Ethiopia Day #5

Before I launch into today's list of events and milestones, let me just take a few lines to rave about my husband.

Aside from being the kindest and most compassionate man you'll ever meet, he's also (no kidding) the world's best parent. It's so deeply ingrained in him that he doesn't even realize it, but he has mad parenting skills - mad skills with any kids, for that matter. He's confident in his ability to connect with his children (something I so wish I had) and endlessly creative and resourceful when spending time with Daniel or Violet. He's a marvel to watch, and I'm grateful for such a great resource to learn from.

I have been enjoying watching him approach this new challenge with patience and excitement - and watching him enjoy MY bond with Violet only further elevates him in my eyes. He is amazing, and I'm lucky to have him.

Violet woke up happy and playful this morning, thrilled to see us and wrestle with us in our pajamas before breakfast. She has so much more personality than I was expecting - she's just a ball to be around.

Today was our appointment at the US Embassy where we had to pass three security check points and one interview to get approval for Violet's visa. We dressed up for the occasion and once we were in the waiting area, Violet stole the show - everyone kept telling us how beautiful she was - including adoptive parents of other kids. She really is something special.

But first, we had a few quick near run-ins with the law. Fernando handed the security officer his passport, forgetting that he had tucked a $100 dollar bill in there for emergencies. It took him a minute to explain that it was NOT a bribe. Then he handed him my passport... with another $100 bill inside. The guard was laughing too by this point. He stopped laughing when we set off the security alarms and they had to search our bags. (You are not allowed to take in cameras or cell phones - and we had neither thing - which is why there are no photos of this part!). But we DID have a toy cell phone for Violet that set off the alarms. So her red plastic phone was solemnly placed in the grid of "confiscated phones" on the wall behind the scanning equipment. It was hard not to laugh!

The interview was easy - very straightforward. The actual appointment took place inside a room that looked like a bank, or maybe the DMV. We walked up to a window when our name was called. They asked about her history, and our intentions regarding the adoption - did we understand that this was full and final? (Easiest question we've had during the whole process.) They handed us the visa packet and that was that. Mercifully, Violet waited until moments AFTER the interview was done to load up her diaper with a doozie job that would have knocked out the entire room.

On the drive home from the embassy, we passed through some of the poorest parts of the city. Housing that was no more than a niche in the wall... layered twenty niches deep. Extreme poverty surrounded us and all I could do was hold Mari closer, my heart simply relieved that my daughter would never have to walk barefoot through the sewage. The unemployment rate is over 75% in Ethiopia and an abandoned orphan without any way to get an education would not have a chance at that 25%.

After we got home, we grabbed a quick lunch and nap, and then headed off towards Acacia Village, our agency's mission site. It's a big plot of land with one building under construction and many more on the way. The vision is amazing - to house orphans, yes, but also to serve as a hub for local mission and outreach. To provide prenatal and family services to those who are able to keep their family together. To house missionaries when they visit to ease the cost of doing international mission work.

We toured the facility, marveling at the amount of work done without construction equipment. The stick scaffolding surrounded us, as did workers carrying buckets and bins of dirt, by hand, up multiple flights of stairs. Some painting had already begun and the cheerful hearts and colors contrasted with the construction still underway.

On the drive home I hopped in the front seat to shoot some more scenery photos out the window - we had driven out of the city, into the country. The rolling green hills are simply amazing and we could see more traditional Ethiopian huts mixed in with other homes. Kids walked home in their school uniform, cheerfully waving at us as we went by.

Back at home, we enjoyed a few more lazy hours with our beautiful girl. Her personality is emerging more every hour. She's fiesty. Playful. Inquisitive. She loves laughing hard and playing hard. She smacks things (including us) when she's happy with them. It's like layers are peeling away - layers of defense mechanisms and being on guard - and her shyness and uncertainty has almost disappeared completely.

I love how she...

Wrinkles her nose when she smiles big.

Sings to any and every song.

Loves "clap clap clap your hands"!

Doesn't quite close her eyes when she falls asleep.

Attacks us affectionately - a sweet tiger.

