Eyes Like Mine

The Queen, (The Prince), and I

2009-11-13T10:46:00.018-06:00

People keep asking me isn't it tough, having adopted two (older) children at the same time. For me it isn't but I truly believe that we are only given vision for those things that we have also been equipped to do.

All the vision talk aside the ride just wouldn't be nearly as much fun without both of my treasures. There is nothing like watching them interact with each other, listening to him tell me how much he loves his sister, and her saying, "Yea, I love you but no touching me and no kissing me." I watch sometimes from a distance as she gently manipulates him into thinking that her ideas are really his own and then there are those classic moments like her polishing his fingernails and toe nails and then sending him to me with pride in his eyes while she laughs knowingly in the background.

Don't be fooled by those pretty doe eyes and innocent smile. She is truly made of sugar and spice and all that nice stuff with a little don't even try that mess with me thrown in. I think back to those early days of her refusing to wear pink with purple and now watch her apply three-days worth of lipgloss (chapAstick) in one application. She has the fashion thing down now and plans many of her outfits at night making sure that the tiny speck of pink on the tiny flower at the neckline matches the the pink in her socks that will be hidden by her shoes. She is so confident in her styling ability that she even wants to dress me. If it were up to her, she and I would wear coordinating outfits everyday, matching lipstick, and carbon copy hairdos. The day she put on that wig I thought she'd never take it off. She flounced around the house throwing the hair over her shoulders and telling me that she was definitely going to wear it to school for show-and-tell. She is all girl and for as much as I love her, uh and need her to constantly and lovingly REMIND me of ALL things I seem to forget, my life with her is deeper and more colorful because I too have my young prince.

If it weren't for having two of them then I wouldn't get all those wonderfully long periods of mommy time while they find and create new ways to play. I walked into their room the other day after a 2-hour mind-my-own-business pretend getaway in my room and was so incredibly pleased and proud to see that they had pulled out a lego set giving to them by the fabulous Kristine and my princess was reading the directions and putting together the fire truck for her brother as he sat trying so hard to help her. It was funny to hear her trying to explain how he needed to be patient, "slowly" she would tell him as he tried to rush the process and just use any piece of lego he could find. I was impressed she really managed to get those 60 or 70 little pieces into a truck with lights and wheels that he is still rolling around the house.

If it were not for having both of my treasures, I would not get to experience them trying to one up each other for my attention; race to me to kiss me first; insist that I hugged one longer than the other; or hear them say, "I am your baby too!" Without two who would take up for the other or plead the other's case to me as they both often do? And, I can't tell you what it is like to see him pick up a book and take it to her knowing that she can read it to him or now that he TOO can read he will often ask her first to help him.

Were it not for having both of them I wouldn't have so many laughs listening to their conversations in the car; hearing my daughter tell him in her best sista-girl voice, "stop I'm not playing with you." Then when she gets too bossy it is him telling her, "Don't tell me. I don't listen to you I only listen to my mom." That's right baby listen to your mama.

Then there are those comments that just come out of the blue and remind me of how wonderfully blessed I am to have them. For a few days my daughter kept asking if she could have my eyes. When I'd tell her I need them to see she would tell me that I could have her eyes for trade. No amount of telling her that her eyes were much prettier would convince her. Finally, she said she wanted my eyes because, "they have already seen everything and learned it." Profound right?

Still the best of the week was driving them to school and hearing them laugh and talk about a woman they saw driving a big semi-truck. "Mommmy, that's a lady? She's driving a truck?" They both just cracked up thinking that was so ridiculous.

Me: "Ladies in America drive trucks. They can do anything."

The Princess: "Anything?"

Me: "Yea, when you grow up if you want to you can drive a truck."

The Princess: "Who? Not me?"

Me: "Well what will you be when you grow up?"

The Princess: "A teacher I think. No...I am going to be a QUEEN."

When I walked in her room last night to turn out the light, I stopped in my tracks and laughed when I saw the royal way that she was sleeping. Do you see my baby wearing an eye mask? Help me please! I had to grab my phone and take this picture. What you can't see is that these pajamas have a fluffy fur-like collar and her legs are stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

All hail the QUEEN!

I Give You Everything!

2009-11-05T14:35:00.007-06:00

For two years I wrote this blog and now it seems I'm on a once a month diet. Waiting for the kids to arrive gave me so much time to be reflective and usually I was writing about my feelings. Now that they are here I'm enjoying living every single moment with them and rarely pause to think or write about it. There are so many special moments, how do you pick just one. For me it's been impossible but I did want to share this little story.

My son is extremely talkative. He talks from the moment he wakes up and talks until he drifts off to sleep. Sometimes I think that he just talks because he is so impressed and amazed at his ability to speak English. I think he loves hearing words roll off his tongue and waiting for my reaction to the many things he says that he knows he should not say. I watch him amazed that four short months ago the only English word he knew was NO and he enjoyed speaking Amharic to one of my great friends who often called. Well, she called a couple of weeks ago and I put him on the phone. She immediately started greeting him in Amharic and he just as immediately said and I quote, "Hey what is this you are talking to me? I am ENGLISH, my mom is ENGLISH, everyday ENGLISH, ENGLISH, ENGLISH! If you want to talk to me you talk ENGLISH!" Then he handed the phone to me in a huff as though she had insulted him. For days after that he would say, "Mom, people know I am ENGLISH...right? I will talk no more Amharic."

Right after that he went into a story about his mother (I've chosen to call her that without the need to refer to her as the first one, the Ethiopian one, or the birth one). He told me that when he closes his eyes that he can see her running to him and he then he demonstrates how he will reach his hands out for her. He told me, "Mom, when I see her I am going to hug her and say HELLO." Right when he said that it was like he realized in that moment that she didn't know English. He looked and me and said, "What will she say, mom? Amharic or English?" Then he dropped it with a little sadness at the realization of what he said. My son's mastery of the language is pretty amazing, he has started correcting his sister's sentencing; he chimes in while she practices her spelling words (usually he is right about what letter comes next). However, because he talks so much and has so many ideas going on all the time sometimes I miss a few things and now when I do or tell him that I don't understand he ask, "Are your ears working? I'm talking ENGLISH to you. Do you hear this ENGLISH? Mom, you no listening to me?"

So, everyday we hear his version of English, English, English and a few days ago he said to me, "Mom when I'm very big boy, I will give you everything. Mom, I'm gonna buy three cars and give you two of them for you to drive. I'm going to work, work, work and give you my money, $100 I will give you. Mom, I will buy you leebs (clothes) at the leebs store so you can be pretty. Mom, I will get you shoes on your feet and socks for you. I will take you to the restaurant and get you food. Mom, when you get sick I will take you to doctor for him make you well." Then he started looking around the room. "Oh, yea mom I will buy you food for this house at the food store." He looked overhead at a kitchen light that was out. "Mom, I will get you this light here then it will no be dark in here...mmmm....mmmm.....Mom I will shower your car and make it clean and I will take you to church....mmmm...mmmm....mmmmm....Mom, I will get you pretty rings for your hands. Mom I will give you everything!"

I was smiling from ear to ear as much for what he would give me as for what he has learned since he's been here. It was so cute watching him roll his eyes upward to think of more and more things for me. "Mom, I stay with you forever. I stay HERE, no more change. Mom, this is it, I stay with you all the time and you stay with me. That's it!"

"Mom I love you for everything!"

Yes...My Baby Can Read

2009-09-16T09:21:00.009-05:00

As I drove the children to school this morning it was hard to concentrate on the road. My daughter pulled her book from her book bag and told me she was going to start reading at page 18 where we'd left off the night before. After telling her she needed only to read the first story starting at page one, she found the start of the story, corrected me and told me it began on page 7 and then she started reading about Henry, his dog Mudge, and the picnic lunch they had in the park. This morning as I listened to her she was reading with a different boldness. It wasn't because she knew all the words and could read it effortlessly -- she would try the words that she didn't know first, then spell them to me to help her fill in the blanks. But, as she read this morning I knew that she understood what she was reading. In the last week or so she has just begun to associate the words in the story to real meaning. So I listened to her stumble over "picnic", shout out Mudge, and laugh when she asked me about a "ginger snap". I was so proud of her and also aware that her brother, who never stops talking, was quietly and patiently listening to his sister as she read.

Riding in the car with my kids to school has become the favorite part of my day second only to when I pick them up after school and they run to me and begin telling me about their day. Or maybe my favorite part is waking them up and hearing the princess say, "Mom, oh my gosh I'm too sleepy," while the handsome prince, tells me to look outside, "Mom the sun is not up." He also uses the sun is not down line when I tell him it's time to go to bed. I don't know maybe my favorite time is sitting around the dinner table and them telling me about their day, what they want to do during the week, or sharing a story about Ethiopia. No, it's definitely when I put them to bed and we go through the same routine every night. Dinner, shower, pajamas, TV (maybe), 7:45 goodnight. People have asked me how I get my kids to go to bed so early and we've come up with a system that really works for us. We usually eat dinner around 5:30 or 6. After dinner my children know that if they want anything, a special treat or a chance at watching TV they have to be showered (with soap), have their pajamas on and be in their rooms.

My son runs from the table to take a shower everynight. The gentle princess typically takes her time eating and just moves at a slower pace. She will try to wiggle out of the shower or try to negotiate but ends up not far behind her brother. They are usually in separate bathrooms showering or bubble bathing at the same time. They each scream for me to come and sit with them so they can talk to me about how many times they've lathered up, asking questioned about how near finished the other is. I run back and forth between them until I hear one scream, "Mom, T-O-W-E-L!" That's my job. I am the towel lady. Since the day that my children arrived they have not needed me to help them or monitor them taking a shower. They are capable of adjusting the temperature, deciding if they want a bath or shower, stopping up the tub and draining it when they are through. However; they both love for me to hold out the towel, help them from the tub, wrap them in their towels and hug them as I dry them off. It's in this sweet loving embrace that they whisper in my ear. "Mom, TV?" "Mom is Meron finished?" "Mom, ice cream (juice, special treat)". The always end up giggling, hugging me tight, kissing me on the cheek and telling me that they love me. Mmmm....maybe this is really my favorite time of the day with them.

Anyway, all cleaned up, most nights they are running for their beds between 7:00 and 7:15. That's when the negotiations begin. No matter what time they hit the bed the TV goes off at 7:45 after a 10 minute warning. First negotiation is what to watch. I-Carly vs. Sponge Bob oh my but the princess will usually give in because she understands that the clock is ticking and any TV is better than none at all. Or we could watch a few minutes of one of three favorite movies: Shark Tales AKA Jelly Fish; Pinnochio AKA Father, Father; or The Emperors New Grove affectionately known around my house as, "What's Your Name?" Don't even ask but they have giving movies and songs their own names I even speak the language. My son does understand that watching a movie means they will not see the end and he tries to plead his case up front. Somehow they work it out every night, they watch, and the mommy walks in at 7:45 and they say in unison, "TV off?" Yes. "Awwh Mom...okay." Because they have learned that too much protest means NO TV the next day or even longer. They get under their covers stretch out their arms for hugs, the princess arranges all of her babies and stuffed animals under the covers with her and after hugging me, exchanging I love yous, she covers her head for sleep. The handsome prince always calls for me to come and lay next to him so he can look in my eyes. That's when he does things like count the moles on my face and tell me that's where God has kissed me. He tries to come up with many reasons for me not to go but after about five minutes will say, "Go mom, see you tomorrow." That's definitely my favorite part of the day.

Still, mornings aren't bad either. I decided early on that I didn't want to be the screaming mother in the mother so I go in and gently rub my children on the back telling them to wake up. My son the entertainer likes to imitate by using a soft voice and saying, "Good morning babies, wake up." It doesn't usually take much more than that to have them sitting on the edge of their beds. I go downstairs to start breakfast and before long they make their way down announcing that they have already washed their hands with SOAP. Our goal is to be dressed and out the door by 7:30AM and most days we make it. In the car we practice spelling words, saying bible verses that Meron needs to learn for the week, or taking turns picking our favorite CD selection. They will ask me when we get in whose turn it is to pick and then we usually listen to their choice or Marvin Sapp or Martha Munizzi. I've really tried to play other things but these are their favorites. I'm usually smiling all the way hearing them sing the words to songs and even getting some of them right. But this morning, nobody asked whose turn it was. We pulled out of the driveway with Meron saying, "I trust...Mommy you say it." Her bible verse this week is "I trust in you O Lord, I say you are my God." I said it but she cut me off to say it herself. The handsome prince also says it and is learning right along with her. Then she said asked me if I wanted her to read her book.

When she pulled the book out and started to read, I just kept thinking back to the second day of school when her teacher met me at the door and told me that my newly immigrated, limited English speaking daughter with little formal education did not read well in class "today". I was surprised that she was surprised since I was shocked, stunned and amazed that my six year old baby was reading at all. I wanted to tell the teacher that if my sweet Princes on day TWO could do all the things that the other kids her age could do that would suggest that she was far more advanced than her peers. The teacher asked me again that day if I wanted to consider putting her in first grade and again I declined. What I knew was that as my daughter developed more language skills that her ability to read would catch up. So, I didn't stress over trying to make her read the 62 page Frog and Toad book. I accepted that it may take two to three books before she would be able to read out loud in class. Well, we are in the fourth week of school and Henry and Mudge are book two. This morning I saw and heard that by the time this book is finished not only will she be reading it well aloud, she will also understand what it is that she is reading.

I was listening to her just amazed and proud and humbled and thankful beyond belief. Everyday I realize that somehow I was given the honor of mothering two of the most precious children ever. Every moment with them is special to me.

More Than I Hoped For

2009-09-02T09:18:00.002-05:00

Well, we are coming close to ending our second week of school and I couldn't be more pleased with my little ones' ability to jump right in like they've been here forever. I look at them so amazed at how far they've traveled, what little time they've been here, and what they've already accomplished.

I'll definitely catch you up on the transition from camp to school and the funny and interesting phrases that my children are now saying, but I just wanted to dedicate this song to them as an expression of my love and pride.

I wasn't looking, all the colors were gray
It's hard to notice when you're out in the rain
All of a sudden, colors are starting to change
You brought the light
Now the darkness is gone
The search is over now I know you are the one(s)
Somebody tell me where does an angel come from?
Cuz you're more than just the one

Yeah, you're more than what I wanted
Everything I never had
Gotta get right to your heart
You can show me where it's at
You are the miracle I needed so bad
And you're more than what I wanted,
everything I never had

Something about you can't say what it is
Thought you should know that you are the reason I live
I would do anything to make you believe somehow
So I'm telling you now that you're...

You're more than what I wanted
Everything I never had
Gotta get right to your heart
You can show me where it's at
You are the miracle I needed so bad
And you're more than what I wanted,
everything I never had

Just let me say I would die for you
Give all I have to prove my love is true
And I'll never let you go...

Mmore than what I wanted
Everything I never had
Gotta get right to your heart
You can show me where it's at
You are the miracle I needed so bad
And you're more than what I wanted,
everything I never had

With This Ring...

2009-08-08T10:37:00.004-05:00

I so love my children and now I know that they love me too. The Princess tells me everyday that I'm beautiful and tries to imitate and immulate the things that I do. She wants hair like her mommy, shoes like her mommy, and likes it best when we are dressed in similar outfits or wearing the same color. Better still, I believe it's safe to say that my Wonderson has a crush on me. Oh, how he does love his mommy and is so good about looking after me and making sure that I'm okay.

I can hardly believe it's been four weeks since my last post, seven weeks since my children hit U.S. soil, and the end of their five weeks in camp. Yesterday was their last day and when I picked them up my son ran to me, jumped in my arms and hugged me tight. He whispered in my ear, "Mommy I was a good boy. I love you mommy, thank you so much!" This is the type of greeting that I've been fortunate enough to get from both of my children every evening that I've picked them up from their day at camp. Still, yesterday was extra special. Kids were gathered around, music was playing, everyone was saying their good-byes and looked at my two angels and had to hold back the tears. My baby doesn't miss a thing and said, "Mommy your eyes, are you crying? It's okay, mom."

They had a big last day celebration with a cook out and gifts. We had stopped that morning at the grocery store to pick up four dozen cupcakes -- if your name was S - Z you had to bring a desert. The kids carried the cupcakes and had to tell them it was for sharing. Today everyone would share. Now the day was over, and I walked throught he park district lobby thinking back to that first nervous day that I'd dropped them off. We'd come a long, long way. When I got to the bottom of the stairs and entered the room were the kids were waiting, I heard kids say look it's your mom! Over the weeks these kids had asked me, if I was African, why did Wonderson constantly repeat his ABC's, why was the Princess so quiet, why did the Princess love stickers so much, and one little girl asked or told me that she was going to be giving my son a test on his behavior. I'd been asked why my kids like to hug so much and one little girl told me she had moved here from Pakistan and wanted to know the name of the country my kids were from? But, the question no one asked was whether or not I was really their mother. I actually met a woman in the parking lot one day that said how the little peanut most be your son, I saw you and knew right away because he looks just like you. I smiled and told her everyone says so.

It took us about 15 minutes to get out of the door with all of the kids calling my kids by name and asking for their last hugs. One little girl came up to me and asked if my kids could please come back for winter camp? Another little girl came up and told me how she loved both of my children but wondered why I didn't speak with an accent like they did. I actually had tears in my eyes seeing how many friends they had made and how adored they were by the camp counselors. Two of them gave me their numbers and told me that if I ever needed a babysitter to give them a call. We did it, we made it through the camp season without incident, without losing a lunch box or jacket, without losing losing a swimsuit, shoe, or towel. My baby did lose a tooth but that was way back in week one. He has four loose now and I'm sure by the time school starts he will be struggling to gum his food.

I was so apprehensive that first day, I wondered whether I was doing the right thing; if it was too soon, if the kids would be okay? I can tell you it was the best decision I could have made for them and their counselors agreed. Wonderson started with maybe five words of English in total and now talks non-stop using four and five-word sentences. He was a definite challenge for the counselors in the beginning and somewhere in week two or three they asked for strategies to manage his behavior. They actually believed that because he didn't speak English that he should be coddled. I told them those were not my expectations that I wanted them to work with me to help get him prepared for school.

I brought him home the day after I'd come early and caught him defiantly disobeying his teacher. We went to his room and I had a stern talk with him. I asked him, "Do you understand me?" And when he shook his head no, I realized it was a 50/50 chance that he really had no idea what I was saying. I got down on his level and made the instructions as simple as possible. I sent my son to school each day with simple instructions, "When the teachers say sit, you sit, when they say stand you stand, come you come, go you go!" When we'd get out of the car walking towards the door I say, sit he would say, "I sit." I would say stand, he would say, "I stand." Each day I was told how much better he was doing at following directions. We were a team working together on his behalf. They even taught my son how to tell time and to count backwards. He is really good at it and even though he learned it through his many time-outs I believe all learning is valuable. He now thinks it is a good strategy at home and often tells mommy or his sister that we are in time-out for five or ten minutes.

In the five weeks of camp my children have had so many experiences, more than I could have done. Each day they were anxious to go and each day they came home with new names of friends they'd made, told me who had shared chips with them, or sung songs. They rode big busses on weekly field trips to Lincoln Park Zoo, Kiddie Land, Coves Landing Water park. Each week they went on a nature hike at the nature park and swam in the pool or hung out at the splash pad. They watched movies in the park theater, they went to concerts, and they made friend. My son sat in the backseat one day sing Yellow Submarine, my daughter came home with many art projects.

They had a GREAT time!

As we got in the car and drove away yesterday, I smiled listening to the excitement in their voices as they talked over each other to tell me stories about the day. My son had thrown his backpack in the front seat with me as he had done every day but today he wanted me to reach inside and give him a plastic bag filled with goodies. He searched through the bag and at the stoplight said, "Mommy this is for your finger." He handed me a green horshoe ring with pride. "Put it on finger, Mommy! It's for you!" I put it on and he said, "Show me...it's good mommy, good!" He was very pleased with himself and I was just as proud to wear his ring. There is a catch; however when I don't move as fast as he would like or do what he thinks I should do, he ask for his ring back. When I have done enough to earn it, he gladly places the ring back on my finger.

They have two weeks before real school starts. I just can't wait!

How Do I Love Them? Let Me Count the Ways

2009-07-09T13:09:00.014-05:00

I love my kids and I'm sure that we were meant for each other. They are extremely bright, charming, cute, stubborn, ornery, contrary, determined, strong-willed, defiant, vocal, out-spoken, picky, loving, demonstrative, and one laugh a minute. I did say they were cute and charming right? I also said, I'm sure that these were always meant to be my kids.

I told you how wonderful our first Monday morning of camp/school went. Well, maybe I should have waited until Tuesday for the update. On Tuesdays the kids go to the same camp but they have a different drop-off location. They are at the park district that has three facilities including the normal drop-off, the nature center, and the fitness center. Okay, so I look at the where to take them map and it clearly says Nature Center. I use useless mapquest that gives me directions pointing us in the direction of the expressway that I know are wrong. Let me step back. The kids loved their first day of camp/school and were eager to go the next day. Since they had played in the water all day, they found no reason to take showers that night especially since they assumed they would just get their bath playing in the water the next day.

We, well I woke up early Tuesday and sleeping beauty and the handsome prince were tucked tightly in their comforters. "Sleepy mom, sleepy..." After gentle trying to urge them out of bed with many back rubs, good morning to yous, and wake up sleepy heads they wouldn't buge. Well, I turned on the TV which instantly got my sons attention since he is a TV addict but quickly turned it to the gospel music channel. No pictures, just music and it just so happened that it was Marvin Sapp's Praise Him in Advance. Grumble, grumble, protest, protest. "Change channel please mom. Change!" Is someone talking to me, I thought everyone was still asleep. Well anyway I turned the music up a little trust me it wasn't loud, only enough that they grumbled and got out of bed to complain to me that they would rather watch than listen to TV. They were up and walking around. Great!

Time for showers, you know the one's you promised to take this morning? Grumble, grumble, "No mom. No shower. School shower, no house!" Well we got through the dramatics of the moment followed by the acts I and II of the why do I have to wear these close drama. I think my two could form their own theater company, really they are that good. Anyway we grumbled through breakfast, "no eat mom, ju-juice mom, yes mom ju-juice please mom, no wutet (milk)." Breakfast was had by all but not before the princess reminds us all to pray. She loves to pray and will not touch her food before AMEN! I'm trying to teach her that after we have prayed over breakfast or dinner we don't have to pray over the banana, the ice cream or whatever snack comes next. She has since informed me that at school the children do not wash their hands or PRAY before eating their food. I'm sure if she could she would write them up for such an infraction. As it is she pushes her brother's plate to the center of the table to make sure he does not sneak a bite while our eyes are closed in prayer.

Back to camp. We finally got going Tuesday morning headed towards the destination took many wrong turns, and U-turns in three or four office parks and each time my diplomatic princess would quiety ask, "Mommies bureau?" or basically are we going to work with you rather than camp? With each wrong turn, Misters lip got longer and longer. I tried to call the facilitaty but no one answered. I decided to scrap mapquest altogether and do what made sense. I found it, it was a park like facility but it just seemed empty. I saw no cars, no children, and was sure this was the wrong spot. Still I had the kids get out and we walked to the door past some service workers and like I suspected the office was dark and the sign sign, open at 9am. It was only 7:25. I decided it was best to hop in the car and just drive to the Monday morning location. My children are in Amharic uproar in the backseat I'm sure discussing that I don't know what I'm doing. The diplomat would only ask, "Mommie no school today? House mom, bureau, mom?" But my honest and forthright child said, "School NOW mom, tah-mehr-ta-bet. House NO!"

