Let’s face it; it’s tough being the oldest, as I know from personal experience. For a few years you’ve got a sweet deal, and then your house starts filling up with little kids, and your once-relaxed parents become exhausted and stressed out. You think with longing of the “good ol’ days” when you had all of their attention to yourself. Ah . . . those days are OVER.

Our sweet little Caleb has turned into a wonderful big brother, but even the best big brother needs a break from time to time. This week Caleb started Preschool for the first time. He’s only going three mornings a week, but it’s the perfect chance for him to have some Big Boy Time away from all the craziness at home. I kind of wish I could join him.

Not the best picture of us, but I love that the little kids are banging on the windows. They never want to be left out.

So here they are with “Bubba” (yes, that’s what children call their brothers in The South).

And here’s Caleb, happy as a lark, just as I left him. He had no tears and barely even noticed when I left. I have to confess that I wiped away a few in the parking lot. I can’t believe how big he is.

Oh Ethiopia . . . how I love you. I didn’t know that I could love a country, a people, a land so different from my home like I love you.

It’s hard to believe that there was a time when Ethiopia was nothing to me, just another unknown country in Africa, a place I really knew nothing about. Now, Ethiopia is so intertwined with who we are and with who we want to be that it’s impossible to separate our love for this country from the rest of our lives.

This second trip to Ethiopia allowed us to see and understand her in a way that we never did before. On the first trip, we were so overwhelmed by the smells, the traffic, the pollution, the different customs, the bathrooms, that in some ways it kept us from really experiencing Ethiopia. This time we weren’t distracted by these things; they were just something to giggle at . . . “Well, we’re back in Ethiopia now.”

Returning to Ethiopia was like visiting a dear friend again, and seeing that your friend is even more beautiful than you remembered, and even sicker than you had realized. With each breath, we were overwhelmed by the beauty and poverty of Ethiopia.

We weren’t as timid this time. We walked through the streets, made friends with the children, went shopping on our own, interacted with the shop keepers, and haggled over “Habesha” and “Ferenj” prices. We felt more comfortable with what was once quite uncomfortable. In short, we breathed Ethiopia in deep.

And perhaps because we were out on the streets more, the poverty hit us harder this time. The street children swarmed us in Durame, with their tattered clothes and bare feet, and we kept thinking, “Where do they sleep, where do they go home to?” And in their faces I saw my own little children, Josiah in particular, who could have easily been part of this group.

A nursing mother looked me in the eye, wanting . . . needing more than peanut butter crackers, but I didn’t know what to do. Her gaze told me, “You can do more,” and I left thinking, “I know.”

Last summer when we left Ethiopia we knew we would be back to adopt again, and soon. This time, while we definitely want to adopt again, we don’t know when that will be. But we know we will be back in Ethiopia; we know we have so much more to do there. We’re praying now, waiting for God to show us the what, when, and how.

Returning to Ethiopia was an overwhelmingly wonderful experience. If we hadn’t missed our sweet boys so much, it would have been very hard to leave. We can’t wait to go back; we can’t wait until our children are old enough to go with us. We want them to see it, to know it and love it the way we do.

Ethiopia is in our minds, in our hearts, and in our blood now.

Special thanks to Zach Cheatham for the airport pictures.

After the goodbye celebration, everyone went shopping. Evelyn and I stayed behind to take a nap at the hotel. After napping, we played and I got these adorable pictures of her!

After returning to Addis, we were able to go to the care center and bring our sweet girl back to the hotel. After returning to the hotel, we gave her a bath and her mommy enjoyed dressing her in some pink clothes.

Thank you to all of you who have helped us in so many ways. You have prayed for us and prayed for us and prayed for us, when we asked you to, and even when we didn’t ask. You have been supportive and encouraging, even when you thought we were a little crazy. And you have helped us raise the money we needed to get to this point. You bought t-shirts, baked cakes, gave guitar lessons, served dinners, and donated time at your vacation homes. Some of you completely blindsided us with checks in the mail for LARGE amounts of money. You have given of yourselves, lovingly and sacrificially. We know that God has been honored because of your generosity. Thank you for helping us, and thank you for surrounding our little girl with love, even before she gets here.

We wish you could all go with us. We will be thinking of you every step of the way.

Here is the slideshow from Josiah’s adoption last summer:

Other changes are abrupt and foreseen. We stand on the edge of a new horizon and realize, “One more step and everything is different.” I’m reminded of the night before I left home for college, the day we got married, the night before Caleb was born, the day we traveled to Ethiopia to bring home Josiah. All of these were moments when I was gripped equally with fear and excitement, anxiety and anticipation.

I don’t like change; it goes against my nature. So for me to choose something new, to purposefully step out into something different, even when it is what I want, always rattles me.

I know that what lies before us is good. I know that this is what God has called us to and that our lives will be better because we followed Him here.

But still, the knowledge that something is ending, makes me want to stay very still. I want to gulp up these last breaths in this place, in this season; I want to swallow these memories whole and soak up every moment of being just like this. I want to stand right here and tell God, “Thank you.” Thank you for these moments, for this day, for this season that I am now leaving forever.

We will never again be just a “boy family.” And that is good, and exactly as it should be. But these moments, with only our two boys, have been very sweet. I will always remember watching two small boys become brothers. I will always remember that this was the year that they learned to love each other and that these were the days when God knit their hearts together in brotherly love. And now I can’t wait to watch them fall in love with their sister.

Two more days.

Two more days and we close this chapter and step out into something new.

Today and tomorrow there will be lots of hugs, lots of kisses, lots of cuddles and laughs. And then Wednesday, we’ll take a deep breath and step out into what He’s called us to, knowing that He’s the one who has planned the beginning and the end of every moment and every season that lies ahead.

It’s hard to believe it’s been a whole year, and it’s hard to believe it’s been only a year. It feels like forever and an instant all wrapped into one.

But he’s completely ours now. Head to toe, a Picker Boy, and we’re absolutely in love with him.

It’s hard to imagine what we would be like today if God hadn’t hand-picked him for our family. But here’s what I know: our house would be too clean, I would be getting too much sleep, I wouldn’t be laughing enough, I wouldn’t be getting enough slimy kisses or “love hits,” Caleb would be lonely, Casey and I would be bored, and we would still be completely ignorant about the beautiful miracle that is adoption. We would understand less about God, His love for us, His calling on our lives, and what we owe Him.

And we would still be completely blind to the continent of Africa that God has placed in our hearts. When I look at the world that I lived in before we began the process to adopt Josiah, it is small, pitiful, and ridiculously self-centered. We still have a long way to go, but because of Josiah, and God’s placing him so lovingly in our family, we understand better who we are supposed to be.

Baby boy, we are so in love with you. You are the salve to a wound we didn’t know we had. Your smile could melt an iceberg, and your joy is contagious. We are honored that God has entrusted your life to us. We know He has a great work planned for you, and we can’t wait to see what that is.