Coming out of Night...

"Where is God now?" And I heard a voice within me answer him: "Where is He? Here He is ... He is hanging here in the gallows."

E. Wiesel's, Night

Those who know me well know that Night has become a treasure to me, and Wiesel's Nobel Peace Prize Acceptance Speech remains my most favorite prose. When I think of Wiesel, I am drawn to his perseverance, his unwavering belief in the power of the human spirit and the subtle way his words inspire us to be hopeful, yet action oriented people of faith. It is the pairing of hope and action that becomes a paradox for us as Christian believers. The account depicted in Night is not glorious in any way; yet in all it's tribulation, it remains a book which calls us to remember the power of the human voice as a tool and catalyst for change and justice.

I've struggled with this adoption process and through the struggle and the disappointing delays, I've received condolences such as, "It's all in God's timing" or "There's a reason you are having to wait and you'll understand this heartache later." I don't want to offend my Christian friends but I must admit that these comments do not support a God I have come to know through my spiritual questioning and journey.

I think about Wiesel and his experience surviving the Holocaust. I think about the anguish he experienced watching his father die. I think about the grief he experienced wondering if God had forgotten him, neglected his cries. I think about how difficult it became for him to pray and how life's circumstances and ignorance awakened his most"primitive and base instincts," (p.xii).

The God I have come to know would never have evoked a Holocaust and would certainly not embrace human suffering of such degree. The God I have come to know would not neglect his people in order to prove a point, or create a thesis for a dissertation. I think about 911, about children everywhere enduring hunger, poverty, emotional and physical abuse. God is not causing these events to "teach" a lesson or evoke a sense of perseverance. I don't believe that God is there - in the hate, in the strife, but I do believe that God is here - in the moments of unrest, in the uneasiness, in the hopelessness waiting for us to acknowledge, to affirm and accept his presence.

Therefore, I cannot believe that God would delay our process, would call a woman out of her home on several occasions to endure the emotional turmoil of giving up her son. I cannot believe that God would "cause" this course of events which in turn create suffering and heartache. I don't believe in a God that endorses human suffering, but rather a world which endorses such events.

Believe me when I say that I don't view the world through rose colored glasses. I believe in the idea of being "tested" but it is the world, the judgement and the poison of the human mind that "tests" me - not God. I am tested everyday to uphold my faith, my human integrity and spirit. I am placed in situations each day which either draw me nearer or further from my God. But, to say that God is playing me like a game of chess is to say that God has his hand in the making of Night...and I don't think I can stomach such a God. For no human life is more worthy of the next, no prayer is more powerful than another, and no God could defend such a definition of grace and love. I am not yet a parent, but I couldn't cast out one of my children just to save the next, and I wouldn't ignore the cry of one child in order to uphold the prayer of the other.

I believe God knows our hearts, and perhaps God foresees the circumstances that will plague us as he knew that Christ's ultimate spirit would be tested on the cross. And, it is through these moments that indeed I choose to persevere because I believe in something bigger, something more powerful and I believe in moments of "grace." I believe that I was created because my life does not belong to me, but belongs, "to those who need us desperately" (p.120). It is because I was created for such purpose, that I do not believe God would intentionally take away such opportunity for me to prove that good exists in the world.

"What all these victims need above all is to know that they are not alone; that we are not forgetting them, that when their voices are stifled, we shall lend them ours..." (p.12).

This phrase, for me, mirrors the opportunity I have in such times to remember I am surrounded by the presence of God.

Job was tested, we will be tested indeed, but I believe what God wants us to cling to is not an explanation that our grief has a purpose, but merely that through grief, we draw nearer to the comfort of a life built on faith - knowing we are not alone, and that our lives were rooted for joy, not discord.

There's no good explanation for why we must continue to wait. It is what it is...a circumstance out of our control and to be honest, it stinks. But, it is not God working against me, for to believe that God is working against is to believe that God is not here, beside me, within me, waiting to embrace another child of God, named Samuel.

Perhaps I should add a little more "Zen" to my house?

I don't have much to say...Sorry to be a "Debbie Downer" but I'm really not in the mood to blog right now. We didn't pass court. Apparently our file was "incomplete" which seems to be a standard verdict these days. No explanation, no logic..just a bunch of hot air if you ask me. The worst part is that Samuel is still with his mother and they continue to show up for these arbitrary court hearings to no avail. Can you imagine? His mother keeps thinking, "Today will be the day" and then it gets delayed. I wonder how Samuel feels or if he even understands that half a world away we are aching to meet him, to love on him and to extend to him a family? I can't imagine the kind of courage and resilience his mother must have right now.

So for the next few weeks, I'll be on a blogging diet. I'm finding it hard to even talk about the process anymore... Until April 10th, I'm signing off. Best wishes to those with upcoming court dates and travel plans!

Getting Closer...