We pulled up in the parking lot my children screamed with excitement because they recognized the place. I held my breath because I knew I was only their to get directions. I told the kids to stay in the car but midway through my sentence they had jumped out with lunch boxes in hand. The nice front desk lady came out to the parking lot and said, "Ms. Washington...?" Who? Oh, yea me right. "Ms. Washington you are at the wrong location." Uhhh, yea but where do we go we've been to the Nature Center. "Oh my no. You are to go to the Fitness Center" and then she gave me directions like English was my second language. I was happy to have them but they came complete with a lot of hand directions and small words spoken very slowly. I knew as soon as I turned around to tell the kids to get in the car they would freak out. Fast forward my kids refused to get in the car, in the car but no seat, no seatbelt, tears, crying and then the sweet prince threw his lunch box out into the parking lot to show his displeasure. "Son, please get out of the car and pick up your lunchbox." "NO!" As I smiled and waved at the nice counter lady I said in more stern but still quiet voice, "Please get out of the car and pick up your lunch box." Grumble, grumble...Of course since I was standing there I could do it but that's just not how we do things in our family. I stood silently and he finally snatched it up with much attitude, hopped in his seat and refused to put on his seatbelt that I happily put on for him in one quick hand motion and snap. I've gotten pretty good at that lately.

Grumble, grumble, Amharic, "I love mommie NO!" "We are going to school trust me. We will be there shortly." Cry, cry, grumble, grumble. "Mommie is sorry for getting lost and you ARE going to school." We turned the corner for the five minute ride which was across the street from the Nature Center and my son stopped crying. "Sorry, mom. Sorry, okay?" Wow! My son has picked up something new, apologizing for his behavior. Wow! I responded that it was okay and we turned into the parking lot that led us to an underground parking lot that my children thought was exciting. The princess, "Bureau, mom? Mommies bureau?" "No sweet pea this is school." It was 7:45 and I only prayed that they saw some kids that they recognized. We went in, I opened the door and they saw their teacher. My children ran to her so excited, shook her hand as is customary and then the sweet prince hugged and kissed her on the cheek. She was a little shocked. They ran to me and hugged me, "Thanks mom. Sorry mom, Mommie I love you YES! I love you mom. Bye-bye mom! Mom go!"

Now all I that was left was to get on the Eisenhower expressway and navigate traffic into downtown Chicago. All the way I thought of just how much I love my kids! How could you not, they've brought excitement into every day and if you think that's something you won't believe what happened when I picked them up later on that day.

Looks Like We Made It

2009-07-07T05:45:00.005-05:00

Well, believe it or not my children have been in my care and custody for three weeks. It's unbelievable how much we've done in this short period of time and how well the children seem to be adjusting. Truthfully I believe that my children have lived in America before or at least they've spent most of their time studying American television.

I absolutely adore them and yesterday I had to turn them over to a bunch of strangers at day camp. After all the process and paperwork that we all go through to adopt it was a very strange experience handing unchecked, unnotorized, non-certified documents to a woman behind a desk who just took my money and show me where to drop off the kids. Don't we need something more formal? Should I have collected documents about them, asked for fingerprints of their staff or something?

The kids were excited and eager to go to the teh-mahr-ta-bet (school). Sleeping beauty who is always first to go to bed and last to wake up was up at 6am yesterday morning laying on her floor "studying" one of her books. She was quite concerned about wearing a bathing suit, carrying a bag with a towel and no books. "No books?" She asked me, like what kind of school is this. And, to top that off she was offended by having to wear purple flip flops with her pink swimwear and cover up.

The night before my children had asked many questions about school, "what grades would they be in? Would they have to spend the night? Would I drive them in the car or would they walk? Would I be at the bureau (my office) and would I pick them up?" The conversation about who would be in what grades was pretty funny as are most things with my tightly bonded siblings. My daughter had told me earlier in the week that my son was in grade zero in Ethiopia. So when they asked what grade he would be in here, I said kindergarten. He laughed and tried to say it but she looked at him with a big sister look at said, "ZERO!" I don't know how excited he was about going to SCHOOL/CAMP yesterday but he was excited about wearing his very funny looking water shoes because their first day at camp was water day.

Imagine that. My kids first day at school, since I've still not been able to explain the difference between camp and school was going to a splash pad (water park) and playing in water all day. I've decided that it's not necessary for me to give a lot of details about my children so on the form all I said in terms of special needs was that they are new English speakers and may need additional assistance with some instructions. I am confident in my daughters ability to understand more English than she speaks and her incredible ability to translate to and for her brother. She had also learned my phone number and practiced dialing it on the phone all weekend so that if there were any problems she could call me right away. I walked around the office with my cell phone all day and there was not one call. I looked up and it was 2:00 and I light out a sigh that all was well.

I left my office at 4:30 to pick them hoping that they'd had a good day and that they would want to go back this morning. I got to the front desk and the director introduced her self when I told her my name she said oh you are, (struggling to pronounce their names)... Yes, I told her and held my breath for what she was about to say. She told me that they had all fallen in love with them and she was just interested to know what country they were from. I told her Ethiopia and she asked if they would be staying here forever. I told her that they would and she said they are pretty amazing kids. Ok, so far so good!

I went down the flight of stairs to pick them up and there they were all in one piece pretty much they way that I'd left them except they were covered in stickers, face, arms, and clothes. They were sitting at a table drawing and my son saw me and exclaimed mommy and grab me for a hug. He hasn't learned to be embarrased by me in the sight of his friends but that may happen before the summer ends. He yelled to his sister to make sure she knew I was there. I collected their bags, lunch boxes, huge balls that they were given, and we got in the makena (car) to head home.

My son, asked if he would go back neggeh (tomorrow). I told him yes and all was well. He then asked the question that he always asking, "house mom?" That is usually followed by his request, "No house mom, no house, one store, pleeeeease!" We drove off listening to Marvin Sapp that they've heard enough now that they ask for specific songs by track numbers. Their favorite? Praise Him in Advance and Maginify Him!

I Found Them

2009-06-25T09:02:00.011-05:00

Well, my friends some 640 days ago I began a journey to find two children with eyes like mine. I want you to know after to traveling to Ethiopia and returning to Chicago I can tell you must certainly that I have found them.

His eyes are deep dark brown and full of life wonder and everything you could imagine in a five year old. He loves bananas, strawberries, apples, pasta, injera, eggs, omelets, well he likes anything that you can eat. He loves television, showers and clean clothes, jumping, running, pushing, and pouting as if it will get him his way. He is very smart and just as clever at finding out how to work anything that is electronic.

Her eyes are deep and nearly coal black with an old soul that is wise beyond her years. She has impressed me with her ability to retain information and translate anything I'm saying to her younger brother. She can write her first and last name in English, sound out and spell words, and sit and color for two to three hours at a time. She loves SLEEP and must have her beauty nap. She loves to watch and help me cook and will try just about anything. She is gentle and kind, and says, "thank you very much," for the slightest kindness shown to her.

My children are home! What I've been most amazed about is how loving they are to one another. All of us with siblings should be so lucky. They negotiate, come to a consensus and she always informs me of their JOINT decisions. Yesterday we were driving and they fell asleep in the car with their shoes off. When I woke them he was helping her put her shoes on and tie them and she had a napkin and was drying the sweat from his face and forehead. They spend more time with each other than with me (all wonderful to me) and in a day might spend five minutes bickering over something very small.

They both love talking on the phone and every conversation sound about the same, "Hello, how are you, huh? Yes...(giggle). I love you very much. Yes...ciao, oh bye, bye!"

I adore everything about them and feel blessed beyond measure.

I'm Still Here

2009-05-31T05:58:00.011-05:00

I've not run away; I'm not in Ethiopia, and I'm not shouting through the street telling everyone my good news. I've just been quietly soaking in the knowing that I am the mother of two amazing little people that will soon call this their home. These two weeks have been the calmest and most reflective time of this entire adoption journey and I feel myself slowly pulling away from the adoption hooohah of it all to the real-life mothering of it all.

For months, I couldn't sleep at night wondering what the first day home with the kids would be like and what we would eat. I now realize that in the two years that I've walked, run, cried, shouted and crawled through this process that I've also obsessed over every decision playing out hundereds of scenarios in my head. At the same time I was also doing some important preparation work for the life we would have together; however nothing prepared me more than going to spend three days with my children in December. They aren't just pictures on a page to me, I know their personalities, I've heard their voices, held their hands, kissed them, wiped their snotty noses, measured their feet, pressed my hands against their hands, and looked deep into their eyes with our foreheads pressed together. I walked out of the gate that night after kissing them on their cheeks knowing that I would return. I can't believe that six months will have passed before I see them again.

I've thought through most decisions that I needed to make for them hundreds of times like church, summer activities, school, language, family introductions, friends, doctors, food, clothes sizes, shoe sizes, sleeping arrangements, and crisis plans. I thought I'd feel more anxious now, more hurried, more how-do-I-get prepared but I just feel very calm and more steady. I'm not frantic about what I will pack or making travel plans that is the easy stuff.

I've researched, made decisions, revised decisions several times and now I am loving not having to wonder how to decide and if I'm making the right decisions. Now, I can just do and undo! I'm much better at doing than talking about doing, And, I've been busy doing things to help make their homecoming and transition a little easier (I hope).

The only unease that I do have is knowing that my children who were two of nine when I was there in December are now the last two of nine older children left at the orphanage. The director has decided to not take more children and they have watched their friends go off to live in Denmark and America and I'm sure they must be wondering what's taking me so long. When I think about that I do get a bit uneasy but, we are at the point of counting days now so even that will be of no more concern. I predict that all the time that has lapsed in between will instantly melt into the right here, right now and we will be in Illinois talking about, the do-you-remember-whens.

I know you all have had questions and I'll try to answer the big one:

How old are the kids? My son is 5(ish) and my daughter is 6(ish) probably 7.
What are their names? They are Meron and Wondessen. When I'm thinking about them they are affectionately known as Mimi and Desi or Baby Des but since I'm not a nicknames kind of person they may only hear those names sparingly in private moments. I am keeping their names and have chosen to give them Ethiopian middle names that are also Bible place names, much to my Robbin's dismay; however in some circles my baby girl will always be Merin Robbin.
Do they know about you and are they excited? They met me in December without knowing that I would be their mother. Since then they have been told and Kelly assures me that they remember me and are excited.
Where are their pictures? There are a bunch of them on Facebook and I'm just not comfortable at this point putting them on the blog. I'm still working through this one.
When do you travel? I'm keeping that to myself at this point, but I am making plans. Say a prayer that all of the travels go smoothly.

A Funny Thing About Adoption

2009-05-19T18:37:00.009-05:00

Well, I don't know if this is funny haha but it is funny like curious. Think back to when you first thought about adopting. You spent time really thinking through and about your decision. You researched the process, you go through different scenarios thinking of how you will tell your friends and family.

Then you announce that you've made a decision to adopt. People immediately ask, when do you get the kids?

You spent months explaining and explaining the process and that you have to apply and then get a referral. You spent your weeks or months on the waist list and are so excited that you are getting close to the top and you share your excitement and explain that you are CLOSE. People want to know what's taking so long?

You explain and explain the process. Then you get the call or finally get a referral and you are busting at the seems with JOY! You share your excitement and people ask, so when do you get the kids?

You explain and explain that a referral means a child has been chosen for you and in all of your excitement and happiness people want to know. Well what happened to their parents? When do you get the kid?

You explain and explain and you anxiously, patiently, frantically wait to be assigned a court date. You mark the date in big red letters on a calendar and share the great news and people say, so when you go to the court is that when you get the kids?

You explain and explain and then you nervously, anxiously, patiently, frantically wait for the court date to arrive and maybe it is less that favorable news. You share your disappointment and people console you and then instantly ask, well are you still going to get the kids? Why is it taking so long?

Then May 18th comes and though I'd known for several days that I had a Monday court date I decided not to share it with anybody. That way I didn't have to give updates or explain. I also took a bold step. I decided on Monday to turn my cell phone OFF rather than feel the anxiety of running to it and checking it. I also decided not to check e-mail but rather just wanted to have a normal day and check on things when I felt most at ease.

I had work conference calls scheduled ALL day. I believe that I found out just before noon that the case had been finalized but I found it out browsing e-mail while on a business conference call. It was great news but I decided that I didn't want to share the information but I wanted to keep it ALL to myself. I'd waiting a long time for it and I didn't want to share my thoughts or feelings with ANYBODY. I didn't want to answer questions, I just wanted time to soak it all in by myself.

I believe that I called my father at about 2pm and I knew that he knew not to pepper me with a lot of questions. Like me he was so happy to hear the news that he just wanted time to process it all. We talked without screams or shouts about what it meant to us and for us and then we talked casually about travel options and prices. I had two more work conference calls and then contacted the kid's godfather, it was a simple congratulations because he also understood the long hard road and how important it was to just keep it right there, focused on this one moment of the journey. I had one more conference call and called my best fried at worked I think we both were so overwhelmed that we cried and talked workplace softly about how important and meaningful it was. "Thank God", is all she kept saying. "We did it. We finally did it." It was a quiet fifteen minutes together and we just hung onto the moment. It was very important for me to share the news with these three people who were the first people who ever knew my plans and have supported me in an awesome way for nearly two years.

In between calls I just sat with myself, I went into the kid's room, I touched their things and quietly got on my last conference call for the day. It was just too important a day to shout from the rooftops and take a chance that those within hearing distance would want to rush me on to the next step, "so when do you get the kids?" The moment that I legally became their mother was so monumental that it was not time, is not time to move on to those details.

At about 5:30pm I finally called my coordinator to let her know that I had indeed read her e-mails and that I'd not vanished from the face of the earth but just wanted time to take it all in. She confirmed that what I'd read was true, I was really their mother. That was about the same time that I made the announcement on Facebook. I had so many well wishes and prayers and congratulations and I was truly moved by them all. Still, I need more time for quiet reflection, moments to give heartfelt praise for this step alone without feeling the pressure of what comes next.

Isn't it funny how we pray and ask for things and then when we get it, we barely take time to give thanks before we say, okay now what I need is... I just say thank you for where I am. This final court decree is the BLESSING! I sat down with my friend to celebrate over dinner last night and just enjoyed this BLESSING without talking about what is next.

I've learned through this process that time takes care of itself but praise and thanksgiving is something that we can control. You can ask me but please don't feel offended if I don't answer what is next or when. I'm still reflecting on the wonder of the day and praising Him for this monumental gift.

Thank You!

REJOICE In The Midst of it All

2009-05-18T23:12:00.006-05:00

What a day!

I barely got this post in before the strike of midnight. But I stop the clock on my wait since I learned that the adoption was made final today -- May 18, 2009 (32 days since my original court date). The day has brought with it many different emotions, none that I'm sure I could have predicted but more than anything in my heart their is nothing but gratefulness. I am grateful that I was led to this journey, grateful for all the good things that have happened along the way, grateful for the stops and starts, grateful for the high hurdles, and seemingly impossible mountains that I had to climb. I'm grateful that through it all, at every stop along the way when their were doubts, false starts, fear, and disbelief that Jesus kept me not in spite of but in the midst of it all.

This is one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite gospel albums of all times. It sums up me feelings on this day better than any words I could ever say. As I listened to this song today, I think that this not only my song but it is the song of my children as well. There lives don't only begin anew once they find their way to me, Jesus has faithfully kept them through it all, in the midst of it all and no matter what I've gone through at 43 it pales when I compare it to what they have already endured at 5 and 6. There is nothing in my life that I could have ever done to deserve this opportunity and when I did things to blow the opportunity He was ever faithful to me. For that, too, I am grateful.

I've come through many hard trials
Through temptations on every hand
Though Satan's tried to stop me
And to place my feet on sinking sand
Through the pain and all of my sorrows
Through tears and all of my fears
The Lord was there to keep me
For He's kept me in the midst of it all

Not because I've been so faithful
Not Because I've always obeyed
It's not because I trust him
To be with me all of the way
But it's because He loves me so dearly
He was there to answer my call
There always to protect me
For He's kept me in the midst of it all

[Choir:]
I've come through many hard trials
Through temptations on every hand
Though Satan's tried to stop me
And to place my feet on sinking sand
Because Jesus loves me dearly
He was there to answer my call
There always to protect me
For He's kept me in the midst of it all

[Chorus:]
No He's never left me
And He' never let me fall
Oh yes He will protect you
For He's kept me in the midst of it all

[Vamp:]
Yes, He kept me
Yes, Jesus kept me
Jesus kept me [3x], in the midst of it all
For He's kept me in the midst of it all

When I thought I was going to lose my mind.
Jesus kept me. Jesus kept me.
With his power Jesus kept me.
He didn't let me fall. Jesus kept me.
Right there, right there in the midst of it all.
In the midst of it all.

I don't know what you're going through. Jesus kept me.
But would you allow me to encourage you.
I know it he did it for me, for me, for me, for me.
He will do the same for you. In the midst of it all.
Jesus. Jesus. Yes he did!
Jesus. Jesus. Yes he did!
I don't know nobody else to call in time of trouble.
I tried my mother and I know she loved me.
I tried my family and I know they love me.

Nobody but Jesus.
He held my hand, he brought me through.
He wouldn't let me fall, so let me encourage you.
Don't give up! Don't give in!
I don't care what nobody else says. You can win.
With Jesus. With Jesus.
You can make.
Just understand that you have everything inside of you to take it.

Faith Is...

2009-05-14T07:20:00.012-05:00

Growing up in the CME church every Sunday we would begin with the Apostle's Creed. The question was, In whom do you believe? We answered, I believe in God the Father Almighty, the maker of heaven and earth and in Jesus Christ His only son our Lord who was conceived by the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified died and buried. The third day he arose from the dead; He ascended into heaven, and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty...

I guess that I've repeated those words so many times in my life that today I can say that my faith is not something that I have to check on moment by moment. It is not situational or engaged because of or in spite of circumstances that change day to day. Either you believe or you do not. I do not have to continually assess the reality, sovereignty, or power of the God of my creation based upon how much or how often I get the things that I want when I want them. Either you believe or you do not.

Faith is for me the core of who I am and not something that I summon to get me through difficult times. Living and walking in faith is not a difficult thing for me. How can I look at the world, my place in it, the situations that I've come through, the grace that I've been shown, all the chances undeserved that I've been given, and not believe that there is something bigger, grander, and more powerful than myself silently moving on my behalf.

It is well, for I have faith that whatever comes in this life I will be what I have been called to be, standing where I have been positioned to stand, and doing what I was called to do.

Touch, Agree, and Believe

2009-04-30T07:45:00.003-05:00

This is a call to action for all of my believing-in-spite-of-what-I-see friends that will join me in shaking the foundations, breaking through, and breaking free. So, here is what I will be singing to myself today, the words are so true. What I'm asking you to do is to tell me what you believe in, what you are hoping, and believing for.

Praise, they say confuses the enemy and I'm wondering if we can drive him stark raving mad. That's my goal and that's my plan. Try to listen to this song a couple of times and see if it doesn't lift your spirits.

I Still Believe
Marvin Winans

I still believe in marriages made in heaven.
And that love will conquer all.
I've been hurt but not deceived.
Regardless of what has happened I still believe.

I still believe in predestination and eternal purpose
All things work together for my good
Opposition comes against me yet still I proceed
Cause no matter what I'm facing I still believe.

Now remember faith the size of a mustard seed
Has the potential of endless possibilities
And if you just keep the faith
The promise of a better day is a guarantee

I've been through enough to make me cynical
Cold-hearted, mean, and just disagreeable
But, I have chosen to believe in a happy day for me
Filled with miracles. Oh just a happy day -- the sun is shining.

I still believe in waterfalls and sunsets
And that dreams really do come true
Hope springs eternal in those who believe
That's why no matter what happens, I still believe

I really do believe
I believe in the good of all mankind
I believe behind the clouds the sun still shines
I believe there is coning a brighter day
I believe that our children will lead the way.
I believe that trouble won't last -- always
Joy is coming in the morning

Every mountain be exalted
Rough places made plain
I believe that the lion will lay down with the lamb
I believe that we will if we will that we can
Don't you ever stop moving towards the promise land
I believe that trouble won't last always
I believe that trouble won't last always

No matter what you are going through
I want you to believe that you will, I want you know that you can
And never stop helping your fellow man
Keep the faith, keep the faith
We're going to make, we're gonna make it if you just keep believing
Keep on hoping, keep on trusting
It's going to be alright, that's what I believe

I believe it I really do
I believe

Baby Sister Robbin and the Peeps

2009-04-29T19:16:00.007-05:00

All of us have to remember when you are given a vision and a dream it is yours and yours alone and no matter how rocky the road gets, how crooked the turns turn, how high you have to climb, or how many times you have to stumble before you make it you have been more than equipped for the dream that He handed specifically to you. Until He takes that desire from your heart or closes every door it is only His saying, "well done" that matters.

When they start getting on that last nerve, put on your best Etta James impression and just tell them it ain't their business. You should be smiling because Tami is Chaka Kahn.

Ain't No Need To Worry

2009-04-29T04:18:00.005-05:00

Finding comfort wherever I can, I'm usually drawn to the music that has always been a big part of my life and faith. The message is simple it's the doing that takes more work.

Ain't no need in worrying
what the night is gonna bring,
it'll be all over in the morning.

There's a fear of night fall,
when darkness comes and covers all the day.
Sometimes we feel pain,
but there are things that we can change, just pray.

Ain't no need to worry,
what the night is gonna bring,
it'll be all over in the morning.

Troubles come, but they do pass.
Heartaches hurt but they don't last always.
Sometimes we feel pain,
but there are things that we can change, just pray.

In the morning, the morning,
it'll be all over in the morning.
It'll be all over in the morning.

Makes no different how dark the night,
if you trust in God, it'll be alright;
(it'll be all over in the morning).
It makes no difference how long the day,
trust in God, He'll make a way;
(it'll be all over in the morning).

Weeping will last, but only for awhile,
but when the sun shines,
you'll wear a smile;
(it'll be all over in the morning).

Suns gonna shine on your face
and make you feel like you can run this race
and you can be a winner.
Take the prize and go home.
It will be over in the morning.

Hold on, it will be over in the morning.
Hold on it will be over in the morning

Were Are My Believers?

2009-04-22T10:01:00.005-05:00

I actually have this "cassette" and it is really in my car. Thanks to YouTube I can share the video, song, and words with you. I'm sure you will agree that they fit, though you may enjoy the words better than the song. We have to keep believing.

If You Believe in Me?

Time, of rise and fly, over me, to the sea,
Love is a pride, wait for me, wait for me,

If you believe in me,
I will believe in what will be,
We want the world you've only dreamed of,
Promise of the seasons,
Give us the future please,
That's all we need of you.

Running in circles,
Desperate we hold to yours and mine,
Using my body,
Closing our hearts and eyes.

Oh no, open the door and let the wind blow,
Take my hand, together we stand in the eye of the hurricane.

If you believe in me
I will believe in what will be,
We want the world you've only dreamed of,
Promise of the seasons,
Give us the future please,
That's all we need of you.

Every nation, every woman, child and man
Comes on a moment, where they must take a stand,

Oh no, forget what you know, just let the wind blow,
Blown apart, you open your heart, and that's where anything can be.

If you believe in me
I will believe in what will be,
We want the world you've only dreamed of,
Promise of our seasons,
Give us the future please,
That's all we need of you.

Out of control, out of my mind, at last,
Into my dreams, we sailed away.

If you believe in me
I will believe in what will be,
We want the world you've only dreamed of,
Promise of our seasons,
Give us the future please,
That's all we need of you.