Is learning to kiss, and make the kiss noise.

Eats like she's on a mission - almost anything!

Imitates any noise Fernando makes - she's good.

She had her first bath with us tonight - she's so tiny and dark in that big white tub. This was the first time I really noticed exactly how thin she is. It's not just "cute and petite" - she has ribs, collar bone and spinal bones sticking out everywhere. Her stomach is definitely distended in the bad way, and her limbs are just nothing and so weak. It's heartbreaking yet amazing given the amount of energy she has. She wanted out of the tub until she figured out how to splash - then it got fun (and really wet for those of us sitting on the edge of the tub to help)!

A lot of her behaviors make sense in the light of group living - especially tantrums when food is taken away or when she can't get to a toy she wants. She cries hard and fast when something is taken away, and seems to be very acclimated to being pacified with either bottles or toys. She is definitely not used to NOT having her way. In a strange way, I think she's been neglected AND spoiled at the same time. And she does not like being laid on her back to have her diaper changed - it takes both of us to hold her down to change her! Our sweet little 16 pound pitbull!

Tomorrow we are just hanging out here at the guest house doing nothing but relaxing and spending every waking minute gazing into Violet's big brown eyes! I can't wait.

Ethiopia Day #4 - Part 2

There's just too much goodness for only one Day #4 post. Here's round two.

We got back to the guest home in time for lunch, where Violet happily sat in a high chair between us, eating everything in sight. They weren't kidding about the appetite bit. She ate carrots, green beans, rice and a good portion of my banana yogurt smoothie. She even nodded "yes" towards it when I asked if she wanted more.

After lunch, she loaded up an insane diaper (something told us that the poop insanity was only beginning, with the change of formula and diet), took a bottle, and crashed for a nap in the pack 'n play. We rocked her to sleep... a dramatic change from the way we helped Daniel sleep... but a welcome sweetness in our new regime of attachment parenting. She slept well, not waking to the noisy street out our window or to the sound of our conversation. And Fernando and I spent the better part of that nap just watching her sleep.

We expected her to wake up crying and disoriented. As she started to stir, we leaned over the crib to watch her... she slowly opened her eyes... focused on each of us for a minute... then broke into the biggest grin we had seen yet. And the rest of the afternoon was amazing. With each passing hour she relaxed more and by the evening, we had a positively gurgling, babbling, playful, laughing, silly, affectionate and 100% different child than we had met that morning. It's amazing what 8 hours can do.

We both held her and played with her, but already she started showing strong attachments to me (which is apparently very common with kiddos who most likely have not seen many males in their life). Especially when she's hungry or tired, she wants her mama.

There are not words to express the joy I feel in her attachment to me. When I come into view, her face displays happiness and relief. She chooses me over anyone in the room, Ethiopian or otherwise. The connection is already strong and there is no question that she's responding to me as her mother. And I already feel like her mother - maybe the bonding feels more natural since I already have a child - or because I understand that bonding is a long process, not a quick instance.

She has been our daughter legally for weeks, but it's truly a relief to meet her and find out how much it already FEELS like it.

Here are some of our first observations of our sweet Violet, and the condition she was in when we first met.

- Her smile melts the room - three teeth in, the fourth about to break through. Consequently she drools like a crazy woman.

- She crawls a pace or two at a time, then has to rest. She pulls to a stand, but can only take steps if holding on with both hands. And she only walks sideways.

- Her legs and arms are much longer than I expected... but there is no muscle tone... they are tiny and you can feel through to the bone.

- There are deep sores/cracked skin under her nose.

- She says "da da da" and the more relaxed she gets, the louder she gets!

- Her toes, fingers and feet are all long and narrow - so delicate.

- She claps in perfect rhythm to whatever song we sing - and drums her hands on things.

- She sleeps on us easily, and is a very heavy sleeper, but tosses and turns quite a bit. Definitely sucks her thumb to self-soothe.

- Her hair is very curly - a whole headful of tiny perfect ringlets.

- We tried to give her a pacifier, but she doesn't understand it. She just blows bubbles on it.