Because today is Saturday and it is technically the afternoon in Ethiopia, I'm not going to count it in today's countdown. By my estimate, that only leaves us with 3 real days before we should be hearing something about our court date. With any luck, Mary will call with wonderful news sometime early Wed. morning, and I'll log on to find that our adoption friends, The Albertsons, have also passed through court. Even though the Albertsons root for the wrong team in basketball, I'd love to see a victory sweep for all those with court dates on the 26th.

We all know that court dates are tricky and many do not pass the first time...here's hoping we'll be the anomaly and sail through without any glitches!

We've started our "preliminary" packing and I've realized that it is indeed hard to pack for 3 people and take a lot of humanitarian aid with just 4 suitcases! I was told by my dear husband that I had packed way too many clothes for Samuel. (By the way my husband cannot pack to save his life! He always takes way too many things and takes more bags than necessary) So you can see the irony here....Todd telling me I've packed too much?

The problem is that we don't know what will fit Samuel, and for once I'd like to see him in some clothes that aren't 10 sizes too big. We have a lot of clothes that I think will be too small and a lot of clothes that are 1 size too big. So, what's a girl to do? Let's just pack them all and see what works...

I'm also beginning to get very nervous about how we will entertain Samuel. I have this fear that he is going to be thinking, in Amharic of course, "These Americans are so boring. Don't they have any fun toys in that suitcase?" Well, at least he'll be speaking Amharic and I won't get my feelings hurt by his inner thoughts...

In the meantime, we're searching for the perfect toys - toys that entertain for hours but also travel nicely. If you have any suggestions, believe me we'd love to hear them. I can't have my son thinking we're duds!

One week closer to bringing our little "Duke" home

That's right...our court date is just one week away. With March Madness making its way on our TV screen, I'm secretly hoping we'll have some madness (good madness of course) of our own when the telephone rings next week. I can't wait to bring our little duke home.

Coming to America - Soon we Hope...

The countdown begins...Today marks 2 weeks until our court date. Here's hoping Samuel becomes an official part of the family on March 26th! Until we're able to post pictures of our handsome boy, we'll post this rendition of our little man. You can't tell from the photo, but there's an adorable face behind all this mess!

The Lost Boys

Ok, Dad - think of this post as "inspiring" not depressing. I just had to write something about the film I just watched...

This weekend, I watched a documentary titled, "God Grew Tired of Us." For those of you adopting older children, I especially recommend this film and I am grateful to my friend Ellen for telling me about the film.

For me, it displayed an authentic account of what it means to encounter culture shock - to experience the overwhelming sensation of becoming pilgrims in new territory. I was humbled to take a back seat and view America from the perspective of an outsider; perhaps understanding more clearly what Samuel will encounter as he enters this new terrain.

The main characters are just three of 25,000 "lost boys" who escaped Sudan's genocide. The boys traveled on foot, caring for each other, forming "packs" and families as they traveled from Sudan to the Kenyan border. There they took part of a refugee camp.

As you can imagine, many died off in the desert voyage. The boys went without food, learned to bury bodies, and took on responsibilities and roles that no 12 year-old should ever be forced to take on. However, this story is one of survival, of hope, of opportunity and of course, the importance of remembering those people whom you left behind.

When the boys make it to America, they take on multiple jobs, begin working on degrees and paving a new life for themselves in a land of opportunity. However, despite this new success and wealth, they never forget their friends and family and they continue to send money to Africa.

A striking scene occurred during Christmas when the boys asked, "What is this thing you call a Christmas Tree? I cannot find it in the Bible...what does it have to do with Christmas and the birth of Jesus Christ?" This question is soon followed with, "And, tell me about Santa Claus and what he means for the season of Jesus Christ." I laughed... what does it mean?

The most poignant moment occurs as the title is revealed. One of the lost boys said, "When we were traveling and everyone around us was being killed, I just thought God grew tired of us. I thought he wanted us to die - like I was experiencing the last days as shown in the Bible. I just thought God grew tired of us and he didn't want us to live anymore."

I'm no humanitarian but these scenes reminded me that while we may physically be separated by borders, we are never separated from human responsibility. I must admit that at times I wonder if I'm doing the right thing - removing life from a country of poverty as opposed to being an advocate for flushing in resources. I feel a sense of loss when I know that Samuel's mom, who has to be a good and faithful woman, cannot raise her son - not because she doesn't want to, but because she physically isn't able and will never be able.

My hope then becomes to raise a child who never forgets his human integrity and responsibility - a child who responds to the needs of others in whatever form he is able. I recognize that Africa isn't the only country in need as I am witness everyday in public education to the many children who are starving for attention, recognition, modeling, and healthy esteem.

I know we will always be a culture who embraces the Christmas Tree and the tradition of Santa Claus, but I often wonder when we will be a culture who embraces the concept of truly caring for one another, nationally and internationally. I am humbled at the generosity, faithfulness and determination of these "lost boys". In fact, the title, "lost boys" seems somewhat paradoxical to me - as I wonder if I am the one truly lost. I am inspired to complain less, hoard less, and be thankful.