Oh sing it children
(If you believe in me)
Got to believe
(I will believe in what will be,)
Tell `em what you want
(We want the world you've only dreamed of,)
World you've only dreamed of
(Promise of our seasons,)
(Give us the future please, )
(That's all we need of you.)

If you believe in me
I will believe in what will be,
We want the world you've only dreamed of,
Promise of our seasons,
Give us the future please,
That's all we need of you.

Too Much of a Good Thing

2009-04-20T17:14:00.003-05:00

I found this interesting article and video about a man in Ethiopia with 12 wives and 78 children. Here is an excerpt from the article:

In this remote, densely-populated region of Ethiopia, it is common for men to have multiple wives. In Ayatu's case this tradition has backfired. Years ago, he had enough land and food to satisfy everyone's needs. This changed when Ayatu had to sell land or cattle to make the dowry payment for each new wife he took, usually a sum of between $500 and $1,000. Now, the family compound is almost bare from overgrazing, two of his wives have moved with cattle in search of greener pastures, and two others died from unknown illnesses in the 1990s. The situation is so desperate that Ayatu cannot afford to send his children to secondary school, and he is marrying off two of his 15-year-old daughters to ensure they are fed. Thirteen others are living with their married siblings.

Read the article or you can watch the video:

Each One Teach One

2009-04-17T10:26:00.008-05:00

Thanks for all of the responses to my post from April 15 and 16. I was really touched by the things you shared and it made me more aware that how I've walked through my journey and the things that I've shared have had a positive impact on others. Believe me, I learn and grow as much from all of you as some of you have learned from me.

There was one comment left on my blog yesterday that I wanted to post today. Thank you Theresa for the passage of scripture you sent. I know that others will appreciate it as well.

"If it seems slow, be patient!

For it will surely take place.

It will not be late by a single day."

Habakkuk 2:3

This passage brought me immediate comfort when I read it. I checked BibleGateway to find what version of the bible it was from and in the process found other interesting interpretations of this scripture.

The Message: This vision-message is a witness pointing to what's coming.It aches for the coming—it can hardly wait! And it doesn't lie.If it seems slow in coming, wait. It's on its way. It will come right on time.

New Living: This vision is for a future time. It describes the end, and it will be fulfilled. If it seems slow in coming, wait patiently, for it will surely take place. It will not be delayed.

New International Reader: The message I give you waits for the time I have appointed. It speaks about what is going to happen. And all of it will come true. It might take a while. But wait for it. You can be sure it will come. It will happen when I want it to.

My Biological Clock is Ticking

2009-04-16T18:51:00.019-05:00

You may have noticed that my court date clock stopped ticking at about 10am this morning, but it seems that my biological clock is still ticking and I thank God for that. As my mother would say if time keeps passing and you're not getting older it means that you are dead. Well, I am alive! I wish that I had more exciting news to share with you today but the waits not yet over. My case was heard and they yet need more information. I was determined to not allow the news to overtake me and I've held together pretty well.

The song that I heard over and over in my head today was, "I Still Have Joy". After all that I've been through, I still have joy. I reflected on my favorite chapter of the bible, Philippians 4 and on days like this I have to remember that the scripture says that I know how to live in abundance and how to live without but for whatever state I am in I know to be content. If I thought it would help, I'd scream and shout about how unfair it is but life is not fair nor is favor. I went through a list of songs like, "Ain't No Need to Worry," and "It's Been Along Time Coming."

I even found myself singing, "I've had some good days, and I've had some hills to climb. I've had some weary days, and some sleepless nights. But when I look around and when I think things over, you know my good days outweigh my bad days so I won't complain. -- And then I ask the Lord why so much pain. But I found out that he knows what's best for me although my weary eyes don't see. So, I'll say thank you Lord, I won't complain."

Then I played my Marvin Sapp stand by "Have you ever had a need that He did not meet or a situation and He did not come through? There's no question of Your greatness, nor searching of your power. Of the wonder of Your glory, to You 40 years is but one hour. Your knowledge is all encompassing and too your wisdom there is no end...Be all glory and honor, dominion and power for ever and ever, amen." I even sang a couple of lines of Mary J. Blige, I'm not gonna cry.

In the end I decided that it is my favorite gospel song of all times that fits me today that says, "What do you do when you've done all you can, seems like it's never enough? Tell me what do you say when friends walk away and you're alone? Tell me what do you give when you've given your all and you can't make it through? Well, you just stand when there's nothing left to do, you stand and watch the Lord see you through. After you've done all you can do then you just stand. How can you smile when your heart has been broken and so filled with pain? What do you do when you've done all that you can and it seems like you can't make it through? You just stand, don't you dare give up. Through the storm, through the rain, through the heartache, through the pain. Don't you bow, don't you bend, don't give up, don't give in. Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on. After you've done all you can, just stand."

So let's not get to down. Let's look forward and shout for what will be! I need you guys to prop me up just a little and let's try to celebrate what will come.

His Name is Zion

2009-04-15T17:52:00.024-05:00

The name Zion is written in the bible 168 times. Zion is a city in Jerusalem, a mountain on a hill and another name for heaven. Zion is what writers call Ethiopia and believe it or not, Tsion (Zion) was the name of the girl who met me at the airport and carried my bags to the hotel.

Zion is, was, and forever will be the name of my first son, born on this day April 15, 2002. I checked into the hospital and after 27 hours of labor delivered, him, held him and had to let him go. I left the hospital the following day with a bag of memories, tokens, and certificates to prove that he was here. I left that day not knowing what my future would hold.

Since April 15, 2002 the days immediately preceding and the days immediately following are sometimes struggle. Without being conscious of it, there have been times that the longing sweeps over me in waves. In 2003, I decided that I each year on April 15, that I would attempt to do those things that I would not have otherwise had the courage to do. That first year on April 15, 2003 I was shocked to find myself sitting in a room coaching the CEO and the entire executive team of a large restaurant chain -- miraculous. On April 15, 2004 I was in New Haven, CT teaching a 3-day class at Yale University -- improbable. April 15, 2005 I was invited to as one of two consultants to deliver diversity training to the executive team at one of those large battery companies that we all know so well -- impossible. I remember how hard it was getting on the plane that day and getting prepare once I landed. It's the day that I sat in the parking lot and heard Mary, Mary singing, "I Cried My Last Tear Yesterday." I can pretty much tell you where I was and what I was doing on this day every since 2002 and it wasn't my taxes. On April 15, 2008, I packed away all of Zion's things for the last time. All that there was of him was still in the bag from the hospital and over the years I would take things out, look at them, read them, and put them away.

Some things in life are difficult to explain like why some children live and others die too soon. Why some born in Ethiopia triumph over all the odds against them and those born here in the states in world class hospital just don't have the strength to survive. All of us have stories and how we found ourselves on this path varies from person to person. It seems that my journey begins and ends with Zion and it's difficult to explain why this long, winding, wonderful, laborious journey could some how deliver me to this date. At first I thought it ironic that God would have my children's lives so intertwined by these dates and then I thought of David who told me last year; that whenever you go full circle you get a new beginning. That must be it, I thought one chapter of my life as a mother is being closed on April 15 and another one opened on April 16. But, then I realize yet one more bit of irony, when my case is heard in Ethiopia I believe that it will still be April 15 here in Chicago.

It's difficult to tell you all this without filling in the details or writing in my more usual style. Forgive me, please I just want to get it down to mark the significance of this day. From the day that I learned that there is a church in Axum, Ethiopia that hold the Arc of the Covenant, and that the name of that church is St. Mary's of Zion I was drawn to that place. Without being able to explain it to you, in August 2007 when I started this journey, I knew that whatever questions and unresolved issues and longing that I had would be answered and filled when my feet touched the soil in Ethiopia. Remember I went there in December and from the moment I touched down, I was drawn into an unexplainable set of events. I think it was the first time that I'd truly exhaled in nearly seven years. It was a release that I will never be able to explain.

When I walked into the courtyard on the other side of that big blue gate, I thought that I would be overcome by emotion. Instead I saw my children and instantly new that all I had believed was indeed true. All of my unanswered questions were answered in an instant and instead of being overcome with emotions, I exhaled again and felt a rush of peace come over me. When I prayed on the prayer bench of the church, I felt peace. When I walked into the palace I felt peace. When I walked through the streets of Addis I was at peace. When I held my children and looked into their eyes I was at peace. When I said goodbye to them that last day, I was at peace. I've carried that feeling with me from that time to this. Rather than feeling the anxiety or anxiousness, I feel peace.

Today on April 15, 2009 I wait patiently to do yet one more thing that I thought would be impossible to do. I wait to hear the words that I thought I'd never hear and wait to tell the world what I thought I'd never say. This impossible thing has been made possible and all things thought improbable have passed away. Now, I no longer wonder what I will do on all the April 15ths to come. I know that I will celebrate this new beginning.

This is the eve of my new beginning and all I feel is peace. I love you all so much thank you from the bottom of my heart for every kind word and every prayer that you have prayed for me. God always sends his angels to protect, shield, and guide, because of each of you, I've come full circle and this is a new beginning. So wherever you are just say a quick thank you to God because it is already written it is already done.

Hebrews 12:22 But you have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly.

Peace Be Still
Come on with peace. I'm talking about peace. Peace be still. In your home, peace. On your job, peace. Late in the midnight hour... peace be still. Whenever the Lord says peace, I guarantee there'll be peace. I know that it will be. Peace, oh peace. When there's confusion, whenever the Lord says peace, there'll be peace, you'll have peace. Peace, oh, oh peace. When you don't know which way to turn, He guarantees that there will be peace. I'm not worried about it. Peace, oh, oh peace. If I don't have nothing else, whenever the Lord says peace, I've got peace in my heart and peace down in my soul. Peace, oh, oh peace...

Tuesday Leaves Us With Two Days

2009-04-14T18:40:00.007-05:00

I know that I say this every few months but I think I've developed a reputation for being really deep and serious. That is a part of me but I'm also really silly, just ask the girls that call me on the phone. With two days to go (although no one is really counting -- wink, wink) I've been in a very light-hearted mood. I've had a few moments of distraction but mostly I've been humming, whistling, or singing under my breath unfortunately getting a few looks as I pass people by. I've been falling asleep too early which means I wake up too early like 4:00am. My normal wake-up without an alarm clock is 4:30 so go figure. Anyway, since my last song brought up so much teary-eyed emotion, I kept thinking what song could I share that would express how I'm feeling today. Can't really explain it but I found myself singing one song today and then the other came to mind. So, the double play today includes two classics by Diana Ross.

Y'all had better sing too.

I'm coming out. I'm coming out I want the world to know got to let it show. I'm coming out I want the world to know I got to let it show. There's a new me coming out and I just had to live and I wanna give, I'm completely positive. I think this time around I am gonna do it, like you never do it, like you never knew it. Ooh, I'll make it through!

The time has come for me, to break out of the shell. I have to shout that I'm coming out. I'm coming out I want the world to know. Got to let it show I'm coming out I want the world to know I got to let it show.

I've got to show the world all that I wanna be and all my abilities, there's so much more to me. Somehow, I have to make them just understand I got it well in hand and, oh, how I've planned I'm spreadin' love there's no need to fear and I just feel so glad every time I hear: I'm coming out I want the world to know. Got to let it show I'm coming out I want the world to know I got to let it show.

Hit #2 -Sing...

If you need me, call me, no matter where you are, no matter how far. Just call my name and I'll be there in a hurry on that you can depend and never worry. No wind, no rain, no winters cold can stop me babe if you're my goal. Aint' no mountain high enough, ain't no valley low enough, that can keep me from you.

Feeling Like I Do With Three Days to Go

2009-04-13T17:16:00.011-05:00

In case you're wondering how I'm feeling with barely three days of waiting in front of me; just listen to the emotions and words to this classic Stevie Wonder song called Overjoyed. It's hopeful optimism with a little bit of cautious defiance. Like Stevie I almost defy anyone to try and turn me back now, it just won't happen.

Over time, I've been building my castle of love
Just for two, though you never knew you were my reason
Ive gone much too far for you now to say
That Ive got to throw my castle away

Over dreams, I have picked out a perfect come true
Though you never knew it was of you I've been dreaming
The sandman has come from too far away
For you to say come back some other day

And though you don't believe that they do, they do come true
For did my dreams come true when I looked at you
And maybe too, if you would believe, you two might be
Overjoyed, over loved, over me

Over hearts, I have painfully turned every stone
Just to find, I had found what I've searched to discover
I've come much too far for me now to find
The love that I've sought can never be mine

And though you don't believe that they do, they do come true
For did my dreams come true when I looked at you
And maybe too, if you would believe, you two might be
Overjoyed, over loved, over me

And though the odds say improbable
What do they know
For in romance
All true love needs is a chance
And maybe with a chance you will find
You too like I
Overjoyed, over loved, over you, over you

Five Days to Reflect

2009-04-11T21:36:00.011-05:00

I am at five days and counting and reaching this point has allowed me to be really reflective. God never promised that the road would be easy only that He would lead us every step of the way. In honor of this Resurrection weekend and the five short days that I have for this amazing life change, I wanted to share with you one of my favorite post. I smile now when I read this.

Where is Your Faith?
Reposted from July 11, 2008

I know that I can't be the only person that has shed a few tears while going through this process. Some of you have cried buckets. First there were the happy tears and the excitement of every little thing like receiving a call back from the agency, getting a package in the mail or even writing one of the big checks.

SNAGS ALONG THE WAY
Maybe you have hit a few snags along the way. Maybe you have faced a mountain or tried to fight your way through a brick wall. I know that there have been days where you've said that it was all too much, that it was taking too long, that you wanted to quit. Maybe you were forced to place your plans on hold because family or financial circumstances have changed so drastically.

Maybe it was days of doubt and second guessing. Maybe it was looking for signs that you were on the right path and all you got were bright flashing red lights or stop signs or detours down one-way streets that led to dead ends. I know that there are families that have had long referral waits, missed referrals, lost referrals, failed court dates, and long delays before travel. The biggest heartbreak that I've heard is of families with referrals and the children passed away before ever reaching them. Then you have to try and wrap your heart around different child and a different picture than the one who's picture you originally fell in love with.

ALL TOO MUCH
Maybe I'm just talking about myself but there have been times that I have cried out and asked what is all of this for. Several days ago I woke up just in time to hear a television minister say, "God does not respond to our needs and wants, God responds to our faith." We can't bully him into our way of thinking either.

I had to remind myself that hope that is seen is not hope for if I can see it then what am I hoping for? This is a faith walk like no other to me. I know that I have some powerful sisters walking this same walk and feeling the same way. In our lives we have been able create spreadsheets and checklist; write the plan, work the plan, influence others to our way of thinking, and call upon our strong will and determination to make things happen, usually in our favor. I feel like I've met my match.

THE FAITH TO HOLD ON
And...at the end of all of this, what He has for us is what we have. The children that we get are the children that were destined for us at the beginning. They are those that were chosen just for us. They may or may not be what we dreamed or hoped in our minds. They may be older, faster, slower, louder, happier, sadder, taller, smaller, or more ill, more stubborn, more afraid or more hurt. They may be wore wise, more astute, more mature, or more intelligent. They may be more loving and more giving, more patient and more kind. More faithful, much stronger, more steadfast, and more sure.

My faith is in the knowing that while we are seeking our hearts desire, God is desiring our hearts to open and our faith to grow. That's not a lesson I'm giving to others, it is the lesson that I've learned for myself. This is not an easy path that we've chosen but it is our path. Everything that comes along the way is exactly what is meant for us. Trusting that is required.

I may wake up every morning with my mind on Ethiopia, but my faith lies in knowing that God's plan for me is far beyond anything that I could plan for myself. That's why I can't seem to understand every little twist and turn. Often I have to remind myself, it isn't about me anyway. It is about children who are hoping, dreaming, believing, praying and waiting.

FAITH OF THE CHILDREN
Maybe, just maybe God is working this whole thing out by their faith so it is the children's prayers that are being answered. Maybe they need one more day in the arms of nannies that have nursed them back to health. Maybe they want more time sitting at the table eating injera and doro wat. Maybe they need more time with parents, sisters and brothers that they will never see again and just need to feel the tender hands of grandparents that have to let them go. Maybe they need to hear how wonderful and special they are in their own language or play in the courtyards with friends who truly understand.

Maybe they are praying for parents that are strong enough, patient enough, committed enough, faithful enough, and loving enough. Maybe they are just not ready to leave the only place they've called home knowing that they may never return. Maybe they are afraid of what lies ahead or who is waiting for them. Maybe just maybe they want to fill their own hopes and dreams and not carry the weight of a country that hopes for them or parents that need them to close their own open holes. Maybe we can learn faith from them that have nothing, who can do nothing but trust all the adults that work on their behalf or have an abiding faith in their creator. Maybe just maybe it is not us that are waiting for them but they that are waiting for us to be prepared and not just ready or anxious.

The Time Grows Near

2009-04-08T23:24:00.015-05:00

The number SEVEN symbolizes Spiritual Perfection and is found 700 times in the bible. In the Book of Revelation there are SEVEN churches, SEVEN Spirits, SEVEN stars, SEVEN seals, SEVEN trumpets, SEVEN vials, SEVEN personages, SEVEN dooms, and SEVEN new things.

How amazing it is that I sit to write this post, having but seven days to finalize this process. I think back to October 28, 2008 when the bottom fell out and the doors of hell opened wide, the skies got dark, and found myself sucked into some alternate reality and saw the ugliest side of adoption. It took its toll on me and almost consumed me until I realized that I was complicit and although I'd not signed up for it I was playing my part in what was becoming a merry go round of insanity. I decided to get off the ride. I refused to play the game any more and was willing to walk away from adoption all together. The price had become to high and it simply wasn't worth the fight if in fighting I was losing myself, my perspective, my dignity, and my self-respect. It just wasn't worth it.

On December 1, I made a decision and that was to end my pursuit of adoption. I was calm and rational and had decided that my money would have be better spent on a three week vacation and my time better used pursuing a PhD. It was when I finally made that decision to let it all go that a sense of peace and calm came over me and I knew I had made the right decision; it was like a heavy burden had been lifted. That morning I was on the computer looking for vacation trips and I received a call from my adoption nightingale named Robbin asking why I'd not responded to her emails. To be honest I just hadn't read them, they had something to do with adoption and I was finished with that, proud and happy with my choice, feeling a sense of freedom to move on with my life. I told Robbin about my plans and she asked me to first look at the e-mails that she had sent.

The e-mail in my mailbox was from ANOTHER adoption agency letting Robbin know that they indeed had a brother and sister between the ages of 3-7 that they were actively trying to place. Without my knowledge Ms. Robbin had reached out to this agency on my behalf. As I read the e-mail half-heartedly, refusing to be sucked in, the e-mail suggested that if I were interested and if I indeed had a dossier that we could proceed quickly. I'd heard all of this before and I tried to ignore the e-mail. My dossier had been returned from Ethiopia some days before. I didn't want to see pictures, I didn't want to hear stories, I didn't want to open myself up to be crushed again. Why did I get this e-mail today, after I'd decided to let it all go? It took me a day or two and then I thought I would at least inquire, but I made it clear that I was pretty jaded from my experiences. I was cautious and throwing up my own red flags almost hoping that the agency would say, it was too difficult. But, I received the opposite. To everyone of my cautions, I received, "We can work with that." Of course they could, it's always easy in the beginning, everyone is always so accommodating until...right?

I still don't know what allowed me to open up to the possibility but in my heart, I didn't want a new set of kids. I wanted the kids whose pictures had sat on the dresser in their room for six months. I wanted the kids that I believed were coming home in December. I wasn't even sure that I could wrap my heart around these new kids and I surely couldn't wrap my mind around the thought of more paperwork. The agency was making it too easy for me, they decided to accept my documents as they were. Somehow I fought through it all and made it to this point.

As I've told stories about my trip to Ethiopia that began on December 25, I've not said much about why. I just could not fall in love with another picture, I had lost the ability to trust or believe in information that was told to me by a virtual stranger on the other end of the phone. I had to see these new children, to touch them, to talk to them, to see if I had any thing left for them. The rose colors had been completely wiped away from my romanticized view of adoption and I needed to know if they were real and if my heart would be able to love them. I had to know how they would react or respond to me and I could only do that in Ethiopia.

It was with those mixed feelings that I rushed to throw a trip together in two days. After I returned feeling that every single thing about my adoption journey finally made sense and that every hurdle I had was only to lead me to these two special and precious gifts. Sitting on the steps at the orphanage I knew that as surely as I knew my own name. Through all the pain that I'd experienced I sat on the steps and laughed when I looked at them and I knew...these two children had only entered the orphanage in September, 2008 really near the time that my previous adoption began to unravel.

It's amazing how time has revealed this story and how effortless every move has been drawing me closer to these two little souls. From my first knowledge of them on December 3, 2009 to traveling on December 25, to completing a new dossier on January 19, 2009, to getting my court date on February 16 and then having that date moved up so that now we are waiting only seven short days for the court hearing that will finalize this adoption. It's been a life altering experience. It took me many weeks to remove the other pictures from the dresser, it took another couple of weeks to add the new ones, but since that time, I haven't looked back and have no regrets. What I have instead is a spirit of gratefulness.

Were it not for Susan, Robbin, Leah, and most importantly my dad, encouraging me, consoling me, pushing me, guiding me, and holding me up I would not have had the strength or desire to continue. When I resolved to quit they told me that I had to move forward and when my will was not strong enough, they willed this dream for me. For there strong unwavering belief in me, the constant support that they gave me, and the many prayers they prayed for me, I will be forever grateful. You are all apart of an amazing story that I will tell for years.

For all of you who have been so gracious and kind over this nearly two year journey, please keep me and the kids in your thoughts and prayers as the time grows near and we make our way closer to family.

And Then I Kissed the President: Part II

2009-03-27T09:59:00.014-05:00

Read Part I:

Well...I left Gedaye's house the same way they I walked in, I'd taken off the traditional dress but kept the head wrap to cover the rollers. Yes, I walked through the streets of Ethiopia with rollers in my hair. I walked through the courtyard hugged and kissed the kids as I made my way my way to the blue gate. This had already been a long day and it wasn't even 4:00 yet.

I made my way back to the hotel, I walked up those three flights of pretty white marble stairs, I took two hits on the rescue inhaler to catch my breath. I hope you can understand how much rushing around that I had to do. I tried on a couple of things and they were shorter than I remembered and even those that weren't did not go with those ugly brown sensible shoes with the wedge heel. I pulled out my long flowered skirt with the bright orange trim and then remembered that I'd brought a knit two piece set. You know a sweater set but it was knit material. That would have to do. I felt like I was going to a church meeting, you know how you feel when you are dressed but not feeling it? I decided right then and there if I was going to the PALACE I was not going to let a silly pair of shoes get me down. I knew what I had to do. I had to work it out, put a smile on my face, and walk proudly out the door.

Always, always accentuate the positives, so I concentrated on the upper half, I whipped my hair and applied a flawless painted face with extra lip gloss for shine. My goal was to draw attention to my face so that no one would feel that they needed to look down. From the neck up I looked good and took a picture of my self to prove it! You all have seen it a couple of post back. I got down to the lobby right at 3:30 and saw that my host was still dressed in her same outfit from earlier in the day. It was cute but I instantly realized that she obviously had not gone through the same pull-everything-out-of-your-suitcase-and-try-it-on event that I had. She looked great. Like me she focused on prettying up the face.

