All four of us tumbled into our chilly van watching the cloud puffs swirl around our noses as we sucked in the brisk air and blew it out all warmed up. It was early morning, and we were all together minus one. That is how I feel all of the time, as if we are minus one. Truth be told I have felt this even from as far back as the first months after Scotty was born, as if we were not whole yet. I am so curious whether our family will feel complete when Jamesy is here, or will I still feel as if we are minus one and will God lead us back for one more?
We drove stopping for gas at the outskirts of our town, and then continued on the almost 90 minute drive to our destination. At one point I glanced back at Scotty and saw his sweet head, with that mop of blonde hair, limp against his seat, lashes lounging on his cheeks, breath coming out warm against his thumb which was securely tucked between his pursed lips. I smiled at his sweetness, and the clutch he had on his best loved bear and blankie. Security. My heart tumbled as I looked forward to turning around in my van and seeing my newest boy there tucked beside his siblings. Secure. Cadi rested her head on her seat, holding her blankie to her nose and breathing in the sweet, familiar scent as she listened to Adventures in Odyssey play from the cd player in the front.
I would glance at times at Jim as he drove, and then rest my own head against my now warmed seat. This trip seemed monumental. We had taken so many like this in the past months, but this was the last of its kind. The city came into view, so much different then our small hometown. I watched the people out my window appreciating God's unique brush strokes evident in the differences of each one. Jim slowed to a stop, squeezing between two vehicles, and he filled the meter with coins, appeasing it while our van took up space.
The building was so unassuming, modest, invisible by most I am sure, but for us it was our lifeline to bringing Jamesy home. Upon walking through the glass door I was quickly reassured in my forewarning Cadi of being frisked for weapons. She did well, standing like a little soldier, and Scotty followed suit. The office was small and unpretentious, much like the building. For such an important moment for us, I expected something more pompous.
In God's graciousness, we were there no more than 10 minutes. The officer was so kind, as was the lady who pressed each of our fingers onto the machine that captured our final set of prints. The officer took pity on Cadi's curiosity, and with a smile took Cadi's hand and walked her back in the room where Jim was getting printed, so that she could watch the process. God has blessed us with the kindest of people throughout this whole journey. The woman who pressed each of my warm fingers on the machine smiled kindly at me asking from where we were adopting. Ethiopia I grinned as my heart flip flopped over the country from where my son was born. She smiled at me, and her brown eyes danced as she said I just printed a woman who was on her seventeenth adoption.
Wow I breathed, trying to imagine being blessed seventeen times by adoption. Trying to fathom doing this process seventeen times.
It was over before we really knew it had begun. It was so simple, but it was the last thread needed to be approved to bring Jamesy into the US. We have nothing left to do, but wait. This wait is so much harder than anything we have done up until this point. So much harder than a home inspection, invasive questions into our personal life, blood draws, immunizations, depleting our bank accounts, curious questions, and mountains of paperwork.
The waiting is torture, but my heart knows it will all be erased, much like the pain of physical childbirth is erased moments after the delivery. And when I am cheek to cheek with my brown eyed boy, and he is secure, here in his home, where he belongs, the wait will seem like only a moment. Surely, my heart will forget the pain as I nuzzle his neck and sway to the rhythm of our new life.
Until that day....
Addis Ababa Time