- She loves mirrors, toys and especially the cardboard packaging the toys came in.

I could go on and on. But I know we'll get to know each other so much more in the days to come. Tomorrow is our Embassy appointment - another very important day in our lives. If all goes well, she'll be granted a visa with which she can leave the country.

This whole journey has been a long string of little and big events, and today was one of the big ones. The biggest. She's with us now.

Ethiopia Day #4 - Part 1

Today is the day that will change our world forever. And each and every butterfly in my stomach is fully aware of that fact.

I had trouble sleeping - I laid awake from about 4am until the sun rose. Fernando and I laid in bed watching... ironically, "The Blind Side" on his iPod to pass the time and keep our minds occupied. The nerves are unlike anything I have ever experienced before - wedding, childbirth, new jobs... nothing holds a candle to this. I kept thinking I would actually throw up. The anxiety was unbelievable.

But one verse kept coming to mind: Romans 8:15. God has not given us a spirit of fear... but of adoption. This is what we were made to do. To love people and create families that supercede genetic and cultural borders. To open our homes and hearts. Even through the dance of the killer butterflies, this feels right.

We sat with Kim & Eric, our new friends, telling random stories to keep our minds off the nerves until 10am finally came. The drive felt endless and as we pulled up to the foster home, we had our game plan ready: Since there were two families meeting their kids, we each would videotape/photograph the other. The other family was going to go first, so we assumed our posts with the cameras, and I looked up to the window and saw... my daughter. She was being carried by a nanny who was pointing to me and telling her "It's mommy". Mari's face was blank (as expected) but I recognized her immediately... those striking eyes and lips... so incredibly beautiful.

After our friends had met their daughter, we met ours. Helen brought her to us, and held her while we let her see us and relax a little. She wore a pink and white striped onesie, a denim jumper, old white shoes and santa claus socks. I took her in my arms and she was quiet for a minute, then started crying. But as soon as I started whispering in her ear ("Isoche, Mari" means "It's ok, Mari"), she became very quiet, and leaned against my chest. With both Fernando and me, she let us hug her close, but if she saw our faces, she began crying again.

Honestly, hokey as this might sound, I believe she recognized our love, just not our faces.

During that first hour, we witnessed a huge transformation in her personality. At first she was just quiet. She sucked her thumb and leaned on us, falling in and out of sleep. She didn't cry after those first few minutes, but her eyebrows remained furrowed - she appeared quietly concerned. As she warmed to us, she quickly began smiling and even laughing a little. She loves to be rough-housed, so we tickled her, squeezed her tight, kissed all over her face and she just melted. The bond begins.

We got to see where she had been staying - it was clean and brightly colored, just extremely limited on space. We got the distinct impression that she spent most of her time in either her crib or a (very) small crawling space.

We spoke with the nurses to get a quick medical rundown. They told us she was healthy, but had just gotten over thrush, a lip fungus and an upper respiratory infection (that she still had, from what I could tell). She apparently has a great appetite, takes six bottles a day, and already eats table food. They also said she rocks on her hands and knees to fall asleep.

The agency put on a coffee ceremony for our families, and while we sat in the shade, Violet ate her first snack with Daddy - Gerber puffs. But she tried to get to a cup of coffee instead. She played a little with Helen - there definitely was a special bond between them, but the transition didn't feel painful or awkward like I expected. In fact, all the nannies and nurses seemed to have a special thing for Violet - I got the feeling she might have been "a favorite" - they all kept saying what a happy, sweet, playful baby she is. I know we'll see that side of her soon!

Helen cut off her ankle identification band and I was surprised at the swell of emotion I felt at such a simple action. She was no longer identified by that little tag - she would now be identified with and by us, as a permanent part of our family. Even though she's already legally ours, it felt like her status as "orphan" was lifted once and for all with that little plastic bracelet. The freedom in that little "snip" was amazing.

We asked everyone what they were calling her... if "Mariam" had been her nickname, we would have kept that as a name. But we were surprised at the answers - everyone called her something different. Some called her Mar, some Mari, some Maramawit, some Mariamawit, some Mariam, some Marawhite, and some other variations. It was quickly evident that she didn't know her name - just the sound of familiar voices. By the day's end, she responded as well to Violet as any of her nicknames. So, Violet Mariam it is. But we'll keep Mari as a nickname... there's something tender about the connection with that name.