I am proud to have the opportunity to raise a child who comes from a land where impoverished bodies possess wealthy spirits and I look forward to the day when I can discuss the "lost boys" with Samuel - whose name means, "God heard." And I believe that...I believe God does hear us and indeed we are not a forgotten people to whom God grows tired. It is difficult in this day and age to see God's existence, but I do believe it exists... After all, God made Samuel and I can't think of a better reason to cling to hope.

Attention Folks...I think we have a smile...finally!

Today was probably one of the worst days of my life (big sigh here). For those of you who live in Texas you understand the ramifications and seriousness of the TAKS test; for those of you who are educators, you will understand me when I say that coordinating the TAKS test for a bunch of middle-schoolers is down right horrific! It's chaotic, it's stressful, it's depressing knowing that some students simply do not have the skills to perform on grade level and to say the least, it makes for a long, tiresome day.

But, thank God for our caseworker who sent us the most beautiful pictures of Samuel today! There's just no way I could stay in a bad mood after seeing, for the first time I might add, Samuel's smile. Up to this point, all of the pictures we've received have been taken in a more serious and compliant mode. But, not today folks! By George I think we have a smile and from the most handsome young boy I've ever seen! Truly he is...and I'm not just saying that because he's my future son...he is dashing!

I can't wait to get that little boy on a plane home to Texas!

Please don't ask me to do that...

Today we did something that is beyond my comfort zone and completely out of sync with my personality. Those who know me well, know that I have no "woo" factor and I shy away from anything of high "cheese" value. By nature, I am perhaps a more serious, introspective person and the little charm I possess is masked by the most dry sense of humor known to man. I prefer quiet, more formal settings and am in no way a cheerleader or charismatic personality.

With that said, you can imagine how awkward I felt when I entered the doors of Build a Bear today. A friend had given me a coupon for a free "stuffing" and Todd and I thought we would check it out and create something personal for Samuel. We were greeted by the most eager staff, and surrounded by the most anxious and excited kids. The background music played tunes like, "Here we are at the Build a Bear Workshop" sung in high pitched voices.

Step 1 - choose an animal to stuff. We were immediately drawn to the turtle, dinosaur and monkey, but after much consideration we decided the dinosaur could be scary to our young little man and the turtle would eventually lose his shell. Therefore, by process of elimination - it came down to a monkey we named Max.

The best part - the part that sent us over the edge - was when we took it to the stuffing counter. We were given a small, red heart to place inside Max. Oh, but the fun didn't stop there. We were asked to kiss the heart and make a wish on it. As you can imagine, my stomach immediately tied up in knots... Kiss a heart and make a wish on it? Here with this cheesy music playing in the background? We opted to simply place the heart inside Max and whisper a silent wish to ourselves. Before Max was handed over to us, the clerk said, "Now give it a hug and make sure he's fluffy enough for you." I smiled and politely said, "He's fine." There are simply some things I just can bring myself to do!

Next we stepped over to the dressing station. Young little girls were fighting over glitz and sequins for their furry friends. If I wasn't nauseous enough from the thought of kissing a little red heart in front of the man at the stuffing machine, the sight of glittery dresses and poofy outfits sent me into an internal fit.

At last, we found an outfit we could tolerate - a Mav's jersey and sweatbands. Just last weekend, some friends of ours bought Samuel a Mav's jersey so we thought this outfit would be perfect. We were so excited to find something not adorned with pink lace or over-the-top commercial figures that we immediately swept it into our arms and threw it onto Max.

We reached the last station to create our birth certificate with what little pride we still possessed and paid for our precious Max. I handed the clerk my coupon, looked down at Max and thought, "Did I really just pay that much money for a stuffed animal?"

As we strolled out of the workshop, a clerk stood up on the chair to address the small children saying, "Feel free to try on as many outfits as you like. If you find one that doesn't work, throw it to the side and try a new one. Hip-hip-hooray! Everyone thumbs up!" It was at that moment I was gently reminded why elementary education never appealed to me.

Todd and I walked Max to the car, safe inside the build a bear cardboard home they provided us, and I realized that I had just survived my first test into motherhood. While I personally felt queasy inside the Build a Bear store, I could totally understand the draw it has for children. And so, as I approach the threshold of parenthood I must come face to face with the fact that I'm going to have to "dig deep" and find a way to embrace the inner child.

Ok, maybe the word "embrace" is a little too strong...perhaps I could begin by "tolerating" places such as Build a Bear.

My list of things to work on before Samuel arrives:
Come to peace with refrigerator magnets
Learn to let the house get a little dirty
Stop saying hateful things behind the wheel of my car
Tolerate the "cheese factor"

I hope Samuel appreciates the sacrifice I am making for him and most importantly, I hope I succeed with at least one agenda item on the list!