Always Keep The Phone On The Toilet. Always.

Okay, it went down like this...

The phone rang this morning at 7:50am. While this wasn't the anticipated time that MoT could call, it certainly fell within an "acceptable" time range. That would make it 10:50am in Ontario. It wasn't MoT. Unfortunately for my recently-arrived-on-BC-hometurf-Mum, she was on the other end. And, while it was great to hear from her and know it wasn't overseas long distance, it wasn't a female voice I was hoping for on the other end of the line.

I got the boys in the car for school, hopped in and then realized that I didn't have the keys. Yes, keys usually help with starting a car Ashleigh.

So I whipped inside to grab them just as Ben had grabbed the phone on his way upstairs to get ready for work. He let me know he's specifically come back into the kitchen to grab the phone to take upstairs.

"Put it on the back of the toilet, honey" I said, "It's easier to reach when you're in the shower".

After months upon months of waiting for the phone to ring, you get these tactics down pack.

He may or may not have looked at me (lovingly of course) like I had just grown a third eye.

We headed to school. On the way there I wondered to myself how many more mornings I could wake up and tolerate the inner nausea without allowing it to take over. The feeling of utter illness would not subside until 10am each day. (This would be 1pm in Ont and in my mind: game over.) It was consistent to say the least. It has been horrible. And today as we drove, mostly in silence, I cranked the radio when this came on. I love this song. I mean seriously, who has the power to turn water into wine. Who does that? The same God who cares for our each and every prayer, problem, plea and praise. The same God who reminded us once again today of His sovereignty and His awareness of each and every concern and request we bring to the throne.

The difference between this wait...these past several weeks...and the referral wait...those many dozens of months...is that the referral had taken so many months (ah hem, years) that the timeframe wasn't quite as finite. There was no "if then" clause with the referral call. That does not in any way minimize the anguish of waiting for that call, it is and was just different. This call had to come within a specific timeframe or there would be no pre-summer court date. The fear of our child in an orphanage a moment longer than she will have already been wasn't okay.

I digress.

I dropped the boys off, whipped across the school to talk with a teacher and then walked out, preparing to head back to work.

And my phone rang.

And it was Ben announcing a July 15th date.

Yes, a month from the day we received it.

That means leaving in less than a month.

Hold on to your hats. I can barely cling to mine. It's fantastic.

I cried. I called a friend. I yelled at another as she drove into the parking lot. I hugged another, while simultaneously calling my Mum (I should really apologize for having been short earlier) who had just come on the scene. And I shook. Oh, my legs. They just would not stop. And I cried some more. What a moment.

I worked, concentrated, focused on soaking in every second of this moment in time.

A time of prayer had been arranged to take place at noon today...everywhere. Around the world in different countries by all sorts of caring souls, hearts, and friends who love this child whom none of us have even met, were going to be praying as one.

And before we could all ask, plead together, He answered.

And why should we be surprised? Why did I ever for a single split second, question if this would happen. He always answers. In His own way. In His own time. For good. He always always wants nothing but good for His children.

And so now we go forth.

The phone rang soon after Ben was out of the shower, so perhaps the "keep it on the can" suggestion was a little over the top. A girl really can never be too careful though. Apparently, the split second(s) between when the phone rang and he grabbed it to look at the call display and the "unknown name" appearing (which we know to be MoT because of the area code) were some of the longest he's endured in quite some time.

Please don't stop praying. We need it now as much as ever.

There's an ash cloud hovering over Addis (and surrounding areas) after a volcano eruption in the Horn of Africa...some flights into Addis have been cancelled.

There are documents required to pass court.

There will be layovers and vaccinations and so so so very many details to fall into place...or be placed into place, I should say.

And I know that through it all, we are held in the hand of the Father.

Please don't stop praying.

July 15...and counting!!!!!!!

IT'S A DATE

I don't have but a second but we are OVER THE MOON TO SHARE THAT WE GOT OUR COURT DATE.

July 15th we will stand in front of a judge in federal court in Addis Ababa.

Please pray that we...

• manage to get around the ash from the volcano. there have been some flights cancelled into Addis because of this
• all our documents are ready to go and we get the MOWA letter
• our baby stays healthy
• all court proceedings which take place on our behalf before court, will take place without any hitches or glitches
• for safety and health as we continue to travel

Oh my word. WE HAVE COURT A MONTH FROM TODAY.

Hold on sweet sweet baby girl.

Mini Getaway

Ramp It Up...

It's not that I am ungrateful. It's not that we don't, for one second, forget the gratitude we felt just over five weeks ago (and continue to feel, daily). It's not that it is in any way unpraiseworthy. It isn't that I am greedy. It's not that we are selfishly demanding.

But there's a need to ramp up all that prayer, already being lifted on our behalf...and on behalf of a small child...our small child currently (in all likelihood) waking, half way across the world.

Because when we read, "she had very slender arms and legs - and small hands and feet - oh, she is a doll!" but can't see it first hand, that is so very hard.

And when I soak in the words, "I didn't hear a peep from her, so you have a typical Ethiopian little girl," I just want to scream loud enough to know she's heard that we are coming.

And all she needs to do is hold on a little longer.

To stay strong.

To continue to gain health.

To fight off germs.

To eat lots.

To continue to roll.

To soak in her surroundings in sweet silence.

And we need to go.

We need to be there.

Soon.

We need to go soon.

So we need our court date.

And in order to be there soon we need a date really really miracle-like soon.

So we need to ask for the masses to pray. For you to pray. Because we feel it's been prayer that's carried us and it's going to be prayer that will continue to do so.

We need our phone to ring like yesterday. Monday will do, however.

So if you can please please ramp up all the prayer. We really need it. She really needs it. And we really need her.

Everything But The Kitchen Sink

My cupboards have been boring lately. I feel as though I'm stuck in a "snack rut". It's like every day presents the same old same old with our kids and their snacks and my goal is to constantly be creating and re-creating healthy snacks and meals. So when I look in the cupboard and see walnuts, almonds, cashews, raisins, rice crackers and the odd pretzel I just feel like it's bland. We don't buy pre-packaged, period. So the pre-made items are scant.