The nanny we had first seen holding her came out to pray with her before we left... she took both kids in her arms and prayed a long, emotional prayer. The combination of the furvancy of prayer with Amharic (an energetic language, to say the least) was crazy... but Mari slept sweetly on her shoulder during the entire (loud) prayer.

We headed home, with a sleeping baby in our arms, ready for an afternoon with our sweet, perfect new daughter.

The butterflies had finally gone... and our family was finally complete.

Ethiopia Day #3

Holy COW today was exhausting. But wonderful.

We took today to see the capital city, as once we have our daughter with us, we won't be traveling around outside of the guest home. It was hard to delay meeting her by one day (especially since we're SO close now) but in retrospect, I'm so glad we made that choice.

The excitement built throughout the day as an awesome dude named Yoseph took us all around the city. We shopped like mad, visited the National Museum, found the best coffee in the city, went to the leprosy hospital (fascinating that leprosy is still considered a curse in Ethiopia), drove the city for hours (with windows down and cameras working overtime), and had an amazing Ethiopian meal - who would have guessed Ethiopian food tastes better in Ethiopia. (Ginger - guess what - the injera is SUPPOSED to be cold... just much, much better tasting!)

The city actually feels like a combination of Mexico City and Chincha Baja, Peru. The colors, the smells, the overall feel - it is so hard to get our brains around the fact that we are in AFRICA. We saw presidential palaces and the poorest of slums. We saw entire skyscrapers covered with scaffolding made of twigs and sticks. The enormity of the poverty is overwhelming because of the sheer volume - the conditions (while dismal) are better than what I have seen in Haiti, and about the same as Peru.

The streets are packed with people on all socio-economic levels - the amount of life is breathtaking. Fernando said today, "Yoseph told us that there are 7 million people in Addis Ababa - I think I saw them all today!"

On a side note... it's interesting to NOT speak the language. Typically we have traveled to places where we do speak the native language and this was definitely different. We both felt a little left out - ostracized and vulnerable. Amharic is beautiful but complicated. It sounds like an Eastern version of Spanish with extra sounds - clicks and breaths. Written, it is purely symbolic and indecipherable to our (sorely) untrained eyes. On the up side, we could speak Spanish to each other and no one understood a word!

We picked up some special gifts for our daughter, one for each birthday and a special one for her wedding and first child. We found jewelry, dresses, wraps, toys, and lots more... it was so fun to shop for her in HER country and imagine the significance it will all have later. Of course we want to bring her back to Ethiopia at least once, but in the meantime these gifts will be something tangible to tell her story.

At the end of day three, at our guest home awaiting our 10 am meeting with our daughter in the morning, butterflies are in full force. She has no way of knowing that tonight is her last night away from us.

We are mere hours away...

Ethiopia Day #2

We woke up on the second day of our journey mid-Atlantic towards Amsterdam. Landing there was so serene... the sunrise cast purple and pink tones over the city... rivers everywhere... lazy smoke stacks... everything was green and lush. Beyond picturesque.

The airport is by far the coolest one I've seen - like a giant IKEA. We walked into the food court area and Fernando said, "Oh I get it - they aren't trying to be cool - they just are."

We wandered around, found a snack, contemplated getting Mikki a pink bowling bag that said "Amsterdam" and practiced lots of variations of our new favorite word game: We're in Amsterdam I need to find a bathroom. :) Say it out loud a few times. You'll get it.

After two white planes, we boarded a big blue one. Daniel would be so happy. Sitting in the seat in front of me was the sweetest Ethiopian girl ever - she was three, and kept turning around to smile at us, and play little games. It was such a beautiful reminder of the purpose of our journey.

Eight hours later, we landed in Khartoum, in the Sudan. We had to stay onboard while they refueled and picked up some additional passengers.