We headed out of the lobby and all I had in my hand was my small wallet that was large enough to hold my passport. This was shocking since I'd become known for carrying a big bag around with every pill, disinfectant, food, and what not in it. I hadn't asked many questions, well I hadn't asked any questions and jumped in the white CARGO van for the ride. As we pulled away, I was fascinated watching my host drive that stick shift wearing that long gown. We started driving and this was the first time I was passing the same sights that I'd only seen in the darkness of my arrival two night before. On the corner was a makeshift market selling clothes and shoes. My hostess with the mostest decided that we should sing as we drove to make the time go faster. She decided to sing The First Noel and Silent Night. We sung these songs a couple of times until we had two part harmony going. We sang and laughed in between. I just starred out the window trying to take in every site. It was obvious that we were traveling through several residential areas and there was so much to see.

I still really didn't know where I was going and to be truthful I didn't see anything that made me feel like we were getting closer to the palace. Maybe Gedaye was right afterall. Well we finally made it to a main road, rounded a corner and without warning pulled up to a cast iron gate. The gate was closed and as we pulled the car up a man dressed in a gray suit approached the van. He had a clip board and instantly checked off my host' name. Then it would became like something out of a movie. Amharic, Amharic, laugh, laugh as the man continued to pour of the list of names obviously not finding my name there. He turned the pages over, he looked at the list that I could tell were late additions because they were written in ink and not typed. I was NOT on the list and we just sat at the pretty gate. My hostess was relaxed and leaning out the window. Amharic, Amharic, laugh, laugh and they opened the gate and we pulled forward. We pulled inside the gate but not too far. She pulled the car over to the side and another person approached with a clipboard. It was obvious that I wasn't on the list but not obvious whether or not I'd be able to attend. We sat there for about 10 minutes while we saw several people, some armed, some not go back and forth trying to decide what should be done.

My hostess grabbed her cell phone and called inside the palace. She handed the phone to one of the people standing there, there were probably 10 near the gate acting in some official capacity. We were asked to step out of the van. I took a deep breath. "Is everything okay?" I asked her not really sure what was going on. The next thing I know a man came with a mirror attached to a large poll and started searching under the vehicle. I took a deep breath, but my hostess was so relaxed and interacting knowingly with the people near the gate. There was a guard shed and I saw one of the men pick up and talk on the phone. We stood outside the van and I tried to act very unconcerned. It wasn't scary, just uncertain. Finally we were approached by two women in military uniforms with guns. They directed us to follow them and we walked across a little courtyard to a small bricked structure. I took a deep breath and followed along like I do this everyday. They searched us like that do with the wand at the airport. They went through my wallet and examined my passport. We were cleared? Yea, WE were cleared. We went back across the courtyard and down about three steps to where the van was parked. We got back in and drove down a little farther to the parking spaces.

This was the first time that I actually looked around. I was on the grounds of the palace. I was at the home of the sitting President. This was not Menelik's Palace. I couldn't wait to tell Gedaye. We got out and I looked back up the hill to see the others stopped at the gate, pulled to the side, ushered to the guard house, and walking the path I was walking. The grounds were beautiful, It was so green, with a lot of trees. I could see two building in the distance and we kept walking leisurely towards them. As we walked, my hostess told me about the grounds and that their were lions there. It was pretty casual conversation for such a once in a lifetime event.

It was a beautiful serene place. I'm not sure that even I can find the words to describe how it seemed we went into a tropical paradise. We walked down the drive and rounded the corner passing one building on our way to the second. Ahead of me a get see a small line of people forming on the steps to the entrance. As I got closer I realized that I was standing on the red carpet that I assumed had been rolled out for the occaision although I still didn't know what we were celebrating. I walked up the red carpeted stairs to an attendant that asked for my wallet and searched it an then she grabbed a clipboard looking for my name. Amharic, Amharic, I was not on the list. My hostess was obviously known to the people they exchanged smiles and laughs and unbelievably I was motioned to move through the metal detector that was the last stage before entering these tall magnificent golden doors. The doors were huge and the carvings were magnificent. That provided us entry to these huge and regal room that was like something from a movie. It was about the size of a footbal field or two basketball courts.

Once we stepped into this palatial place there were seating groups at both far ends of the room and interspersed at places in between. To my immediate left there were several different types of chairs formed in a U shape facing a settee. There were glass towers that ad encased the largest vases that I'd ever seen. To my right far down were a group of priest, maybe eight or nine dressed in the traditional garb that you see in the pictures. There was a bar section next to them that had wrapped gifts on it. We were ushered across the room and seated on a long settee. When I sat down I saw four or five more of these grouped sitting areas and there were two stuffed lions on the floor facing the huge open doorway. After I sat down facing the door I looked to my right and there was another group. There was a man that was all dressed in white traditional clothes leaned back in a very high back chair. I looked down and saw that he was wearing white gym shoes. I didn't know who he was but I was instantly more comfortable in my wedges.

As I sat in my spot, curling my legs behind me, I just observed all around me. People walked in and they were directed to certain areas of the room to sit. Some where dressed in sequens and some who were much younger were wearing jeans, I could tell that they must have been family members. Men were dressed in suits and some ladies had on traditional garb. Some looked regal and royal and others looked like they were going to church. It became clear that you were seated by your importance and then I realized that they group to my right was the most important when a gentleman came and asked that we follow him and we walked right towards that group of Quenn Anne styled chairs. I was asked to walk down one side of the U and introduced as some stood, some shook, my hands, and others kissed my cheek. I don't know it was maybe six people and then at the bottom of the U was the man in white, wearing tennis shoes. Next to him was a man sitting in another high back chair. I was told that he was the son of the President and who do you think was to his right in the tennis shoes, it was the President of Ethiopia. He looked up at me and called out my last name with a big smile and a hearty laugh. He looked like a black Santa Clause with the beard or funny red suit. I was so surprised that he called me by name and he said, "Of course I know who you are, I asked for you to come." He extended his hand and as I reached out to shake it, he drew me in closer and that's when I kissed the President or more accurately that when he kissed as only Ethiopians do on the cheek. The right side, then the left, and then the right. I got carried away and kissed him again on the left and they laughed at me. He looked up at my hostess and said, "She is not Ethiopian?" And, then he asked me if I was sure and where my father was born. We were kind of moved along by the group following us. I met the other dignitaries as we completed the U, like the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

We moved back to our seating area and were approached by two handsome butlers rolling a drink cart. They had on nice shiny black shoes, black pants, and bright white jackets with black bow ties. They wheeled this nice cart up to us and asked what we wanted to drink. I asked for red wine but in Amharic it must sound like Black Label because that's what he began to pour. After a couple of points and head nods, I had a glass of Merlot. We sat and I watched more people come in and whenever someone more important would come in, someone near the President would be asked to surrender their seat. I was there, it was surreal and maybe after 30 or 40 minutes when all the quest had arrived two men went and closed the big, heavy, golden doors. The President stood up and walked and a procession of people followed him through another open doorway. Just as we had been seated, someone official came and asked us to follow. Wow, there were six long tables with about 12 people each and a head table.

Within minutes I learned that I was one of some 70 or 80 people that had been invited to his 85th birthday party. If I wasn't there I wouldn't have believed it myself. Sitting across from me was a French businessman with a beautiful Paul Newman type face and strong accent. Next to him was his beautiful Ethiopian girlfriend who owns a fashion magazine. There were some introductions, a brief video presentation, and then the magazine owner who is also a known poet in Ethiopia stood to read a special poem that she had written for him. A priest stood and delivered a prayer. The table was lavishly set and there were like 8 glasses in front of each person. Butlers and servants were busy pouring wine and water for the guest and table by table was being ushered to go into another long room were the food was served buffet style. There was a mix of American food and Ethiopian food, there was a separate table for those that were fasting. There was injera and assorted American style rolls and curiously at the end of each table where large bowls of potato chips. I fixed my plate and returned to my table.

We had so much fun with the couple sitting across from us and in that moment between French and Amharic accents I felt like an international traveler. We talked and ate and then they rolled in a big birthday cake with the numbers 85 appearing from the top. We stood and someone made a champaigne toast and then my hostess began singing Happy Birthday in English and everyone chimed in. They thing sang it again in Amharic and I'm sure sang the part about "how old are you?" There was more laughter and exchange of jokes with the people across the table and then the President stood up and walked back towards the large open room and to his seat. We all followed out of the room one table at a time and then were directed to sign the commemorative picture in gold pen. We all stood around watching others take their turn signing the matted frame around the picture of the President.

After that we were escorted back to where the President was sitting. There were two chairs, one on each side of him. That's when my friend and I were escorted to the chairs to sit and take pictures with the President. The ending to my night at the palace was sitting next to him while he laughed only calling me by my last name. There was an official photographer but in between the pictures the President said, "(last name)... you have arrived from what city?"

I answered, "Chicago?" (picture) He said, "I was there many years ago, it is the home of Obama. I was there in 1950" He laughed when I told him I'd not be born yet and then pointed at the photographer and told me to smile. (picture) "Obama will be a great President and you are from his great city. (Last name) it was a pleasure having you here." We rose from our seats flanking the President and on our way out invited the three people that had been sitting across from us back to the hotel for drinks.

I was asked if I took pictures and the answer is no, because cameras are not even allowed onto the grounds. However, my friend has contacted me and let me know that she was sent my pictures and that she will keep them until I return. So, there are pictures of me and the President. In case you are wondering what I wrote in gold ink on his commemorative picture, I wrote,

"Happy Birthday and may God grant you many more days of greatness. These are the greetings I bring to you from the USA home of President Barak Obama. Valarie A. (last name)"

And Then I Kissed the President: Part I

2009-03-26T07:57:00.014-05:00

It was my second full day in Ethiopia and it was some kind of day. Gedaye had asked me to be up and ready to go to church with her at 7:00am. Tsion who worked at the front desk of the hotel told me that she thought it was awfully early for church and told me that she attended at 10am. She suggested that I might have gotten the time wrong although she explained that people attended at different times. I thought she meant that in the same way that most of our churches have early bird service. No matter, I took my tired self to bed, I woke up to the hot sun peering into the many windows that lined one side of my room but without the 6am wakeup call from the front desk. Thank goodness I'd also set my cell phone clock because having landed only two night before, my body clock was a little off. I got up and took a quick, hot shower and then I rushed downstairs. It was 7:10 but there was no Gedaye.

I waited about twenty minutes or more and then I asked the staff to give her a call. "Good morning Valencita," she decided that Valencita was a better name than Valarie and insisted on calling me that for the entire trip. "Where are you, you should be here with me. Come, come why are you not at my house?" Maybe I was more tired than I thought because I know for sure she said that she would pick me up. So, I took my 10 minute walk from the hotel, out the gate, down the hill, around the corner, up the hill, through the alley to the big blue orphanage gate and knocked, waiting for someone to answer. There was a new guard at the gate and he didn't recognize me so he blocked the gate a little to let me know that I wasn't just going to walk through. My baby saw me and shouted something to the other children and all of a sudden they were all at the gate. My baby went under the guards arm grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into the courtyard. I was smothered by a lot of little-people-kisses as I tried to make my way through the courtyard, around the crooked paved sidewalk of the narrow space that leads to Gedaye's backdoor. I must have hugged every child at least three time and believe me hugging the kids is like an aerobic workout. First you have to bend deep at the waist to get to their level and so that they can grab you around the neck with both hands clasped. Then they pull so hard at your neck that you have to lift them to your level just to take a breath. While you are with one the others are making kissing faces and noises waiting for their turn and please, please, whatever you do don't leave one of them out.

The backdoor of Gedaye's house was open and feeling so familiar I walked in and called out to her several times before she answered. She was in her room dressing and told me that she had picked a couple of traditional dresses for me to try on. It was the observation of Gabriel in Ethiopia and she told me it was important that I wear traditional dress. I chose one put it on and because they are one-size fits all, it FIT! It did absolutely nothing for my high waistline and made me look about 10 pound heavier but at least I was properly dressed for the day. After she and I were dressed she went into her room and came out with a very nice perfume by Krizia. She said that it was a gift from one of her daughters and she sprayed herself and then sprayed me. She said I was ready but she just wished that I had on jewelry for the occaision. I kept looking at the time and now at least an hour at passed. What time was church? Were we missing it? I didn't want to miss anything, but Gedaye said that we needed to sit down and have our coffee. Her maid Haimenot washed my hands for me by pouring cold water over them from a special pot that flowed down into a basin bowel. She then kneeled beside each of us as she poured the dark hot coffee into those tiny little cups. We sipped slowly and the time kept passing. I wanted to go to church. What time was it? Finally it was time to go. Finally...

I thought for sure that we would go out the front door where I was surprised to see a late model Mercedes in the driveway. Instead we went back to the courtyard and through the maze of kisses and hugs to get into the blue Toyota. Everything in Ethiopia seemed to be blue for some reason. So, we hope in the care to back out of the narrow gate. Mmmmmm. This was the start of my most adventurous day in Ethiopia by far. It became clear to me very quickly that this was going to be the scene from Color Purple. You know the one where Ms. Millie dropped Sophia off to visit with her family but really didn't know how to drive a stick shift. This was the EXACT sam scenario.. It took 10-15 minutes of stop and go, forward, backward, right, left to back out of the gate the WRONG WAY! Imagine each time the engine died another worker appeared from somewhere shouting instructions. The wrong way means that the director only knows how to cut the wheel to the right or she hasn't figured out that you cut the wheel the opposite way that you want to turn.

Finally...we are out of the gate facing but now we are facing the wrong way on a narrow, ROCKY, busy road with huge craters in it -- big and deep enough to bury 10 bowling balls. It took another twenty minutes to point the car in the right direction. At every hill, and there were many, the car stalled but I'm not sure if I was more scared at the herky, jerky stops or when she really got the car moving. She blew the horn at anybody who was in the way and almost dared them to continue even if they had the right of way. Is there such a thing on the roads of Ethiopia?

The car stalled at a very busy uphill intersection, cars were blowing as we kept rolling back down the steep hill trying to make a dangerous left. A left? The church was straight ahead, couldn't we just keep going in that direction. At that point, I wanted to get out and walk across the four lanes of traffic to the church. She decided that the problem of the stalling was because she did not have enough gas, so we bypassed the church that I was so happy to see to headed to the gas station; turning on what seemed to me to be a one-way with cars coming towards us. I kept gripping the handle right above my head holding on for dear life. God, could a woman really persih on her way to church? Please God, don't let that happen. She told me to relax and that the forward moving cars that had the right of way would stop for us because she had shown them the turn signal. Then came the confession. She said that she was a new driver and had not had much practice. She was very honest and said that it was like anything that if you don't practice you can't get good at it. I wasn't sure we should be talking AND driving so I just said some silent prayers and remembered that in The Color Purple version Ms. Sophia came to rescue. I absolutely ADORE her but driving is not her calling.

Anyway we made it to this beautiful church, St. Mary's. But the experience was different than what I expected. I don't know if it is because we were so late of if it is just custom. But there were many people that simply prayed and worshipped outside the doors of the church. There was a praying alter and prayer corners and benches. That is where we sat and prayed. At one point Gedaye said that if I prayed for God to let me have or give birth to a baby that I should promise to bring the child to Ethiopia to be baptized. She assured me that God could do anything and that 43 is not too old to have a baby. I believe God can do mighty things and that's why I decided not to offer up that prayer. I did feel a different spirit in that place. There was a reference and seriousness of the people that approahed the building. They brought their children and older parents and kneeled as they approached. There were so many people kneeling and on the outside. It was quiet and everyone was having their own private mediation.

As I sat on my own bench across from Gedaye, I prayed simply that God confirm that I was on the right path. I asked that he make it clear, crystal clear that I was in the right place at the right time and that He would not let me leave Ethiopia without know that this was indeed his plan for me. We rose from our benches and then we walked around to each of the doors of the church, Gedaye would pray a prayer, touch, and lean her forehead against the doors. There were offering boxes at each of the 10 or so doors and she placed money in a couple before moving on to the next. I could see as we walked that the church building was empty. Still, I felt that I'd had a really intense worship experience. After some 40 minutes of prayer time and without every entering the church, we returned to my hotel and had tea together we hung out in my room with her telling me that she hardly ever takes time away from the children and I can attest to that. We loaded up the last bag of goodies that I had for the children and drove up the hill, stalling and stopping all the way, the gas had not helped at all. Behind the bright blue gate, I spent time with the children until it was time for them to be served lunch. Again the kisses, my little girl followed me around and my little boy kept motioning for me to pick him up and hug him.

My plan was to go and see the city but I never made it. Church took a little longer than expected. The girl at the hotel had arranged a car to pick me up. I was to pay 100 bir or $10 for 4 hours of touring she had told him where to take me and vouched for him. It was so late and the director refused to let me get in a car with someone that she didn't know. She said she felt personally reasonable for me and this began the second adventure.

Just how much does it cost to tour the city or better yet how long does it take to negotiate a price to tour the city? The first driver arrived and the price was 250 birr, the next 300 birr, the next 400 birr. In between each driver was a long discussion and negotiation. One drive's price was so ridiculous that she told me to close the door and walk away, she was sure that he would lower the price so we began walking back down the hill around the child sized holes. He stopped but never spoke to us again. So, since we had walked all the way out of the alley and onto the main street, we stopped at the corner market and actually sat on crates to talk with the market owner. This store was like any neighborhood corner store it had everything from finger nail clippers to coffee. There were snicker bars and M&M's, Johnson's baby oil, and vaseline. The custom was for the patron's to sit while the clerk or one of his workers went through the store gathering things to be purchased. We weren't buying we were just sitting.

This was the hottest part of the day and that bright sun was hanging over my head like a tracking satellite. I grew uncomfortable sitting on the crate so the shop owner let me sit in a very high chair behind the cash register. Staring out the window, looking at my hotel that was not five minutes away started to annoy me. Why am I sitting here? Gedaye told me the sun was too hot and I should wait before walking. I used her cell phone to call the hotel and they said to stay put and they would send a car. A car? I want to walk and I want to go now, but here I sit perched in this high chair wearing a floor length traditional dress with my head covered. No car came but the security guard from the hotel walked across the street to make sure that I was me, the Americano from the hotel and then he proceeded to go up and down the street looking for taxis. This really is how it happened. So after sitting in the market I was tired and really didn't feel much like sight seeing. I told Gedaye that I was walking back to the hotel and against her urging that the sun was too hot and and in spite of the uniformed bell hop that was still walking up and down the street looking for a taxi; that is exactly what I did. I ended this two-hour adventure in five minutes flat.

Once I got into the lobby of the hotel there was a little bit of talk about taxis, drivers, and the mix up. I told the hotel owner about the taxi drama and she said she would take me sightseeing but she had a party to attend at 4pm. It was 1:50. Before she arrived a priest had come into the hotel. I watched with great interest as he went to people in waiting in the lobby to over them blessings. Would he bless me? This priest had been part of the St. Gabriel celebration and had carried the talmut for eight hours. He was wrapped head to toe in white. The wrinkles on his sun-beaten face showed his seriousness and wisdom. He sat down to have his lunch with the hotel owner and she told me more about the significance of the day. I was happy and surprised when she asked me to sit with her and the priest. She asked for him to bless me and he prayed over me in Amharic. It was a long prayer and in between he would touch me with the cross or look at me for a response. After the prayer, he continued to talk to me and she had to explain that I was a black Americano. We had some laughs about it but I sat with him while he ate his lunch, he talked to me and I didn't understand one word. I only hoped that God heard him and that they working together to help me on my journey.

In an unexpected moment, Senait, the owner said that she wanted me to go to the celebration with her at 4pm. It came out of the blue as we both sat in the cool lobby dressed and blessed in our traditional dresses. Without much explanation Senait told me that her engagement was a celebration at the palace. I assumed it had to do with the Gabriel holiday. The next thing I know she picked up her cell phone, I was leaning back when I wasn't sure I heard what I heard. "El Presidente it is me, Senait. Yes, your Excellence, I am sitting here with Valarie A. (full name), she is a Black Americano from the United States and I would like for her to be my guest today. They laughed and still wasn't sure who she was talking to. They had a lot of laughter and exchanges and then she was told how to register me for the party. I was told that I needed to be ready by 3:30, to wear my finest clothes, let down my hair, put on makeup, lipstick for sure, get my passport, leave my big everything-that-I might need bag and meet her in the lobby. She told me that I was going to The Palace to meet The President.

I had come to Ethiopia to see my children and to work at the orphanage. I brought comfortable clothes and though I never, ever wear sensible shoes I bought a pair just for this trip. What on earth could I find in my bag to wear? My best friend had urged me to take one really nice black dress but I didn't heed her advice. Anyway I went to the room trying to figure out what one wears to meet the President. That's when I noticed that I had the orphanage director's keys in my bag. I called her hoping that she would help me figure out what to do. I was hoping that she would offer me some wonderful outfit for the occasion. I was hoping she would jump right in to help me prepare but that just didn't happen. I called her up all excited about my news, and she told me that I had to be confused and needed to bring her the keys. She told me that I sounded ridiculous thinking that I was actually going to meet the President of Ethiopia. At this point the curling iron had stopped working and I'd thrown a few rollers in my hair. I put on a head wrap to cover my rollers and walked my tired butt back up that hill. I gave her the keys and asked her what I should wear?

Gedaye laughed at me and said she had no idea what I should wear to the palace because she has never been invited. She teased me and told me that they must think I am a relative of Obama to get this special invitation. She kept laughing saying that someone was playing a trick on me and I was probably going on a site seeing tour of Menelik's palace, the one that is no longer used. It was 3:05 and I told her that I had to go and would call her in the morning if I actually made it to the palace. "No," she said. "If you go to the palace you come back and tell me tonight!"

Stay tuned for part II.

Some Things I Like

2009-03-25T06:28:00.001-05:00

This place has some pretty good educational toys.

Pyscholgical Impacts of Adoption

2009-03-24T07:02:00.005-05:00

I know that many conversations in the community revolve around attachment but what I am most concerned with is the child's feeling of abandonment. We often think about abandonment from the birth family but when I visited my children in Ethiopia there was something that struck me in way that I had not imagined. The children are living life in an orphanage but every few weeks one or more of their friends leave. When I went to the orphanage there were nine children between 4 - 8 years old. Since December, two have gone to Denmark, two have come home to the states, two more are preparing to go to Canada or Denmark, and another little boy will come here before my two come home. By the time I pick my children up there will only be one little boy left from the original group. This little boy is still there because the woman who was to adopt him changed her mind at the last minute. She changed her mind after he had already been told about her and what his new life would be. I was told that he is constantly asking, "What did I do wrong? Why doesn't my mama want me?" This was in reference to the would-have-been-adoptive mom.

Research has shown, "...when the mother/child entity is split, it causes an acute and lasting trauma in both mother and child. The repercussions are ominous and tenacious. Though they become buried deep inside, the repercussions follow both mother and child throughout the remainder of their lives."

Here is an excerpt from an article on how abandonment might affect our children:

The “chosen” child story also has negative affects on a child for other reasons. The child may feel that she has to be perfect to live up to her “chosen” status. Her role model adoptees include Superman and Jesus. This is a hard image for the average child to live up to. She may either become the compliant “perfect” child or she may act out and misbehave to test the commitment of the adoptive parents. Either way, often times she is not being herself, but rather acting a part. This acting can be very emotionally draining and confusing, and may last until the early adult years and beyond. When the adoptee can not live up to her perfect “chosen” status, it will contribute to the feeling of low self-esteem. This will be further exacerbated if the adoptive parents are not aware of the issue and their actions reinforce the adoptees beliefs, i.e., sending her away for residential treatment or openly wishing her to be more like themselves.

The adoptee is also aware of many ghosts that follow her through life. These ghosts include the person she would have been had she not been adopted, the ghost of the birth mother and birth father, and the ghost of the adoptive family’s child that would have been (Lifton, 1994, chap. 6). She may find herself trying to connect to her ghosts through her actions. Either being her image of her birth family, living her life according to her fantasy birth family, or acting as her vision of the adoptive parent’s natural child.