We mix it up with muffins quite often - always different kinds. And granola bars are pretty common around here...but tonight I wanted to make them fun.

Healthy fun.

I think that's possible.

And in the same breath I didn't want to see other food items go stale because I wanted to make something "fun". So, I did what I've done before but took it a little further...let's call these "everything but the kitchen sink bars". Because, I think we need to get creative in our cooking (or baking) and think out of the box...way, way, out of the box. And if a certain four year old hadn't been fast asleep, I likely wouldn have let him (randomly) chose some of that "everything" which now make up these good lookin' bars.

The recipe (I use that term loosely) went something like this...

3 cups whole oats

1/4 cup spelt flour

1/2 cup broken pretzel pieces

1/4 cup coconut

1/8 cup bran (original)

2/3 cup trail mix (including dried pineapple, mango, dates, peanuts, almonds, sunflower seeds, banana chips, raisins)

1/4 cup raisins

1/4 cup (real!) butter

1/4 cup organic agave nectar

1 egg

Mix and spoon (and press down) into a 9x13 pan. Bake at 350 for approx 15 mins, until edges are brown or your husband finds you out in the yard gardening to let you know the timer has been beeping for a few minutes...oops. Perhaps it was closer to 18 mins.

Aside from the "getting creative with cooking" side of things, the fact of the matter is this folks: If we set aside those small handfuls of crushed shreddies, those broken pretzel pieces at the bottom of the container, those annoying little sunflower seeds leftover after all the "good stuff" has been eaten from the trail mix we would quickly realize the amount of waste actually occurring in our households. Those of us who take consumerism and serious waste quite seriously, fail to realize that we are often still wasting. The saying "there are children in Africa who are starving and didn't have any supper tonight" holds major weight around here and we intend to practice what we preach by being better stewards of blessings.

So if your celery is gettin' a little bendy, stir-fry it up instead of throwing it out. Compost it if you must - at least your garden will reap the benefit. If your kids are whining about the cereal being mushy in the milk because of all the little crumbs at the bottom, store the crumbs and use them in your next batch of granola (bars) or cookies...they add a little extra crunch. Trust me.

Get creative. Use it all up.

Waste less. Dream more.

Have fun. Involve the kids.

Branch out (seriously...pretzels broken into granola bars with bran cereal?!).

Be. Good. Stewards. With. What. You. Have.

And as a side note, I found this site tonight and can't wait to give it a little more attention tomorrow...enjoy!

One Month

One month since that incredibly amazing call. It seems in many ways as surreal as the day we got the call...like it's still a dream. In other ways I feel as though I've been staring at her photo for forever. Like it was meant to be on the wall and has always been there. She is meant for us.

Come on court!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mama's Time Out

I hit the Sidney Market opening night on Thursday with a great friend. It was awesome. I love markets - I especially love what the mean, how they smell and sound, who they represent.

To me it screams the turning of a (seasonal) page. It marks the start of something new. It's the reminder of long days, flip flops, the smell of sunscreen, (and street meat if you had been a fly on a wall in Sidney,) and home grown, fair trade, down to earth, ground roots goodness.

The shrieks of small children playing on the (closed) main street, the street musicians, the smell (oh! the smell) of cotton candy, kettle corn, roasted nuts, hot dogs, donuts, handmade soaps, homegrown flowers and produce, handmade jams and jellies and chutneys and pestos. (It was one of those times food intolerances proved helpful...I could have walked away hundreds of dollars poorer and dozens of pounds heavier. I mean really, who in their right mind can resist kettle corn or freshly made donuts?!)

Local farmers, residents, shop owners alike, come together and work to bring together community and share in the luxury of being outdoors in community.

I held back at all the stalls (shocker, I'm sure - I was gifted with a few yummy items though!) with the exception of one that returned that lump to my throat and tear to my eye. Freeset was there. I'd never heard of them but now that I know them I am in love and in awe. I can't do better unless I know better and these guys are certainly doing their part to help.

And my bag is pretty darn cool, too.

Court File Number!!!!

We received the most unexpected call this morning.

MoT phoned us with our court file number.

And then after hanging up, we hugged, I shook, and I cried.

And cried.

It's just a five digit number.

It's nothing to write home about. Except that it is. It came earlier than we expected which is shocking. We were quoted that 4-6 weeks after our referral we could hopefully expect a court number or date. We are at 3 1/2 weeks post-referral-acceptance.

Our court file number means we have been officially logged into court and are waiting to be assigned a court date. I told Noah it's like standing in line in class on your way to go somewhere and you're just not certain when you'll get there yet.

I truly believe this came so quickly because of prayer.

I do.

And all I could do after hanging up the phone (and breathing deep) was repeat words of thanksgiving and then pray that our daughter could feel them. That somewhere in that small six month being, there would be a sense of comfort.

We were also told that we should receive our court date call soon...but right now we are simply relishing in this news. And when that call comes we'll rejoice again.

One step at a time we move towards our child.

By grace we continue.

Rare (Nearly) Family Shot

Yesterday was beautiful, in so many ways.

I'm so glad we paused for a moment to capture this.

We also had the opportunity to share in the joy of our referral with many friends who live afar. Prayer is increasing in quantity. It seems as though daily, (I find out that) we're being added to lists, journals, and walls of prayer. I feel so blessed to have this commitment from so many and truly believe this is how we've come so far. So, thank you. Please don't stop.

Lots Of Nothing. Bits Of Everything

I'd like to share something. There's lots to say. Lots going on. Lots. Going. On. It's just the season. I want to blab and share more about our referral but truthfully I've publicly shared all that's going to be squeezed out of me.

And the truth of it is, while everything has changed it often seems like nothing has changed.

And while we still turn to one another frequently and announce with elation, (as if it's the first time saying it) "We Got Our Referral!" that's gotta get boring for everyone else to hear.

It's all the same.

But it's all different.

