Jigger Digger

Ok, so not me.  I mean, I didn't actually remove any jiggers myself.  That is mostly Ugandans and a few Muzungus (white people) that do that.  But I did serve at the clinic today (sounds like I stayed at a holiday inn last night).  If you've been around me at all, you know of our love for Sole Hope and their mission in Uganda.  While non-profits seem to be a dime a dozen here, there is no other like theirs.

Weekly, they go into a village and conduct a jigger removal clinic.  Today, I was blessed to be a part of it.  I met two new friends, Vicky, an ex-pat who lives here with her family who started an organization to teach business locally and Nick, one of the founders of The Archibald Project, a media mission organization who, in which he and his wife make beautiful art to share the plight of orphan care.  Then there was Dru, myself, and a handful of Ugandans that set out this morning at 9:30 am (ok it was supposed to be then but we’re on Ugandan time so it was more like 10:30).  The setup is like a well-oiled machine.  Intake person (Ugandan) talks to the kids and checks them in.  Then they get in queue to have their feet washed.  Today, this was the Muzungu’s job.  Vicky and I (and Nick for a few) jumped right in and got our hands dirty.  And it felt like I washed a hundred feet today.  Then the children are carried from the washing station to the removal station where 6-8 Ugandans literally dug in and removed hundreds of jiggers today, about a hundred alone in that one child of which I posted a picture.  Once they’re finished getting treated, the children (and adults as well) are carried to the shoe fitting station where someone sizes the shoes and gives them to the child.  Of course there are stickers and sweeties (candy/suckers) galore to keep the children content during this rigorous process.  The hope is, once the child is jigger free and has shoes, they will remain that way and not be affected by these debilitating insects.

I am always so thankful to be a part of experiences like this.  Is never ceases to amaze me how much of a bubble we live in and how many luxuries we are afforded.  It sounds so silly but even here, staying at this beautiful guest house with a dairy right down the street (can you say fresh milk and ice cream from jersey cows), an amazing cook for the organization (Mary just opened her own Mexican restaurant in town), and very hard working people who daily sacrifice to love and care for people in need.  I am humbled to be in their presence.

One of these such people is a social worker, Adam, who now works for Sole Hope but used to work for the babies home from where we adopted.  I am always thankful for conversations with him and for his amazing work ethic and moral standard.  As an adoptive mom, especially in international adoption, you hear a LOT about unethical cases, children who bribes were paid for, whose families were lied to, etc.  You may read that and be appalled but you would be amazed at the number of organizations for which this is the standard.  After coming home with our Jonah there are times when I would go back and comb through paperwork and go over conversations in my head.  I’d chase facts down rabbit holes and annoy the crap out of my husband doing so.  I always just wanted to make sure that we didn't miss anything.  That poverty wasn't the only reason Jonah was with us.  That there were really no such family members, extended or immediate, that could care for Jonah in his home country amidst his culture.

I didn't write yesterday because, while I got to go to the outreach house and have some great nap and alone time, the highlight of my yesterday was my conversation with Adam.  We started discussing our case and some other issues he is working right now and how we had some similar and difficult experiences that he is currently dealing with.  As I have stated before, I will not be sharing details of our case publicly as these things make up Jonah’s story and they will be his to share when he is ready, but the point is not about Jonah’s story, the point is about the great sense of peace I received.  I had no reason to question him and the ONLY reason we worked with our babies home is because we did our research and trusted the director and our lawyer completely (and they have now become our dear friends).  But even still, you begin to wonder.  Adam recounted different aspects of our story and I loved that every detail was just right, just the same as it has always been.  After a year and a half, I know there would be no way he could have carried untruths.  In addition, I found out some other cool details of the extended family that I have captured in the journal I have been writing to Jonah to try and catch anything we possibly can of his origins.  What a gem.  And to know that this man is disgusted by some of the inner workings of other organizations and frustrations with the process, it is completely in alignment with what I would be searching for in an ethical adoption.  I slept so calmly last night having even more peace about our story and Jonah’s placement.  I am so thankful for these amazing people who love these kids and want to do the best for them, even if that means someone like a prospective adoptive parent is hurt in the process.

