The Wall Bloggers

Together at last

2014-05-24T10:16:00.001-06:00

In that delicious dim of late afternoon cloudy day, with thunder rolling in the distance, and the glow of premature artificial light, the children bubbled with joy. I, too, had a hop in my step; even the usual dishes and laundry and scooping of the cat litter seemed no trouble, as I lingered in that cozy, moist atmosphere, of rain promised and rain fulfilled. In our high country desert, with years of too little winter moisture to meet the requirements of even our shrubby plants, the moisture brings such deeply satisfying nourishment... not only to the plants, but to our spirits.

And as school lingers just four more days before us, we enjoyed an afternoon homework-free -- and for the children, chore-free. Even I had the benefit of dinner already prepared -- leftovers from my father-in-law's talented hands. So I prompted the girls to invite their neighbor friend over, even invited her to stay for dinner and our special movie night. And the boys played in the street with their older neighbor friend, racing bikes, making hoops - as he lowered the basket for them. They were so engaged, the sudden rain bursts didn't even slow them down, and they moaned as I called them in from it.

Such beauty from yesterday afternoon, the words fixed inside my head, and I ached to pen them on this long-abandoned blog. My last words here were of our fast-approaching trip to the other side of the world, for our fourth child. And here she's been, home for four months. Our family has ached and stretched since the last writing.

We thought we had faith as we set out for Uganda in November. We knew we had that confirmation from God, that through the adoption processes' snags and turns, all we needed to do was come to Him in prayer, and He would take care of it. And that understanding was tested and tested again, as Scott and I separately had to come to terms with the fact that He might be asking us to move our family to Uganda in order to have all six of us together forever. God grew us in ways we didn't know we needed to grow. Scott and I single-parented on different continents for eight weeks, not knowing each day what adoption decisions others would make on our behalf.

Thanks be to God, Who brought our family back home, Who united us together in one place.

And the inevitable work began after our tearful reunion. The one who is now the oldest used to be the youngest. The one who was the oldest is now the middle. And those scars blazed deep, deep into tissues of our daughter's heart and mind remain -- surfacing as they are triggered. And God is healing again. We saw His healing of my back last year, and now we marvel, as week by week, a different kind of healing unfolds before our family's eyes. A healing where our eleven-year-old daughter -- who needs to know that she is loved, accepted, cherished -- pushes and stretches, thrives, and flourishes under the hands of the Almighty. Some days bring tears and tantrums, where Scott and I drop into bed with headaches and neck aches, and a prayer on each breath. But so many days bring laughter and inklings of sprouting growth.

Thanks be to God, Who adopted us into His family. Many thanks to all of you, for joining us in this incredible process.

We love because He first loved us. We adopt because He first adopted us.

November court date!

2013-11-13T14:47:00.000-07:00

If you read my last post, you saw that we have been praying for a November court date... And guess what we got?! God granted us our request! We are heading to Uganda very soon, and Lord-willing, our new daughter will be home just in time for Christmas.

Progress and Prayer

2013-10-31T13:51:00.001-06:00

We received great news last week that the paperwork for our new daughter waiting for us in Uganda was completed! We received more exciting news when our affidavit for Uganda arrived via email Friday morning. We rushed to put our papers together, we notarized our signatures, and we sent it back on it's way via Fed Ex to Uganda.

And now we wait for a court date! Humanly speaking, we are looking at a court date in January, most likely. There are usually several judges working on adoption cases in Uganda, but currently, most of them are out of the court. But, at the beginning of October, God put it on my heart to pray for a November court date. And so we've prayed. We've asked all our friends to join us in asking God for a miracle. Yes, we trust His perfect timing for whenever He would have us go. But, He also lets us know that we can ask Him for the things we need (James 4:2-4). And we need a court date so that we can bring our daughter home.

Here's a verse I was touched by as I prayed on Monday...

Psalm 119:116
Uphold me according to Your word, that I may live;

And do not let me be ashamed of my hope.

2013-10-19T16:31:00.000-06:00

We're still here! We've been going through family adjustments, bouts with ear infections and allergies, starting a new school year, and raising funds for our third adoption. God's been good -- as always -- and we're grateful for His answers to prayers, His provision, and His strength.

Here are pictures from our trip to my dad and Debbie's condo last weekend. It was such a beautiful time for our family to get a little rest and relaxation.

Happy Family Day, Abel!

2013-06-20T22:08:00.002-06:00

Celebrating three years with Abel...

Love you, Abel!

Home again!

2013-06-04T14:52:00.000-06:00

Following about a dozen miracles (and probably many more I don't know about!), God brought Willy and me home, as scheduled, late on Friday, May 24.

I've been too exhausted to update the blog sooner. But here are some pictures from the last ten days since we've been back.

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 15-17

2013-05-20T13:27:00.000-06:00

Wednesday, May 15 - Friday, May 17, 2013

After Monday and Tuesday at the passport office, we also spent Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday there.

As I prayed for our passports Monday and Tuesday, God revealed to me that we would need a mighty work of His hand for them to come to fruition, and that I should pray for Him to receive the glory.

We kept our routine of sitting in the tea tent until after lunch time, and then headed for the shady grass by the bathrooms. Occasionally, we would be asked to leave the grassy area by an employee, and we'd return to the tea tent for another soda. Our children were little troopers with the minimal toys we could bring. And W-- got several naps on my lap, as my hind side fell asleep at our concrete sitting spot. We'd leave in sheer exhaustion, ride home in near silence, have dinner, put our kids to bed, and prepare to return the next day.

Thursday night, I spent extra time in prayer, asking God if we could get our passports Friday, so that we could return home May 24, as scheduled. He blessed me with a terrific Psalm, but I'm unable to share the details here.

We left Friday afternoon, still with no passports, and with more reasons to pray.

Excuse the brevity, but fatigue prevails for now. :)

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 14, 2013

2013-05-17T13:46:00.000-06:00

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

W-- and I, (as well as the other families) faced exhaustion from Monday. After breakfast, when W-- threw a tantrum over not wanting to share a toy with the other girls, I angrily carried his screaming body into our room. We sat down on the bed together and cried. And I cried out to God, letting Him know that I didn't think I could face another day like Monday, with those unforgiving benches, the heat, the squirming child on my lap.

It has become so clear to me while I've been in Africa that Americans are raised in comfort, expect comfort, and become angry without comfort. Africans are raised most often in discomfort, they are accustomed to discomfort, and do not even find discomfort worth mentioning. I do not know how to get past my cultural upbringing to find myself at a place where I can easily overlook it.

So I cried out to God about the dread of another day of discomfort. And He is so kind. He granted me peace. He granted me an attitude of willingness. So I wiped away my tears, and prepared to face a day where I did not know what it would hold.

We met up with Ivan at the passport office, and he led us to the "tea tent," instead of the tent of mass benches and mass people. "Really, Ivan??" we all questioned. "Oh, yes, we can get some drinks and stay here for a while. Didn't Rashid let you do that yesterday?" "No!" we all moaned.

