Our Children are in Ethiopia

It's been over a month since I've posted about our little ones. After much research and conversation, we are adopting from...Ethiopia. After weeks on the domestic train, we've hopped off. It really came down to peace. We couldn't settle on an agency, an area of the country, etc.

Many months ago, maybe back in the spring, I came across an international adoption website and began mindlessly clicking through the various countries represented. I'll never forget watching the video about Ethiopia. I have tried to rediscover this site since, to no avail. Their video of Ethiopia introduced me to this beautiful, yet scarred, country. Some lady talked about the beautiful and diverse land, but mostly she talked about the people...joyful, special people, full of affection and life. Despite poverty, famine, disease and war, these people were smiling. I remember. It stuck with me.

I remember Christian's crestfallen face when he discovered we were adopting domestically. Why, he asked, are we doing that? Why not Africa? Because, I said, it takes forever. He gravely asked the question again. Because, Christian, there are plenty of kids here.

Sometimes our kids are way ahead of us, their vision unhindered by logic.

I look back and smile when I think of how the Lord began preparing us long before we knew we needed preparing. Little Aziz of Burkina Faso is in our prayers nightly, has been for years. A call to compassion by Bono of U2 at a Willow Creek event. I walked away from that event with a new awareness of some terrible things happening on the other side of the world, events that I never thought about, didn't care about. An introduction to refugee kids at Longfellow. I remember thinking, What are refugees? A few years later I made a turkey, my one act of kindness for the year probably, for a refugee family. I will never forget the small, tidy apartment with 7 kids and the mom wrapped in a hat and scarf graciously taking the turkey and adding it to the feast already brewing in her tiny kitchen, the smell of rice and fish sauce wafting through the air. My overcooked and painfully American turkey was hopelessly out of place. But she was gracious, and I smiled and hightailed it out of there.

Then Clapham opened its hearts to refugee families and I found myself volunteering to show up at the gatherings once a month between the C kids and the refugee families. I say "show up" because that's all I knew how to do. It was rather awkward, not knowing how to communicate with people from all these other countries, and so I think I just smiled and nodded. Sometimes that's all I still do at these interactions. The C kids? They're just fine. They play. The refugee children play. They play together. It's that simple.

Then came Re:new. As I interact with these amazing women from Kenya, Sudan, Ethiopia, Somalia, I am overwhelmed by God's wonderful grace, His love, His delight in these women. They delight me. They inspire me. I am falling in love with Africa too. He knew. He knew just what I needed all this time. He's slowly brought me along, sharing His heart with me, softening William's heart too, showing us even through E and C, that we are to forever be intertwined with this beautiful continent.