Encounters

Glory to Thee for the encounters Thou dost arrange for me...

from an Akathist of Thanksgiving

You have your birth-momma's fingers, I often tell my little Ethiopian princess. And tonight my daughter's delicate fingers dance gingerly across my face, stroking my cheeks, bouncing up and down my nose, as our heads lie side by side on the pillows of her big-girl bed. My fingers so used to easily sliding through her brothers' hair in moments of affection become quickly entangled in the fury of corkscrew curls springing forth from her head. She reaches for me and croons, "I love you mommy, and daddy too."

Her brothers are asleep and she discovers me downstairs at the computer. "I cannot sleep," she announces and curls her body up into my lap. Together we sit, her, fresh and clean in pink, fuzzy pajamas with brown horses prancing across the pants, me in my standard uniform of jeans worn at the knees and a black shirt grimy with the remnants of our day. Together we watch the homecoming video of her friend Esther Selam, staring at pictures of her native land, her first homes, her caretakers, her first moments with us. Reflected in the computer screen I see our faces, her brown face pressed against my own. "There's where you first lived, baby girl, before us. And there's your friends, Esther Selam, Naomi Kongit, Etagegn, and Reda," because while her story is unique, her journey was shared by many others.

Separately we all left our homes, boarded planes in our respective cities, all destined for one place, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, where we had children waiting for us. I recognized Wade and Julie Osburn instantly while waiting for our flight in Washington, D.C.'s Dulles airport. For months, I had been following Julie's blog, following the Osburn's adoption story as it unfolded in Tennessee simultaneously with our own in Iowa. Together we received referrals for our daughters, Selam and Ethiopia, within days of one another; together we passed court on the same day and our girls became legally regarded as our daughters; together we received our call to travel; together we journeyed to Addis. And for ten intense days, we, and all those beautiful men and women in our group, shared in emotional, intimate moments as we watched one another meet our children for the very first time; as we sat in a concrete building in the southern city of Durame awaiting the meeting of our children's birthfamily members; as we silently and awkwardly gazed at the faces not so unlike our own, entwined fingers with mothers, and fathers, and grandmothers whose children were now also our children; as we wept because of the loss and pain and the tragedy of it all; as we watched our children's family members, armed with photo albums of their posterity's new families, disappear into the Ethiopian hills. Together we were forever changed. 

Our friendship with Julie and Wade is one created by the story of two little girls born within eleven days of each other in southern Ethiopia. The story of Esther Selam and Lucia Ethiopia Kebedech who ate together, slept together, cried together, lived together, before coming home to our families. The story of two little girls with corkscrew curls, luminous brown eyes, and smiles that will melt your heart.

 

Thank you Julie and Wade, Ellis, Ivy, Owen, Oliver, and Esther for welcoming us into your home, for your outpouring of generosity and love. It was truly a gift to be with you again. 

And while I have posted it before, you can watch the homecoming video Julie and Wade created. Always makes me cry.

Elliot and Owen

Our sassy daughters

Oliver and Russell

Never mind that he kept calling her Sintayehu, Elliot loved his friend Esther. Lots of good-bye kisses.

Thomas made Owen promise that he would write.

The littles with Russell's princess, Ivy

Beautiful girls