So we sat down in relative comfort, and I just kept thanking God that it was so much better than our first day. We then figured out how to maximize the tea tent, so that we would not be asked to leave. A couple of us would order drinks, an hour or so later, another of us would buy a muffin, and little later, someone would buy a banana. And so we got to sit under a tent with far fewer people, in much greater comfort. The chairs are 30-year-old office chair cast offs and plastic ones. The dirt under the tent is hard back with bottle caps and litter. The ground is uneven and W-- loves it that when he taps his "emotoka" (car) on the table, gravity pulls it down the other side of the unleveled surface. One of the benches has an old child's desk for a table. This tea tent has character.

We watched, as about 12:30, the lunch crew women poured in with their steaming pans of matoke, pumpkins, rice, sweet potatoes, fish, and beef. The three women brought out their blue checked table clothes and covered the tables (and desk!). New lunch customers trickled in and stayed to chat with friends or strangers as they ate.

After lunch, we decided we should not overstay our welcome, so we headed over to the partly grassy area adjacent to the tea tent, where we spent the next several hours on the cement steps, watching our children play. The grassy area is the main pathway to the bathrooms, so we did a great deal of people watching at the same time.

The bathrooms deceived us all, with their open doors and shiny white tile visible from the grass. We headed up to them one by one, with our desperate children, with high hopes for a decent public restroom (something very hard to come by in Africa). And one by one, our hopes were dashed. Two stalls without doors house two "squatty potties" surrounded by puddles of water and mud. And the smell makes outhouses seem pleasant. Each of us moms decided to take our children only when they were most desperate, and each of us decided to never use it for ourselves.

Lisa's daughter and W-- played for at least an hour with just three little animal figures I brought (a goat, cow, and cat). They made houses for them with stones. They wrapped them in bits of baby wipes. They gave them "showers" with "soap." Man, these kids have amazing imaginations.

That afternoon, we left, again, without our passports, and with the directives to return for them the following morning.

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 13, 2013

2013-05-15T13:47:00.001-06:00

Monday, May 13, 2013

After being woken up from 4:00-5:30 by the ministry group leaving the guest house, we set out for the passport office by 9:00 am.

On Friday, we had been told to come pick up our passports for our children Monday. So, like Americans, we all set out with the impression that we would pick them up after maybe an hour or so of waiting. Rashid led us back to the tent we saw last week when we first dropped off our papers at the passport office. It is the only shade in the large courtyard, where when the sun is unencumbered by clouds, it is quite intense. There was also the large shade tree, but anyone who stopped there was shooed away by angry officials. So, we squeezed into the shadows by the edge of the large tent. Under the tent were rows of wooden benches, crowded with Africans waiting for their various documents.

We waited with the expectation that it would soon be our turn to receive our prized passports. But after a half hour or so, with no update, and people finally making room under the tent, Lisa and I and our kids found a seat on the back row. The rows were tighter than airplane seats, without the cushion, and with people passing in between every time their names were called. With each passing, we had to move our backpacks and our children out of the way.

W--, then, found it easiest to sit on my lap, as there was no room for standing on the ground in front of me. But he'd elbow my ribs, rub his skull into my collar bone, wiggle and squirm like the two-year-old that he is. My body would get tired from the abuse, I'd set him down on the ground, only to have to pick him up again when the next person went by. And so this happened hour after hour. And soon W-- and I were covered in dirt, as was our backpack. One Ugandan even wanted to point out that I had W--'s dirty footprints all over my skirt. "Yes, yes, I know."

We ate snacks from our backpacks all day, to pass the time, to fill our lunch void. The Ugandans gave us questioning stares each time we would pull out another. I struggled with a frustrated attitude and short temper toward W--.

After almost five hours, we were called into a line that felt more like a mob, to take our papers into an office for an officer to process. That done, they assured us that the next steps would be done Tuesday, and we'd be able to take the passports home then.

W-- and I returned to the guest house, me barely having the energy to carry him up the stairs. My dirt-coated skirt and shirt stuck to my sweaty limbs. I knew what I wanted: a shower. Even without a nap or a hot meal, that shower revived me in a way I couldn't have imagined. Washing away the layers of soot, God gave me the image of what He had done for me the night before (and so many other times I've needed to confess my sins). "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be as wool." (Isaiah 1:18)

That understanding was worth it -- worth those hours of discomfort for the sake of understanding more fully what the Gospel of Jesus Christ is... The washing of the filth -- my filth of sin -- by the blood of the spotless Lamb. Amen and amen.

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 12, 2013

2013-05-15T12:17:00.000-06:00

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Mother's Day. But not much sign of it around here. A few mentions of it. Rashid's comment Saturday, "Oh, isn't Mother's Day sometime soon?"

We ladies and our kids were blessed to attend Joy's church again. W-- did his usual nap, falling asleep during the amazing and loud worship time, and remaining asleep through the end of the service. After the service, Joy took us back to the "mzungu" ("non-African") shopping mall, where we bought W--'s shoes last week. I was grateful to return, because those bargain priced kids Crocs were nagging at me. :) So that was my Mother's Day treat: buying a few pairs for the kids.

The second part of the treat was getting to Skype those little people who those shoes were for. I talked to Adrianna and Abel, with W-- at my side, at about 5:00 pm Ugandan time, 8:00 am their time, as they were eating breakfast before church. As we Skyped, I got to watch Scott trying to get the tangles out of Adrianna's hair and "tame her mane" for 20 minutes. I don't get the impression that he enjoys that part of single parenting.

I dealt with a day of feeling the weight of my sin -- not obeying the nudging of the Spirit, not taking every thought captive. By the night time, I felt the burden of it all so strongly, and came to the Lord in confession. Boy, did I need it. That feeling of separation from God is just dreadful. I just kept remembering that blackness in my heart that God revealed to me during the healing of my back, and I kept thinking, 'I don't want blackness to build up in there again.'

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 11, 2013

2013-05-12T13:04:00.003-06:00

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Early in the day, I got to Skype Scott as my father-in-law drove him home from the airport. What a blessing to see him on the other side. It was close to midnight there, and I'd had two nights of sleep while he traveled home. Whew, that's a long journey.

We also heard that Ivan, our paperwork man, had been back to the passport office to check on our children's passports, and they hoped that they would be ready Monday. That was hopeful news for keeping our timeframe here.

Rashid's wife, Joy, invited the three families to her house for a traditional Ugandan lunch. Joy took Mike and Melissa to the store so that Mike could get the supplies to make chicken enchiladas, so Joy and Rashid would have a taste of our traditional food, as well.