There's a face in the frame. Okay, there's a face in all those frames. Staring back at us. Pleading with us innocently, to come.

We're different. In ways perhaps not visible, perhaps not tangible but we're different.

I've still not bought anything baby. I never really have. Ironically, I've sold a few things. I've perused one or two of those "will need" items...with a bit more seriousness now. But I never started decorating a room. (It remains our guest room and will until after court.) I never purchased anything other than a pair of Robeez (after the restructuring was official). I knit and sewed a couple things but that was partly to pass the time and partly to feed the hopeful anticipation bubbling inside over the years. Yes, years.

Ironically, a couple months ago we sold our fabulous double chariot. It took months to gear up for that, as it felt in a way that I was giving up on the dream. Silly. Getting rid of a jogger when we were supposed to be increasing our family was hard. It was right and it was an important thing to do, but initially it was hard. I've not yet bought a new one. (I've admittedly drooled over a few, however.) About a year ago I won a large Playtex bottle gift basket. Worth about $100, it gathered dust until yesterday. I was finally ready to part with the cello-sealed items, as they aren't the ones I know I will use when she comes home. Until yesterday the thought of getting rid of them made me nauseous. (I don't know why yesterday was the turning point.)

Was I giving up by getting rid of the material items? Was I admitting defeat and lack of faith if I sold 'things'? I see now and have always been aware of the superficiality of this train of thought. Doesn't make it any easier though.

I still won't purchase anything. I simply can't bring myself, or allow myself to do it. The vulnerability of it is nearly too much. It would mean this dream, this journey, this faith walk is being truly, completely, actually realized. And that in itself is overwhelming. What did I ever do to deserve such a gift as this human life? What sacrifice have I made that is great enough to compensate for the priceless reality of the direction in which our journey has turned?

We have been gifted a few special items. And finally, finally I bit the bullet and accepted a gift offered to be purchased for me many many months ago and I cannot wait to receive my Junk Posse pendant*.

So we continue to hope, to dream, to pray - oh the prayer - fervently for our babe. The Beautiful Mercy (which has a much deeper meaning that those two simple words...and which will one day be shared) showered on us is sometimes - often - unbelievable.

So while it feels that there are infinite words and thoughts to share, in reality there's not too much to share right now. Field trips, birthday parties, retreats, walks, gardening, bubbles, and sprinklers currently occupy our days. We pass them enjoyably whilst anticipating that call, with a voice on the other end revealing our next milestone.

*dear canada post: please please puhlease don't go on strike.

Our Stock Photo Baby Is 6 Months

I can't help it.

Each time I look up, or over, or at the photo of our sweet babe's face in one of the frames into which we have placed her, my immediate thought is, "What a gorgeous, sweet, gentle, smiley faced baby they chose for that stock photo. What a beautiful child".

It's not, "HELLO! SHE IS THE ONE MEANT FOR US".

Nope, apparently I'm still in shock. Yes, still. Nearly three weeks in and I still don't "get" it.

A report from a friend the other day (who saw her!!!) made it a little more real. Ah hem, the report made her a little more real. She was off getting her vaccinations. That's pretty darn real.

But it's still hard for me to fathom that we have been given the greatest gift of all...and she currently lives 13311 km away.

It's true though. And it's real. And she is real. And the longer I stare at the photos in the various frames, the wider the smile curves at the corners of my lips. And synapses fire shivers down my spine and up and down the hairs of my arms.

She is real.

And today, she is six months old.

32 Months...To Count Or Not To Count

I've been debating whether or not to continue counting the number of months since our file arrived in Ethiopia. After hitting such a monumental milestone as a referral, would it be counter-productive or ineffective to "dwell" on such an arduous wait as ours. Or, after hitting such a monumental milestone as a referral, would it be motivating to press on and continue to count as we look back at how far we've come.

A menial waste of time perhaps, to spend time thinking about details such as these through such a life-changing journey, but it's already been done. And I don't think it's time wasted. It's all part of the process.

And I think as part of the process, I'm going to shelve this book in the volume of our journey. Not forgetting the ebb and flow, ache and elation, desperation and joy but rather moving on to the next phase.

So here we go. Two and a half weeks into the new phase of our journey. I don't know if I'd say it's harder but simply a different hard. There is no easier level of hard.

There was no face before. Now there's a face, a name, an age, a story...a life.

And the reality and direct reports of orphanage life set in. And the reality of that is scary. And the reality of trusting God in this is really really hard. And truthfully I am warding off panic and seeking to rest in grace and truth. And now all I want to do is be there, supporting, supplying, and making sure she is okay.

So we wait and continue to pray and trust in God's provision for His children. And while we know court pre-closure is possible, it won't be certain until that call on that day when our world will change once again and instead of counting up...we'll be counting down.

Oh - I cannot wait to count down.

Foto-tastic Friday

Sorry for the fromage...I couldn't resist.

Urgency

Since our referral...two weeks ago to the day (read: pinch me it's still doesn't feel real)...there's been a real sense, need, desire to pray all that much more earnestly. We believe we were and have been, carried to this point, because of prayers lifted on our behalf and on behalf of a small child, half a world away, to whom no one could put a face or a name until fourteen days ago.

It has been that powerful.

And since that moment it has not stopped. I know the prayer has continued because of conversations I have on a daily basis. I know the prayer has continued because of the peace felt. I know the prayer has continued because without it, none of this would have come this far.

And since that moment I have felt an intensity to pray (perhaps even) hard(er) than before. For now, there is a face and a name and a being and a small, sweet girl who needs us almost as much as we need her.

And since that moment - the call - I have felt a new marathon begin. One in which there is perhaps a race against time. We rejoice - we continue to rejoice daily, hourly - and yet we know the journey ahead remains one of patience, grace, understanding, faith, and perhaps just a little more patience.

The prayer for a timely court date began nearly immediately after the referral. As we sat in a circle with many who are like family, we prayed for a timely appointment.

