Get your passports ready!

I cannot even begin to tell you how long I have waited to write this blog post.  The last 8 months have been a true test of our trust in our marriage, in our family, and in our God.  This is quite an in-depth story but I promise to keep it as short as possible.  But here it is, the BLUF...the Morgans are moving to London!  Yes, you read that correctly, we are heading across the pond for a few years!

It all began last summer when we knew something was changing.  Our contentment with where we were was wavering and we prayed frivolously for what that meant or looked like.  Justin spent time in Uganda in August (2014) and when he came home, we started to feel a call elsewhere, Uganda being one possibility.  Soon after, I caught wind of a job opportunity for me in London.  All the while, Justin had been feeling a tug on his heart to go get his PhD.  All these things, all these different directions, where in the world were we going to go?  So we did the only thing we could do...we started praying and pushing on doors.  We knew that some doors would ultimately close and others would be opened and we decided we would just walk through whatever opened for us.

In September, we began talking to some friends in Uganda about a possible move there, Justin began applying for PhD programs, and I waited patiently (not really) for the London job to open up for me to apply.  In the meantime, we both continued in our jobs.  At that time, I was certain that Uganda was the right place for our family.  I traveled as usual for work, found out we were going to have a baby, and the boys continued in school.  Come January, I had the opportunity to go back to Uganda for a visit and to see more of what it would look like for us to be there.  It was such an amazing trip and yet there was something in me that wasn't certain our family was ready for that at this point in time.  We had had some set backs with our little man and I was very fearful of what taking him back to Uganda indefinitely would do to his little self.  A short time after I came home, we still didn't feel clear on Uganda, the job req still wasn't open, and Justin had heard from zero schools, one way or the other.  And I was pretty done (not to mention 20 weeks pregnant).  So we decided to fast.

It was a crazy, difficult, amazing week but by the end of it, we definitely had some clarity.  In that time we heard back from schools Justin had applied to, I got an interview for the job, and we felt a peace about Uganda.  By Friday we knew that London was our first choice and UW Madison was our second choice (Justin had received his acceptance letter earlier in the week).  They were both amazing choices and we were happy with both options but the rest was up to me getting the job in London.

There are so many more details in the weeds of this story and if you want to have coffee or a Skype date sometime, I'd love to share them!!  Suffice to say, I have received a job offer for the job in London and our family will be moving in August to live in the UK for the next 3-5 years!!

It is scary and exciting and the timing seems nutso!  This summer we will have a baby, sell our house, move to the UK, start a new job, so.many.new.things!!  We are not naive that we have a tough transition ahead of us but we're so excited for the adventure and the opportunity for our family!  Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we move into this new phase and stay tuned for the craziness that is moving your family of five across the world! 

Visiting the village...by guest blogger, Kayla Cervenka

I promised you a guest post and here it is!!  I love the idea of sharing our thoughts and fears with each other and adore this woman and her heart.  She has been in Uganda for about two weeks now and will be staying for about 4 and a half months doing an internship with Sole Hope.  This post is from the day we did resettlement and it was quite an experience!  Can't wait for you to enjoy it from her perspective...

It was my first time ever visiting a village in Uganda. I was really excited for this new experience but also a little unsure as people kept telling me it would be a long trip there.  I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. All I knew was that I was so excited that these children who had been living at the Outreach house were finally able to be resettled with their families! These children who came to Sole Hope, severely affected by jiggers, are now jigger free and full of hope! It is a beautiful transformation to see and it is why resettlement is such an exciting part of what Sole Hope does.

We loaded up the van and headed out towards the village.  There were 21 adults and children, and three babies in the van so it was quite a tight fit. I‘ve come to realize that this is quite typical for Uganda, so I just went along with it as a tiny one-month-old baby slept in my lap.

Eventually we went from pavement to red dirt roads and the ride got a little bumpier. We headed into Kamuli and along the way we dropped some people off while others hopped into the car. I was quite confused as random people kept coming in the car and at one point there were 25 of us all crammed into the van. Once again, I didn’t ask questions but just went along with it because hey, this is normal (I think)! As we headed further into the different villages children would wave and yell “Muzungu!” There was lots of smiling and waving out the van window and we passed the children. When it came time to drop off a few of the kids being resettled, we would pull over to the side and they would hop out. Before the children could even get out of the van there was already a crowd of children from the village gathered together outside our van. They would all just stare at us, eyes wide full of wonder. Many of them would wave and smile, occasionally saying something in Lusoga. It’s funny to me. There is often a language barrier, which can be hard, but I find it so beautiful that people can still radiate joy and love to one another without even a single word.  There was so much staring, smiling and giggling between one another as we passed through the villages. My mouth hurt from smiling so much but my heart was filled with so much joy!

We kept on bouncing along the bumpy red dirt roads, dropping children off along the way to their respective villages.  As we dropped of one of the children for resettlement, I got out of the van and there was a little girl staring at me. Her beautiful brown eyes looked interested yet terrified at the same time. I held my hand out and smiled, reassuring her that I wasn’t going to hurt her. As I slowly walked towards her she sprinted in the other direction and hid behind her mom. She was scared of me. I was foreign to her. She had never seen a white person. I was slightly in shock. What would it be like to never have seen someone that looked so differently than yourself? I realized it must have been like looking at a monster of some sort. Her mom reassured her that I was okay and with the help of her mother, the little girl slowly walked towards me, still looking quite unsure. I kept smiling
with my arm outstretched reassuring her that it was okay, even though she could not understand a word I was saying. She finally grabbed my hand and timidly said hello in Lusoga as she bowed down.  Bowing is a sign of respect around here, and as she knelt to the ground I stopped down beside her. As we knelt there, hand in hand, I couldn’t help but become flooded with emotion. This precious little girl has never seen a world beyond what she already knows. Her village, her people, only her own skin color. But here we were, from seemingly two different worlds, hand in hand, kneeling on the red dirt together speaking our own languages.  Yet even still, there was such a beautiful connection between us in that moment.