In the meantime, Lisa and I waited at the guest house with our kids. Lisa and I are getting lots of down time here. In many ways, the rest time is a blessing, because our children play together so sweetly, and it is a gentle way to transition them from the orphanage into our care. It is also a blessing, because for the first time in ages, I'm not doing any cooking, cleaning, laundry. I am completely taken care of, and my only focus is caring for W--. Because I'm not expending time and energy on all of the other necessities that I need to do at home, I have all those energies to concentrate on this little guy getting to know me and in earning his trust. When he does tantrum, I have the resources I need to handle it, because I haven't used them up on chores and tight schedules. In some ways, though, it is difficult having so much time on our hands, being away from our loved ones and unable to go out on our own. But we keep talking about how this time is flying by, and we know we will soon be back in the U.S., pining for our time in Africa.

The meal at Joy's was delicious in such a pleasant, casual, authentic way. Matoke is a Ugandan specialty, which are mashed green bananas, served with a peanut sauce. The flavors are not strong, but the texture is pleasant, and there is just enough flavor to tantalize the taste buds. We were also treated to a pumpkin steamed in banana leaves, with chicken and vegetables roasted inside. To eat, you simply tear off part of the gourd, and drizzle with the peanut sauce. Amazing.

W-- enjoyed playing with the giant car at Joy's house, much like the ancient Power Wheels Jeep we have at home. This one was not powered anymore, but he loved pushing it around the living room as the adults talked. He became quite defensive when the other children wanted to have a part in his game. If he and Abel can come to terms sharing the Jeep at our house, they will be fast friends for certain.

W--'s tantrums are becoming fewer and farther between. When he does become resistant to directives (brushing teeth, going potty...), it is now for just a few minutes, rather than the 45 minutes we started out with two weeks ago. And most times, when I tell him it's time for bed/nap, he comes over and curls up in my arms.

God has been so sweet in the transition, and I am so grateful. I've also been blessed to be able to carry W-- around, twirl him, throw him in the air. These things were completely off-limits to my ailing back only four months ago. I continue to marvel at His gracious healing. Thank You, Father.

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 10, 2013

2013-05-12T12:29:00.001-06:00

Friday, May 10, 2013

Scott's first day gone, and W-- and I were woken at 6:00 a.m. by the enthusiastic singing in the seminar above us. W-- asked to go to the bathroom, and I feared that that was it for his sleeping. Thankfully, I tried setting him back in bed, and he just whimpered for a few minutes before returning to sleep. Whew.

Later, W-- and I headed out to eat breakfast with Lisa and her daughter. I thought it might be nice to make tea with a little ginger, like the Ugandans do. Apparently I momentarily forgot that the only other time I had tea with ginger, I lost my breakfast. I drank a few sips, and realized that it was not sitting well. I tried finishing breakfast, and then convinced W-- to come into our room. I grabbed a plastic trash bag in time, as W-- laughed at my sickness, not knowing what it was.

I collapsed on our couch afterwards, wondering how I was going to conquer this single parenting thing. I showed W-- a few minutes of Jack's Big Music Show, and then heard a knock at the door. Lisa wanted to know if W-- wanted to play ball with them. We came out of our room, and thankfully, I was feeling significantly better.

A while later, Lisa, Melissa, and I decided to ask Joy (Rashid's wife) if she might be able to take us shopping. Melissa ran next door to ask her. Lisa and I gave the kids snacks, and then Melissa's daughter felt like she was in trouble, so she started to leave out the front door to find her mom. Keeping an almost five year old from leaving for the next house might seem an easy task. However, she got half way to Joy's before I, carrying W--, and running in my bare feet could stop her. And when I did overtake her, she made herself like lead in resisting me. I had to carry her 'sack of potatoes' body up the stairs, and bodily restrain her while I got my shoes on to head back to Joy's for her mom.

It turned out that Joy's sister-in-law went into labor and Joy was trying to arrange transportation to see her. Not the best time to take us shopping.

Lisa and I decided to stick around the guest house, while Melissa went with Joy to the hospital. We later heard the adventures of going into labor in the free hospital, where you have to bring your own bed linens, foods, even cotton, and where you family has to camp outside your room until you are finished.

W-- and Lisa's daughter played beautifully together for much of the day. Lisa's daughter had us be her patients in her health clinic and her pupils in school. We enjoyed her imaginative play immensely. We marvel each day at how these children, even W--, stay so entertained with so little for so long. The kids' favorite toy has been a couple of boxes of dominoes, which they turn into puzzles, buildings, roads. W-- will play with them for over an hour, time and time again, just sitting on my lap at the table.

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 9, 2013

2013-05-10T12:14:00.000-06:00

Thursday, May 9, 2013

I knew it was going to be an emotional day. Scott's last in Uganda. My last with my sweetie for over two weeks.

Lisa and I told the guys that we needed to be included in the day's outing, as another day at the guest house sounded a little confining. So Lisa, her daughter, Mike, Scott, Rashid, W--, and I all squeezed in Joy's car (a tiny Toyota sedan, similar to a Corolla), as Rashid's Land Rover was in the shop. We headed to the lawyer's office to pick up our court ruling. Alas, the court did not have all of the paperwork completed, but they had one part of it, which was enough to take to the passport office. So, we of course headed for the passport office.

We waited for ten minutes for a parking space on the street in front of the office, while Rashid chatted with the parking attendant. He explained to us that the attendant had been working in that job, in the hot sun, up until she was ready to deliver her baby a few months before. He asked her how the baby was. He seems to know just about everyone in this enormous city.

We followed Rashid through the obligatory metal detectors (they're everywhere here - even in restaurants). And then we weaved behind him through the labyrinth of buildings. We saw a square perimeter of buildings with a central courtyard and went through it to another and another just like it. And in each courtyard were masses of people all waiting for their forms of one kind or another. The passport office occupied just a little room in one of those perimeters; we waited in the courtyard while Rashid went to drop off our papers. Funnily enough, there was a makeshift tea bar in the little tent we waited in inside the courtyard. Tea is the Ugandan drink of choice -- that British influence -- and I even saw a jar of hardboiled eggs available on their counter.

Rashid rejoined us within a few minutes, and we headed for the restaurant we had spied out when we were at the lawyer's.

It was quite tasty.

From there, we went to the industrial part of Kampala, where Rashid left us all in the car so that he could pick up some things. It was um... a little warm. And a little awkward, as locals came up trying to talk to us through the open windows; one man was clearly drunk, with the nearly empty bottle still in his hand. W-- fell asleep on me, and as sweat dripped off his face and skull, it covered my chest with its dampness.

We dropped by a grocery store on our way back to the guest house for Scott to pick up Ugandan coffee to bring home. Scott started packing up his belongings, while we worked on getting W-- another nap. He didn't have enough "sleep juice" for a second one, but he rested for a while. We then got to Skype our kids back home, and hear their sweet little voices.

We've been a little strained at the guest house for the past week, as the owner of the house brought together a big group of people from around the world for an evangelism seminar and outreach. People have been coming and going by the dozens since the weekend, and with our room the central one attached to the dining room/group space, and our room being below their training room, it's been a little disruptive. We've needed to wait for lunches until 1:30ish and dinners until 7:30ish, which is challenging trying to get W-- to bed, only to be woken by the trainees by 6:00-6:30 in the morning.