Yet in the wake of tragedy, with the reminder of the fragility of life, knowing that we cannot control and we need to release control, I am praying now with a sense of urgency. I cannot quench it. The drive, passion, intensity behind and within the prayers is one that makes me want to scream. And it makes me want to run across the country, swim the ocean, cross numerous more countries and swoop her up. And I want to touch her, smell her, hold her, whisper to her.

And so now we pray with urgency, without ceasing, with fervor.

And we wait.

And we need to know with confidence that the hour has been decided.

We need to rest in the knowledge of Sovereignty.

Distinctly Obvious

We are a conspicuous family now. To outsiders we are the same. But to us, within these four walls we are conspicuous...or at least well on our way.

A conspicuous family is one that stands out in a crowd. A blond haired family with a Chinese daughter or perhaps a brown haired family with an Ethiopian son. One family member is distinctly different than the rest.

{i've wanted to write on this for awhile but due to tragedy, i'll come back to it later. our conspicuous family is a topic heavy on and dear to my heart...and with anticipation and excitement, we embrace the many ways our family is growing in leaps and bounds. for now, i cannot concentrate on this enough to give it full attention so i'll be back in this space soon.}

Overhaul

Throughout our journey I found a real peace when out in the garden. "It's cheap therapy!" I've often been heard saying. I never had any desire to be out among our flower beds or under the rhododendrons. Things were growing everywhere, our second year (and two very small children) into this house. Ironically I can literally pin point the date in July 2009 when I found sanctuary in the dirt.

Unfortunately for me, it rains here. Lots. So what's a girl to do with time on her hands, a journey wrought with the ebb and flow of change, and a need to do something therapeutic. Running has a finite timeline each week and chocolate, well, it counteracts the whole running thing. Fortunately, I've found a passion in re-finishing odd (and some old) pieces of furniture. I'm no pro and there's not an artistic bone in my body but I've taken heart in transforming fragments into functional furniture.

Over the past few months, after being gifted an incredible dresser from my grand-father, I've been cleaning and sanding and wiping and sanding and priming and painting and (...you get the picture - it was a big job).

And last night it finally made it's way into our room. And I wish the photo did it justice. It already was a beautiful piece, now it's just been given a little extra TLC.

Fortunately for me (and for the garden!) it's spring (in theory) so attention will return to the garden (where it's already been focused for the past many weeks).

Oh, and on one small sweet babe a continent away.

We are focusing all that we can on her and on bringing her home.

Indescribable

I've been wanting to get some thoughts down. But the words won't come out of the thoughts.

It's indescribable, really. Over thirty-one months of waiting, anticipating, hoping, praying, culminating - changed on a dime. One ring of the phone and the way you had hoped it would, but couldn't fully comprehend - how could you? - your life is different. From what onlookers can see, your life, your family is unchanged. But in your heart, within your family, upon your family photo wall, within the deepest part of you, there has been complete transformation.

I woke up early this morning. I thought it was Saturday. Then I thought the referral was a dream. In a split second my heart leapt into my throat and in the pit of my stomach something was wrong. Within moments I rolled over, realized it was Friday and that the reality of our referral was just that: Our reality. It is real. She is real. And now our wait is for court. Now we pray for signatures and seals and words of legal confirmation. And we anticipate the date of when that will all take place - yes, that date. The next milestone. But I'm not impatient yet. We are now intertwined within a complex system of integrally moving parts which I greatly respect. No, we will wait with patience (at least for a little while).

So I made my way downstairs and cup of coffee in hand, I poured over our documents - her life as we know it - once again. As if to try and memorize the order of pages, each crucial detail and signature on the documents, I read it through again. And while not new to me now, each time I read through and absorb what we know of our small child I am struck. I'm in awe and I'm grateful. And I'm changed to the core. And I ache. And I cry - it is unstoppable. And I agonize over the thought of how this all came to be. And I am deeply grateful in an inexplicable, indescribable way.

How does one put into words the gratitude for one of the most sacrificial acts known to humankind?

And yet here we are, the recipients of grace and selflessness beyond what I could ever fathom.

Blogger's Back!

Ack!! Or is it Argh!!

Either way, blogger's been down for two days. Hullo!!! That is not okay and my blogging-self feels the great forty-eight-hour-blog-shut-down-post-referral-but-it-still-doesn't-feel-real-I-can't-keep-my-eyes-off-of-hers-need, to get something down on this here forum.

And, because Murphy established that horrific law eons ago, I have no time!

But soon...I'll be here, in this space soon.

Wordless Wednesday

Pinch Me, She's Real

I'm still not sure what to say.

I'm not sure what to think...when I'm not day dreaming.

I'm in shock and disbelief, in the most amazing way possible.

When I walk through the kitchen and her big brown eyes stare back at me, I have to make the conscious decision to remind myself that she is the one meant for us.

And my heart skips a beat each time.

I look up from washing the dishes, expecting to see a framed photo of a colour print-out reading "Waiting For Our Little Girl In Ethiopia" and my breath is literally taken away when I see her face instead.

Only four days in, and I am still in disbelief. I relive the phone call in my head and I still second guess that it actually took place...that it wasn't a dream. Three years of waiting and I think it's going to take a while to sink in.

But here it is: she's real.

She is so very very real.

She Smiles With Her Eyes - Our Referral Story

I will try to coherently share with you our referral story. (Grab a mug of something and a chunk of time because I've never been known to spare details and this is no exception.)

I say 'coherently' as it's hard to type as I stare at the most beautiful little babe this Mama has ever seen. I also say 'coherently' as the events of the past two days have been whirlwind times infinity and I have a hard time wrapping my mind around all that has occurred. I say 'coherently' because when one hopes and prays and waits for a life-changing event such as this, for so long, it's hard to wrap one's mind around the reality of it. But this I know: we are so very blessed.

Briefly I want to share two thoughts before divulging those juicy details...please bear with me.

First, when I say she is "the most beautiful..." or "the most amazing..." or "there is none as incredible...", I whole-heartedly realize that my statement is intensely biased. And I'm okay with that. We've waited years so we're okay with feeling a little biased.

