.A Moment.

I am sitting here pecking out letters that race across my screen, and I know I should be packing instead. Because in just 17 (almost 16 now) days our family boards a plane and embarks on a new journey in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia serving street children. I am giddy about that and about all that God is inviting us into, but this moment, right now, I am even more giddy about the absolute miracle that is about to unfold tomorrow.

It was January 20, 2011, when I first laid eyes on him, and in the 1,335 days and 32,044 hours between that moment and tomorrow I have not stopped dreaming of and fighting for this very day.  It was a moment. Just one minuscule, unnoticeable to passers-by, moment, and my life and its path were forever changed. I have said it all here a thousand times a thousand different ways, but the story doesn't get old. How could it? Out of the almost 8 billion people that live in this world, out of all the millions of street boys - a woman born into luxury and comfort and a boy born into squalor and pain, an ocean apart, collided in what could only have been a God-ordained moment. And it really was only that - a moment. A few words exchanged, a few tears, a beaded bracelet and some granola bars. But that was all it took for our hearts to become entwined.

I have repeated it so many times, and it sounds crazy - even still - but I knew the moment our eyes held each others that God was up to something. I knew this child was destined to be my son, and I his mama. There were so many other boys that day. I had been tugged on, hugged, and begged from, but in that moment, I only had eyes for one.  I knew he was mine when his grubby, little hand thrust the beaded bracelet through our van window, because my heart could not contain the moment. I could not fathom another breath without knowing that this child was safe and secure, wanted and loved. Every single day since then, I have expended myself to be sure that he knows this with every fiber of his being. In that van that day, a new part of me was born, a fighter, a part of me that I did not know I possessed. Even then courage took root, and I turned to our friend, Job, and asked what was the likely hood of me adopting a street boy - that boy. He smiled at me, amused at my ignorance and naivety, and said "Oh, Tiffany, that is impossible."  And when I typically would have just backed-down, as was my nature, a fighter emerged. I nodded, and prayed, and dreamed big, and I ignored the impossible.

I ignored the impossible because I have a God who specializes in the impossible. If ever I doubt this, all I have to do is look back over these past three years and remember the way that God has smashed through the impossibles and obliterated the no's. God taught me how to stand up and to fight for justice in this journey, but the truth is that He didn't need me to do anything. He could have done this without me. All of the glory is His. The only thing I did was step into His invitation, and even in that I am pretty certain He dragged me in.

.

The day I met Habi.

Tomorrow, a miracle happens. Tomorrow, what so many people told us was impossible happens. Tomorrow that moment - the one that took place on the dusty street of Addis, comes full-circle. Tomorrow, what we were told would never happen is happening, our family stands before a judge, and my sweet, precious boy, the one that is so connected to my heart in a way that could only be supernatural, becomes my legal SON. 

Our God still preforms miracles, He is the exact same God that made the sun stand still for Joshua, and He still moves mountains to do the impossible. Tomorrow He is moving that mountain for us. This has not been an easy journey, for anyone involved. It has not been without tears and fear and heart-ache, but every single step along the way has been worth it. I would do it all over again in a heart beat.

In just a moment that boy will become mine.

[If you are new here, and don't know this story, click here.]

.Holding my Breath.

I've been holding my breath since bringing Jamesy home - without really realizing it. I have been waiting for his first appointment with a pediatric opthamologist here in the US. I have been watching his every move, "testing" his eyes by standing across the room to see if he can mimic my facial expressions or hand gestures - he can. I have been tracking the movement of his eyes - Are they slower today than yesterday? Do they speed up only when he is tired and distressed? I have been observing him observe - and all while holding my breath. I watch the way he dips his chin down in order to steady his eyes, and the way he brings objects really close to his face to study them. I see him pick up cream colored cheerios off of his cream colored highchair tray with ease, and my heart skips a beat. I notice that he is making eye contact more and holding our gaze a little longer, and it all seems too good to be true.

As Thursday - the day of his appointment - approached I began to second guess what I have seen. Am I just imagining him being able to see so well, because I want this so much for him? When we took him for a well-child and thorough exam the first week home, his doctor had told me that Jamesy was indeed not blind. But he did not admit to him being able to see more than shapes and light. But to me, who has been observing Jamesy's every move, I knew he had to be seeing more than that. Yesterday, we all piled into the exam room. It is funny how adding just one more child made me feel as if my family was a parade marching down the halls of the doctor's office. We all went. Cadi and Scotty did exceptionally well sitting quietly in the waiting chairs watching their brother go through his appointment. I was a proud Mommy, although deep down I know that it was only the grace of God and nothing that I had done. Jamesy had to have his eyes dilated twice. We were told that people with dark eyes have a harder time getting their eyes to dilate. This proved true for Jamesy. I almost teared up as my older two sat watching Jamesy get his drops whispering to him from across the room It's okay, brother. You're so brave. How have I been so blessed with these children? I cannot imagine life without any of them.

I liked the doctor, although she seemed very casual about Jamesy's eyes. I almost wanted to shake her and say Lady, don't you understand? He is a miracle sitting here in my lap! My son was BLIND only months ago! I restrained myself and was calm and collected on the outside. It was never even a question to her that he could see. She preformed some tests on his eyes, which was really fun to watch being done on a baby. Then she calmly said, as if it were no big deal, His vision is excellent.

His vision is excellent.

My son whom was blind back in September was now being examined by an opthamologist who casually pronounced his vision to be EXCELLENT. Oh glory to God! She did go on to tell us that Jamesy indeed has nystagmus. (I was rather pleased that my diagnosis had been correct, but at the same time sad that I was correct.) Nystagmus will affect him for the rest of his life, and there is no cure. There is a chance that as he grows his nystagmus will improve or that it will worsen along with his eye sight. There is no way to know right now. We have no promises that Jamesy will drive in the future or play organized sports, etc., but we have no guarantees that he will not either.

The doctor was impressed that Jamesy has already discovered his null point - Jamesy's nystagmus ceases when he dips his chin down and fixes his gaze ahead. Anyone who spends time with him will notice that he does this. She told us not to discourage him from using his null point, as it is a good thing. Sometime in the future we can opt to have a surgery for him that would make his null point straight ahead and eliminate the chin dip for him. The doctor also said to allow him to hold objects close to his face, when he does this the nystagmus also stops for him, and his eyes converge allowing him to focus. It does his eyes no harm to be looking at things so closely, as this is actually how his eyes were created to work together.

The only concerning part of the whole appointment is when the opthamologist examined Jamesy's optic nerves. She said that they are very small, and we need to figure out if something more is going on. Jamesy will need to have a cat scan done. This will determine whether or not the pituitary gland and midline of the brain are being affected and if his nystagmus is actually a result of this or if his nystagmus is a stand-alone condition. Growth deficiencies are generally the first sign that the pituitary is affected, and Jamesy does have this. We had been told and assumed it was from his severe chronic malnutrition. I am praying that is still the case. I came home and googled stuff about optic nerve diseases and wished I had not. Now I am trying to rest in the hands of God. Look how much God has already done for my Jamesy!

So now we wait to hear when his cat scan will be scheduled. Jamesy does not even need glasses. I can hardly believe this! He will be seen again by the opthamologist in four months - on his Daddy's birthday actually! Until then I am going to continue to research all that I can on nystagmus and reach out to other people who have it. It is my blessing to have been chosen to be Jamesy's Mommy, and I love that I can advocate for him.

Overall we walked away from yesterday praising our great God! On the way home Jim and I would periodically look at each other and break out into mile-wide grins exclaiming Excellent vision and laughing!

It is all too great, too wonderful.

“Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” Mark 5:19