So my last dinner with Scott was noisy and hurried. After the food, we asked the guest house manager, Fred, to explain to W-- in Luganda that his daddy was going on an airplane, and would be leaving. W-- gave no reaction. We assume he understood, though. As I put him to bed, instead of his very loud, outraged cry, he gave a soft, whimpering one. Scott and I wondered if it was his way of dealing with the news.

With W-- asleep, Scott and I had just a few minutes to hold each other on the couch in our room. "I'm gonna miss you," was our theme of the day. It was then suddenly time for him to leave. 9:00 pm. Mike wanted to pray with Scott before we left. He prayed for the vision Scott had for further orphan ministry to come to fruition. He said goodbyes to the other families. He said goodbye to me, as I wiped away tears.

I know it's just two weeks. In the almost twelve years we've been married, the longest we've been away from each other has been five days, so this feels long. Scott is my best friend. When he's away, I feel like I'm only part of me. I love his comfort, his steadiness, the safety and security he provides. But I'm also very glad he can return to care for Adrianna and Abel.

I'm gonna miss you, Scott. Thanks for being my dear husband and friend.

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 8, 2013

2013-05-09T13:38:00.003-06:00

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

The day felt like perhaps one of the longest since our arrival here. After breakfast, Scott and Mike saw Rashid outside, and went out to talk with him. He took them on a walk around the property. And then Mike came back to tell us that they were going to Kampala together. I was disappointed that Scott didn't come to talk to me about it, but I sent a water bottle and Trio bar for Mike to take to Scott as they headed to town.

W-- and Bridget played with play dough for a while, before W-- started getting nasty with her about not wanting to share his play knife. That should have been my first indication that a nap was necessary. By the time I got him into a nap a little later, he was screaming and fighting it. He did, finally, get some much needed sleep -- after many tears -- and woke up in time for lunch. After lunch, I was the tired one, and wondered just how I was going to keep the little guy entertained until Scott returned.

We watched an episode of "Jack's Big Music Show." We "read" books. But W-- doesn't quite get the reading a book concept. It's mostly flipping through them upside-down at this point. He made a game of bringing me the books, taking them away, organizing them in a stack... Anything to use up the time. :)

And then I pressed my luck to see if I could get him to take a second nap. By the grace of God, he did (as did I!), and he was awake in time to Skype Adrianna and Abel before Adrianna headed out to school.

After that, I again wondered what to do to occupy W--. These Ugandan children are quite brilliant at being content with very little entertainment, which is an enormous blessing. The things we have to play with are only the things we brought with us. So some days, it feels like we have gone through all of our toys within a few hours, and we three moms are left wondering what is next.

Thankfully, the three of us moms and our three kids went out onto the front patio, where the children played ball with each other (sending the moms fetching all the fly balls that went over the edge of the patio far down the hill) for the next couple of hours. By 6:30, the men came home, after having spent the day running errands around Kampala with Rashid. They explained that, because of traffic, it took them two hours to get back to the guest house from the city. Boy, were we glad to see them! And Lisa and I declared that whatever we were doing the next day, we wanted to go, too.

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 7, 2013

2013-05-09T13:17:00.001-06:00

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

After breakfast, Scott, Mike, W--, and I turned an extra bed into a couch and pulled out our laptop for viewing a couple episodes of Seinfeld. For a moment, life felt like we were in America again. :) Then we set out on a walk, with Mike's goal to see monkeys. We went past the same tree where Scott and I saw the monkeys before, and there they were, three of them showing off for the crazy people coming to see them. We continued walking farther than Scott and I had before, and ended up connecting up to the main "highway" we use to drive into the city. We were pretty sure we looked like some silly Americans as we hiked back along the highway to the turn off to the guest house, with "bota botas" (motorcycles) dodging around us as we went. We made it back to the house after our hour of meandering, with the men dripping sweat (they had taken turns carrying W--).

We returned to court at 2:30 for our court ruling. We waited in that same cheerless room as last week for couple hours, all of us feeling weary, but the children doing the best they could to play with each other, and the little "motorcars" we had with us. But how worth it it was when we were called back before the judge, and we heard him declare that W-- was now legally considered our child. My insides smiled. I carried that joy with me the rest of the day. W-- is now our child. We already knew it -- back from that first day we saw his picture -- but hearing the courts declaring it was a wonder. W--, now an official member of our family. Forever.

The icing on the cake, was playing with W-- before dinner. He'd bounce from his perch on the table into my arms, saying, "Momma! Ta ta!" (Luganda for 'daddy')

Galatians 4:3-7

When we were children, were in bondage under the elements of the world. But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying out, “Abba, Father!” Therefore you are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son, then an heir ofGod through Christ.

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 6, 2013

2013-05-08T03:05:00.001-06:00

Monday, May 6, 2013

We needed to return to IOM to have W--'s tuberculosis test on his arm read. We had a little hint of anxiety about the medical check up, with W--'s ankle still looking a little yucky. At 6:30 a.m., amidst the Ugandan downpour, we sloshed through the mud to Rashid's Land Rover. Scott, W--, Lisa, her daughter, and I all slid into the car, drenched and covered in mud. It was such a blessing, though, to arrive at IOM before the masses of others poured in. We were the first ones in the door, and even the receptionist and the staff were not yet in their places, though the door was unlocked.

The sweetest African doctor sat before us to check W--. "I'll need you to take his clothes off, and set him on the table," she directed. As we started to take his clothes off, he screamed. "That's fine," she said kindly, "He can leave his clothes on." We went to take him to the table. More screaming. "That's fine," she said. "I'll come to him." She squeezed in between her desk and the chairs where we waited, and set about examining him. He allowed her to listen to his heart and his lungs. She handled him gingerly, barely touching him, speaking soothing tones to his tender ears. We marvel that someone who sees scores of cases each day, in such a stressful environment, remains so patient and unaffected. What a sweet gift to all the patients who pass through there.

We were so quick in that trip, we returned to the guesthouse by 10:00, and were even able to get W-- an almost three-hour nap before lunch.

By the afternoon, Scott and I were ready to venture out on a little walk down the road. As we came back up towards the house, Scott remarked repeatedly about wanting to see a monkey, as I had the day before at Joy's house. And then W-- started squealing something that sounded like, "Uncle Sheema!" We looked where he pointed, and there was a monkey hopping about the road. As we got closer, he skittered into the nearest tree, where we snapped pictures of him. For us Americans, it's a special treat to see something in front of us that we only otherwise see in captivity.

Back in our room, W-- started exclaiming, "Daddy, dadd-dy!" in regards to Scott. We, of course, responded with great enthusiasm. W-- popped out all kinds of English words during the day, from, "Go potty," to ",We like it," to, "Okay." He is such a fluent Luganda speaker, that we know it's just a matter of time before he's an English chatterer. We'd love for him to retain his Luganda, but we have such limited ability to speak it with him.