Second, while I am elated to share in the details of our referral story and some of the details of our wee babe's being and her life, it is her story to share. Amidst the joys of our celebration, the tragedy that has occurred is incomparable to much else. There will be bits I will purposefully leave out as they are simply not mine - not ours, to share. They are hers. You are welcome to ask any questions as I'll likely, unintentionally leave something(s) out...but some of the specifics will never be voiced on this forum or by ourselves.

To preface our story I will say that I never give the phone a second thought. I never carry it around, often forget to charge it, and it was only in January of this year that my arm was twisted to the point of giving in and getting a cell. Over the past four weeks however, our/my phone has been a fifth appendage.

Each day I would get up, say to Ben "today? will today be a pink day?" to which he would patiently (oh, the patience this man has!) reply "sure, that would be good" or "maybe" or just simply an "I love you and I'll see you at lunch" coupled with a kiss on his way to work.

Each day I would carry the phone close until 11am, at which point it would be 2pm in Ontario and I figured there was no way MoT would send a referral onward. After all, if Ethiopia is ten hours ahead of us (seven ahead of EST) then MoT would definitely have it by midday and have sent it to our agency. After around 11am, I would carry it a little more loosely until about 1pm and later I could care less. Knowing there was always a possibility of a later day call, I would never hold out too much hope.

The feeling - similar to the pressure growing in a balloon as your small child blows it up to the bursting point - had been welling in my heart for weeks. (Okay, really it had been years but intensely to the point of explosion was more recent.) The ache was more intense than I can accurately put in to words. And through all this I knew, we knew, and felt carried by the prayers voiced on our - on her - behalf.

This week came and on Wednesday I emailed our rockstar of a social worker to ask her if she thought that if I stared at the phone long enough and willed it to ring, it would and that it could be her on the other end. I'm sure she had a chuckle at my expense. I did.

Thursday morning we whirl-winded around the house getting ready for a friend's birthday party and then headed out so one small five year old could enjoy himself over the next few hours. It was May 5 and I knew from an email sent out months ago outlining Ethiopian holidays that May 5 was a holiday there and therefore they would not be working. (And if you ever doubted how ornery I am, that fact alone will likely affirm that "detail oriented" doesn't begin to describe me.) Not working in Ethiopia means nothing happening in Ontario, therefore no movement on the western front either. So, I had my phone but kept it in my pocket only half-heartedly. I'd been texting Ben a bit throughout the morning as one small four year old and I ran some errands together. The only reason my cell ever rings is that it's my husband, as not many others have the number...and those who do have it only text me.

We picked up our sweet five year old - who assured me that while there had been cake at the party, he'd eaten very little and saved half for his brother. This was at noon. I contemplated heading to the camp for lunch but decided against it as the request for a super cool nearby park arose and seemed like a request I couldn't pass up. Plus, what four and five year old boys don't need to burn off energy?! I threw some pizza their way and we headed a couple minutes down the road for our fun.

We arrived, played together for about five minutes and then they took off on the jungle gym while I sat down to send a quick text to Ben. I closed my phone and oddly, seconds (!) later it rang. Not a text-reply ring. It was a ring-ring. Trying not to get irritated at the fact that he would phone me in reply to my text, I answered quickly...the thought briefly passed through my mind that it could be The Call, but it passed just as rapidly because, as I mentioned it was May 5 - an Ethiopian holiday. Plus, it was 12:26pm and in my mind too late in the day.

{she called our house first}

"Hello" I said, trying to keep my voice gentle (it was shaking a bit) and not sharing the irritation with the anticipated caller. (After all, he knows better than anyone the anguish that has been endured while waiting for our moment when the world would briefly stop and the journey would hit a milestone.)

"Hi Ashleigh, it's Fiona. How are you?" initiated the voice on the other end.

It was too real. To real to believe this could actually be happening. Here. In this park. On a random day (which wasn't really random at all, was it?!) in May. With both boys out of school. A short distance from Ben. It was too real to be happening now.

(The rest of what was said is likely pretty accurate but I can't promise that. It's all a blur which I tried my best to burn into my mind in the moment as it was a juncture in time, I want never to forget.)

"Um, Fiona why are you calling me?...I'm okay?!?!?...I think." (I physically had to sit down.)

"Are you somewhere, where you can talk?" she calmly replied. (She has the sweetest, more gentle and genuine voice.)

I think I could have been sitting on the moon and I would have been somewhere where I could talk.

Also, I think this is a line that any adoption-related social workers must swear on oath to memorize because time and again, across provinces it's the first thing we all read when hearing of a referral be given. And now I understand why. When your life changes on a dime, you need to be somewhere where you can talk.

"I'm at a park with my boys. Oh Ben! I have to be with Ben. But wait...how old is she? How is she?"

I wanted to know it all in that instant and in the same breath I wanted to know none of it until we were together as four.

"Ashleigh, she's beautiful. She's little. She's only five months old" she replied.

"Oh" I replied through the sobs...you know, the ugly cry. "Oh! I told a friend the other day that I didn't know whether I would laugh, cry, puke, or wet my pants when this finally happened." Yes, I felt I could be that honest with her as I choked through my tears...I think she chuckled.

We briefly chatted, not revealing any other details and I told her I would call her as soon a we were with Ben. She told me to drive safe (wise words when you've just received a call three years in wait).

The boys and I ran to the car - I was still trying to catch my breath amidst the sobbing - and I continually tried to explain that they were happy tears about their baby sister. The drive home is a bit of a blur but I did have to smile as the Lord reminded me to be patient: we got stuck behind both a dump truck and a school bus...for nearly the entire drive.

We arrived at camp, the boys and I ran down to where we knew Ben would be and Noah ran over and told him we had news about their baby sister. I just stood there sobbing. Phone held up in one hand. Mouth covered with the other hand. Tears streaming down my face. We hugged and then ran to the office to call Fiona back and see, and read, and live the next moments of our journey together.