My thought of the trip has seemed to focus on freedom.  What does it mean to be free?  I wonder what your thoughts are on this question.  I’d love to hear!

Traveling Mercies

I’m here, I’m here! Be still my heart!

I could not have asked for a smoother trip with so many traveling mercies.  Because the flight was significantly cheaper, I drove to Dulles to catch my flight.  While the drive was rainy, I-95 was unusually sparse and I had time to make a quick stop at Ikea on the way J  Once I was loading the van, a super nice man came and helped me with two bigger boxes I had.  So awesome.

Then I was off to Dulles.  Because I had 3 bags that each weighed 70lbs but had planned on parking further away due to cost, I figured I’d go drop off the bags in short term parking and then get settled in with just me and my carry-ons.  I knew my bags were going to cost a lot but with the help of some awesome donors, I had offset that cost a bit.  I had called Delta the night before I left to ask them exactly what I was going to pay and they said since it was technically a KLM flight and I was technically checking in at the KLM counter, it was going to be based on their rates…so a sum total of $500.  YIKES!!  I didn’t freak out.  I stayed calm.  I figured we could get some more donations when I got back or something and it would all work out fine.  So I get to the short term parking lot, there was a cart right next to my car (woo hoo) and I lug the massive 210lbs to the terminal.  I’m not sure if it’s because I opened with “I’m Sky Priority, I’m in Economy, I have 3 bags, and every one of them is overweight” followed by handing him my credit card, or because I may have mentioned that one entire bag was all baby formula…regardless, instead of the $100 for each bag and the $300 for the extra and overweight third he only charged me $75 each for a total of $225 (which was already fully covered by donations)!!  I was stunned but acted cool (probably not really) and went to get to the cheap parking lot!

I get back to the airport and into the security line.  Unfortunately, my normal TSA Pre-Check was a no-go because I was traveling on a foreign carrier (I get way too spoiled with travel perks) so I head in line with the rest of the herd.  My liquids are out as they’re supposed to be but as soon as they go through the woman scanning said “all your individual amounts are fine but you have WAY too much in this one bag” and hands the bag to this other guy.  He takes me aside, asks me to knock it down by half and we’ll throw the stuff away, and I just go along knowing I couldn’t win even though this is literally all my toiletries for the whole trip because my bags are full of other stuff.  A nice older gentleman (that works there) walks over and says, “If there are any things in there for medicinal purposes, those don’t count.  May want to see what the bag looks like without them.”  So I start with things like eye drops and inhaler and he pulls out other stuff like Neosporin and Melaluca oil…then he starts grabbing the stuff I pulled out and starting putting it back in.  Needless to say, by the end of this fiasco, he has returned everything to the bag, hands it to me and says “that’s good.”  Say what???

Head to the lounge to relax and eat free food before we board.  A little concerned because no one has seen my carry-on bags yet and the rule for KLM is that they weight no more than 26lbs.  Welp, when you take a ton of stuff you want to fit in as much as possible.  This means packing everything for me in my carry-on only.  Plus more stuff for others.  So my rolly bag weighed more like 40lbs.  And my backpack at least 20.  Meh.  I held my breath as I boarded the plane and no one said a thing!  I was stunned and thankful.

Fast forward 7 hours and I land in Amsterdam.  It was really nice to walk and eat and rest.  I love Schipol airport and am grateful it’s Delta’s partner because it means I end up there about 4 times a year!  Oh those poffertjes…had a nice nap in the lounge and it was time to go again!  I get to the gate and got the pleasure of meeting a facebook friend in person for the first time!!  This is an awesome lady who runs a non-profit helping mothers in Uganda called Beauty for Ashes.  We hugged and chatted and I met her traveling crew and then it was time to board!  I find my seat, get everything settled and it’s time for takeoff…and no one is sitting next to me.  HOORAH!!  I had an 8 hour flight with no seat partner and man it went by so smoothly. 

