BB and I are in a big fight today because he wanted to take my computer to work, and I said I needed it. Now I have to blog and upload photos and Skype with people all day to prove that I was right. That’s marriage advice for you, free of charge.
I have the day off today because it’s Eid al-Fitr, the end of Ramadan. As usual, it’s another gorgeous day in Kigali.
Maybe we are fighting because this week marks the one year anniversary of our trip to DRC. About this time last year, we were waking up at St. Anne’s guesthouse in Kinshasa terrified that we were either going to meet our kids or that we weren’t going to meet our kids. Tomorrow is one year to the day that we knew it was all over.
[Side note: Almost every day since we’ve been here, we have broken out into gut wrenching laughter at the absurd things that the staff at One World Adoption Services told us about Africa. Our favorite: they told us they couldn’t possibly get info about the kids background from DRC because there are no cell phones in Africa. We knew that was ridiculous then, but it still makes me laugh. I don’t think I’ve met an African who owns fewer than 2 cell phones since we’ve been here.]
Being back in Africa has stirred up these memories. I was flooded with memories long-buried when we got off the plane. I know it’s a different country, but the sights and smells of Kigali are not unlike the smell of Kinshasa. It feels like the kids might turn a corner here and run into our arms. I can still picture every part of them even though it’s been a long time since I studied their photos. In fact, we actually found some of their photos in our luggage here – photos I hid in the suitcase when we were in Kinshasa. Funny how they continue to travel with us.
Here in Kigali, we meet a lot of families who have adopted. I think Africa gets in your blood in a way that you can’t get rid of it. If you’ve adopted, you are forever connected. If you’ve traveled here, you have to get back. I love meeting these families, but the jealousy comes. My heart is still raw.
Months ago I started reading Finding Fernanda, a book about corruption in Guatemalan adoptions. I put it down because it was too hard. Last night I picked it up, but I had to put it down again. It’s as horrifying as you can imagine – stolen babies, duped mothers. How is it that we live in a world where millions of babies are aborted and then other babies are stolen from their mothers (literally from their wombs) and sold like a pair of shoes? It’s impossible for me to not believe in the fall of man.
Thursday, August 9, 2012 was the worst day of my life. The scary thing is there will be worse days to come – that’s just part of living. Weeping and thrashing, unable to sleep, the Lord met me – through my husband’s embrace, through middle of the night text messages with friends in America, and through his promises. Through our tears, we sang.
When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say
It is well. It is well with my soul.
Today we remember Chaty, Ivonne, Ives. We pray that they are well and that we will meet them someday and thank them for teaching us to see God.