This is where some of the details will blur. Not because I don't remember them but because they are hers to share. We opened document upon document and absorbed all the details we could. We imprinted her image in our minds. We called family and friends until our fingers hurt.

We have air horns at the camp which, in cases of extreme emergency we blow: one, two, or three air horn blasts depending on the specific crisis. However, four air horn blasts signifies the birth of a camp baby. The air horn was blown four times for our baby on Thursday. We had an office full of people for the next couple of hours. And all we could all do was stare at her - and rejoice together.

Her wee five month old body.

Her duck fuzz hair.

Her dump truck onesie.

Her 13lbs body.

Her little, but noticeable rolls on those sweet little legs.

Her story, as with all orphans is tragic. Sadness, mourning, great sorrow have been experienced so this child can have more, so that our family can rejoice. We will never forget this.

We will never brush over this sacrifice.

Back to the story...we booked an appointment for the next day with our doctor. The rest of Thursday is mostly a blur (the Canucks won - I do remember that!) and Friday we woke up, excited to take her information to our doctor and officially accept our referral for what appeared to be one healthy baby girl.

Our doctor went beyond what I had anticipated and hunted down some infant development and growth charts, (after we had reviewed all other medical report information). Keeping in mind they were North American infant growth charts, we charted her developmental information: weight, height, head circumference. By our standards and charts, she falls within the 75th percentile on all accounts. On north american accounts. (What a gift for her lifebook.)

Mercy. We have been shown great mercy.

We officially accepted and our documents bounced from us to Choices to MoT in Ontario before 4pm EST, Friday.

I called Fiona back and asked her when the referral originally came through to her, as I was shocked to have received it on an Ethiopian holiday. She had actually received it on Wednesday the 4th but some crucial documents were missing so she didn't want to call us until she had a complete package. Bless her heart. The irony is that Wednesday was the day I emailed her asking if she thought my willing the phone to ring with her on the other end would be worth a shot.

The next step is court. Court dates seem to be booking out 3-4 months after referral. However, typically ethiopian courts are closed during August and September. I'll let you work through the math. Recently there was a court date announced by a family who made it in under three months so if you can please pray that we are assigned a pre-closure date (ie: July), we would be so grateful. If we don't make it before the closures, we won't see her or make it to court until October-ish.

This is the story of the day we saw our daughter for the first time.

This was the story of four working to becoming five. This was the day the reality of miracles proved truthful once again. This was the day we had been dreaming of for years. This was the day we were able to begin imprinting her features in our mind.

Oh and her eyes...

She smiles with her eyes.

OH BABY...

That's right.

We received it.

The call.

OUR CALL.

And we accepted just moments ago - the referral of a beautiful ethiopian five month old baby girl.

(Details to follow...juicy ones.)

Thank you. For sharing in this moment and this journey. Thank you.

This is only the beginning.

Making Them Sons And Daughters

God is not anxious. God isn't depressed. But God's fatherhood is pictured for us as a tumultuous, fighting kind of fatherhood - the kind that rips open the seas and drowns armies. Joseph probably had no idea that he was a living reenactment of the deliverance of Israel from Egypt. He probably never thought about the fact that he was serving as an icon of his God. He just did what seemed right, in obedience to the Word of God. But he was participating in something dramatic - in every sense of the word.

When we adopt - and when we encourage a culture of adoption in our church and communities - we're picturing something that's true about our God. We, like Jesus, see what our Father is doing and do likewise (John 5:19). And what our Father is doing, it turns out, is fighting for orphans, making them sons and daughters.

-taken from Adopted For Life, p73

Words To Live By

I'm reposting a quote I saw on fb this morning. It brought a smile to my lips and a lightness to my step on one of those (these!) excruciating-wait days...perhaps it will do the same to you...whether you're in The Wait or not. Maybe you saw it too...

I want to be the kind of woman that when I get up in the morning and my feet hit the floor, that Satan shivers and says "Oh, Crap she's up".

Many Hands Make Light Work

In an attempt to maintain my sanity at the end of (for some unknown reason) a hairy, frustrating day yesterday, I decided to make supper prep a family affair. Involving the kids in what we make (and clean up!) is so huge in their development, appreciation of the effort that goes in to each meal, and their enjoyment and understanding of food in general.

A couple of weeks ago at lunch time, I told Noah I just didn't feel like making supper that night...did he want to give it a go. After looking at me as though I'd just grown a second head, he asked me if I was for real. I was indeed. So he "made" supper that evening - with a bit of help - and enjoyed it more than usual, I would say. Last night I thought another round of do-it-yourself was in order.

I found a great simple recipe which was awesome at including the kids and somewhat healthy...and most definitely a favourite around here: chicken strips.

{did you know a rolling pin mades an excellent substitute for a mallot?}

I didn't have any chicken breast but do enjoy a challenge so I simply skinned and deboned a couple thighs, we threw 'em in ziplocks and hammered away at them. Then I sliced them. Following that, we grabbed a handful of crackers and they each had a go at whacking them into crumbs. The kids each then took several turns flouring, egging, and finally cracker-coating our strips.

{it works better when you stick out your tongue}

They were described by one small five year old child as "better than the real thing, Mama!". Hmmm, glad we can make them better than store bought...healthier too. Our "fries" were homemade sweet potato fries which are hands down a huge hit every.time.we.have.them around here - and oh so good for growing boys.

Oh - and as far as bickering (the theme of the day yesterday) we conquered that, too.

Heart Wrenchingly Gut Achingly Horrible

I contemplated posting on this. It's more touchy for me than any other media published lately, by a landslide. I'm certain many are in the same boat. It's interesting, when other articles came out about the amount of money squandered and laundered and simply put: stolen, I had pity on the life these former Imaginers will now lead...and the quality of life they have been leading since July 2009.

Truthfully, however, there was no feeling of anger or "good, they got theirs" sense of revenge boiling in my veins. I think I had let all that go, months (years?) ago. It wasn't worth it. Money isn't worth wasting my energy over. It was a significant amount but it's just money. I read the articles...scanned them actually and the buck stopped there. I realize that had the money not been stolen, we'd likely all have completed our adoptions ages ago...but I am trying to take it from a monetary perspective. None of us were physically injured. Emotionally and mentally, yes without a doubt - and that pain is often worse than any physical agony we could ever endure. Yet we all had each other, we were alive and not at risk of starvation, malnutrition, or being cared for.