Arriving in the Sudan was the exact opposite experience as the morning arrival in Amsterdam. The city was brown and white with only an occasional sea foam green military looking building. The landscape was a drab sprawl of rectangular, utilitarian buildings - the oppression was palpable.

It was 104 degrees outside... which should have made me appreciate that during our ninety minute wait, the temperature inside the plane cabin only reached 95 degrees. But it was miserable. Babies were crying and everyone started to get panicky. It was hard to breathe - we used baby wipes to keep our faces cool. Only an hour from Addis Ababa, that wait was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life.

But eventually, the air came back on, and we took off again. And just before midnight, we landed in Addis. We flew through the visa line, exchanged money, grabbed our baggage, and went through security (for what felt like the 15th time since we had left Phoenix).

We were greeted by Zerihun ("Z") along with the director of Acacia Village, our agency's mission site. We met Kim & Eric - a couple who was also adopting a little girl, and staying at the same guest home as we were.

And with the introductions behind us, we opened the door and took our first steps outdoors in Ethiopia. The night was beautiful - the surrounding mountains were dusted with lights. The flowers were blooming and we were enveloped with the sweet smell that always seems to mix with the stench of poverty. But that night, it was only sweet.

The drive to the guest home was in the dark of night, at in that light, we could have been anywhere - Peru, Haiti, or anywhere in Central/South America. We arrived at the guest home to a room that was small but comfortable.

Tomorrow we'll see the city that was our daughter's first home. Tonight, we ended the day by standing on the patio, hugging, and repeating variations of "I cannot believe we are finally here" and "She's out there somewhere..."

Ethiopia Day #1

Today is the day. Phoenix to Detroit, Detroit to Amsterdam.

This morning my eyes opened slowly... lazily. Today is the day. The birds are singing... the sun is shining... wait... why is the SUN SHINING!?! We were supposed to leave for the airport well before sunrise.

We overslept. And I swear you have NEVER seen two people move faster as we threw together what was left to be packed and hurtled our sleepy little selves down the interstate.

We were nervous every mile of the drive. I couldn't stop thinking about her sweet face, and how happy she looked in some of the photos we'd seen. I knew she wouldn't smile at me at first, but seeing the "lack of recognition" blank stare on her face would be hard to stomach. We are strangers to her... but she is already a daughter to us.

Having to watch her say goodbye to her care givers is another worry. They are the ones who love her now, and we will be taking her away from that. My heart is breaking already.

But God says not to worry. Philippians 4:6-7. Instead, pray. So...

Jesus - Be with our daughter now. Prepare her heart for us... open her eyes to see our faces and to know our hearts already. Be in every second of the transition - every single one. We trust you with her heart and with ours. "God knows how much I love you and long for you..." Phil 1:8. You know how much we love her already. Amen.

Phoenix to Detroit felt like a long flight for only being 4 hours. The layover was quick, and from Detroit's gate A40, we left the country. We wouldn't be back without our sweet, new daughter. Here we go!

The Itinerary

We leave for the airport in 63 hours. Not that I'm counting.

For those of you who have asked, here is the lay of the land for next week.

Monday, April 5

KLM/Delta 4645: Phoenix 9:30 a.m - Detroit 4:35 p.m. (4 hour flight)

KLM/Delta 6042: Detroit 5:40 p.m. - Amsterdam 7:35 a.m. (8 hour flight)

Tuesday, April 6

KLM 543: Amsterdam 10:35 a.m. - Addis Ababa 9:05 p.m. (9 1/2 hour flight)

The time difference, by the way, is 10 hours (10 hours later in Ethiopia than it is here, Arizona time). You can see your time difference here. So when we land in Addis at 9 p.m., it's actually 11 a.m. our time... we'll attempt to sleep through our day, and stay awake during our night.

While we are in Ethiopia, we'll be staying at the Ethiopian Guest Home and we'll have our US Embassy appointment on Friday, April 9th. We have met (via email) a few other families who will be traveling the same time we will be, so it will be fun to have friends while we're in Addis :) We have also contacted a missionary who lives there and has agreed to show us around the city! God is pulling together all the details so quickly.