Bedtime was painful, with W-- being so tired (even after that super nap!) that it took at least 30 minutes of crying to get him down. Two steps forward, one step back, but grace for the journey. Thanks be to God!

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 5, 2013

2013-05-06T12:51:00.001-06:00

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Most buildings in Uganda are made of the bricks from the beautiful red clay. Those vibrant red bricks contrast so beautifully with the lush green of the surroundings. Everywhere I turn in Uganda, it looks like a screen with the colors adjusted incorrectly -- there seems to be no way that the natural colors could be as alive as they are here.

Joy, Rashid's wife, blessed us by taking her church. There it was, in its red brick -- not entirely finished -- but so lovely in its natural essence. Sunlight filtering through the open bricks in the walls. Plastic, stackable chairs arrayed in semi-circle around the pulpit. The children's section full of little children on the right side.

The service felt like home, and spoken seamlessly with a speaker and translator, English then Luganda. Most of the songs were ones we knew, but with voices unlike those we know. The choir was made up of about ten women and men with the powerful, angelic voices of African timbre. And not the overpowering timbre so common to those we see in popular culture, but the pure, rich voices amplified be the cement and brick acoustics of the large auditorium.

The children's sermon was precious, with adults and children acting out the story of Elijah praying for rain after the three years he told the king it would not rain. And then the pastor transitioned into James 5:13-18, where we are given instructions on prayer and the example of Elijah's faithfulness. The pastor did a wonderful job exhorting on prayer and expanding on Elijah's faith. My heart burned within me to share of God's faithfulness in healing by back through prayer. We'll see if God wants to have that testimony shared in that arena.

After church, Joy took us to the "rich neighborhood" grocery store to buy supplies to help her make chocolate chip cookies. I enjoyed buying Ugandan tea, gelatin without corn syrup (for Adrianna!), and products for my African boys' hair that cost only $1-2, rather than the $10 we pay in the U.S.

That afternoon, we three American moms and our kids trekked from the guest house to Joy's house next door, and girl-talked as we instructed Joy on American cooking. Ugandans do not have measuring cups and spoons, so we did our best guesses to follow the recipe on the back of the Costco bag of chocolate chips.

What a pleasant afternoon, enjoying what felt like a genuine Ugandan experience, relaxing, fellowshipping, sharing tea (and American-style cookies), while watching our children play. We later allowed the dads to join us for the cookies, which they said did turn out well.

We asked Joy for a further check in on W--'s ankle. It is looking better, but the Band-Aids we've had to put on him to allow him to wear shoes without rubbing have not helped it. Joy's relative brought out little pink sandals for W-- to try, but one of the straps was worn out, so they would not stay on well. We asked Joy if she'd take us out shopping to look for some for him, as well as for some thread to use for the hair of Melissa's daughter.

As we went to the all purpose store above the "rich neighborhood" grocery store, W-- protested trying on shoes. He feared that it would hurt his ankle. I was richly blessed as Joy got down on the floor with W--, explaining to him in Luganda that we were looking for shoes for him that wouldn't hurt his foot, and that we would try it on his foot without the sore. She helped me look for probably 20 minutes, kindly, patiently. What warmth in my heart, for another to care so dearly about my son, to help with something that could easily have been overlooked.

Ironically, we found a pair of little brown moccasins that looked like they'd be comfortable on W--'s sore ankle. To buy a southwestern style shoe -- made in China -- at a store in Uganda seems like something to smile about. And probably says something about our very small world.

W-- fell asleep in the car in my lap on our way home. We got him a quick dinner and then W-- went to bed much more easily, with much less protest about getting ready for bed. (On Saturday, we had a toothbrush showdown, and had to wait for 45 minutes for him to be willing to brush his teeth without a tantrum.)

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 4, 2013

2013-05-06T11:52:00.003-06:00

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Mabel arrived at the guest house, soft-spoken, asking for the group wishing to tour the school. "Oh, that's us," I replied, and introduced her to the two other families finishing breakfast.

Rashid set us up with this sweet Ugandan lady for a tour of Mabel's primary school. After a seemingly endless trip with her through Kampala, with turn after turn through bumpy, muddy roads, we arrived at the Perfect Stars Primary School.

So far, it has only two classes of children, aged four through six, but Mabel hopes to expand it through the years. She sees it as her ministry, and doesn't turn away families who cannot afford the fees. She walks in faith, trusting God's provision to meet the needs of the children in her care.

She called them back to see us. The children had been released on "holiday" to return home for a school break, but after she heard of our coming, she notified the children to return to school -- on a Saturday, even -- that we might see them.

Mabel led them in adorable songs to greet us: "J is for Jesus. O is for others. Y-yi-yi-yi-yi is for you and you and you..." And one about greeting an elephant on the road, where we parents each got to be an "elephant" with one of the children.

The two school rooms were sparse, with a corner of scant supplies. But we saw such evidence of the teachers' hard work, in hand made phonics posters and painted walls.

After songs, Mabel asked us to share about God. I shared with the children how I came to know Jesus at the same young age they are. And Mike shared about Zacchaeus (whom they call Zach-ay-ew). And then, of course, we shared the song about Zacchaeus after they shared their own.

Mabel passed out coloring pages, and we were instructed to guide the children at each of our tables to color properly. The Ugandans take coloring (and all education) very seriously. Each child was to sit quietly, to color each part of his picture within the lines, and to use different colors. They even expected this of W--. If any section of the picture was left white, children were given an admonition to complete it. Mabel half-teasingly called Scott a "naughty boy" for adding hair to his Humpty Dumpty picture.

The children were dismissed to find their ways home, and Mabel invited us into her home next to the school rooms. She and her husband treated us with sodas and talked with us a little while, before we went home.

Much to our amusement, during the car ride, as I was repeating W--'s phrases about cars here and there and everywhere, Rashid's wife, Joy, told me I was speaking Chinese instead of Luganda. Apparently, when people here speak gibberish, that's what they call it. W-- also caused me an embarrassing moment, when, as I repeated him, Joy turned around quickly and talked with W-- in Luganda. We questioned what was going on, and Joy explained that he'd been saying, "Breast". That's the problem with having a two-year-old as my language teacher!

Joy also gave me a sweet insight about W--. With his sometimes frowning, standoffish demeanor, she said, "You know, some children have to get old before their time. He's had to, to get through so much loss in his life." She also explained that she helped him look through the photo book we had sent for him. She said he always asked, "But when are they coming for me??"

The beautiful thing was that we took that same little boy, who can look so uncertain, to the orphanage that afternoon. And what we saw was a whole different child. The little ones rushed to greet him, crying his name in excitement. The older girls quickly took him to carry him around. And then they set him down on the mat outside to talk with him. Later, when we went inside to share "sweeties" with the kids, W-- met up with his cohorts from former days, laughing, teasing, putting on a show for them. He was the child we had only seen glimpses of before.