Read the full article.

Then there is the adoptee's perspective. Here is part of another article that you might want to read:

I am not the happy and grateful adoptee that you want me to be. Don’t get me wrong. I was happy and grateful for almost 45 years – or so I believed. Had you asked me then how I felt about being adopted, you might have heard something like, “Great! I am so grateful to my (adoptive) parents for all they did and, no, I am not interested in finding my ‘real’ family. My adoptive family is my ‘real’ family, thankyouverymuch, and they are a wonderful family. I’ve had a wonderful life. Of course, I am grateful to my natural mother for giving me life. Oh, you’re adopting? How wonderful!”

I enthusiastically expressed that view all those years because I needed to convince myself that my life was normal and right and that I was okay. I did it because everyone else wanted me to feel that way, too. And I thought I would die if I ever looked deeper.

You’ve seen adopted children who seem to be perfectly happy, too. They smile and have fun just like those whose families are intact. They act happy and, occasionally, they are.

Yes, adopted children smile and laugh. Did you stop smiling after you lost a loved one? Didn’t you still laugh when someone said something funny? Weren’t you still capable of having some fun?

Did you ever smile and act happy to hide your grief?

Of course you did. But even when you smiled, those close to you knew it didn’t mean you were happy. Those close to you accepted and expected your pain and sadness. They did not expect you to be happy about your loss. They gave you something most adoptees do not get: acknowledgment of, empathy for, and permission to express your grief.

Read the full article.

New Clock and Countdown

2009-03-23T13:05:00.001-05:00

If you haven't noticed I added a new clock to the top of my website.

We are counting the days!

Connected by a Thread

2009-03-22T17:59:00.003-05:00

I read this Chinese proverb that I think applies to all things in life. After spending a year and a half in this process with you all and visiting the children in Ethiopia, it seems to relate to our experience.

“An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but never break.”

This Time I Won

2009-03-18T12:54:00.008-05:00

I've been playing online poker for about four years. It's on the Bravo TV site and it's always free (I'd never play for money). I'm not a gambler at all, I'm too tight with money for that but it's how wind down sometimes. They have daily tournaments at 5, 7, 10, 12 midnight and 2am. I play just to unwind at the end of the day a few times a week. In a tournament there are usually between 200 - 300 people playing and when you win you get to play in a championship tournament. Over the years I've probably won 3 or 4 times but never played for the championship.

To play you have to have focus, patience, and make good decision making. If I've got too much on my mind I can't play well, if I'm stressed, or pissed off, I can't play well. Going through the adoption stressed and pissed means I've lost many times and in the early rounds.

Monday night I won the 10pm qualifying tournament! It wouldn't be that big of a deal except now they now pay the championship winner $5,000! The championship game is April 26 and I will be in it. $5,000 can pay for my trip back to ET or summer camp for the kids. Well, it might be a down payment on summer camp but I'll tell you about that later.

To Know Me is to Love Me -- Maybe

2009-03-12T17:56:00.020-05:00

There is a best selling book called Strengths Finder that comes with a psychometric assessment. It helps people identify their top five strengths. In the work that I do, I am often the one prescribing assessments for client groups but in this case I actually took it and these are my strengths:

#1 - I am STRATEGIC defined as having a distinct way of thinking and a special perspective on the world. I am guided by patterns and continually play out alternate scenarios until I find the best solutions.

#2 - I am a LEARNER drawn to the process of learning. I am a veracious reader and always looking for ways to gain and share new knowledge. It says that this skill enables me to thrive in dynamic environments where asked to take on projects and I am expected to learn a lot about a new subject in a short amount of time.

#3 - I possess the skill of IDEATION that means I am delighted when I discover hidden things beneath the complex surface. I look for elegantly simple concepts to explain why things are the way that they are. I get a jolt of energy from new ideas and some label me creative, original, conceptual, or even smart.

#4 - I am strong in the skill of CONNECTEDNESS and believe that all things happen for a reason and that we are all a part of something larger. The writer says that I gain confidence from knowing that we are not isolated from one another. ** The book actually says that I am a bridge builder for people of different cultures. My faith is strong and it sustains me and my circle of friends in the face of life's mysteries.

#5 - I possess some sort of COMMAND orientation that allows me to comfortably take charge and lead. It says that I am not frightened by confrontation because I know that it is the first step to growth and resolution of any situation. The writer says that these command types feel compelled to present the facts or the truth, no matter how unpleasant it may be. He says that people like me need for things to be clear-eyed and honest and that I may often push people to take risk. He writes that some people will be intimidated by my strength, others will think that I am too opinionated while most people are drawn to me because of my strong presence.

I will let you all decide.

Foreigner in a Familar Land

2009-03-08T09:48:00.030-05:00

As I write part two on my trip to Addis, I think of all the stories I read about the poor conditions in Ethiopia and wondered what I would find when I arrived. Many people talk about the situation of beggars approaching them as they leave the airports and move throughout the city screaming out to them "ferengi" or foreigner. I've read how families develop strategies for dealing with the beggars; some decide to hand out money, others swear that we should buy fruit, a few take sweet treats from home, and I've even heard of people handing out pens. I've read some who say that there are far too many beggars and that you will never have enough and so when you start giving out anything more come.

With those stories in my head the only thing that I was fearful of was landing alone in Addis at 9:30pm dependent on strangers who said they would pick me up at the airport. Would they be there on time? How would I know them and how would they know me? In looking for my strangers would I be swarmed by beggars coming out of dark places? I am usually game for any challenge but as my plane landed I felt my heart racing a little. I've landed in tiny airports like the one in Kingston, Jamaica that greets you with tropic heat and people singing. I've landed in Los Cabos, Mexico where you have to hit the button to find out if you will get a green light for go or be stopped on red. I've landed in San Juan and Mexico City, and even at the tiny airport hut on Martha's vineyard, but in this unfamiliar land so far away, I wondered what I would find.

I guess if I'd given some thought to the fact that large Jets from Ethiopian Air, Turkish Air, Lufthansa, Emirates, and Alitalia are landing there daily, I might have envisioned a large international airport like so many I've landing in around the country. I walked from the plane expecting something third world, antiquated, dusty, dark, old, hot, and a little unwelcoming but when I stepped onto the concourse at 9:30pm in Addis it was a big international airport busy with people and activity. Every site was familiar from the lines, the signs for baggage and ground transportation. I knew that my first stop was the visa office and I wondered how much I'd have to explain and how my trip would be scrutinized. These were people about their business and I was nothing more than customer 1,225 for the day paying my $20 and getting a stamp. As I stood in the line I was surrounded by Americans, Europeans, Ethiopians, and people from many other African and non-African countries. It was like landing at Dulles or DFW or any other airport where you find many of the service workers to be people of color. It was like landing in Hartford or Detroit, maybe even a smaller version of ATL.

Still I had to get the visa and then figure out how to get to my bags, through customs and find my ride. It took about 25 minutes of standing in line, the same usual suspects complaining, trying to cut, and suggesting that the process should be more efficient. Some of us looked at each other with knowing head nods as we watched one man continue to kick his bag along the floor in front of other people until they had to let him move forward in the line. Usually I am always in a hurry, but I found myself looking at people who looked like me or people that I know trying to imagine where they'd come from or even what they were doing in Addis. It was efficient as there were about four people checking passports, taking money, handwriting receipts, and affixing visa stamps for a never ending line. The time went quickly I think because I was busy studying the faces of the people that passed me by. I was cleared to the next step, where I stood in line and waited to be officially cleared to enter Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. That $20 stamp and my time in line was enough to get me through.

I followed the arrows and found the baggage carousels that were labeled just like they are at home. I saw my bags come around on the conveyor and before I could get to them a skycap approached me; the way only a skycap can do, wheeling his cart insisting that he take over. You know, just like at home. I pointed my bags to him and he pulled them off the belt. I have to tell you after 20 hours on a plane I was happy to see him and glad for the help. We really didn't speak so I don't know much about his English skills but if you travel you've done this dance before. We approached another checkpoint where people were lined up to go through a customs check with their bags. My guy with my bags directed me away from the lines and he took me directly to a man that was some kind of gatekeeper. The two men spoke it Amharic and I only gathered that somehow I was being given the hookup that allowed me to bypass that checkpoint. The gatekeeper asked me if I had any electronics in my bags. When I said no, he ushered me through.

I'm thinking this isn't bad at all. Just as we wheel pass the customs checkpoint, I'm feeling a lot more at ease and we go around a corner and there are two WOMEN holding a sign with my name on it. I didn't have to look, hunt, wander around looking lost and confused. They were right there. One was the owner of the hotel named Senait and the other was the hotel assistant Tsion. Senait kept repeating my name. "You are Valarie A. (add my full name)? You are not at all who I expected to see. You are the Americano Valarie A. (insert full name). I had imagined someone very different. Welcome my friend you will have a great trip here. May I give you a hug?" We hugged each other and kept looking in each others faces, she was looking at me as though she were trying to find some connection that she was sure was there. There was another couple with us who were traveling from Germany. I instantly felt secure whatever fears I had went away and I began walking out of the airport into the darkest, darkest night.

The night was very, very dark and it reminded me of the dark summer nights that we spent in Indian Rock, Virginia when I was growing up. It was a different kind of uninterrupted darkness and my family would joke that it was a place where you had to pipe in sunlight. With little more than small light bouncing off of the cars, there were many people hanging out in the airport parking lot. Was I really in Africa? It didn't feel like I thought it would feel, look like I thought it would look or even smell like I thought it would smell. I kept looking around amazed at how much walking into that parking lot reminded me of driving down Madison on the west side of Chicago on a hot summer night. It was the same way that you see people on the corners in groups talking loud, laughing, drinking, or smoking. It was like walking out into that urban area that exist in any big city where the late night activity is just hanging out in the neighborhood in a way that makes many uncomfortable but where people are really minding their own business and keeping their distance.

Here I was going through the parking lot with these two very attractive women and watching beautiful petite Tsion wheeling the big heavy cart with my luggage and the luggage of the other family. Something about it didn't seem right and I kept offering to help. She insisted on pushing that rikity old cart with one bad wheel alone. We kept walking and I heard men saying things in Amharic that I only can imagine were something like, "Damn, girl you look good. What's up can I get a number? Why you walking so fast? Where you goin', can I go? Why don't you let me carry that?" It was all in Amharic and delivered in softer tones that I'm use to hearing but I was sure I understood. You could tell some were on the late night neighborhood hang, some where hustling offering to wheel the cart for a fee, some just wanted the momentary attention and then there were a few that were begging, looking for hand outs. Well I don't even know if they were begging but you could definitely tell that they were down to their last and needed some help. Some it looked like made the parking lot home for the night.

I am a big city girl so the sights and sound were not all that unfamiliar. I might hear and see all the same things going to church on Roosevelt and Wolcott in Chicago that is flanked by an amazing Medical district on one side of the street and dire poverty on the other. I think I was more surprised at how "city" it seemed. When I was a teenager in Indianapolis you might have seen the same scene being played out at the McDonalds on 38th and Meridian or at the White Castles on 38th and Keystone. Any sista that grew up in or around the neighborhood knows is that you keep walking with attitude and give NO eye contact, men will do their cat calling but there is a level of respect in some weird way that they don't go beyond; I saw the same thing in Addis. We walked through the parking lot deliberately but were slowed only momentarily when we Tsion and I looked back to see the German couple way behind. They had gotten caught up or something I don't know. They obviously stood out more as foreigners but Senait went back tried to move them along.

There was one beggar that caught my attention. Without realizing he had been walking in front of me a little earlier, I now saw him standing dressed all in black, obviously trying to keep warm. I saw many people walk by him just like he wasn't even there, but I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I had just made a purchase and still had the change in my hand. I passed by the man the first time, but I doubled back and put almost two dollars in the cup he was holding. I had watched this man for nearly 30 minutes being passed by dozens of people, so I was shocked to see that he had one coin in his cup for all his efforts. When I put my money in he said, "Thank you and God bless you! I hope you have a good day." I could understand him perfectly and he spoke clear English. That's not really surprising considering that it was last week and this man was standing outside of the McDonald's on the corner of Wacker and Washington in downtown Chicago. In the city of Chicago it is nearly impossible to pass through the downtown streets or enter any big corporate building without passing by one of these homeless forgotten people. Some are lame like those I saw in Ethiopia, some are just down on their luck, some created their own problem through a series of bad decisions. But they are the same, they are there and many of us walk pass them without thought. I'm not sure why people have to go to a third world country before they recognize poverty when the same conditions exist in our own backyard.

I know that times are difficult in Ethiopia and there may be homeless beggars screaming out to ferengis at they pass them by, but the same scene is played out in every city throughout America every day of the week. I honestly was not approached by one beggar while I was in Addis Ababa, not when I went through the parking lot of the airport, while I went through the streets of the Merkato, or even as I walked daily from the hotel to the orphanage. I saw the poverty in the streets, I saw the people that you knew had nothing, and maybe once or twice I saw people look at me trying to decide if I was ferengi or one of them but no one extended their hand to me looking for a hand out, a hand up, or just a little compassion. I do, however witness that any day that I walk through downtown Chicago.

We got all of my bags in the van and headed out of the airport down the long dark streets. The van we got in was a non-descript cargo van with a seat for me and my driver. It was an old stick shift that Senait drove with confidence wearing her "pretty girl outfit" and cute high heel sandals. Her nails were done, her makeup was fresh and she new she was cute. As we drove the fifteen or twenty minutes, I saw familiar sights of people walking in the darkness carrying their lives in plastics bags. We talked about Oprah, Obama, God, and how an Americano named Valarie A. (insert full name) could arrive looking so much like an Ethiopian. We continued the drive and I learned that Senait sings Opera. She assured me that she was the only Ethiopian that sings opera and she started singing Ava Maria.

I'm listening to her amazing voice as we passed areas where it was obvious that life had been less kind to some. We laughed on this dimly lit night about how we could get Oprah to do an expose on Ethiopia and feature Seanait and her operatic aspirations. Laughing with her on the drive we covered religion, her thoughts about adoption, and politics and it seemed that I wasn't that far from home. In Ethiopia like any other big city it is difficult to travel through to your destination without passing those that really have no where to go. We pulled up into the quietness of the Dimitri hotel. People came from inside the hotel to usher me in with my bags. Tsion now went behind the desk to do her second job of registering me as a guest and a small woman about 4' 10" and 90 lbs came to get my bags. My heavy bags that barely met the Lufthansa weight requirements. She told me I was on the third floor and looked for the elevator but all there was in front of me where a set of white marble stairs. I watched this tiny woman, happy to be working insist on carry my heavy bags one by one up three exhausting flights of stairs. I tried to help her but the urgency and pride that she had required that I assume my role as guest and watch her work. I watched her lug every false idea about the industrious nature of Ethiopians on her back without a complaint. I can't tell you how hard it was to watch her struggle up those stairs and do nothing. I walked the stairs once with my everything in a purse bag and needed to use my rescue inhaler once I reached my floor.

Many of my preconceptions were shattered from the time that I landed and made my way through the dark streets of Addis. I stared out the window of my hotel room and reflected on the earliest days of my adoption journey. One question that people would ask is why Ethiopia? I always responded that Ethiopia had chosen me. For months I heard the same refrain in my head, "I am the God of everything, not the God of the United States. These are ALL my children and care for them ALL the same. What you do for the least of these is what you do for me." I began exploring this far away country and thinking how big the world was and how small and insignificant I felt in it, but landing in Ethiopia assured me of my faith.What I've learned on this this emotional and spiritual journey is that I live in a world that is small and that it is the God of my creation that is big.

I've watched my worldview grow and the world itself shrink into familiar themes and connections centered on the same core values of love, hove, determination, perseverance, and compassion. There is no body of water or distance that will ever separate us from the fact that we are all connected. The bible says that there is nothing new under the sun but that it only time and chance happens to us all. I went to bed exhausted and anxious to see what the morning would bring.

You Don't Really Have a Referral

2009-03-02T07:26:00.012-06:00

Over the last few weeks I've read several Yahoo and blog post of families that say they have had referrals since September or earlier but have no medicals or court dates yet. I've learned some valuable lessons in my year and a half of this adoption journey. There are some things that many of us have painfully learned too late. I know that most of my blog readers have been around as long as me but for those that are a bit newer, this is an important lesson that I want to share with you.

If your agency has sent you a picture of a child that is NOT a referral. If you do not have a medical record and if you have not signed and notarized referral papers you do NOT have a referral. This is especially true if you are looking at being matched with waiting children. You have simply been matched. You are being considered as a candidate to parent the child. While there are some procedural differences with agencies this is something that is fairly consistent across the board.

Why is having the medical record important to the process and why does not having one signal a potential issue?

Children living in orphanages are under the guardianship of that particular orphanage they are not the wards (using an American term) of your agency. If a child has been identified to you the agency may or may not have yet completed a contract with the orphanage for that particular child. Before you can get a medical record or more specific information, there must be a contract for a specific child made between your agency and the orphanage where the child currently resides. Facilitators work with the orphanages to identify children and then the agency pays a fee to that orphanage to take guardianship of the child. The adoption agencies cannot leagally run an orphanage that is why they operate care centers that serve as a transition point for children being adopted. Children are usually moved from an orphanage to a care center after a contract for the child has been signed, after the fees have been paid, and in many cases not until AFTER potential parents have been identified.

Part of that contracting process includes getting a current physical and medical record created. This is where there may be some variation. Your agency may just give you a medical check-up form that was performed on the child while they were living in the orphanage but in most cases, the medical record is created as part of the contracting processes. It may not be done until the child is in the care or under the legal guardianship of your agency. Once the children are moved the agency then begins assuming the cost for the child. This is the point where some agencies charge a fee to the families for "foster care."

Why might that be a concern?

It's a concern for a few reasons. If you do not have a medical record it may be that your agency does not have legal rights yet for the child. Without that signed contract between orphanage and agency there is a chance that the child may go to another agency, that there is another family somewhere looking at the same picture, or even that the child will even go back to their family of origin. It means that you will wait for many, many months and not actually get that child or that the child in the picture ultimately may not be legally available for adoption. Another issue may be significant issues with the paperwork that passes between the orphange and the agency. The paperwork may need to be authorized, verified, or approved by local kebele's (local governments) before the transfer can take place. If you find yourself in this situation; wondering why you can't get standard documentation, you may find that the agency reps providing many reasons why the information and medical records are not available. Just know that without it you do not have secured referral and anything can happen including the fact that you may not be able to adopt that child.

Here are some parameters that may help you. In a normal case it should not take more than 2-4 weeks between the match with the child and the medical report being produced with formal referral acceptance papers. If you are in your second, third, or fourth month of waiting after being matched and you have not seen that documentation you should be concerned. The problem is that once you have that picture in your hand and you are being told stories about the children it is not easy to give them up. You want to believe everything that you are being told even though your gut tells you that something is wrong.

You have a couple of options; you can accept the match knowing that what I've written is a posibility or you can wait until you have the medicals in hand before you ever proceed. That would be my suggestion. I would also suggest that families not pay the REFERRAL fee until they have the official referral documents in hand.

So what's the bottom line?

If you have a bona fide referral you should receive documentation within 2-4 weeks. Once your dossier arrives in Ethiopia and the child has legally met all of the requirements for adoption your file is submitted to the court for a court date. You may receive a confirmed court date in as little as two weeks; however it can take up to 4-8 weeks from to get the court date. The court date may be scheduled 4-10 weeks out from that official notice. So, if you get a picture and a name but no medicals the child may not yet be under the guardianship of your agency, has not been seen by a doctor, and may not even have a clean medical history. I'm speaking in terms of those things that will require waivers. If this is the case, your agency will not be able to provide you with an official referral agreement until they are the guardians and have that record. If you do not have all of those things in hand you should not pay a referral fee that locks you in both financially and emotionally to a child that you may never be able to adopt.

I have read some really heartbreaking stories over the last few weeks and I hope that this helps at least one family that is lost wondering what may be going on with their process.

Thanks Be to God and Gedaye

2009-02-26T06:40:00.020-06:00

I haven't talked in much detail about my trip to Ethiopia but I am going to start writing a series of post about the trip, my impressions of the people, and my thoughts on the country. I may even add in a couple of special things about the children. Who am I kidding, of course I'll do that. Part of holding back is wanting to process the experience and the other part is that if I'm going to tell a story I'm going to tell it and you will see that gets kind of long for a blog.

Now that I've been there and spent three intimate days at the orphanage and in the company of Gedaye the woman that runs it, not only does it give me comfort in how the children are being cared for but it also makes me feel a little protective of her and her work. Why do I need to be protective? It's not only because she is the guardian of my children but because so often I read accounts of people returning that seem to confuse poverty with lack of intelligence, or humble accommodations as incompetence or lack of drive. I read a funny but profound statement about a month ago where an AP said the people are poor their not stupid. I agree with the poster, there is a difference.

I didn't know what to expect when I got to Ethiopia and took with me only the visions that had been painted by many adoptive parents on trips before me. Within an hour of waking up my first morning I was taken about 5 minutes away to a large blue gate with a hand painted sign announcing the orphanage. To get there we went past many brown skinned people hustling and bustling to work by foot and car. We passed a hair salon, a corner cafe, a neighborhood corner store or what some might call a party store. There were three or four men sitting around a small fire they'd built on the sidewalk. We turned down an alley and made her way around the huge potholes and I saw mother's and children on their way somewhere with purpose. It was early morning and the area was already busy with intention.

I was 7,000 miles from home and this place seemed so familiar to me. This street that I went down, the alley, the people, the stores, the men sitting were things I've seen throughout my life in the U.S. I didn't know what to expect from Ethiopia but so far Ethiopia felt like home to me or at least a visit with relatives. I didn't grow up poor but I did grow up in a typical working class black community. I grew up in an area where people may have assumed that we were poor if they simply passed down the main street that ran through our neighborhood without and ever getting out of their cars to know us up close. There are people who past our way everyday without ever thinking much about who we were as people. I grew up in an area where my white classmates were not allowed or were too afraid to visit. If they had they may have learned that in this area where the lawns often had more dirt than grass, the paint on homes was peeling, a couple of gates were broken, and little kids walked around unattended; there was a neighborhood of two parent intact families. Many in homes where father's worked as bus drivers, ministers, or factory workers; where there were mother's and widows that were school principals, caretakers, school teachers, and homemakers.

Perhaps if people could have gotten beyond the look of the small modest homes and our poorly paved street they may have learned that our mothers were inside making full course breakfast each mornings, cooking and packing our lunches, and then making full hot dinners every night no matter how many hours they had worked that day. They may have found out how neighbors looked out for the children of other families when the parents had to work second or third shift. The may have learned how mannerly we all were to every adult that we encounter even if there was a hellion in the group. From their car windows, they may have seen children with pants that were too short, with patches or holes, or maybe even shoes with a missing shoelace. But, if people had inquired they might have found that our parents were telling us not to look at superficial things, that shoes had a purpose to keep your feet dry and did not have to make a fashion statement. They may have heard our parents tell us to be grateful and make the most of what we had and to remember that there were always others less fortunate.

My little Brightwood neighborhood in 1970s Indianapolis may have been a little more modern than Ethiopia but not by much. Again, I was quite fortunate as a child and had much more than many in my neighborhood but I had family members who had much, much less. We had family friends that lived in places that were not as nice or well kept as the orphanage. The value that my mother taught me was to look at people for who they are and not what they have. I've tried to do that throughout my life and where I could I've also tried to reach out to those people and help in ways that I could. What I learned from that is these sort of faceless, nameless, people that go about their business everyday want nothing more than to have their hard work acknowledged, and anyone who will listen to them, and respect them.