On the way home, here is the schedule:

Tuesday, April 13

KLM 543: Addis Ababa 10:50 p.m. - Amsterdam 5:45 a.m. (8 hour flight)

Wednesday, April 14

KLM/Delta 6059: Amsterdam 10:20 a.m. - Minneapolis 12:20 p.m. (9 hours)

KLM/Delta 8720: Minneapolis 2:15 p.m. - Phoenix 3:35 p.m. (3 1/2 hours)

Thanks in advance for all the prayers! We cannot breathe we're so excited... the house is full of piles of clothes, suitcases, formula packs, blankets, (and other not so exciting things like dirty dishes and a cat box that needs to be cleaned!)

Just a few more days and we're on our way.

Pink Pink Pink

Today the world smelled like flowers. Partly because that is just what happens in Phoenix every year about this time, but mostly because I am about to have a daughter. Everything is different now.

Tonight I bought a shopping cart full of tiny, flowered, pink, purple, polka dotted, ruffled outfits for a tiny, sweet little girl. I brought a measuring tape, to compare the agency's measurements with actual clothing... turns out she's smaller than I was imagining. 16 pounds, 26 inches tall, 4.5 inch feet.

My heart kept racing. Throughout today and this evening it has sunk in even more: This is real. At this time next week, we'll be waking up together in Ethiopia, on our second day of having known each other. I wonder what we'll look like to her... smell like... I wonder if even on the second day there will be more familiarity and comfort than on day one. I wonder how she'll look at us.

And I wonder how we're going to get all those clothes to fit in her closet.

New Life

Spring is in full force here in Phoenix. New life all around... Easter in a few days... Flowers blooming... Birds singing... Airplanes leaving to Ethiopia...

... with us on them!

We leave THIS coming Monday, April 5th at 9:30 a.m.! As in "six days from now". Here are a few understatements: Insane. Crazy. Short notice. Breathtaking (literally).

After we got "the call", we ran around in circles in the living room trying to figure out our next step. Fernando said "pancakes"... which is a great next step, no matter the situation. We loaded up and went to IHOP where we made giant "to do" lists while eating breakfast.

It's already been a whirlwind... but we could not be more excited. Flights are booked, paperwork is prepared, and the massive shopping/packing project begins tonight.

Wheeee!!

Our Beautiful Baby

Today, we received the best present ever - more photos of our daughter! She has been moved to a foster facility in Addis Ababa, to wait for a few more legal documents and then for our trip to meet her.

I cannot believe how much she is changing... she is already sitting, crawling and even pulling to a stand. Her smile is heart-melting. She has already received her first haircut. We cannot wait to meet her, face to face.

Enjoy the photos!

Your Name

Violet Mariam Amaro, your names are special.

Mariam is part of your birth name. It represents your birthplace and your roots in Africa. The name given to you in Ethiopia was: "Mariamawit". When we first saw pictures of you (when you were only four months old!), we fell in love with your beautiful face, your big eyes, your crazy patch of curly hair, and your personality - yes, even from pictures it was obvious that you were energetic, fun and curious about the world around you. Over the next few months, we called you Mariam. On one of your doctor's notes from Ethiopia, your name was spelled "Maryamwit" and on your birth certificate it is spelled "Maramawit". Your name means both "Star of the Sea" and "Gift of Mary".

Violet is a name your father and I gave you as our gift to you. In the Bible, God sometimes gives people new names to represent a promise He made to them, or a fresh start in their life. We wanted to give you a beautiful, new name to represents our love, the promise of a new life, and your unshakable place in our family. As we memorized every feature in those first few photos, we saw you in two ways: From some angles, you were a sweet, precious baby - innocent and pure. From other angles, we could already see a foreshadow of the "grown up" you - strikingly beautiful, sophisticated, confident and strong. We worked very hard to select a name that would suit all sides of you - sweet, but strong. Like the African Violet plant. Like you, it's delicate, but fiercely strong when it's taken care of properly. Like you, it is velvety... looks best in rich purple... soft to the touch... colorful... cheerful. And, like you, it handles transition with grace. (It is technically called "Saintpaulia" - aren't you glad we didn't name you that?!)