And as we left, our hearts heavy with the weight of children longing for homes, that same little happy boy that we saw at the orphanage let us catch more and more glimpses of that hidden self. He was not sad that we left -- as we had feared he might be. As we drove away, the orphanage visit seemed to give him a more complete picture of his new life. He did want to be with us, and he started to understand that he could bring that comfort he felt there with him. Since then, W--'s allowed his eyes to light up when something tickles his funny bone. He had even let himself break out in giggles. He's allowed himself to get goofy and respond to tickles. Such a blessing of God's grace.

Scott and I felt the tugs of the little hearts left behind at the orphanage. Scott had one little child attach himself to him, following him, cuddling with him, giving him messages with his eyes. I had three claim my lap simultaneously before we led the kids in London Bridge, Ring Around the Rosie, etc.

We were blessed to know how happy W-- had been at the orphanage. And we were blessed that part of that happiness came back with him, and started breaking open the floodgates for more.

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 3

2013-05-04T14:35:00.002-06:00

Thursday, May 3, 2013

More than usual rain during the night lead to roads even muddier than usual. In one side road, there was even rushing water. W-- even pointed out the van window saying, "Amazi?!" the Luganda word for, "Water."

We're amazed by how much rain the beautiful red clay dirt that abounds in this country can hold. It's been raining almost every night, and by morning, usually ceases. The red clay roads tend to be wet in the mornings, and nearly dry by afternoon. Amazing for the amount of rainfall from the nights.

All three of us families trekked to the IOM for our children's medical clearances. W-- had to get a TB injection (with tears, of course), which will be checked on Monday. The IOM office was crazy-busy when we left, with all 30+ chairs filled, and extra people standing.

Ivan, the paperwork man for the orphanage, took us to a fun touristy coffee shop after IOM. W-- got mango juice, which he loved, and he fought me over holding it. With the enormous glass cup and straw, I knew he wasn't going to be able to handle it alone. He turned it into a tantrum, and I had to leave the restaurant with him. With a white woman standing outside a restaurant alone with a Ugandan boy, I sure got a lot of looks and comments from all the Ugandans walking past. The waitress felt so bad, she came out to talk to us, and offered to bring out a cup with a lid. She did so, and then told W-- to pull it together and sit nicely in the chair, because the restaurant had animals that would bite children who cried!

Rashid's wife, Joy, invited the moms to her weekly Bible study. One other mom, Melissa, and I attended, were made very welcome with popcorn and tea, and we enjoyed the study time. Melissa and I marveled at how the dynamics were so similar to American Bible studies, with some ladies getting off topic, some too shy to share, and so forth. It was endearing to hear their prayer requests, with one woman nervous about the final plans for her wedding in two weeks.

While we were gone, Scott took W-- to the school nurse (Rashid's sister), to check W--'s ankle. He's had a sore on it since we picked him up, but it's turned strange and oozy over the recent days. She cleaned it with peroxide and iodine (with more tears), which she asked us to continue using, and we're praying for his swift healing.

Here are some of Kampala's sights...

An unusual tree in the garden by our guest house

Our view from the dining room this morning

Kampala's stadium

Sugar cane for sale

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 2

2013-05-02T13:08:00.003-06:00

We started at 5:00 this morning, ready to leave by 6:00 for the American Embassy in Kampala. By 5:55, my stomach was so upset, I stepped outside, and got sick over the side of the porch railing. Ugh.

Thankfully, I felt so much better after that, I was ready to go by a few minutes after 6:00.

We dropped Rashid's kids off at the nice school in Kampala, as Rashid commented about the amazing lack of traffic. He gave us directions for what to do at the U.S. Embassy, and left us to do our American thing on our own.

We waited for maybe an hour, and then had to convince the officials to help us get into the office to get the one form we needed. They thought we should come back Monday. By God's grace, they finally agreed for us to come back at 2:30. That sounded a lot more reasonable.

We returned to Rashid, went to a coffee shop, and talked with him as he planned out our revised course of action. There are so many steps in this adoption process before we're allowed to take our child home. Each step is dependent upon the next. And each step can easily turn into more steps.

Rashid took us to get more passport photo copies for W--'s passport. We waited; the shop copied them. And then we looked at them. Wrong size. Redo. We waited; the pictures were correct. Whew. One little step down.

Rashid dropped us off to do some fun tourist shopping for an hour while he worked on... something else. I don't even know what it was. We enjoyed looking through the 50 little booths of catchy African goods. We got a little ripped off. We paid far more than we did in Ethiopia, but we came away with some fun goods: Ugandan soccer jerseys, a wooden "motorcar", children's clothes, a drum, and a dress for me. W-- was so cute, willingly going with us from shop to shop, answering every shop keeper's question of, "How are you?" with his, "I am fine!"

Rashid returned for us, and drove us to the passport office. We waited while he went in to do the paperwork. Then he returned us to the Embassy. This time, because we had an appointment, and knew who to ask for, we were seated in the cushy American lounge. Ah, the comfort! For an hour, we basked in the sweetness of home. Air conditioning. Comfortable chairs. Clean bathrooms. Cold water cooler. American television. Wow.

I don't think any of us realized how much we missed those American comforts until we had them again, even just for the brief time. They were sweet. (And W-- slept through it!)

After an hour, we received our one form. That was it. All that work for one form. And then W-- woke up, and in his dazed disorientation, tantrumed. Scott used our technique to help him calm down as he

And then Rashid took us to IOM (Institute of Medicine). We arrived just as a van full of Somali refugees did. Rashid instructed us to hurry from the car, so as not to be stuck behind them. We did so. Whew. We went up to the office, which was perfectly quiet. We wished we could have just been seen then, but if the children's TB tests are given on a Thursday, they would be ready to read on Sunday. So, we were told to come back tomorrow morning.

And so we continue the journey through bureaucracy. It's definitely worth it.

And W-- did his sleep resistance tonight, and then made into bed and was asleep within 45 minutes. Without any "freak out" crying. Sounds like improvement. Thanks be to God.

Ugandan Trip Journal, May 1

2013-05-02T12:00:00.001-06:00

Catching up from the last few days...

Monday, April 29

Trip to King's Palace.

Lunch at Chicken Royale and delicious chicken and "chips."

Resting afternoon at guest house.

Attempt to walk in the grass... covered in bugs.

Waiting for Mike and Melissa to return from court.

Tuesday, April 30

Long morning of waiting to be picked up for court...

Ride into city with van full of W's grandma and aunt and other family's birthmother.

Making it into courthouse by 2:00.

Waiting in room full of people (12 others, maybe?). Very hot to begin with... Imagine a five story building, being on the fourth floor in 80 degree weather, with no A/C, in a room full of people dressed in their court finery. A little warm. And then Rashid turned on the two fans for us and we stood by the windows, while W-- gave us a description of the city (especially focused on the cars and motorcycles), and we started feeling quite comfortable. We stayed in there for over two hours, before being called into the judge's room.