But I read this the other day and couldn't get through it without feeling my heart and my stomach invading my throat. I couldn't breathe. I finished the article, took a deep breath, and that's when reality of this kick in the gut really took ahold of my heart. Because the children were hurt. The lives of these innocent, naive, pure, small orphaned children were jeopardized.

“We knew it was bad,” Giesbrecht said. “There were allegations of food running out. Liquids running out. Certainly money had run out long ago.”

I've heard stories. I had been in the know about some of "how bad" it was, but there were parts of the story (as I'm certain there still are) about which I was completely oblivious. I heard via one parent that she will never share just how bad it was when she arrived immediately following the announcement of the near-tragedy to pick up her child(ren). I think dire would be an understatement.

It was that bad. That sickening. That evil. That wrong.

Employees of the home were bringing their own food to keep the children from going hungry, but were really in no position to do so because the agency hadn’t paid, he [Geisbrecht] said.

[...] The home had $31,000 in unpaid bills for food, rent, hydro and remuneration to staff.

And, while I am still trying to get my mind around the ability of one (or two) people to allow - no! to catalyze - this situation to become so grave that an organization in Ethiopia is out by $31,000 canadian dollars (!), I still feel only fear for those children.

I can attribute my (lack of) sentiments towards S Hayhow as numbness and a sense of apathy. I don't feel anything. What her life has morphed into is tragic. And I would say there's nothing any of us could do or say or feel to make it any more deplorable.

And so I am comforted in the knowledge that those children - all of them - made it out. They are home. And more are coming. And when our child is home, when she is in her bed, in her room, beside her rambunctious early rising older brothers, then and only then will I feel that we conquered the evil that nearly re-routed the path of this family.

Recap

Easter weekend was great. Lots of project time...perhaps a little too much for the little people but we have been able to get an absolute ton done...and we even enjoyed the sun to boot. All in all, a success. Now, if we could only completely eradicate whatever virus seems to be plaguing one of the little people, life would be fab. It's not hugely awful but won't go away and just down right annoying.

I love that our kids both get the true reason for Easter. They each have slightly different versions but they are both based on fact and the level of understanding at which they are at.

The eggs and the hunt were fun too. Highlights included seeing the older little person exit the bus Wednesday with his basket in hand, eggs inside.

"How many did you eat?" I asked. Prepared to hear that while there were four chocolate foil eggs and two jelly beans left, there must have been at least double that to start.

"None, Mama" he solemnly answered.

"What?! Are you telling the truth?" I inquired. Not that my kid would purposefully lie...but you know...he's five...and we're talking chocolate here.

"Yes!! I gave one to 'so-and-so' on the bus but I didn't eat the others because they have sugar and I don't want to get sick."

Bless his sweet sweet heart.

Sunday morning as I peered over the landing at the top of the stairs, I could see one blonde mop top fiddling with eggs right around the area I'd already hidden a stash for their hunt. Upon confirming with him that he was not, in fact already starting the hunt - it's a family affair around here and starting early wouldn't be right - he replied that he was hiding his, "for you and Daddy".

Melt my heart.

Thirty-One

Thoughts at Thirty One months into this wait...

1. For goodness sakes!!! (Sorry, I had to rant and now that I have it out of my system I'll be a little more rational about the whole thing...but I'm only human people and thirty-one months is a stinking long time to wait...actually, I think we may be near the top of the longest waiters. Not that I'm looking for bragging rights. No sir. I'd gladly pass that achievement onto someone else...any.one.else. Takers??)
2. A friend reminded me ever so kindly and oh so gently the other day to take heed..."so I sent messengers to them with this reply: "I am carrying on a great project and cannot go down. Why should the work stop while I leave it and go down to you?". Yes, my heart needed that. Thank you friend.
3. It's Easter. I'll say it again, it is Easter. Four days of family. Eggs (urg - too many darn eggs). Projects (oh! the projects we are getting done around here...more to follow). Sun (for this we are so very grateful). But it's so much more isn't it? Those are the little things. The worldly details. "Mama, do you know who loves you?" one small four year old whispers as he holds the world's biggest secret in the sweetness of his breath. He cups his hands around my ear and ever so gently whispers, "Jesus loves YOU!!". With such joy he divulges his secret and with such purity in the words, he wants us all to know. It's Easter.
4. Our Homemade Fruity Marshmallows can be found here. I would highly recommend beating them longer than the recipe calls for. Oh - and they'll keep forever. This isn't tried, tested, and true but I'm quite certain that with that much sugar they will definitely keep. I still can't believe we made them. It was more for the activity than the product.
5. Specifically speaking, I need to ask you to pray. Yes again - or still. The details need not be known here and we know God's timing is perfect but we ask again, will you please please pray for His perfect timing. There are some things, on the cusp of this great journey which will come to a head soon and in His time...we will possibly see them through, hiccup free. (Ha! you say...hiccup free?! You must be pulling my chain.) We hold fast to His will and sovereignty through it all, yet continue to ask right now for His Perfect Timing.

There are some thoughts at thirty-one months of waiting for one small, sweet child to enter in and change our family in ways which we can not even fathom, regardless of how hard we try.

I can't wait.

Ever Made Marshmallows?

We have.

They're good.

Ummmm...we have each had one. It's our weekly rationale.

They have as much sugar when homemade as when store bought. I'm certain.

Next time we'll make something healthier. So, you know, we can have more than one a week.

Wordless Wednesday

{around here, some of us just love our pretzels...}

As If Third Day Didn't Already Rock

Extreme Couponing...

...okay, perhaps not extreme, but we start 'em young around here. Plus, it was a fun activity...like "reading" through a picture book.

{the lindt chocolate bunny...the kid's got fine taste}

It's Just That There's Nothing To Say

I want to post.