Amaro is our family's last name. It originally comes from Italy, but spent a very long time in Mexico before it was brought to the United States by your great grandfather. My last name used to be Lawler, which is a name that comes from Ireland, like a lot of my family. When I married your dad, I chose to wear his name instead of mine - we became one family. Someday you might choose to wear your husband's name instead of "Amaro" - that is your choice to make. (But in the meantime, having a name that starts with "A" means you'll always get to be at the front of the line in school!) The Amaros and the Lawlers are strong families with beautiful histories full of love, really funny stories and most importantly, a passion for loving and serving Jesus.

Your names represent your past and your future, the many people who have loved you, and your identity as a child of God. Wear them proudly - they tell your story.

And when life gets confusing, they will remind you of who you are.

She's Ours!

Last night, sometime in the middle of the night, somewhere in a court room in Ethiopia, our case passed. We officially have a daughter! Baby Violet will be 9 months old next week, and we'll be able to travel to get her in approximately 8 weeks.

We are still trying to adjust our brains from the "She might be ours" to the "She's legally an Amaro!" status, which is harder than I expected! After so many, many months of guarding our hearts... our family just grew by one. God is so faithful... and His timing is perfect in every way.

Last night, however, we slept horribly. The house was full of unrest all night... even Daniel seemingly sensed it and was awake every hour or so, crying. After a "false alarm" at our last court date, we were prepared for bad news in the morning.

I woke up early to check email and my phone. All I found was a "no news yet" email and no missed calls. Two hours slowly crept by, with new emails popping up from various sources and stopping my heart - but still no news. I had my phone with me all morning, but walked away for about 60 seconds and managed to miss The Call. Our wonderful case manager left us a congratulatory message, and Fernando and I sat on the edge of our bed staring at each other, blinking back tears.

We. Have. A. Daughter.

Ironically, the day was already going to be full of adoption related errands and events - a trip downtown to get our fingerprints renewed and a long webinar on the intricacies of adoption travel. We announced the news to a few long distance friends and family first, then to our wonderful church staff family, and then we posted it to the world via Facebook... dozens and dozens of comments and tearful congratulations piled up within minutes.

Throughout the entire day, I have been reminded repeatedly of the communal nature of adoption. Her birth community was not able to care for her, but as our family opened it's arms, our community opened their hearts. The flood of joyful responses came from every end of our lives - friends, family, social workers, case managers, government employees, pastors, acquaintances, and even complete strangers who (unbeknownst to us) have been praying faithfully for us for years.

One of the Facebook comments said it well: "Welcome baby girl Violet. A little girl could not be more loved than you are!"

Guess we should go ahead and paint the nursery! :)

The Wait

The past few weeks have flown by, honestly. Tomorrow is court date number two (still a 50% chance for being rescheduled, again) and we are holding it together better than last time. You know... staying busy, not thinking about it too much.

But while I have been not thinking about it, I have had lots of time to think about it. Funny how that works.

And what I have realized is that there is power in waiting. There is depth in delayed gratification and finding yourself at the mercy of unknown reasons and logic. There is a beautiful completion that can only come when you stop being the center of your universe and find yourself a tiny speck in a much larger masterpiece.

Fancy words to only say this: I can't exactly put my finger on it, but something has changed during the wait.

There's a great quote by Sue Monk Kidd that says this: "When you are waiting you are not doing nothing. You're doing something. You're allowing your soul to grow up. If you can't be still and wait, you can't become what God created you to be."

We are ready now in a way we were not last year, or even last month. The "us" of last year might have felt prepared to receive our baby, but God knew better. I even feel a little ashamed at how brash we must have sounded - how ungrateful and impatient. But every day since then, God has quietly and faithfully led us to a place of deeper rest in Him, and total trust. He has helped us mature, and has fully prepared our hearts for another child.

We are, finally, ready.