The gate was opened by a tall dark elderly man that literally looked like the one picture that we have of my mother's father. I walked through and met Gedaye she looked like two of my mother's sisters. She was short and thick and dark like my mother's family that I love so dearly. They were speaking a different language to each other but I couldn't help but feel like I had traveled half-way around the world to find people that I already knew somehow. I spent many hours with this lady that has cared for her countries children for many, many years. I felt strangely like I knew her but was more surprised to find that she felt the same way about me.

Her home is on the property and we went there, kicked off our shoes and curled up on the couch. I don't know how you evaluate her house by Ethiopian standards but it was small and dark with three bedrooms a kitchen and a living room. It reminded me a great deal of my grandmother's house that had more stuff than room and more things out of place than there were places for them. I laughed at the pile of laundry on one couch because that's where you would have found it in my mother's home. There were pictures on the wall, on every table, in all kinds of frames retelling the stories of her life. These weren't perfectly hanged portraits placed in an elegant fashion, they were her hidden treasured stories protected by dust-covered frames.

Her wedding picture was hanging over our heads as I asked her to tell me about that day. She told me about growing up in Tigray and how she met her husband. She stared at the picture when she talked about him and her eyes lit up. Her husband had died several years ago and she was left to raise six children on her own. She was a college graduate and at the time had been working for a government agency many years. She went through each picture telling me funny and sad stories about her life. I learned about her deceased parents and the brothers and sisters that she lost. She was the youngest of them and the only one still living. She has four daughters, three who have recently moved to Canada, Denmark, and Germany. She misses them and cried when she talked about them. But in between our conversations a different daughter would call. Her youngest son is a junior in high school, another son works with her and has a university education, and the third child I saw was a beautiful girl with the full lips and full hips that most sisters would be proud of.

I sat for hours with her and listened to her life story and how she came to care for these children, how she walked away from the security of her job just because she was tired and needed a change. She told me how her children were concerned for her future but how she had to trust God that he had a bigger plan for her. As I sat there, I was struck by the fact that she is only 5 years older than me. At times she would hold my hand to emphasize a point and I felt the warmth and hard fought years in every touch. The entire time that I listened to her, I just saw the hardworking spirit of my mother and her sisters that took on so much, rarely complained, and always thought more about others than they every thought about themselves.

This lady's job 24-hours a day is the care, nurturing, and feeding of other people's children. She rarely leaves the compound and often when she does it is to do more for the orphanage. I watched the kids run to the gate to ask her where she was going and when she would come back. She sees her role not as taking care of children until someone comes for them, but teaching them to be strong, disciplined, loving, and resilient in case no one ever comes. She not only cares for the children but she is building a community within the walls of the orphanage for all of the staff who work for her. She employs about 10 women and men full time and I watched as she challenged them to do everything that they were doing better. I watched them pull all of the cribs out of the baby rooms and wash the walls, floors, and beds. She explained that they do that every Saturday. If that isn't enough, she also runs a program where up to 50 women a week come and she provides them with freshly grown vegetables that they can sell and earn a living. I watched this process of them carefully measuring out a kilo of the most basic things so that every woman had an equal share.

This lady never rested. I watched her on my last night sitting in a chair exhausted with children hanging on her arms and neck. I watched as she told them stories and jokes and we made up some messed up version of The Farmer in the Dell. She told me about the each child and described their personalities. She said that my little girl was a genius and that my son would need a strong mother. But, I will never forget seeing the children finish their food and place their empty plates in front of her. They would say something in Amharic and bow their head quickly. She turned and looked and me and smiled, "they are learning," she said. She explained that the children often want to thank her but she has taught them that for everything they have to thank God and not her. As each of the children placed their empty plate before her they said "Thanks be to God."

Through her eyes I saw the value of an entire group of people that work in these places with little acknowledgment. When I hear people say that the Ethiopians are so nice, It makes them caricatures and doesn't begin to describe the depth and complexity of these people. I came away feeling that Ethiopians are people like people anywhere and sometimes they are nice and usually overly accommodating to nosy, ignorant strangers from America. Yes, I encountered nice people but they also have stories and histories that are deep and revealing. In my days with Gedaye I found her to be gracious but also tough minded. More than anything I saw her commitment and capacity to love in a way that is only God sent. For those moments in her presence I will be eternally grateful.

A Story from Addis

2009-02-20T09:59:00.007-06:00

We've Lost Five Staff in One Ward
Thursday, November 30, 2006

MEDICS on the frontline of Ethiopia's fight against Aids are increasingly dying of the disease themselves. On World Aids Day, Metro Chief Reporter AIDAN RADNEDGE discovers the grim reality of the risks at one typical hospital in the country's stricken capital.

I have to be satisfied just prolonging someone's life a little.' Dr Wondewosen Desta is depressingly realistic about how much or little he can do, running perhaps the most beleaguered children's ward in Aidsridden Ethiopia. Every day at least 40 HIV-positive, emaciated children are checked in for a lengthy hospital stay, with hundreds more sent away, sure to return again soon.

But it is not just the survival rate among his young patients that concerns him – but also among his staff. In this ward alone, five employees, including two top doctors, have died in the last few years after contracting HIV in the course of their duties. It could be during a rushed blood transfusion, using inadequate protective gloves. Or a fatal infection could follow when blood gushes from a patient's wounds into a medic's eye.

Malnourished, wide-eyed children perch in cage-like beds on the wards, each one looking much younger than the ages given on the bedside charts. Those employees who are not sickened or killed by infection are often driven away by despair. About two-thirds of the 600 children on the hospital's books are under five. Six are thought to have contracted HIV through sexual assault.

Two-year-old Mersi Kassahum shows a chubby, baffled face on a barrel-chested torso yet a stick-spindly pair of drip-fed legs. She is HIV-positive, just like 23-yearold mother Nardos, both condemned by a father and husband long since fled, leaving them and a ten-strong extended family abandoned on the outskirts of the capital. Nardos seems philosophical as she insists: 'I don't want to really worry very much about HIV. What's done is done. So I have to live with it, for myself and my daughter.

'This is the only outlet that could mean my child survives. It's not important to worry about something that's already been done. It's not worth worrying about my husband now he's left. There's nothing I can do about it.'

Read the rest of the story:

Letting Children Go

2009-02-18T11:41:00.004-06:00

I came across a blog that is written by an Ethiopian family living in Addis Ababa. I've only read one story thus far but I am sure that it will give valuable insights. It might give you a moment of pause or cause you to think in a different way.

In the story an Ethiopian mother surrenders her child, but the story follows the father who feels the need to search for him.

Parental bond is a wonderful gift of God – an unseen and perpetual
umbilical binds the parent to the child. If ever it gets severed the world of
the parents comes to a halt – nothing else in the world matters. What happened
to Mary and Joseph for three days happened to Wondesen for seven good years.

Wondesen fell into a relationship their teens and the unexpected happened –
she got pregnant. Both of them had to flee from their homes and parents. They
went to live in a different suburb of Addis Ababa where nobody knew them. That
was when life began to harden for them. After the baby was born, the only thing
they could afford was to buy a loaf of bread daily dissolve in water and feed
the child. At a point they could no more agree because the girl wanted to go to
her parents since they were in the process of sending her abroad.

At a very short notice the girl revealed to Wondesen that she had made
plans to give the child away. Wondesen was terribly disturbed. But the girl
passed on the child to a woman who passed it on to other hands and the child
ended up in an unknown destination. Three weeks prior to this Wondesen had
become born again. The girl disappeared into the Diaspora, but the Wondesen was
sore grieved until life was no more worth living for the sake of the severed
link.

Read the rest of the story...

A Colorblind World is Still a Blind One

2009-02-18T09:45:00.006-06:00

I don't have any great fascination with living in a colorblind world. As I've often said if the world were colorblind then a colored girl like me might be invisible. I think it is better that we all keep our eyes open and engage each other in healthy discussion around the things that effect us whether we are black or white and every hue in between.

That's a big wind up for the picture that was posted in the NY Post today concerning the newly signed Stimulus Bill. Who signed it? President Obama signed the bill and drew this reponse:

It's My Birthday

2009-02-15T07:28:00.008-06:00

Today I get to celebrate my favorite day of the year. I don't get hung up on the numbers and today I proudly turn 43!

I'm not Oprah but here a few of my all-time favorite things:

My favorite trip: Going to Ethiopia to see my kids.

My favorite holiday: Thanksgiving

My favorite book: All God's Children by Fox Butterfield

My favorite movie: Anything with Sidney Poitier but we can start with In the Heat of the Night and Blackboard Jungle -- maybe even Lilies of the Field.

My favorite song: Stand by Donnie McClurkin

My favorite writer: Langston Hughes

My favorite person: My Daddy (yes I call him daddy) who sent me the best birthday and Valentine's day cards.

My favorite food: Indian food

My favorite desert: Ice cream -- vanilla works fine

My favorite book of the bible: Nehemiah

My favorite scripture: 2 Timothy 1:7

The Color of My Culture

2009-02-14T07:39:00.008-06:00

Reposted from months gone by in celebration of Black History Month. It's not the color of my skin that we celebrate but the depth of a culture that has survived against all odds.

The Color of My Culture
Valarie A. Washington
copyright(c)2008

My culture is colored by the family that raised me. It is the soulful blackness of the church that loved me and the colorful mix of the the foods and flavors that nourished me. My culture is the red-hot rhythmic dance of a people, the jazzy blues of music that beats in my heart, and the brown-eyed melodies of life that I learned how to sing.

The color of my culture is dark green and life affirming like collard greens on Thanksgiving. It's rich and strong in orange fibrous keratin like yams on Sunday afternoon. It is golden yellow like fresh cornbread crisp from that old cast iron skillet, and it is the conspicuous black spot staring back at me from black-eyed peas cooked on New Years day. My culture is as colorful as any soul food dinner served on mix-matched plates and as shiny as the Reynold's wrap we use to take our plates to go. It's sour green pickles, wine candy, red kool-aid, grape now-n-laters, red-hots, lemon heads, and bomb-pops.

My culture is multi-colored like kente clothe weaved together in a really tight pattern. It is jewel-toned and ruby red like the church ladies hats. It's soft pink and lilac like little girl dresses on Easter morning. It is beautiful like the stained glassed church windows that we propped open on hot summer holy ghost days. It is as majestic and and rich as Mahalia's voice on Precious Lord and the regal way she stood in her choir robe on the back of those church fans we use to wave. My culture is far-reaching faith in a Thomas Dorsey classic like Peace in the Valley. My culture is as white and pure like the hearts of the stewardess' board and the church mothers sitting clustered on the front row. My culture is contrast of pure whites, whiter than snow that we sang about in familiar hymns cast against the blackest covered Bible that holds God's powerful word.

My culture is bright yellow like the smiles on our faces listening to the children's sunshine band sing songs from their tender hearts. It is as complex as the synchronized turns that the ushers and the urshers made walking up and down the aisles of the church. It is the melodic hues flowing from the voices of the young adult choir singing the chorus of "How I Got Over!" My culture is intensified by the click clack joy of tambourines and that shrill B flat that sister Mary always managed to squeeze out just a little off key. My culture is concrete gray and unshakable like the faith we were always taught to have. It is as thunderous and moving as the morning prayer that would raise you from your seat, wake the sleeping child, compel you to wave your hands, testify, and shout -- AMEN!

The color of my culture is cocoa-brown skin, light, bright, and almost white. It is colored like the ashy knees in summer, Vaseline, and blue hair grease or the kind that we scooped out of the red jar. My culture is colorful barrettes, beads and ribbons that little girls wear in their hair. My culture is colored by the rhythmic way we in which speak, the way we roll our Rrrra's, and the way that only my mother could turn a phrase. It is the worn-out beige handle of that old worn out pressing comb that was always sparking on the kitchen stove. It is lively and colorful like our conversations and slips of the tongue that only grand-momma or big momma can make.

My culture is the royal blue way they we love and revere our mothers. It's the gold-ribbon honor that The Spinners gave to "Sadie", and Boys II Men gave to "Mama". My culture is loud like my mother and her sisters when they hear their favorite song on the radio. It is as deep as the deepest note that Barry White ever sung and higher pitched than the notes Minnie Ripperton sang about, "Lovin' You" and every note she sang in between when she took us, "Back Down Memory Lane."

My culture is crimson stained from the blood shed by the Martin King's, Emmit Till's, James Chaney's, Malcolm's and nameless men that died to make us free. My culture is played out in the soundtrack of our lives sung by Marvin, Curtis, Otis, and James Brown who first told us to be black and proud before he sang anything about feeling good. My culture pours out red heart love and chocolate covered soul like Patti, Aretha, and Gladys. The color of my culture changes effortlessly like a chameleon. Because, when we had little to believe in, we sang, hummed and waited when Sam Cooke told us "A Change is Going to Come..." And even now when we feel like we want to give in, we can still hear Luther saying, "Never too much, Never too much..." My culture is familial and connected like, Marvin Gaye's, "Brother, Brother, Brother" and the true refrain he sings in, "Make You Wanna Holler." You know, "throw up both my hands."

The color of my culture is true blue American and the color of hope that Barak Obama had the audacity to write about. It is the silk ribbon in Stevie Wonder's sky. It is the crayon box of colors that drew out the richness of a people before MTV had a generation and Beyonce ever had a hit. The color of my culture holds the supremeness of the Supremes, the emotion of the Emotions, and the dreams of the original Dreamette's . My culture is found in the rainbow colored way in which we were loved, protected, and encouraged that allows us to love, honor, and share in return.

My culture is the red carpet red that led me to every good thing that has and will ever happen in my life. It is a shinning star that announced the birth of a King and the same bright light that will lead the way for every little black boy and girl for generations to come.

The color of my culture is a legacy that won't end with bars and tones at midnight and it is the hope of a people that will never ever fade.

Ethiopia Celebrating Black History Month

2009-02-11T07:50:00.002-06:00

On my recent trip to Ethiopia I was told over and over how much people there love President Obama and Oprah. It was funny that people would say, "You're from America, do you know Obama?" So, this story about Ethiopia's celebration of Black History Month acknowledging the influence and achievements of Blacks in America really caught my attention. The celebration is being observed under the theme “Quest for Black Citizenship in the Americas.”

From the EthioGuardian.com

“The Civil Rights Movement: from Martin Luther King Jr. to President Barack Obama-Personal Reflections”.

The United States ambassador to Ethiopia, Donald Yamamoto said Black history is a A panel discussion, organized in commemoration of the day, was held on Tuesday morning under the theme uniquely American journey that inspired all people.

“Black History Month in the USA is an opportunity to recognize the achievement of the African Americans reflected in the building of a strong nation,” said Ambassador Yamamoto.

The celebration of Black History Month has been observed in the USA since 1924. The month is a remembrance of important people and events in the history of the African Diaspora.

“The Black History Month is the history from slavery as we now move forward to where we are now, the election of President Barack Obama.” Said Ambassador George W. Haley, civil rights activist in the USA. “The election of President Obama is not only the pride of African Americans but also the pride of the world and it is incredible to see that the efforts of the movement has come to the position.”

Professor Andreas Eshete, President of the Addis Ababa University (AAU) said the civil rights movement mobilizes several people across the world, particularly in Africa to fight for their freedom from colonization and racial segregation. “Ethiopia, as an African country which was not colonized, was a pride to black people across the World,” he said.

He said the country has also inspired African Americans to fight for the respect for their rights.

Black History Month is celebrated annually in most countries worldwide in the month of February, while in the UK it is held in the month of October.

Life as a Habesha

2009-02-10T11:57:00.002-06:00

One site that I often read is www.abesha.com. I like the portraits and Q & A's that they do with young Ethiopian immigrants.

Here is a post from the site.

This Film Conveys a Coming of Age Story about Young Diaspora in America Washington, D.C. – January 30, 2009 - Zanta Media releases “Habesha Life,” a web based episodic series that explores the lives of young East Africans coming of age in the Washington, D.C. metro area. The series will be available free for viewing at the website www.habeshalife.com beginning February 15, 2009.

Everybody Has a Story

2009-02-10T11:19:00.002-06:00

Many months ago I read a great book called Of Beetles and Angels: A Boy’s Remarkable Journey From A Refugee Camp To Harvard. It was written by a young man that immigrated to the US from Ethiopia at the age of 8 or 9. I was interested in experiences since he grew up literally around the corner from where I will raise my children. Below is an excerpt from a recent interview.

In the case of Mawi Asgedom, when he was a young boy he made ‘it’ out of Adi Wahla in Tigray with his family and into neighboring Sudan when countless thousands didn’t. From there again his family made ‘it’ out of Sudan and immigrated to Wheaton, Illinois.

Living in America, how do you feel about identity and how do you identify yourself?

Mawi: Well that is hard. Identity is a very American thing, and often times it is assumed for you before you can consciously do it for yourself. I would say in the past I thought of myself as part African-American, part African, Ethiopian and Eritrean and so on. At Harvard it was difficult to fall into one group because I would hang out with African-Americans. I would also be around white students because growing up in suburban Chicago (Wheaton) I was always around white people. Slowly I began to see that America was built on classifying people as this or that race. Today I feel like I belong both everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I don’t feel fully abesha, because growing up here, there is somewhat of a disconnect. (Laughs) I like basketball more than soccer. I feel like I am beyond simple classification now. As a speaker, strictly identifying yourself in one particular way closes you off to many potential audiences. It’s an advantage. As a speaker, I feel I can identify with diverse groups. I recognize cultural differences and can adjust to them.

Your book deals with the experiences of you and your family after emigrating to the U.S. Why do you think family is important and why did you choose to make it the theme of your book?

Mawi: I just felt that my story could not be isolated out of my familial experiences. Though I have experienced many things as an individual, the elements that shaped me the most were those that I had at an early age with and within my family. Also it was a story that needed to be told. That is not mine specifically, but it was the first book by a black immigrant refugee. It offers a different perspective than typical memoirs because I wrote it at a relatively young age. (Twenty-three)

Since your first book was published, you’ve also become a sought-after motivational speaker. How did it all come about? Have you always had public speaking aspirations?

Mawi: No way man. I was one of the shyest kids. I didn’t want to share my story with anyone because I was worried people would make fun on me. But as I matured, I saw my family and myself in a different light. I realized not only did I love my parents, but also I was also very proud of them. I would have never thought I would become an author or a speaker. But I love what I do. It all started after I graduated from college and was living in Oklahoma. The youth pastor at the church I was attending couldn’t make it one day and I took his place. The kids really seemed to enjoy my story and received it warmly. That’s how I got started.

I Wonder as I Wander

2009-02-03T05:37:00.004-06:00

I wonder if I showed up a preschool in Anywhere, USA and offered up ice cream to a bunch of four, five, and six year old kids if they might rush for it, grab for it, and eat as much as I would allow them too. What if I returned a second or third day? Would I see the same thing? What could I conclude from that exercise?

They were starving because they'd not been fed at home.
The children had not been fed lunch by the school.
The children just like ice cream.

Ain't Nobody Mad but the Devil!

2009-01-28T13:01:00.002-06:00

I just needed to take it back to church for a minute but this is not about about some deep spiritual revelation. It is just a time to reminese on the church of old that I miss so much.

You know the one:

The urshers (that would the ushers) kept that one hand behind their back and did the little turn.
How you had to raise the one finger to walk during service.
The way that the male chorus sounded on that greatly rare fifth Sunday.
The mother's of the church called everybody baby and kissed you leaving that lipstick print.
The way that the announcement lady first gave honor to God, pastor, mothers, and friends.
When choirs really marched in wearing those shiny robes.
How the stewardess said that they would rather have money in the plate that didn't jingle.
The hymnals on the back of the pew that were missing the page that you needed.
Singing the Lord's Prayer every Sunday and if you were in the Methodist church, CME, AME, or AME Zion you had to say the Apostle's creed and sing the Gloria Patri.
Don't you remember the tamborine and the high B flat that you hoped that sister would reach in the middle of the song?
How the song would be over but the musicians were really getting started. The sway of the choir and when they did hand movements to the song.
The hats, oh Lord, the hats! I couldn't wait until I grew up for that. I'm not quite that grown yet.
Whatever that cadence was that your pastor used for every sermon. My pastors was, "Isn't that right?" and his other one was "Ain't nobody mad but the devil."
The way that the organist punctuated the preacher's word at the end of the sermon.
Remember when the ushers did the row by row count in the middle of service or hung up the Sunday school attendance banner.
The responsive reading and call and response.
And the end of service when we said, "My the Lord watch between me and thee while we are absent one from another, Amen." or "Go in peace and sin no more".
The doors of the church are now open.

Well those are some of my found memories and here is a video just because it makes me laugh. If you are really sensitive you may not want to hit play. If you grew up in the black church you are sure to understand.

Images of Ethiopia in America

2009-01-26T05:10:00.005-06:00

Since the start of my adoption journey I have kept a file on positive articles and profiles of successful, prominent, or noted Abesha or Ethio-American people. I have been collecting these stories because I want the kids to see themselves reflected in images and positive stories of people who look like them and have life experiences similar to their own. I did not want the children to have to look to ancient history to find reasons to be proud but to also have contemporary examples of what was happening at the time that they came to this country.

I wanted to share this story with you all about Wayna Wondewossen. Some of you will understanding the significance in the name alone. She is a young Ethiopian born woman that came to the U.S. with her mother at a very young age. [Read her story]

This year she was nominated for a Grammy for her rendition of Minnie Ripperton's Lovin' U. Yes, Minnie Ripperton takes some nerve, I know. Amazing that this year she is not the only Ethiopian born Grammy nominee. Kenna was also nominated in the same Urban Alternative category.

Of Days Gone By

2009-01-19T10:33:00.002-06:00

We live in an imperfect world with imperfect people but wherever there is life there is always hope. Things like this give me hope for the generations to come.

FROM THE MERIDIAN STAR NEWSPAPER:

There was a time when this newspaper – and many others across the south -- acted with gross neglect by largely ignoring the unfairness of segregated schools, buses, restaurants, washrooms, theaters and other public places.

"We did it through omission, by not recording for our readers many of the most important civil rights activities that happened in our midst, including protests and sit-ins. That was wrong. We should have loudly protested segregation and the efforts to block voter registration of black East Mississippians.

"Current management understands while we can't go back and undo some past wrongs, we can offer our sincere apology -- and promise never again to neglect our responsibility to inform you, our readers, about the human rights and dignity every individual is entitled to in America -- no matter their religion, their ethnic background or the color of their skin."

Mission Accomplished

2009-01-15T07:27:00.003-06:00

Ethiopia has held a great deal of symbolism for me since I began my journey. The journey is not over but I've crossed one great hurdle. Forgive me while I leave myself a personal message of confirmation and affirmation.

I will return unto Zion and will dwell in the midst of Jerusalem. Old men and old women will yet sit there in the broad places of Jerusalem and the broad places of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing. (Zechariah 8:3-5)

Pictures from Ethiopia

2009-01-13T09:45:00.007-06:00

Alright, so here are the pictures from my trip. Keep in mind these things, I traveled alone, I was so living the moment that I didn't capture as many pictures as I would have liked, the pictures that you guys really want to see can't really be shown and all of you PAPs know why.

So with that disclaimer, enjoy!

Oh yea, even in flight I must have information so I watch the map showing exactly where we are. On my flight home that map function wasn't working and I had to asked to be moved to another seat. Eight hours in the air and not knowing where the plane is, uh no!