As we entered the judge's cambers, we saw two rows of seats to the right, one row to the left, and a gigantic judge's desk in the middle, with four people seated around it, all focused on the judge. The room was small, with two small fans pointed towards the judge. Time seemed to stand still while we seated ourselves with our children and their birth relatives in the double rows. W--'s face dripped with sweat. Horns honked below in the busy streets. Air hung heavy around our over-heated bodies. W-- sat up straight and silent in my lap, by the grace of God, knowing that he had to be incredibly still and quiet. As he sat, his eyes grew heavy. I gently tapped his side, and he fell instantly against me, asleep within seconds. Mercifully, he slept through the next hour and a half. The judge got on his "platform"... talking... my eyelids, too, grew weary. Just as I drifted off, W--'s grandmother instructed me to unbutton his shirt on his dripping body.

The other family with us was called first. Thirty minutes with their birth relative in question. Twenty minutes with the adoptive mother in question. And then our turn. Thirty minutes with W's birth relative, crying. And then W awoke and was called to sit with his birth relative. He was remarkably flexible in going between his former connection and his new. And then my turn to be called before the judge. This man only likes to question the adoptive moms. And so he questioned me. I cried in response to almost all of his questions. I think it showed I cared. I think he saw that.

We returned on an endless journey back to the guest house. Picking up food for the birth relative. Picking up medicine for one of the children. Picking up bananas. Dropping off the birth relative. Oh, the fatigue, after the emotions of that day. My muscles ached from the cramped hours of hot sitting. We cushy Americans are so unaccustomed to being uncomfortable.

Dragging myself up the hill to the guest house and then the front steps, I could barely hold myself together while W-- fell apart. He refused to go to sleep in his bed. Screaming relentlessly, hopelessly. After my inability to help him, Scott stepped in to calm him down. He sat down in the chair with the over-exhausted boy, who fell asleep within minutes.

I barely held my emotions in check as I climbed under the mosquito net to give into the longings for rest.

Wednesday, May 1

A very tricky day. W-- was using two-year-old tricks on us... He's been so frustrated with our lack of understanding his eloquent Luganda phrases. So he started tantruming when we asked him to do anything: go to the bathroom, put away his car, put away his book, take a shower, and especially, to go to sleep. We spent the day at the guest house, and it just seemed to irritate him.

By the grace of God, however, Scott and I learned an effective technique for him. If we forcefully tried to convince him to be obedient, it resulted in "freak out" crying. But, when he refused to go to the bathroom, I just stood in the bathroom waiting. Not making eye contact, not saying anything. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do. After five minutes, he came over, took my hand, and had me help him go to the bathroom. Success! When it came to nap time, we used the same technique to get him into bed. It took two hours. For two hours, he wandered around the room, trying to avoid the bed, but having nothing to do. After that time, he came over to the bed where Scott and I were resting, and climbed in. He put his little body, exhausted, between us, and was asleep within seconds. He took a great nap.

But by the evening, he was again frustrated with us. He refused to put his shoes on, until a Ugandan gave him directions to do so. Then his response was instant.

Rashid gave us a tour of the guest house property, with it's various fruit trees/plants (Jack fruit, passion fruit, papaya, avocado, etc.). This place is achingly lush, fertile, vibrant. Rashid tells us that you plant a tree, water it once, and then forget about it, and you have a productive plant within no time.

W-- started getting frustrated when, before dinner, we told him it was time for a shower. Scott asked him if he wanted to eat. Thankfully, he's learned that phrase, so he said, "E-yeah." Scott said, "You have to take a shower before you can eat." Amazingly, it made sense to him. No tantrum, just a calm shower.

By bedtime, we were back to the nap time pattern, but this time, he was asleep within an hour and a half. Ah, progress?

Ugandan Trip Journal, April 28

2013-04-28T13:55:00.001-06:00

Whew. Tired. Emotions. Feeling blessed. Feeling sad. Feeling the burdened for the hurting.

Flights went well, overall. We flew first to DC, where I got sick on the bumpy landing. Then from DC to Brussels, and then Brussels to Rwanda, and Rwanda to Uganda. We met the other two traveling families in Brussels, and had almost a couple of hours getting to know each other before boarding the plane. It's been such a blessing traveling with these two other couples, and having others to relate to who are undergoing the same swells of emotion. We flew the last three segments of our trip sitting behind an American woman moving to Uganda with her work for an NGO. She's lived in many parts of the world before; talking with her and seeing her carefree, flexible attitude toward world cultures was encouraging and enjoyable. From Brussels to Rwanda (eight + hours in the air), Scott and I finally got some much-needed rest... the kind where you just fall dead asleep, regardless of how kinked up your neck is from sleeping in the airplane seat.

And then, with nervous excitement, we three families disembarked, went so quickly and pleasantly through the visa process, and then waited for all of our luggage to arrive. By God's grace, all of our bags arrived in tact.

We moved towards the exit of the airport to find Rashid (the orphanage director) awaiting us with our children. Oh, the mix of emotions. I grabbed the camera as the other two families rushed for their children, knowing that they would probably like a few shots of their initial meeting. I am certain the photos were not ideal and that they truly did not capture the emotions, but at least there is a little record of the moment. And then Rashid looked up, and said, "W--'s family?" "Yes! That's us," we said as we rushed forward to our tiny waiting boy. I couldn't choke back the tears as I picked him up -- light as a feather -- and he clung to me. I'm sure he felt uncertain, overwhelmed, scared, but he let me love him, hold him as if my life depended on it. In that moment, it did.

I couldn't hold back the tears. My boy. The one I'd seen just a handful of pictures of since August. The one who God gave to us... chose for us... healed my back for, so that I could come to him. And as I finished those 36 hours of traveling -- SITing -- on the plane and then picking up my son without pain, I knew God had brought be to this place by His grace, by His miracle. And all those tears gushed in praise to my God, the One who gave these gifts... Who made it all possible.

We jammed our plethora of luggage, and ourselves, and our new children into Rashid's van, and headed through the darkened streets of Entebbe and Kampala to our guest house. Rashid gave us some instructions, we ate a very late dinner, and by 1:30 a.m., Scott and I headed for bed, with the knowledge that breakfast was at 7:30, so that we could leave for Rashid's church service at 8:15.

While Scott and I tried to make sense of our luggage, sweet little W-- lay in his bed, under his mosquito netting, trying restlessly, silently to get some sleep. How wrenching it is to watch a saddened child -- my saddened child -- knowing that I can't truly comfort him, because he does not yet trust me, and knowing that I am the reason for his sadness, him having been removed from everything he knew to come to me.

We slept well, awoke early to prepare for church. We breakfasted. Little W-- has been eating quite a lot; four servings for breakfast.

