The day before we arrived in Haiti to get our girl:
When one of my children was born, I looked in the baby’s face and declared, “You have made this day special. Before you were born, I never paid any attention to this date, and now it will always be one of the most significant days.”
Today, 24 April, has become another momentous day for our family. My youngest came home with us on this date. After 44 months of processing, setbacks, grief, stalls, confusion, Craig and I joyfully arrived home with our girl.
Forty-four months; I can’t find any animal who gestates this long. The first eleven months had a slow but steady sense of progress, and then the next thirty three months became the marathon of
love which inspired prayerful patience, frustrated uncertainty, and humble attempts to work things out.
I have heard that part of the post-partum hormones for women diminish the extreme pain of childbirth, so that the woman would consider giving birth again. Adoption does not have this wash. Instead, the joy of connecting, loving, learning your child and watching her grow in trust, in health, in skills, in love creates an indescribable it was worth-it-ness. She was so worth it. WE started the process believing God had a daughter we were to parent, and I am sooooooo thankful for her.
Two years ago in Port-au-Prince we left an elderly woman begging for food, traffic jams from tires being burned in the streets, a backed up airport, a much loved Rachel/Nana, a missionary/pastor couple who blessed us beyond measure, layers of extra human checkers verifying our paper work at each step in the airport, a Nigerian entrepreneur giving hair advice, a UN worker stressed by the burning tires, a blessing woman who spoke over our daughter in the airport, amused flight staff as we couldn’t understand the announcements, and we boarded a plane to Montreal.
Although we had not paid for first class tickets, the airline bumped us up in our overbooked flight. I started to cry; Craig thought it was joy. Certainly that was there, but the contrast of our posh seats, tasty foods, and amenities sat in stark contrast to the realities just outside the plane that my heart couldn’t quite handle being pulled in one more direction.
Montreal – immigration, running to make the connection and then
Flying from Montreal to Vancouver, last leg of the trip, two years ago.
“Christ of the cross and of the empty tomb, strengthen us to bear the burdens of the day, to seek you amid the hurts and questions, and to trust you for mercy enough for this day. Amen.” from Common Prayer
God makes a home for the lonely; He leads out the prisoners into prosperity, Only the rebellious dwell in a parched land. Psalm 68:6