Traveling to Ethiopia on a Prayer

2009-01-11T15:22:00.009-06:00

I decided to take a trip to Ethiopia or I guess I should say that I was compelled to go to Ethiopia and like anything else once I make up my mind to do something, I do it. So, here is how you plan a trip to Ethiopia in five days or less on a shoestring budget and a prayer.

My mind was uneasy and my soul could not rest so I decided that if I could find a reasonable flight to Ethiopia, I would just hop on a plane and go. Late Sunday night, December 21 I started searching the internet for flights. I thought the trip would be cost prohibitive but I found a flight for $1550 leaving flying Turkish Air on December 24 with a 10 hour layover in Turkey. I was sure that was no reason to not go. Early Monday morning I contacted a travel agent to have him verify the flight and he said all was good. While I was talking to him I kept checking and found a $1600 flight on Luftansa. Anyway by Tuesday I booked a Luftansa flight leaving Chicago Thursday on Christmas day arriving in Addis on Friday night. I would have three full days in Addis and then board a plane heading for home on December 29.

In my opinion the Lufthansa flight was best from here. It was 8.5 hours to Frankfort with a two hour layover and then 8.5 hours to Addis.

Always check sidestep.com for the absolute best airlines rates. Using side step I found Kayak and that allowed me to compare flights.

Needless to say having only two and a half days to pack and prepare was like a mad dash but I did it and arrived at the airport for take off with time to spare. I had one carry-on bag for me and two 49.5 lb bags with donations for the orphanage. I focused on what was essential, prescriptions, survival stuff, edible treats, and sensible shoes. If you are not like me and don't wear heals for all occaisions you may be able to skip the shoe part.

Remove the items that you are carrying from their packing. It makes more room and weighs less. Also weigh your luggage on a home scale before you head to the airport.

The travel agent that booked my flight suggested that I stay at the Harmony Hotel at $100 a night. It sounded it reasonable and I was game -- sign me up. In speaking with another AP she mentioned that someone she knew had just returned and stayed in the Dimitri Hotel. I checked out the Dimitri online and immediately booked a queen size room (what they call standard) at $60. That also included free Wi-Fi. It was the best decision of all. I ate the majority of my meals at the hotel and my total bill for four nights including food was $307.00. My meals included roasted chicken, grilled fish, french fries, this really delicious rice, you get the picture. The food was good and I also had at least one glass of red wine every night. I did also eat Ethiopian food but that was all at the orphanage in the home of the director.

Stay at the Dimitri hotel and tell the owner Senait that I sent you! One thing, there is no elevator so ask for floors 1 or 2. I hiked up four flights several times a day. It was good cardio but uhhh...

Without knowing it, by staying at the Dimitri I was a 5-7 minute walk from the orphanage. Because it was so close I was able to go a few times a day, go back to the hotel do other things and return. The Dimitri is in an area about 10 minutes outside of the center of Addis. Next door there was a bank and down the street was a hair salon, a cafe, and a corner store. The Dimitri is small and they pay close attention to service. It was more like being in a large family residence, they took good care of the families that were there. They were able to find me a driver, book his time, and negotiate the rate. I paid $40 for five plus hours with a driver who took me anywhere I wanted to go. My driver Daniel was great and cute -- young but cute. He suggested that I go to the museum and I loved it. He also asked what things I wanted to shop for and without me knowing he called a shop owner ahead and when I arrived they were waiting for me.

Ask the Dimitri to see if Daniel is available. Let them negotiate the rate and know that you can still try to get the rate down lower but I thought what I paid was fair.

I loved the shop that Daniel took me to it had very nice traditional dresses. I went in wanting to get one traditional dress and maybe a few things for friends. As the shop owner pulled out way too much, I asked him the price. He told me to first select ALL the things that I wanted and then we would negotiate the Ethiopian way. I picked a beautiful dress and four large silk scarves. He wrote down his opening price of 3800 birr or $380. Uh...no! He told me that I should right a counter and I countered with 1500 birr or $150. He laughed at me and told me that I was not serious and that my offer was almost insulting. He put a big "X" through my offer and told me to try again. He countered with 3600 birr handed me the paper and I circled my original offer of 1500. I asked how much just for the scarves. He said $80, I said $60, he said $75 was his final offer and I said it is $70 or nothing. He gladly took it and then continued to talk about the dress. I told him that I would not pay the $280 that he had come down to. He continued to get me to negotiate and finally I told him that I had a crisp $100 US bill at that would be my final offer. He went from 2800 birr to 2400 birr to 1800 birr or $180. He told me that at that rate he was making no money. I assured him that I wanted him to make money and that he should try to sell the dress to someone else for a profit. I had $100 US and that would be my final offer. No matter what he said I offered the $100 or told him I would go. He finally agreed to the $100 and then told me that I negotiate like an Ethiopian and for that he wanted to give me a gift. He gave me another beautiful scarf for "free". So I left spending 1700 birr just a bit over my opening price of 1500.

Decide how much you want to spend and don't feel guilty for negotiating for the best price.

With less than a week to plan I made it to Ethiopia and had an amazing time. In my short time there I managed to:

Spend significant time with the children at the orphanage.
Be the recipient of countless sloppy wet kisses and tight, tight hugs.
Go to church and receive a special blessing from the priest on Gabriel.
Drink coffee daily and eat one meal daily with the orphanage director.
Watch the children's good night routine including dinner, prayers, laughter and warm milk.
Go shopping in the supermercado, go sight seeing, visit the museum, and tour Addis.
Search high and low in many markets for milk.
Turn down four marriage proposals and two offers for arranged marriages.
Dance the traditional dance of Ethiopia complete with shoulder and head movements.
Go to the palace and be one of 90 guest a the 85th birthday party of President Girma, the current President of Ethiopia.

Photos to follow later.

Taking Baby Formula to Ethiopia

2009-01-08T07:02:00.007-06:00

I am glad to see such a great response to the post on taking milk. I've done a bit more investigating and found that NaN (the choice formula) is the first that contained bifidus cultures making it more like breast milk that strengthens the immune system.

I believe that the orphanages are happy to have the help and support and that it is also important for the babies to have some continuity of formula. I am asking that if people take over formula that they consider taking Nestle Good Start with Natural Cultures. It seems to be the closest to Nestle's NaN formula.

Nestle Good Start with Natural Cultures comes in a formula for babies 0-12 months and a formula for babies 9-24 months. NaN 1 for infants seems to be the hardest to find so people might want to keep that in mind. Nope I don't work for Nestle or have any interest other than trying to provide continuity for the babies.

You can check out this formula against others. Right now you can get a 6 24oz cans from Amazon.com shipped free for $103. Diapers.com has Good Start NC 1for $170 and Good Start NC 2 for $150.

I know everyone wants to help and it might be most helpful if we try to reduce the number of brands and different formulations that we are taking to Ethiopia.

My Plan from Here:

Contact Nestle to find out if there is a way that we can get them to donate NaN or if they will set up a way that others can pay for the formula and they will ship it directly to Ethiopia.
Contact Nestle to find out if we can set up some sort of bulk purchasing for Good Start in the U.S.
Check to see if there is another manufacturing that might help with number 1 and 2.
Initiate a milk drive that communicates the need and focuses family on one brand or formulation.

I am counting on you all to get the word out, continue making suggestions, and helping to formulate a plan. Feel free to post this information on your own blogs and someone can post this information to the big ET board as well. If you find a good price POST it!

Please Send Milk

2009-01-03T12:34:00.006-06:00

As many of you know I just returned from the most amazing trip to Ethiopia. Over the the next few weeks I may share more details about the trip but there is one thing that I wanted to put out pretty quickly and that is about the need for baby formula and milk.

Before leaving on the trip I saw a few post on the big ET board that there is a milk shortage. I'd like to add a little bit about what I learned spending time with the orphanage director at Hope for the Abandoned Children.

The milk of choice is a Nestle brand called NaN. It comes in two formulas one for infants and one for older babies. It's my understanding that the distributor or Ethiopian supplier is (threatening) to stop supplying Ethiopia with NaN formula and so the price has gone sky high. I drove around with the director stopping at several places to purchase milk. She explained that the price for the 12oz powdered formula had risen from about $8-10 per can and is now being sold for $25 per can US dollars. She told me before we headed out that the shop keepers will tell you that they have no formula at all and that it is being kept off the shelves and hidden that is why it seems people believe their is a shortage when the truth is the milk is there but by making it seem so unavailable they can jack up the price.

As I said I went with her. We drove around to four places and they all told her there was NO NaN milk. At the last place she told me she knew that it was there and that we would sit until the shop keeper admitted it. Some 30-40 minutes later the man said that he had it at $250 birr per piece (12 oz can) but that we could only buy it by the case at 60,000 birr or $600 US dollars. She tried to talk him down but all he said was that she might try going up towards the mountain some 30 km away.

We kept going and she just explained to me the pressure that the prices put them under. Children need milk and if they are forced to pay those high prices it means that they can not spend on other things. We kept going and stopped at one more place and went through the same type conversation and negotiation. The shop keep decided to sell it to us for 140 birr or $14 per can. I bought 15 cans of formula for the orphanage but instantly wondered how far that would go. They only had the NaN 2 or the formula for older children. So what I bought did not include infant formula or even milk for the older children.

It was very upsetting and frustrating for me to see this. Hope is a very small orphanage. There are nine older children and about 10 babies. Imagine what this is like for the larger facilities. So I ask that if you go over or know families that are going over please send milk!

As I understand to transport more, you can buy the powdered forumla and pour it into large ziplock bags to make it easier to carry. It is important to place the labels from the cans inside the bags to get through customs. If you can't take or send milk, please take or send money to purchase milk while you are there. Maybe we even need to start a letter writing campaign to Nestle for donations. I know that something more can be done.

There were so many amazing things that I saw while on my trip. The 3+ hour hunt for milk was the most eye-opening. Do what you can!

This story is from another part of Africa but it shows the seriousness of the situation.

Make sure to check this out.

Happy New Year!

2008-12-31T22:14:00.008-06:00

This was the start of a new day and now we celebrate a new year.

[Me and Gedaye, Orphanage Director at HFAA. We are standing in the lobby of the Dimitri Hotel after church]

This has been a really long year. I've done things I said I'd never do, I've been places I never thought I'd go, and I've made friends that I'm so blessed to have. The last week has in some way made the rest of the year worthwhile.

To my waiting mommy crew I thank you for your prayers, the laughs, and all of the support that you have given me over these last few weeks. I feel blessed to have you all as apart of this incredible story.

I wish you all great blessings and the happiest new year!

Soul Christmas Rewind

2008-12-21T14:07:00.009-06:00

From my Christmas 2007 post:

This is the time of the year that we celebrate the birth of Christ. Some say that Christmas has become too commercialized and that too many have taken Christ out of Christmas. I would never do that. Christmas is also a time for family and friends to celebrate life with one another.

If you need to smile just imagine Don Cornelius announcing Christmas with love, peace, and SOOOOUUUL!

Here is my top 15 list! Listen and enjoy and as my mother used to say, "Have a Happy, Happy and a Merry, Merry!"

This Christmas - Donnie Hathaway
This Christmas - The Whispers (The only one that can top the original)
The Christmas Song - Jeffery Osborne
Santa Clause is A Black Man - John Waters (Kimmy)
Christmas Just Ain't Christmas - O'Jays
Merry Christmas Baby - Otis Redding
Give Love on Christmas - The Jackson 5
Give Love on Christmas - Johnny Gill (Just love this version too)
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - Luther Vandross
Merry Christmas Baby - Otis Redding
Merry Christmas Baby - Charles Brown original
At Christmas Time - Luther Vandross
Santa Clause Go Straight to the Ghetto - James Brown
I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause - The Jackson 5
Silent Night - The Temptations
Little Drummer Boy - The Jackson 5 (The pictures will take you back)
What Do the Lonely Do At Christmas - The Emotions
Let It Snow - Boyz II Men & Bryan McKnight

It's A New Day!

2008-11-13T06:10:00.000-06:00

If you need a little pick me up, here is a video pick me up from the DJ. Enjoy and be blessed.

Riddles, Revelations, and Referrals!

2008-10-29T15:59:00.004-05:00

If you remember I started the countdown 12 weeks ago with a riddle. Here is a bit more of the story. Unraveling the riddle goes something like this.

In August when I wrote the rhyme I already had the referrals for my children, a son 4 and a daughter 6. I was matched with my children on June 4 when I switched agencies. I sent in my revised dossier and it was received in Ethiopia on or about July 10. There were some paperwork issues that needed to be handled and they could not be resolved prior to the court closing. On August 6, I received all the profile and medical work for my son but not my daughter.

I knew that the referral for my daughter was a little tenuous as her papers were impacted by changing requirements on the Ethiopian end. Still, I decided to wait and exhaust every possibility to get the issues resolved by the times the courts opened the first week of October. When were not able to do that I had to make a very tough decision and that is primarily why I've remained quiet about what has been going on. Through the weeks of waiting and uncertainty my agency was in constant communication with updates and eventually I had to make one final decision.

I decided to let go of my baby girl and was referred a new four-year old girl (I think she is six) one week ago Friday. No decision was going to be an easy one and while I don't think that children are interchangeable, I do believe that somehow we are led to the children meant for us. So with that I am thrilled about both of my babies and I'm ready for them to come home.

In August the best hope was that we would file for a court date as soon as the courts opened and that my date would be this week #12 or the first week of November. Well, I do have a COURT DATE! That is the big news.

The case was filed in court last Monday, October 20. and the adoptions will be final on December 8, 2008. I had hoped that they would be home by then but at least I can see the end. Let's have an all blog cheer for the court date! The best hope is that their visas and passports are ready on December 18, 2008 -- that would be the soonest they would come home. That is what I am working towards.

But of course that can't possibly be the end of the story.

As is the world of international adoption there are a few more rings of fire to jump through. My homestudy expires on December 7 or November 27 depending on how you read it, so now I have the added pleasure of getting all of my documents updated, getting fingerprints, letters, medical clearances, and having another homestudy visit on Saturday. Isn't that exciting? In Illinois all homestudies must then go to a central office in Springfield, Illinois for review and approval. Mmmmm....I do have an October 8 court date let's not forget.

Let's all join in a blog exclamation of, "Are you serious?" Yes. I'm afraid I am. Oh and there is one more thing for giggles. On October 15 it seems that Illinois changed some law or process requiring my placement agency to complete some type of registration to place children in Illinois. So, my agency is now having to complete that process as well and be approved before the court date.. You've gotta love it!

In the interim, my father and I are planning to travel and see the kids the last week of November. I have to meet my IR-3 visa requirement of seeing them first.

Well, that's the news and not yet the end of the story. Hope you all have a good day!

Important News on the Horizon

2008-10-27T21:38:00.003-05:00

I have changed the look of the blog to correspond to changes that are going on with the adoption. More news this week! Check in Wednesday for the full update.

Week #12

2008-10-27T14:16:00.009-05:00

See Weeks 1-11

Alright my good people. It is week number #12 and there is much to tell. Of course none of you are interested in hearing adoption news updates so here are the 12-week pictures. Look them over more news is on the way. I promise it is well worth the wait.

What is there really to say about these? I was twelve and not all that happy about it. I wish I had a good explanation but I think a lot of the change in my expression has to do with the fact that I got braces that really pushed my lips out and I spent those two-years in a considerable amount of pain.

Robbin I can hear you laughing and it is alright. I can take it.

I am pretty sure this is the day I graduated from sixth grade and so I might be 13 on this one. What you can't see is the corked wedge heals that I know I'm wearing. That front-door thing is funny and tragic. We actually did move freely throughout our home and spent most of our time outside.

Prayers for a Family

2008-10-27T13:03:00.002-05:00

I am so saddened to hear about the tragedy that has affected the family of Jennifer Hudson. The thought of losing three generations of a family in one horrible incident is overwhelming. To take the life of an innocent seven-year old child makes no sense.

In my post last week I mentioned working with children in Chicago who saw violence as a common occurrence, the children lived in this very same neighborhood. Working with the children just a five blocks from the murders, it was difficult and sad to look into the eyes of children who worried if they would ever live to see adulthood.

No child should have to wake up in the morning and wonder whether or not the will live until the end of the day. It is too much. We look to Ethiopia with compassion and understanding and too often look at communities like Englewood with suspicion and contempt. Children are children no matter where they are, no matter who their parents are, and no matter their socio-economic circumstances.

Please pray for this family.

Their story is a reminder of how life can change in an instant. Make the most of every moment and hug your children a little bit tighter. Tell someone you are sorry and make sure to tell those important to you just how much you love them.

I Have Been Shamed

2008-10-23T21:14:00.011-05:00

You have shamed me, talked about me, and attacked me for failing the most sacred duty of all mothers -- taking pictures. So, after I lifted my head I decided to STAGE a little photo session and pulled a few things out.

What you won't see is the lovely colorful care packages that guest took when they left, you won't see the grand Queen Ann cake that was filled with cream, strawberries, and bananas, you won't see the lovely table settings, the food, the menu or the invitations. Here is what I have. I hope it is enough to redeem me.

I start with a picture of my daddy standing in my kitchen partially blocking my famous apple treat dessert. The kids also got some books, gift certificates, undies, t-shirts, and cute, cute pajamas.

Sorry No Pictures

2008-10-22T09:46:00.001-05:00

In all the excitement at the shower or the excitement of being with friends, many people had cameras but no one took pictures. I put the kids gifts away before even thinking about taking pictures.

Sorry. I promise to do better.

The Children in My Life

2008-10-21T21:27:00.009-05:00

I am not a first time parent. I am the Old Lady in the shoe and this is a path that I've been on for a long time with many children. It is through them that I've learned a great deal, become patient and recognized how important my role is in their development and more importantly how they have shaped me.

In my letters of recommendation there were two comments from different people that touched me.

One friend wrote : Valarie is like the pied piper for children, she is naturally at ease with them and they know it. Children are inexperienced about the world but they have an innate sense for identifying sincere adults that show them genuine love and concern. Even the most bashful or the toughest, misbehaving kids are like putty in her hands.

Another friend wrote: Some people have children and become mothers, Valarie was born a mother.

At my shower were two of my babies now 34 and 26. Children (uhmm...grownups) that entered my life almost 18 years ago.

From 14-15 I worked as a hospital volunteer on the pediatric wing of a hospital.
At 16 I was part of a special program that taught basic skills to fourth, fifth and sixth graders in economically disadvantaged schools.
From 19-21 while a college student I mentored a 9 year old girl through Big Brothers / Big Sisters
At 24 when I moved to Chicago I was a Junior Achievement adviser working with children who lived in between two rival gang territories and several of our students were known gang members. We spent very little time on JA projects. We spent much more time on life management, resolving conflicts, self-esteem, and growing up without parents. The facility had armed guards that sat at the ends of the hallways, there was a manned tower on the parking lot and I was escorted to my car each night. That is where I met a young 16 year old named Michael who shook me to the core when I asked him what he intended to do with his life. He told me that he would probably never live to be 18 but if he did he promised me that he would make something of his life. From that moment I learned that the outer shell was only that and inside was always a young child looking for unconditional love and acceptance.
At 25 because of the many youth programs that I was involved in I was asked to work with a large inner city church to help them develop a youth education program. I lead a group of 40 adults over a five-month period to create Project Hope. It was a holistic plan for meeting children where they are and leading them to where they need to be. Parts of it are still used some 15 years later and led by one of my grown up kids.
I stayed on at the church for several years serving as the Leader of Christian Youth education and spent most of my time teaching teen bible study and children's Sunday school. I counldn't teach it without living it and developed a system where we used the children's daily issues to lead the classes.
It was the first time (far from the last) that I was asked and paid as a keynote speaker for Youth Education. That led me to graduate school where I further developed the HOPE principles and youth education programs that I began teaching to groups of adults who work with children.
A two-year old family member in a pretty tough spot ended up coming to Illinois to stay with me over a period of time. She is definitely the child that changed my life and how I see children. She did not want to return to her home and letting her go was pretty tough on me too. Because of the circumstances she came back at age 4 and again at age 8 before becoming a ward of the court that would not allow me to adopt her from another state. She taught me that children are what we write on them and that they watch how we live more than they listen to what we say. I have strongly advocated for children every since.
I worked in a program for teen girls and become the surrogate mom to a 16-year old for the next two years that had an absentee mother that would frequently take 1-3 week long trips out of town leaving the girl home alone.
I met a 13 year old girl who told me that her goal in life was to DIE! Recognizing some struggles of other young girls like her, I created a program called Eyes Like Mine which was a 9-month mentoring program for girls 8-14. The girls spent one weekend a month in my home where we had structured events from Friday to Sunday. Many of the girls had never been to restaurants, or office buildings but we did it all and traveled to college campuses in other states. The girls came to know me as a strong advocate and a tough disciplinarian. I have a box of projects they completed, letters they wrote, and promises that I had asked them to keep. Several of their numbers are still in my phone and I am still "mom" to some of them.
One of these children eventually came into my home on an emergency temporary order of the court. I am still mom to her and she will fight you (if I'd let her) if you say otherwise.
One of the older girls, too old for the program but without a mother was brought to me with a desire to go to college, we scrambled and got her into a school in Florida and I had to work with the administration to manage a lot of situations that a parent would on her behalf.
Another family member began spending summers with me at age 5 and eventually lived with me for part of second grade at age 7. Even after he did not live here, he and his brother was here each day after school. I had also been the babysitter of their mother when she was a child many years before. These babies of mine are now 12, 16 and 32 and my relationship with them is still that of a parental figure. My boys refer to me as their aunt but I do feel like grandma.
Last year I completed a program with the Chicago Public schools teaching life, leadership, and conflict resolution skills to 5th, 6th, and 7th grade students with some pretty complicated backgrounds. Helping children set life goals when they can't see beyond next week can be heartbreaking.

I don't really remember the time before children were a significant part of my life. Even though my own child died at birth I am "mommy" to many, some who never actual had mothers of their own. In my mommy role, I've had to sit in court as an advocate, attended counseling with my kids, dealt with substance issues, issues of abuse and all things in between. Without giving birth I've been to parent/teacher conferences, stayed up late at night doing homework, made costumes and cupcakes for the school events, and attended the plays and concerts. I've been called from my job for the sick kid and the misbehaving kid. I've interrogated boyfriends, set and had to enforce rules and curfews. I've heard the "I hate you's" the "I'm glad you're not my real mothers" and the "You can't make me's". I've hung in there long enough to here the, "How did you put up with me?" "I love YOU!"

I definitely don't know it all but I've seen a lot from the terrible 2s to the hot 22s. Without these experiences I would never I've jumped into the deep end of the adoption ocean. Parenting is a tough job but there is nothing more rewarding. I am so grateful to all of my grown up and almost grown up kids that allowed me to practice on them over the years and have encouraged me every step along the way towards adoption.

I love each of you babies so much!

Shower Me With Your Love

2008-10-20T21:51:00.001-05:00

I did have a (kid) shower on October 18 thrown by my good friend Cheryl. She demanded that I sit down and not do anything because she says that I do too much all the time for everyone. She wanted an opportunity to do something for me and she did a great job. I was so happy to see people that I forgot to take pictures. Trust me everything was set up beautifully and I received some great practical gifts from my wish list. Now, their closets are not bare.

Thanks EVERYBODY!

I don't do the girly shower thing so there were men and women and children. Some of my favorite little ones were here along with my grown up kids and my dad came up from Indianapolis. We really didn't play games but here is one that I thought was fun.

Play now and let me know your score.

Week #11

2008-10-20T21:40:00.000-05:00

Another week has passed and a busy week it has been. I actually had a house full of guest yesterday for my kid shower or baby shower if you prefer. It was a fun time and now I have to find a place for the nice things I received for the kids.