We bumped along the back roads for a hour and a half, blazing our way to Rashid's little congregation, and picking up a couple of his co-workers along the way. Rashid gave us a brief tour of the property, where the church, school, and farm reside. As Rashid explained, the offering is but a few dollars weekly, so he, as a pastor, must get creative for funding. That little property, with the school children helping, is growing coffee and green beans, and other crops to help pay for the expenses. Rashid's vision is to expand to a secondary school and health clinic, as well. What a sight, to behold a man with a vision for glorifying God in his community, with the passions God has bestowed upon him.

Melissa, one of the other adoptive moms, and I helped teach the Sunday school class for children. The sweet children stood while we talked, because there were not enough chairs, and the partially finished building has just mud floors. Twenty-plus kids, from ages three to twelve, the children waited patiently, listened attentively, answered questions kindly.

And I took a minute to tell them how they were part of my childhood dream to be in a classroom of African children, and how they blessed me.

I also got a few minutes to tell them of God's healing in my back, to bring me to that place where I could come to see them. How I long for Uganda to know the God who hears our prayers.

Oh, how many more things to pray for. Seeing them, their alive and alert eyes. Longing for God to bring them to salvation, use them as vessels for His glory.

Scott, too, was asked by Rashid to give a testimony with the whole congregation. He shared lovingly of God's healing in my back as part of our adoption journey. The congregants clap at each section where God gets the glory. What a poignant tradition.

And then for the wrenching... The part I wonder how to write about. How can words even describe, when my emotions do not fully comprehend?

We left that small, outdoor congregation that met among the shade of the coffee trees. And we went to where Rashid had told us we would go. To a "hospital", where one of the moms who gave her child to Rashid for adoption last year... was dying of AIDS. After bouncing around on back roads, and Rashid asking countless people for directions, we came to an unmarked shack.

Children played happily out front, smiling and waving to us. And there they were, just mere feet away... from immanent death.

Rashid took us inside. He spoke to M-- and the man keeping her company. This "hospital", more like a one-room clinic, with a few shelves of pathetic medical provisions was partitioned-off to squeeze a partial bed behind a screen. And there, in the stuffy, cramped room, we met the woman. Dying of AIDS. Dying from a disease that is now essentially curable in our country. She was probably just days from death's door.

And we greeted her.

What words do you use for a woman about to die?

And I was overwhelmed with knowing that only God could do something. This God who healed something as seemingly insignificant as my back pain could heal her, if He chose to. And oh, how I wanted to pray.

And then Rashid looked up, and said, "Who would like to pray for M--?"

"Pray? Oh, I would!" I heard myself answer.

I poured out my heart to sweet Jesus, resting my hand on M--'s foot, as Rashid translated, so that M-- could understand what was being plead on her behalf. "Oh, Jesus, we long that You would heal." And I went on. Then I was so choked by my tears, by desire for this woman's life, and I asked someone else to go on. Melissa's husband, Mike, stepped up to continue.

How weak my faith felt, as we walked away. I long for this woman's healing. Jesus can heal her, if He chooses. But was my faith strong enough to believe that He would?

We had another two hours struggling along in the back roads on the way back to the guest house for me to wrestle with that, praying again, for more faith. Praying for the woman I do not know, but who is now the symbol to me of the millions of people in Africa dying of AIDs.

For the rest of that trip, W-- patiently tried to teach me the names of animals and vehicles in Luganda. What a joy to our van full, as in one quiet moment, we heard him say so clearly, "Hey! A motorcar!" And as I tried to repeat his Luganda words, I think he realized I was trying to learn his language, and he became an attentive teacher. He taught me words for cow, goat, bicycle, motorcycle, car, horn... I surely don't remember them all, and I think I quite butcher them, but for now, he's learning that I'm willing.. and that I'm trying.

We had moments of sheer joy with him, as he came to us with arms up so willingly, laughing with us every time the guest house cow moos. But we had moments of sheer sadness, as we'd play with him, and he'd suddenly stop to realize we were not his comfort, his familiarity. And he would break down in choked sobs, trying so hard not to cry, but feeling such desperation to feel at home. He's press his little palms upon his eyes, trying to force away the tears.

Bed time was the same, as well, with him seeing his bed as the complete representation of all that was cold and unfamiliar. He did, at last, fall asleep in my arms twice, but only after the forcing away of gut-wrenching tears.

And so here I write, my tired husband sleeping on one side, my newest son, sleeping across the room. God has blessed us beyond measure. I've seen His hand so lovingly upon our journey thus far. I look forward to resting in His peace as I pray for M-- as I drift off to sleep. Oh, that You would heal her, Lord.

Prayer for our journey

2013-04-25T13:25:00.002-06:00

If you'd like to join with us in prayer for our journey to our child, here are some of the things we're asking our Heavenly Father for...

- Safe travels: Scott and I are leaving for Uganda, to pick up our son W-- (we are not at liberty to post his name yet). Scott will be returning early to care for Adrianna and Abel. And W-- and I will be returning, Lord-willing, after a month.

- Favorable court date: A couple of days after our arrival, Scott and I will be going to court in Uganda, where the judge will determine whether we are allowed to be W--'s parents. He does not have to say, "Yes," so we pray for God's favor and grace.

- Adrianna and Abel: They will be staying with my in-laws while we are away, and we are asking for God's peace upon their hearts as they wait.

- For W--'s transition to our care: W-- will greet us at the airport, and will remain in our care thereafter. We are asking for God's grace for a smooth transition, as he may not know much English, and probably does not fully understand that we will be his parents. We ask for God's grace in the bonding/attachment process that occurs as he develops feelings of trust for us, and for grace for us as Scott and I learn to parent him.

- For friendships with the other two families traveling from New Mexico with us: We will be spending many hours in companionship with these families, and we long to be an encouragement and support to each another.

- For health: We ask for God's protection from illnesses and for me to not get motion sickness during travel.

- To be God's light in Uganda: We have potential opportunities to share of God's grace among the peoples in Uganda, and we long to do so faithfully and in the power of the Holy Spirit.

Praise be to God for His adoption of us into His family!

God's gifts from getting ready

2013-04-25T13:15:00.000-06:00

Some photos to catch up on from the last couple of months...

- Abel and his buddy going on wild jeep rides

- Celebrating Abel's fourth birthday with his best buddy

... And the hidden cauliflower cake not going over as well the second time as it did the first!

- Doing Compassion International's One Meal One Day fund raiser, where the proceeds went to their Ethiopia program

- Abel's fun slide times at the park

- Celebrating Easter

... And continuing our "Resurrection Bread" tradition (cutting out a hole in the bread, to make it like an empty tomb)

- Abel's Play Doh fun with his present from Miss Mandy

- Adrianna enjoying her school's "mileage club", where the kids walk around the school track before school; she's made it up to 10 miles so far

- Packing for W-- at long last!!!!!!!!

God's gifts from the date we've been waiting for

2013-04-08T22:15:00.001-06:00

Ahhh. It came. It really and finally came. We received our court date today! We'll be leaving before too long to meet our third child in Uganda. Anticipating the date, I did most of our packing last week. And so, we're almost ready. Yippeee!

Thank You, Father.