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the day of all days
...I had some toast with tea and
worried about the water in the tea?bottled water didn't seem
to be offered as this wasn't a very touristy area. Oh, how I
was hoping that all the ickies had been boiled away! Being a
bit nervous about the whole day, I only managed one piece of
toast (wonderful bread!) and a few sips of tea hoping that
Montezuma wouldn't find me in Ethiopia. Then, we were
finally on our way to the orphanage.
 When we arrived, we were
directed to the inside of the orphanage?s main room where
there were people there to greet us. As I was greeting a
woman in the traditional way, I was told she was the mother.
Oh my goodness! I wasn't ready! And standing behind her
ready to be greeted was the grandmother! Double, oh my
goodness! Talk about an awkward moment.
We sat down for a few minutes
before taking a tour of the orphanage. We went into the room
where the children slept and saw the beds that were once
used by my two children. Other beds were occupied by little
infants, including one that was only a month old. I
instantly thought of our newest niece, Abigail, and how she
had come into this world so differently. I wanted to grab up
this littlest one, hold her close, take her home, and put
her in a safe, proper crib. She was so tiny! Another baby
being tended to was giving us sweet smiles, and another was
busy kicking covers off and giving us a peek at his little
tushy. Oops!
We then went to tour the other
building to see the pretty flower garden. It really was a
nice spot. Sometime during all of this seeing and greeting,
we had a coffee ceremony and a few minutes with the mother
and grandmother.
They were happy to consent to
some pictures, and we learned some information that was
actually different than what we had originally been told. I
wish I had a few prepared questions to have the translator
ask their mother. I had imagined conversation just naturally
happening between us, but in reality the meeting felt too
awkward for that to happen. For our part, we worried about
what they were thinking of us, these Americans coming to
take their children. I'm guessing they had similar but
opposite worries?what must these Americans think of us
giving up our children? As a result, we often had
uncomfortable silence. The automatic bond I had hoped for
didn't materialize.
Before long, we were told it was
time to go. We all gathered outside for goodbyes. As I once
again went to the mother, I wanted to put my arms around her
and hug her tight, but I wasn't sure how that would be
received. I held back and settled for the traditional
goodbye. As I walked away, my throat closed up and the tears
came. I had worked so hard on this trip not to cry because I
was afraid that if I started I would not be able to stop.
True enough, but it couldn't be helped.
 I felt a little foolish for my
emotions as the family climbed into the minibus with us?we
were giving them a ride back to their town. The awkwardness
continued for several miles until we finally reached their
drop-off point. We pulled off to the side of the road to let
them out and to wait for other people we were driving to
Addis. As we waited, neighbors and family members came to
say goodbye to the kids and wave to us. Woweeewowow, really
uncomfortable as all we could do was sit there and wait.
I waited for major breakdowns
(from either the adults or the children) but it didn't
happen. After many minutes, the door was closed and we
started to pull away. I continued to wave and looked for
their mother.
She found me and gave me a big
wave and a smile. In that last instant, I felt the
connection I had hoped for. A moment now burned into my
heart. |
2007 Children's Hope International.
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