As we arrived, we walked off the plane and saw everyone waiting to get on.  It started to hit me…this is where I left this all just 15 months ago.  There, in the window, stood a little boy, about the same age and size as Jonah when we were getting ready to depart.  I was so overcome by emotion.  So many things have transpired since we left here.  Yet I could see my little boy there so clearly, waiting to leave this beautiful country and trust us in this new place.  Whew!

All my bags arrived, Brandi’s crew helped me get my 3 big bags, my large carry-on and my back pack outside where the amazing Brian, my dear Ugandan friend and driver was there to meet me…and he brought friends too!  It was so great to see them. 

We set off on the few hour car ride from Entebbe to Jinja and I am impressed with how much they’ve improved Jinja road.  I was overjoyed as we crossed the Nile River and entered Jinja.  It was like coming home.  I remember all the sites and sounds (and horrible roads) so vividly and my heart was so full of joy. 

And, in true Ugandan style, as soon as we pulled up to the Sole Hope guest house, the power went out.

So thankful.

Right here, right now

Wow, how has it been so long?  It's not because I have had nothing to say, it's because what I have wanted to say is un-shareable.  I used to think that a blog was where you could go write and get things out but the reality is, for the love of people that I love or are supposed to love, that's not possible.

Here's what I can share.  My boys are awesome.  I am so thankful for my family.  My little ginger is the funniest, craziest little man and I adore him.  And then there's my Ugandan.  Oh, my dear Ugandan.  My words can never express the way that boy holds my heart.  The more his language explodes, the more we get to know his personality and the more and more I love him.  If that's possible.  Every day I look at him it makes me long for Uganda.

Let me explain.  Uganda is a place unlike any other I've been to.  The people are so different than us here.  We take so much for granted.  We expect that things will be a certain way or that we'll have access to certain things.  We expect that there will always be food, always be power, always be airtime on our phones...these expectations are not so there.  These and so much more.  So yes, the people are different, they see the world differently, in a way I only wish I could grasp once a day.

When I was in Uganda for our adoption, it took me a long time to adjust.  Some of that was the anxiety of just being there, some of it was the adoption itself, most of it was my expectations that I should have just checked at the door. I vowed when I came home to learn from those expectations and keep them checked, to value God's plan and His timing in whatever manner that presented itself.  I am failing.

Just this week I have experienced multiple instances of racism toward our family and my son.  Oh how it hurts my heart.  He has no idea any of this is happening...yet, but I know one day he will.  And he will wonder why his brother is treated differently by the world.  The reality is, this, like what I learned in Uganda, my own expectations need to get checked at the door.  Now, don't get me wrong, I will defend my son to the highest measure if needed, but these cases were not overt cases.  It's not like he didn't get a seat on the plane because he's black, we just got treated poorly with some very condescending looks.  Or hearing those broad, general statements some make about entire people groups.  Here's a tip, any time you are about to say "white people," "black people" "Ugandan people" etc. you may want to stop and rethink that statement.  No one people group should ever be generalized to that point.

Anyway, the whole point of this post wasn't to fight racism.  It was to share how we're doing.  How well Jonah is adjusting and how much like twins my boys have become.  How they long to be near each other even though they fight when they're together.  How amazing Jonah's language is developing and how our social worker is impressed with his progress!

But we're also struggling.  There are still attachment issues that we deal with.  We're growing and it's getting better, but we've still only had Jonah home with us for 8 months.  That's not a ton of time in the grand scheme of things!  We still have tantrums that are not your typical 2-3 year old tantrums.  They're getting better, but they still rear their ugly head and are very painful.  On top of that, the boys had just started getting excited about having a new baby brother or sister.  Unfortunately, at our 12 week appointment we found out our baby no longer had a heartbeat and had stopped growing between 10 and 11 weeks.

I don't say all this for your sympathy.  I love our family.  We are never guaranteed tomorrow.  So while I love my kids, we are not promised that we will get to see them grow into adults, get married, have kids, etc.  We were never told those expectations are realistic.  I cherish every day with my boys and my husband because we never know when it will be our last.  That is not living in fear but just in the moment.  That doesn't make the today's easier when we deal with racism or lose a baby, but it does make me check my expectations at the door and live right here, right now.

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.