Ok, I apologize in advance if this is a bit off topic, but I have so many random thoughts and feelings and impressions from my adoption trip that I just need to “down load” and I thought this would be a great place to do it. Any of you who have or will be traveling to another country for an adoption should be able to relate to at least some of this.

Sorry is this is somewhat disjointed. Josh and I have had several “deep” conversations since we got home and we are still processing and “digesting” everything. The things we seem to really both be feeling are that for one, part of our hearts will always be in Ethiopia, and two, our experiences there were life changing, and go beyond the wonderful, amazing and perfect little boy we were blessed with while we were there.

Being in Addis and seeing the poverty and the suffering so many live with, made us realize what a “bubble” so many people live in. So many live in this little world where they have their family and their friends and they go to work and go on trips to fun places and a bad day is when one of the cars break down or someone gets a cold or there is a rough day at work. What a reality check to be with so many children who had suffered through the death of their parents and other family members. Children who have seen illness lead to death, children who have been so truly hungry that they show the telltale signs of malnutrition. We saw people sleeping on the road who didn’t have a homeless shelter to go to at night for a bed or a warm meal. We saw young children working hard manual labor. I looked into the eyes of sweet little babies who were given up because family members, despite all of their love, literally could not feed them or care for them. As a mother, I simply cannot imagine. It is almost too heart wrenching to give too much thought. But that is the reality there.

I held a little girl in my arms whose parents had died, and whose future was grim. Labeled with a disease that would scare off most potential adoptive parents, her chances for a family were slim. And yet she was smiling and playing and curled into my lap as if it was somewhere she’d been a hundred times. I held her and willed as much of my motherly love as possible into her, hoping and praying that some day, some how, she would have a mom of her own, and the passing minutes I had with her would not be the closest she would come to knowing a mom’s love.

I saw crippled men crawl up the road, begging for money and promised myself I would never again complain about money or feel bad for myself when finances were “tight”. I had moments where I saw people with so little that I felt ashamed at having so much.

We met wonderful, happy, loving people. A man we came to care for deeply told us that he enjoyed his work at the orphanage because Jesus’ hands were in it. He explained in his best English, that, “With my old job, there was big salary, small satisfaction. Helping children and families has small salary, but big satisfaction. That is why I am happy.”
This same man gave money to the children that sang at the car window, to the women out in the road with their babies and the blind men begging.

Another thing that struck me was how much opportunity we have in the US. We were playing in the park one day and several boys came over and joined our soccer game. One introduced himself to me and started showing off his English skills. He was 10 years old and dressed very raggedly. His English was good enough that we had good conversations, and when we struggled to understand him, he worked until he could explain it to us in another way. He asked about Ben and our family and was touched that we were adopting him. He asked about America, and what we thought of Ethiopia. We were so impressed with his sweet spirit and how very smart he was. Finally when we had to go, after spending about an hour with him, I asked where his parents were. And then he told us that they had died, and that he lived at the Mother Theresa orphanage. I felt like someone had pulled the rug out from underneath me. I had assumed he was at the park with his family like the other children that were playing with us. There are not many parents looking to adopt a 10 year-old boy and I knew his chances of finding a family were slim. Yet I knew this boy would make a wonderful son to someone. How could such a sweet and handsome and wonderful boy be alone in this world? He really affected all of us that met him.

Later that night as I marveled at my new son’s intelligence, I thought of the boy in the park. My Bekalu was going to have a full education and all the opportunities in the world to make the most of his intelligence and other gifts, while the boy in the park, as an orphan in Ethiopia, would have so few opportunities. I wondered about all of the other children out there who were smart and gifted and full of potential they may never be able to develop. We have so much we take for granted.

We saw many sad things, but it was in no means, a sad place. In fact it was a wonderful place to be. I can honestly say I love Ethiopia. The people seemed to have a remarkably cheerful outlook on life no matter the circumstances. We never felt unsafe, and most everyone we came into contact with was friendly and helpful. They were kind to each other and just somehow “happier” than the people we tend to see on a daily basis here in the US. There was no road rage or impatientness…people took the time to smile and say hello, have a good day. Everywhere we went people stopped to say hello to Bekalu, ask him his name and wish him good luck in America. If all of our family had been together in Ethiopia, I would have enjoyed staying much longer.

And of course, one of the best things about Ethiopia is my gorgeous little boy. The children at his center were so very loved. They all had suffered the loss of their birth families…many had suffered malnutrition, missing their families, friends and homes, and yet they were happy. They played and ate and studied their letters and numbers. The nannies and teachers hugged them and kissed them and knew every one by name. The gardener, the director’s wife, the doctor, the van driver, the secretary…all of them knew all of the children and treated them as the special little people they are. Our son knew we were coming. He knew who we were and why we were there. He must have been nervous, He must have been scared, and sad for the friends he would be separated from. And yet he took my hand and called me Mom and leapt into Josh’s arms and called him Dad and was just so brave about it all. He has been through so much in his short life, and yet he is happy and calm and smart and sweet and so full of love and joy. My heart swells with love and pride when I look at him, and does backflips when he says, “I love you Mom”.

Yes, a piece of my heart will always be in Ethiopia… with the grandmother that hugged me and thanked me for loving her grandson as my son, with the boy in the park, with the little girl at AHOPE, with all of the people that dedicate their lives to caring for and loving the orphaned children, with all of the people we met on our trip and made our experience what it was.

I vow to keep these experiences fresh in my mind. To be grateful for the food in my refrigerator, the large home we live in, the two cars we drive, the educations our children will receive, the availability of medical care and all of the luxuries we take for granted. I will teach my son about the wonderful place he was born and lived for the first five years of his life. I look forward to the day we can return. Until then, a piece of my heart is there waiting.