... My mom.

Like so many things when we are children, I now can see (and FEEL) what it takes to make the fun (and ordinary) all take place. My mom is and was a person with great energy and HUGE ideas. And ideas are nothing without the action steps to make them come to life and my childhood was FULL of life. Mom- Hats off to you this Father's Day. I love my dad and he is truly special. But it is today that I realize that even on HIS special day, it wouldn't have been the same without you there.

SHOUT out to Jen

2008-06-14T23:19:00.000-06:00

Well, it took a visit from my good friend Jen to finally get this thing really up and running. I fear I may have had too much fun putting little timers for special events on my page. If one is good, then three is better, right? Or so for now, since it is about the only thing other than typing that I know how to do, it is SUPER exciting for not-so-computer-savy me! Now, in addition to figuring out how to put polls, pictures, etc on my page, I need to learn how to find YOUR BLOGS. This is a whole new world... but an exciting new world. I learned how to read my comments so if anyone is even reading this, I eagerly accept your advise on how to improve it and where to go for these cool little "things" you can put on it! So fun! Thanks for your patience. I feel like my blog should really have a backround that is a made of construction tape that says somthing like

DANGER- WORK IN PROGRESS!!!

Where Fate and Faith Collide- Here we are!

2008-04-07T20:41:00.000-06:00

Where to even begin? How did it all begin? I suppose it began when I met the love of my life in high school. His name was Jason. He was like no man that had caught my eye before. Some of that is good, and other wasn't though it worked out for good. He was tall, a little ungroomed, sweet and proper in every way, and a bit quirky as well! He was a "college boy" and I was entering my senior year. I got to know him and understand him. And three months into dating, I knew that I loved him like I had never loved before. It was only a short year and a half later that we "young pups" took the leap of faith and got married. And so it began-

We are now going on our tenth wedding anniversary. Ten short years that have flown by at record speed. Ten years filled with so much love. So many memories. Ten years or triumph and turmoil. But never a day without unconditional love and the blessings of Christ.

I guess I always knew that Jason and I would be happily married. I was young at only 19 years of age when we married, yet never once considered that our marriage would fail. There were many warnings that I was just naive, but in the end, it was right back then and it is right RIGHT now.

We found ourselves in the midst of a struggle with infertility only a few years into our marriage. At the time, we felt cursed. Now we feel blessed. Our struggles lead us to an amazing adoption agency and to our precious son, Cole.

Cole was delivered in November of 2004. He was born happy and healthy and remains the same. He honestly has the happiest disposition and is an easy going three year old for the most part. His birth mom is also amazing and has become a dear part of our family, along with his birth grandparents. We have welcomed them all and they have done the same for us. There is so much love surrounding this boy that it couldn't help but to flow out amongst the rest of us connected by him.

When Cole was only 5 months old, he was joined by our first foster child. Her name is Lexi. She was born early and in need of special care. All babies require special care, but this level of care was more than most. She was so small, and so fragile. And so AMAZING from the very beginning. She was also easy going. We were immediately in love. Her birth family was sorting out their "issues" and still is three years later which is leading us to believe that one day in the near future, we will get the amazing priveledge of adopting her, too.

And then again, thirteen months later, Lexi had a biological sister born. We call her Abby. Abby joined us at only 2 days old and has added that spice that our family needed. She was showered with attention from her brother and sister as well as the rest of the family. This is attention that she has learned to love.

So here we are today. Jason and I are now proud parents to 2 three year olds and a nearly two year old. Blessed to be surrounded by the love of family and friends reaching beyond bloodlines and into heart strings. We wake up knowing what a full day is ahead and close our eyes after thanking God with such a sense of joy and peace about all we have been entrusted with.

So Where Fate and Faith Collide pretty much sums it up. It was our fate and destiny to fall in love, find our babies, and tackle the struggles of every day life- all guided by our faith in our Lord above. Thus, here it is... written out for you and me to ponder over. Who would have thought that it would all look like this? And yet it does? Where will another 10 years bring?