There was one final decision that I had to make about the kids and now that that has been done all systems are a go. I hate to sound cryptic but give me one more week and I'll be ready to give the details. It's been a long road and it looks like my 12-week prediction may be right on target.

In the spirit of waiting and counting here I am at 11. Well, in the first picture I might be 10 but I've posted it anyway just because of the sad puppy dog expression. Robbin you can say what you want to about these pictures but I do have cute legs...still!

The Children Know

2008-10-20T07:38:00.001-05:00

I wasn't trying to start some big controversy with my "Parenting on Aisle 3" post. I actually thought that it was a funny story about how children learn to effectively manipulate their parents. The child in question was NOT in distress, he was NOT crying, he was NOT in pain. He was simply being demanding and he knew that if he were loud enough and persistent enough that he would get his way.

I watched the mother, she was NOT frazzled, she was NOT embarrassed, she didn't even seem to be aware that she was in a public place making a scene. It was a like a game they were playing and he was winning. Not one time did she say, "stop screaming." I watched her negotiating with him, attempting to bribe him, and then acting as though she might leave him.

I hear all of the, "you don't know until you have kids so you can't judge." Well, I talked with another adoptive mom last night who like me has worked managing children in programs since we ourselves were teenagers. We talked about how in that role where you have 10 children dropped off to you who will be in your care for a short period of time that you become very adapt at finding strategies that get the type of behavior that you need from the children. The other thing that we talked about is that we have had children in our care who are absolute terrors to their parents, neighbors, and friends but they become gentle and meek with us. I don't know if we have a special kid gene that drew us to work with children or if the work with children helped us develop ways of getting through to them. But, we both said that it starts with setting basic rules and requiring that they respect us as the authority in the room and demand that they respect the other children as well.

Children KNOW who they can push and who they can't. I think that it is Dr. Phil that says we teach people (children) how to treat us.

Children want boundaries and actually respond very well to them -- enter the Super Nanny. I have CHOSEN to work with some of the most challenging children from disadvantaged backgrounds, children with emotional disorders, children with violent histories and yes they can be very strong willed and yes they will try to push your buttons. As the adult I have two jobs, one is to understand where they are coming from and two it is to help them move towards more desirable behavior. Like I said in the original piece I had to leave that section of the store because I was two seconds from intervening. Like Bennett wrote in her response I have often approached a screaming child in a store and gotten a different result. My first approach is usually with humor, "You are far to handsome too..." You usually get a shocked look from the kid, like is somebody really standing up to me? Hey, this chick has my number and she means business. Then comes a thank you from the parent at their wits end.

I don't want to offend any of my six faithful readers but there are some things that I am certain of: my children will not eat M&Ms as breakfast cereal and they will not scream at me as though I work for them. We teach children to look both ways before they cross the street and they can also be taught not to yell at mommy. I expect to be have challenges when my children arrive home and I expect it to take sometime for us to get into a rhythm and develop an understanding, but until my little ones have learned that I mean what I say and that I will not negotiate, our outings will be limited.

To have my Amharic speaking children out when they do not know to listen for the sound of my voice or respond to the look on my face puts them and others at risk. I love them too much for that!

Parenting on Aisle #3

2008-10-17T06:26:00.008-05:00

I was in my neighborhood United Nations Wal-mart a couple of weeks ago. I was quietly stalking a family that I identified as Ethiopian. I'm sure that they were and more than that I am almost certain they were from Tigray. They were speaking in their language that did not sound like Amharic but I waited for just one word that I could recognize so that I could start a conversation with them.

And then it happened...

I heard a scream like a child was being killed a few aisle's over. It broke my concentration and I lost sight of the family. I continued to walk the scream got louder until I could finally hear a child saying, "But, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy can't I have a toy noooooooow?"

People were fleeing the aisles and looking back like the sky was falling. He was still screaming. "I waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant it! I meeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan it! You are being meaaaaaaaaaaan to me!"
I turned the corner to hear a mother saying, "Don't act that way. If you do I'm not going to listen. You can yell by yourself." And then she does the duck around the other aisle and leaves this 4 or 5 year old sitting in the cart straining over the bar.

What.........? You are kidding right. I hung around because I just had to see this nonsense. This little tactic did not work and he only screamed louder. She comes back to the cart and calmly explains why they can't get a toy. She tells him that she is disappointed in his behavior.

He screams, "I waaaaaaaaaaaaaaant you to get me a toy now!" She calmly says, "no, we're not getting any toys." He says, "Well, I want you to know that it's not going to make me very happy." I laughed out loud, that was priceless and instantly brought to mind my mother's one liner that included the words scratch and glad in the same sentence. This mother says, "Well, I'm not trying to hurt your feelings."

Okay, I was about two seconds from minding somebody else's business so I quickly moved to a different area of the store where I witnessed something else. There was a little Latin girl at the end of the aisle trying to point at something, eager to get her mothers attention. The mother said something firmly and sternly in Spanish and did the single finger point to the ground -- the universal "right here, right now" finger point that mother's do.

The little girl stopped mid-sentence and walked quickly to her mother's side. After she did what her mother instructed, the mother grabbed her by the hand and walked over to where the girl had been standing and then in Spanish said what I know had to be, "Now (that you did what I told you to do), show me..." I could still hear the other little boy screaming.

I won't tell you that my child will never scream in a store but I can absolutely guarantee you that it won't go down like it did in Aisle #3.

Ok...Is It Just Me?

2008-10-14T15:59:00.001-05:00

Conversation with an adoption law practice. (I'm really just trying to compare prices at this point).

Me: Hi, do you handle international re-adoptions?

Her: I'm sorry but we don't provide legal advice over the phone. Would you like to make an appointment?

Me: Well, first I'd like to know if your office handles this area of law.

Her: Please hold...........Okay, I talked to the attorney and he said that you should set an appointment and that we he can look it over for you?

Me: What is it that he will be looking over?

Her: He is going to review your case?

Me: So, does he handle international re-adoptions?

Her: Here is the number for the attorney just call and ask him.

Me: Hello. Do you handle international re-adoptions?

Him: A readoption like someone was adopted already from somewhere else? I'm not familiar with that but I can look it over and tell you if I can help you?

Me: Oh. It's such a common process that if you haven't heard of it then I have to imagine that you don't handle readoptions?

Him: You mean like you have a 600 form that you need me to help you with?

Me: No. Really it's okay.

Him: You need to get a 600 or 601 form first so that you can adopt. Did you have problems with that?

Me: No. No, problem I already have the I-171.

Him: But now you need the 600 form.

Me: Well, the I-600 is the application. Mine has been approved and I have an I-171.

Him: I'm not really familiar with these terms you are using.

Me: It's okay sorry to have bothered you. I thought it was a very common process.

Him: I don't think so at least I've never heard of it. I can help you if the child is having immigration issues. Is that the problem? The best thing is to let me look it over.

Me: Thanks so much for your time, sorry to have bothered you.

Him: Do you want the number to the bar association?

Week #10

2008-10-13T20:28:00.005-05:00

Where does the time go? It is week #10 and there is news coming soon!

But for today all I have is one sad little picture that marks a turning point. I stopped smiling around 10 and didn't smile again I don't think until about age 16.

1976 was not a good year. The year before my parents divorced after 20 years of marriage, my oldest brother best friend left home to go to the military, and my mother had finally had enough of my school and removed me in the middle in the year. Later that year my oldest brother was also severely injured in a car accident. He broke his neck and was hospitalized and in traction for nine months. He spent the next year in a back brace. There was so much going on that I guess it explains why there are so few pictures.

Before you all start sending condolences we are all okay. It was a very long time ago I just want you to know why I look so pitiful in the pictures. Fast forward 32 years and I'd put on that same sad expression if I thought it would make things move faster.

Pitiful...Pitiful. I call this picture Little Girl Blue.

Note: Thank you Robbin for starting this exercise. It is definitely a fun way to pass the time and it has also caused me to take a look back that I don't think I've ever really done. Looking through pictures and trying to figure out why they stopped or when I lost that happy innocence. This has really been a pretty powerful exercise and reminds me that my children will also be looking at back at some point trying to put the pictures together. Wow...more than I would have thought this would be.

Prayer for the Pillipson's

2008-10-12T08:12:00.001-05:00

Samuel is a 3 year old little boy boy adopted from Ethiopia about six weeks ago. Last week he was injured in a tragic accident and has suffered major injuries. He suffered a broken arm, severe pelvic injuries and will have to have partial amputation of his legs.

As you read their story it is important that we all lift this family up in prayer.

For I will restore health unto you, and I will heal you of your wounds, saith the Lord. - Jeremiah 30:17

You can also follow his progress and make donations through Caring Bridge.

Thy light shall break forth as the morning, and thy health shall spring forth speedily; and thy righteousness shall go before thee: the glory of the Lord shall be thy rear guard. - Isaiah 58: 8

Schools that Sing

2008-10-11T13:40:00.001-05:00

As the days get closer and I've looked at many schools, I wanted to share one that I found not far from the house. I don't want to give you any big set-up, just take a look at the curriculum and tell me your thoughts.

1st Grade Curriculum
4th Grade Curriculum

I'm not sending my children here so feel free to express your thoughts.

Tag You're It!

2008-10-11T07:59:00.000-05:00

I have been tagged by Robbin to tell six random things about myself check them out. Now it is time for me to pass on the favor.

Tag You Are It!

Kristine @ Spontaneous Delight
Haze @ MummyHeart
Andrea @ Mother to an Ethiopian Princess
Terri @ Sweet Gracie
Angie @ Angie's Ethiopian Adoption
Ema @ Love Notes to a CoCo Princess

Here are the rules:

1. Link to the person that tagged you.

2. Post the rules on the blog.

3. Write six random facts about yourself.

4. Tag six people at the end of your post

5. Let each person know they have been tagged.

6. Let the taggers know when your entry is up.

I'm Not a Conditional Praiser

2008-10-10T07:42:00.009-05:00

Marvin Sapp: You can't wait until after the situation is over to bless the name of the Lord. Those type of praisers are conditional praisers. Those who have crazy faith know that even looking at the obstacle in front of them they won't allow what they see to hinder what they believe."

So much had happened in my life before I started the adoption. Like many of you there are circumstances and situations that shook us at the core and many of those things are what drew us to adoption in the first place.

About the time that I started the adoption I bought the Marvin Sapp CD like everyone else looking for the song, "Never Would Have Made It." That's such an amazing and powerful song that I found to be true of every song on the CD. But, the song that felt so personal, the song that touched and changed me instantly was "Praise Him in Advance."

I've had my share of ups and downs. Times when there was no one around. God came and spoke these words to me, "Praise will confuse the enemy." So I started singing, I started clapping, I started dancing, people were laughing they knew my problems and they knew my pain but I knew God would take them away.

That's why I praise him with my hands. That's why I praise him in a dance. He's given me a second chance. Come on and praise him in advance.
That's why I praise him in a song, when things are right or when they go wrong. He's given me a second chance. Come on and praise him in advance.

Praise him, come on in here, open your mouth and bless the Lord. Praise him, come on praise him, open your mouth give him glory tell your story, bless his name. Praise him in advance.

Praise him in the good times, praise him when things are going wrong. Praise him in advance. Praise him. Bless the Lord, He is worthy. And for my... life I will praise him, praise him in advance. Praise him when things are good times, praise him trouble on every side. When I'm broke I will praise him in advance.

So I want everyone of you to know that today I praise him advance for the last barrier removed, the complete court filing, the finalization of the adoptions, and my children's safe journey home. I hope someone else can be blessed by it.

Week #9

2008-10-08T20:15:00.008-05:00

So, it's week #9. Really it is week #1 since the courts just opened last Thursday and all I need is a court date. Come on court date! I am projecting, visioning, and hoping for a court date that is on or before November 15. I really wouldn't mind if any of you would say a prayer.

In the true tradition of the weekly reveal, here I am at age 9. This was my favorite little blue jumper but one day I reached for that can of grease at the back of the stove and the grease went down the front. Ruined!

Roller sets under the dryer for 3.5 -4 hours were common but my hair NEVER dried. The result is frizz.

I added a weekly countdown so that I could look at the pictures in order.

Six Random Things

2008-10-08T16:01:00.006-05:00

I was tagged by Robbin. So here are six random things about me. In the great spirit of tagging check the list below you might find your name there.

I have small feet. I wore a size 5.5 from the time that I was 12 until about four years ago when my feet expanded to maybe a 6.5

I love to cook and I'm pretty good at it. Others laugh at the way my best friend and I exchange recipes, she is also a very good cook it's like we talk some strange super-cook shorthand.

I have some strange ability to remember names of people. For example Monday I went into a new client worksite and met about 30 people in two meetings. For the rest of the day a person was showing me around and I would speak to a person passing in the hall by name. The person with me was surprised. Since I often teach to large groups of people, they always ask how I'm able to memorize 30-40 names within the first hour or so of a class. I haven't the vaguest idea.

I have barely any body hair. TMI I know, but it's random and just came to me. I have hardly any top eyelashes, no bottom eyelashes, and almost non-existent eyebrows -- they are not arched. I just looked and I may have some hair on my arms but if I do it is extremely fine and not really visible to the naked eye.

I had driver's license from three states in less than one year when I moved from Michigan to Indiana, and then to Illinois. That was in 1988 so I'm sure it's not that interesting.

There are five strange coincidences of my birth. One of those is that I was the only girl with two brothers, born to my mother who had two brothers and my father who also had two older brothers like his mother that had two brothers.

Tag You Are It!

Kristine @ Spontaneous Delight
Haze @ MummyHeart
Andrea @ Mother to an Ethiopian Princess
Terri @ Sweet Gracie
Angie @ Angie's Ethiopian Adoption
Ema @ Love Notes to a CoCo Princess

Here are the rules:

1. Link to the person that tagged you.

2. Post the rules on the blog.

3. Write six random facts about yourself.

4. Tag six people at the end of your post

5. Let each person know they have been tagged.

6. Let the taggers know when your entry is up.

This is the Pyramid Line All Grown Up

2008-10-06T19:49:00.004-05:00

I took a big break this weekend and returned to Michigan State University for homecoming. I graduated from college in 1989 and not been back since 1995. My trip was made extra special because it was also the celebration of my 20th year in Delta Sigma Theta.

"This is the pyramid line. You know we're looking so fine. If you wanna know which way to go, which way to go. The way is not AKA, they think they're fine, so fine but check this line it's DST."

I pledged DST in 1988 with seventeen other women and we became known as E.L.I.T.E. 18. Eighteen Ladies Inclined To Excel today are wifes, mothers, doctors, teachers, principals, business owners, ministers, and accountants. Fourteen of the eighteen were there and it was a great time trying to remember all the songs we used to sing. Some even had the courage to step -- uh not me.

Everybody looks great and we took a 20-year anniversary picture to go next to our pledge picture from '88. I have to say that I am proud of their accomplishments but more proud of the women that we have become. Happy Anniversary to my E.L.I.T.E. Sands! Ooh-Oop!

Hello Dolly - Buy African American Dolls

2008-10-02T09:16:00.009-05:00

Over the weekend I walked into a store not far from my house and was surprised at what I found in the toy department. There was one complete aisle of black dolls, three shelves high of different dolls. There were all types of dolls and I've never seen that many options in one place.

My friend suggested that I purchase as many of them as I could and make them available to other mom's who are having a hard time finding black dolls, so here they are. I've set them up so that you can purchase them through PayPal. They are priced at $18, $22, $25 including shipping.

If you are interested in purchasing more dolls let me know.

Dolls $22 includes shipping

Bonnie Lou Doll in Green (2)

Patti Jo Doll in Red (2)

Cuddle Baby Doll (2)

Talking Dolls $25 includes shipping

Cheerleader Doll (2)
She says a cute little cheer.

Little Miss Muffett (1)
She sings the Little Miss Muffet nursery rhyme.

Dolls $18 includes shipping

Baby Pony Doll (1)

Little Girl Pony Tails (2)

Baby Bath Doll (1)

Baby Swimmer Doll (3)

Week #8

2008-09-29T12:45:00.005-05:00

Where does the time go? You know that I spent the last week waist high in home and craft projects and now it is the eighth week of my wait. The courts are scheduled to open today so hopefully that means we are turning an important corner.

I hang my head because it also seems that as I turn eight I am also turning the corner heading towards that awkward stage. So, here are this weeks pictures. Robbin, I promise you will start feeling a lot better if I have to post a few more weeks.

But first here is a picture of my mother and father just because I thought it was a cool throwback picture. I don't know where my dad got that jacket but I think it is very dapper and the dress...

Well, finally Easter 1974 they gave "us us free." We were able to leave the house and pose in the front yard. I guess the sun is bright when you don't get out often. Michael is almost 17 with a J-5 and Bryan is 14. Oh yea, my mother made all three of our outfits so that is where I get the whole "Susie Homemaker thing."

Another thing I realized with this project is that every school picture (5x7 and 8x10) for my brothers from kindergarten to high school graduation are there. Uh...where are my pictures? I did find this one from third grade. I remember this was a deep purple and ORANGE ensemble.

This is me and another one of my cousins, I just had to show you the shiny shirt and crocheted vest. Today is she is a great mom of three teens and tweens.

Some People are Just A Little too Crafty

2008-09-26T06:17:00.004-05:00

When one small project turns into ten, I fear that the somebody might just be me. For your enjoyment, comment, laughter, and sympathy... Can you say intervention?

For All My Hard Work

2008-09-24T14:10:00.003-05:00

A recent conversation with my sweet other.

Him: Hey how was your day?

Me: Good but I'm exhausted. I painted the rooms today and everything hurts and I need a massage.

Him: You painted? That's interesting, I thought you were waiting for Luke. What kind of painting did you do that requires a massage?

Me: I am 5 feet tall painting 9 foot ceilings. That's a lot of work.

Him: Are you sure you're that tall? You know what the old folks would tell you to do.

Me: What's that find a new honey?

Him: No. Get in a tub of hot water and Epsom salt.

For Kristine and Kerri

2008-09-24T13:41:00.004-05:00

I admit that I am a color virgin, not a colored virgin but putting color on my walls has always scared me . I painted a big family room when I moved into my house and the color came out pink instead of brown. I am creative and like pretty things so instead of painting my mid-floor bathroom, I hung a shower curtain up against the blank white wall. It's a nice illusion.

The kids room project was a big leap for me and now I am feeling a little more brave. Thanks for the encouragement.

The Room With a View

2008-09-24T00:54:00.008-05:00

I finished the room all except hanging pictures on the walls. That will come a little later. I really like traditional Ethiopian art and I'm sure some of that will make it into the room.

Haze you were right, I feel a HUGE sense of accomplishment. My nails are a wreck and every muscle hurts but I look at it and still can't believe I did all this work.

I was so inspired by the early pictures of Gracie's room, Robbin's mom and the bamboo flooring, Celeste and her pretty two tone room, and Marcia who paints amazing freehand designs.

Take a look and let me know what you think. The colors look off in the pictures but the comforter and red trim are the same color the yellow is a warm gold yellow.

You may want to adjust the SOUND.

I am going to chose five pictures from this group (there are a lot to chose from) are going in the bathroom over the tub/shower.

Red Hot...Maybe Not!

2008-09-23T14:51:00.001-05:00

One of you should have warned me about red paint.

You know I've been working on the kids room. It started off easy, I scoured the web for a cute unisex comforter set -- found. I looked for furniture -- found at a bargain, first order denied, second set finally arrived. I chose primary colors with a modern twist then to my surprise I couldn't find a simple dark red shower curtain. Terri tried to help me out even offered up one of her own. Thank you Terri. By that time I had decided that if I could find a nice print I'd make a shower curtain. How hard could that be? It wasn't hard at all. I found the pattern at IKEA and once I realized that I'd have some fabric left over I decided why not make curtains for the windows in the bedroom. Two valance later I had a few more scraps so why not go out buy some fabric, use the scraps and make a valance for the bathroom window too. I won't tell you how far I drove to get a few more yards of this trim I fell in love with.

I never set out to make a shower curtain or window treatments and I definitely never thought about painting. I don't even paint my nails, I go to the salon for that. Well, I called my friendly contract who always fits me in and he said it would take almost two weeks before he could paint. Uh...that just won't work. The furniture was due to arrive Monday morning at 10am. I sat around on Sunday and kept thinking to myself, "Self...I said, don't even think about it you don't know how to paint." I lay on the floor in the kids room looking at the white walls and remembered what my mother always said, "Nothing beats a failure but a try."

I went to Home Depot and met the AlD (for short) the female paint guru. OMG! I took samples of the fabric and knew what I wanted to match. She went on and on and on and on and...well you get it. She went on about paint and drying time. She questioned my color choices and why I was so insistent on painting. She impressed herself with her ability to use to the color match machine to match my color so perfectly. Then she said, "You know with RED paint you have to have a blocking primer." At this point I just wanted my paint but she had to show me the color chart about what happens when you put red paint on white walls, how you have to wait hours between coats. Whatever, I just got up the nerve to paint and she is now trying to rob me of my right to completely mess it up.

I did it! By the time I finished painting the room it was really late at night and I only hoped that it would look reasonably could in the sunlight. Well, I finished the yellow part of the room and bathroom before the furniture was delivered. Today I have to tackle the RED that requires a coat of stinky gray primer and two coats. Thank goodness it is only the trim.

Here is a picture. More to follow.

Week #7

2008-09-22T15:34:00.010-05:00

Could it be I'm more than half-way there? Looks like I turn seven this week and this will go down in history as my all-time favorite childhood picture. I had just danced the Nutcracker Suite with my friend Julie standing next to me. Look at the picture closely you will see that I danced my socks off, my bow off, and my hat and sparkler off! That's me. The blue hair balls and lopsided ponytails are all my mother's doings.

Shirley Temple curls, what more is there to say about that? I'm looking a little knock-kneed too...later we found out my knee caps are tilted the wrong way.

Check Out Week# 6

Go West...Then Come Home

2008-09-19T07:52:00.008-05:00

One of the great things about my work is the flexibility that I have. The second is the many places that I get see on somebody else's dime. Well, second is probably all of the different types of people that I meet and the challenge of communicating the same message in a multitude of ways. Third is the travel and the places that I get to see. When I think West, I think about my client groups in Monterrey, LA, or San Francisco.

But I can remember landing in Missoula, MT and having a real sense of, "Where am I and am I suppose to be here?" I had the same reaction in Medford, OR but not so much in Clackamas. That's nothing against those places I had amazing trips but I did feel like I was in an area of the country that just didn't feel like a natural fit. It's added pressure to know that hours after landing I will have to face room of 30-40 strangers in a strange (as in unfamiliar) place and hold their attention for two or three days.

This week I made another trek out west and took these pictures after landing in Salt Lake City, UT. It was my first trip to SLC, another good trip and I found a really good Indian restaurant.

Since my trip to Wichita, KS just got canceled I guess I will attempt to paint my children's bedroom. I am crafty but I'm no painter. I am overwhelmed by the thought of it but inspired by some of the work I've seen the other mom's do.

Chica Boom! Chica Boom, Boom, Boom!

2008-09-19T07:52:00.007-05:00

Okay, so the Temptations movie was on when I got in from Salt Lake City. Love the movie and the music. My favorite scene is David Ruffin (Leon) in his apartment singing, "Ain't to Proud to Beg." Even though that would seem fitting, the DJ had no choice but to send out the Temptation classic, "Can't Get Next to You."

I can turn the grayest sky blue. I can make it rain whenever I want it to. Oh, I can build a castle from a single grain of sand. I can make a ship sail on dry land. But, my life is incomplete and I'm so blue because I can't get next to you.