And I never could have understood the need for the wait before going through this process - I'm not even sure I understand it entirely now. But to any parent waiting for their referral, or to anyone stuck in a seemingly endless period of "no answers", let me just say that God is at work. The wait is not just filler - not just a lesson in patience. It has purpose. You can absolutely trust that God has you and your answer on a collision course - you will grow and mature together, and you will collide at the perfect time, in the perfect state of readiness.

Looking back now, that's easy to see.

Rescheduled

We got news this morning, but it wasn't what we would have liked to have heard.

After a crazy night tossing and turning, full of nerves and insane dreams, we found an email just a few moments ago from our case manager that our court date had been rescheduled to February 2nd.

Needless to say, this was not fun to read - we are still trying to "snap out of it" and not be frustrated. There are lots of good things at work here, so for the sake of my sanity, let's focus on a few of these right now.

1) At this time last year, reschedules were two or three months away. This is only a few weeks.

2) The only reason for the reschedule was that a certain necessary piece of paperwork had not been submitted on time by someone on the Ethiopian side of things, which is apparently normal and not cause for alarm.

3) Our fingerprints are about to expire - we are in the process of renewing them but it might take a week or two more than expected. This delay allows for that renewal to happen smoothly.

4) We are still not 100% decided on a name. We have a lot of options, and of course will be incorporating her given name, but hadn't come to a final decision. I would really like to "introduce" her to our family and friends with a photo AND a name. This gives us breathing room to settle on something without feeling rushed.

5) And just for good measure, it's another chance to learn to trust God's timing. We are getting better at it, but it's not easy. And this morning felt like a "setback" honestly. But I welcome another chance to align myself with the bigger plan and not get so selfish with the details.

Anyway. Does it sound like I have convinced myself yet? Maybe if I read this a few more times it might actually work!

The Date

Well, we have a court date. The email came on December 30th (a date I had been repeatedly praying for without knowing why... I remember feeling frustrated when I realized we weren't going to be scheduled for a court date on this date. Then the email came.)

On January 15th, 2010, while we sleep soundly in our beds, halfway around the world our little girl's case will be heard in an Ethiopian court. By noon, we'll have received a phone call either way. Yes, she's ours. Or no, the case was rescheduled due to a paperwork issue, a legality, or any other ill-prepared detail that might rear it's head. We have a 50% chance of "yes".

For those that don't know, the actual court case has almost nothing to do with our family. Instead, the judge, the orphanage director, the police officer who found her, and I believe a representative from the Ministry of Women's Affairs will meet to determine if she is in fact an orphan, and if so, has her status been appropriated documented on the local and national levels. Is adoption truly the best option for her? And if it is, we just happen to be the family ready to take her in. In that case, we will be given legal custody... she will become our daughter, in Ethiopia's eyes.

For the most part, I am trying not to think about it. My stomach drops out every time someone asks questions or tells me they will be praying. The amount of butterflies is out of control - I am intensely nervous. And excited.

One way or the other, in about 36 hours, my phone will ring.

Sister Come Quickly

Dear Baby Sister,

Your Big Brother is ready for you to be home.

His best friend, Ava, has a little sister named Emma about your age. When we ask Daniel, "What is your baby sisters name?" sometimes he says "Emma". And when we say, "No Daniel, that is Ava's sister. What is YOUR sister's name?" he looks around the room slowly, then holds out his hands and says, "Where IS my baby sister?"

He is helping us pick out some names that might go well with your beautiful Ethiopian name. But so far, his favorite is still "blue". Sometimes he tells us "I have a blue baby sister". Blue is his favorite color, so this must be a good thing.

When he is playing with his play food, he picks out favorites for the whole family. He has given you "ice-cream" as your favorite food, and purple as your favorite color. (He gave the rest of us assignments too: Daddy has "crunchy pickles" and the color green, Mommy has "apples" and the color red, and Daniel has "muffins" and the color blue.)

When we tell stories at night about families of dinosaurs or clouds, the family always has a purple baby sister dinosaur, or a tiny baby sister cloud. He never lets us forget that part.

And every single time he prays, Daniel thanks Jesus for his baby sister. We don't ever have to remind him... you are already a part of his life and his family. Even now, we are a family of four.

Baby Sister, come quickly.