I want to write a good long truth-filled, anticipatory-emanating novel on this here page. But truthfully I don't have much to say.

Not in a bad way.

Not in a good way.

There's just nothing to say - though there is much going on.

Life's going along day by day. Field triping and preschooling and summer prepping and furniture redoing, and living. Lots of living. Laughing. Much praying. Yes, there has been lots of that.

But adoption-wise, journey-wise it's been as silent as the night. That's hard.

As a certain four year old sings random words in the background about, "if you live in Ethiopia...and you want to ride in Ethiopia...then hop on and we'll take you there...it's the mission of the day", as he plays with his recently created chick (or is it a duck?) craft...it's difficult not to wonder: When Lord?

Oddly, as one gets (seemingly) closer to a referral the wait is immensely and intensely more difficult. One realizes quickly that life must continue. Feeling tied to a phone, (whether a landline or a cell) and being loyal to that inanimate doesn't make the call come faster.

And, though crucial and critical and necessary, prayer doesn't even make it faster. It will happen in due course. In His time.

This is a very hard pill to swallow.

But, one must also be reminded that it is all truly in God's time. She's not ready yet. He's not done preparing her. Respect and reverence for the Lord's timing - yes, these are lessons set forth each and every day. Learned and re-learned.

And so, until then - until that very moment - we will continue to live as four. Happy and content as four. Embracing the laughter, the odd four-year-old singing, and the pace of our days.

We also continue to pray fervently that soon, there will be much much more than "there's nothing to say".

And A Bit More...

A little video action for your viewing pleasure.

I Do Love A Little Justice...

This is kind of significant...don't you think? Brought a little smile to my lips this morning.

A Little Peace And Quiet

I think a little quiet may present itself for the next while. Not because there's anything to share or needing our time to process, but rather the opposite. There's not much to share at this moment and a break can be good.

We're all enjoying the comforts of home - a washer that cleans our clothes, a stove with more than one burner, and a regular sized fridge - and being back is always good. Mission Of Tears officially took over Imagine's clients' files yesterday and while all is quiet on the western front, we're praying that the transition - regardless of how it is currently perceived - is smooth. Yes, there'll likely be hiccups and bumps as new hands and minds undertake all.these.families. Yet we are trying to remain calm, patient, and prayerful as we await our moment.

Our time will come. There are so very many details imminent to occur prior to, as well as after our life changing, blink-of-an-eye, preeminent call. And awaiting those - the unknown of it all - makes my stomach churn. Nevertheless, through it all we must remind ourselves that He is sovereign and that our moment, our wait, our details, our lives are all under His control. And we must rest easy in that.

Easier said than done...but we must rest safely, calmly, easily in His grip.

The Last Leg...We Made It

By the skin of our teeth we made it home.

{a timed shot...positioning the camera on the hood of the car apparently makes for an angled result}

Not that the driving was horrific, nor the weather, nor the traffic. All that was actually drastic in contrast to our drive south two weeks ago.

{who in their right mind would ever leave this? oh right, people with jobs}

No, this time it was the little people. They make life very very interesting, don't they!?

The day started at 8:30am as we departed Palm Desert and left the Target parking lot one last time. (Sniff Sniff.) An hour in, the coughing started. It was chesty coughing to begin with. Soon thereafter it was a deep gurgled cough followed by vomit.

Lovely.

Ironically (or mercifully) our often not-super-dependable borrowed Tom Tom (okay, that's not fair..."she" and I had a love-hate relationship) told us to take an off-ramp which we shouldn't actually have taken. At that exact moment one small four year old, (while still insisting he did not need a bag) was chucking all over himself and his seatbelt. (Yes, the car seat caught some of the mess, too - because I know you were wondering).

Ah, and all this with only 23 hours left in the car together.

We pulled into a parking lot, stripped the small child down and then re-clothed him. Grabbed a few plastic shopping bags (the one time I'm okay with harming the environment with the use of plastic) and headed off.

An hour or so later the deep coughing recommenced. We had a bag already positioned nicely under his chin but Ben turned around to ensure the aim was bang on.

"Do you want me to pull off as soon as I can?" I asked. (The I-5 is a tad busy as you approach LA at the tail of rush hour on a Friday, ah hem.)

"Drive baby. Just drive," he replied.

(Insert the absolute need to laugh hard and out loud - both of us. We were in one of those well-what-can-you-do-?! situations and trying to make the best of it.)

Music to my ears. All we wanted to do at this point was get the heck outta Dodge and back into a country, our country, where medical care would be readily available and moreover...free.

Did I mention the other little person had not been himself since the moment his eyes opened that morning? "I feel pale Mama," were the first words out of his mouth. We were hoping nothing else would come up and out of his mouth to confirm that statement.

Long story (very long story) short, we drove until 4am...found a hotel and were checked into our room by 4:30am. We joked that we should have asked if they would charge out by the hour. A slight jaunt down the road and we could have, I am certain, found a seedy Roach Motel and lived out this bit of humour.

I digress.

By 5:00am I was finally asleep. At 6:30am after a whopping hour and a half one small five year old started ranting, nonsense talking, and singing in his sleep. Then, he rolled out of bed. Then, he couldn't walk straight or focus his eyes. Then, he couldn't answer all of our questions coherently. Then, we felt his flushed face and he was burning up.

Concern rose and we gave him tylenol.

Another long story short, we were on the road by 8:30am after a sad excuse for a breakfast and a quick stop to purchase some Pedialyte (about which we will forever rant and rave and for which we will forever be grateful). I have never given it a second look at the store but am now a fan.

We made it home after several hours of more driving, an uneventful border crossing (we had another female border guard which is, in itself often cause for concern), and an uneventful ferry crossing.

{just goofin' around...noah actually really enjoyed using his and we were able to deflate it to a perfect size}

I have never slept so well in my own bed.

And today it was a tad chilly for my liking.

But the sun shone.

And we're home. And we're feeling much better. All of us.

And for that we are so very thankful.