I loved my first experience of visiting the villages. It was all new to me and I loved getting to soak it all in. From seeing children return to their families, to experiencing a little girl’s courage overcome her fear, to simply being packed into a van with 25 people, it was an experience I will never forget.

I get it, we're different.

I haven't posted in a while because once we actually got a court date in Uganda we went underground with our updates for our security and just general privacy about our case.  That being said, we are now home from Uganda with our little boy, Jonah, and are a happily transitioning family of four!  Part of that transition clearly includes the fact that Jonah is black and we're white (sshhhhh....don't tell anyone).  In our (short) time home we've already experienced the looks, the stares, the hush hush of comments, etc.  I'm ok with it.  We knew it was coming.  I don't think you can really prepare yourself for it but at least we had an awareness it would be there.

The first week we were home my husband and I took our new son to the school where my husband teaches. He works at a predominantly black middle school in a nearby city to ours.  After we visited his fellow teachers, we decided to go to Cookout (a fast food place) close to his school.  As we're sitting in the drive thru with the windows down I see the kid working the window turn around and say something to the girl to which she mouthed "black baby" with a shocked look on her face.  Now don't get me wrong, I get it.  This is not something you see everyday.  And we were in their neighborhood.  But from there she did everything she could to look and then found a reason to come to the window to ask us "would you like ketchup with your order" just so she could see for herself.  By no means does this upset me.  I just don't really want people taking turns looking and staring like we're a circus act. I get it, we're different.

My son is a minority.  Not only because of his skin color but because of the skin color of his parents.  He will have to deal with racism like I have never or will never experience.  He will have to deal with parents who he KNOWS doesn't understand the extent of what he's dealing with.  On top of that, he will have to deal with people continually questioning his family because he doesn't look like the rest of us.

Every white person in the world should have to go spend time in a place where they truly are the minority.  I know I didn't experience even a portion of what he will in his life.  But everyone should have to at least know what it feels like to be stared at because you're different, feel out of place because no one looks like you, feel like people are burning into you with their eyes wondering what you're doing there or if you just found yourself in the wrong place, feel like your safety is constantly in question because you don't know who you can and can't trust.

It's not like these are new concepts.  The fact that every time I question what we're watching on tv because there's no one in the sitcom/cartoon/movie that's black.  The fact that I am constantly thinking about if/when we move what school district we'll be in to ensure there is a diverse population.  The fact that regardless of who or what I thought about the Trayvon Martin case, a young black boy is dead.  I do want this responsibility and everything that comes with it.  These are things that SHOULD concern me because my son is black and I want the best for him.  But here's the thing.  Even if you're white.  Even if you don't have a black kid.  Even if you don't know one single person of another color in.this.whole.world.  These things should concern you too.

Expectations

I'm not entirely sure how I should be feeling?  Do you ever get this way?  When you think there's a "right" or "wrong" way to be feeling?  Should I be excited because the next time I fly it will most likely be going to Uganda?  Should I be terrified about the reality of having two little (2 year old) boys that are MINE?  Should I be "cherishing every moment" that our family is this perfect little unit (I'm using the term perfect loosely here, go with it)?

I just read a blog post about adoptive moms (you should read it here) and what stuck out most to me was the part about adoption not being pregnancy because there is no due date.  We knew we were in for a long process or we wouldn't have started it when our bio son was 6 months old.  And in reality, it has been about the length we could have expected.  But now, closer to the end, the waiting is excruciating.  And the hardest part is, there is no end in site.  Sure, we know that we "should" get a court date in the next month or so.  We "should" be traveling in the next few weeks/months.  We "should" be home with our son by Christmas.  But there are no certainties in this world except death (and taxes).

I'm not trying to be a downer by writing this post.  The reality is, I just finished a book called The Fault in Our Stars which, despite being about kids dying of cancer, is really a call to live.  When I get asked "are you excited?" or "I bet you just can't wait" I usually just smile and nod.  Because isn't it a given, when you seek out to adopt a child, that you are excited and looking forward to having them home with you?  The reality is, I live with a constant knot in the pit of my stomach.  The "what if's" are always looming in the back of my mind wondering if, in fact, I'll ever actually get to meet my son whom I love despite never having met him and, if I get to meet him, will I ever actually get to bring him home.

I get that there is no "right" way to feel.  The problem is, there are so few people in the world that can understand how I actually am feeling that it's easier just not to share it with anyone (or just the one or two that I know get it).

If I learned anything from life and grad school, I learned to state my expectations.  I am not implying that by stating them they will necessarily be met, but at least they will be out there for consumption.  I expect to hear of our court date in the next 2 weeks.  I expect to travel to Uganda in the next 60 days.  I expect to be in country for approximately 60 days.  I expect to get to travel during a similar (if not the same) time period as my dear friend also adopting.  I expect that my parents (this includes my in-laws) love us and our son so very much that they will care dearly and deeply for our Jack so he does not feel abandoned for the time we are away picking up his brother. I expect that my dear coworkers/friends who have been so supportive through this ordeal will step in and take care of things for me while I'm gone.  I expect that our church who has been so trusting and caring with our family will circle around us in our time of major transition.

The thing about expectations is, these will not all happen as I desire.  And yet, some of them have already begun to happen.  The thing about life is, I cannot plan it.  And yet, the life God has granted me is immeasurably greater than the life I expected.