tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29729949037554197902024-03-19T08:02:24.025-04:00Wages in the MakingThe random thoughts of a mama bear fighting to make her family whole in 2012, and the bread crumbs sinceUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger250125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-28313082971029256962023-02-16T20:21:00.004-05:002023-02-16T20:21:41.164-05:00Blue Skies<p> I once told a friend in Addis Ababa that the reason they were so much closer to God than we were, is because they were on top of a mountain and could see His face more easily. Where we in America, have so many clouds in our way that we can't see Him without straining our neck.</p><p>Clouds of job problems, marital issues, social concerns, kids activities - anything to keep our minds off our Creator and make us think the world revolves around us and every problem takes 100% of our attention for us to fix on our own. No help needed.</p><p>As I walked this morning and reflected on the revival happening at college campuses in the U.S. this week, I looked up and the Holy Spirit had me focus in on the clouds. A full sheet of clouds, just covering the sky. But little patches of blue peeked through. And that's where He had me focus. A revival of sorts, a realization of my own selfishness and narrow mindedness. </p><p>It's time we switch our focus. Stop focusing on the clouds and look for the blue skies. The goodness behind the noise. The Creator is speaking to us every morning and we are too busy to stop and breathe it in. BE STILL. He speaks in the voice of the birds who have returned to sing His song. In the cry of the perfect baby He created from only two solitary cells. In the pink and yellow flowers He calls forth from the bulb at the perfect time. His voice and image is all around us, and yet we are usually too busy to stop and see.</p><p>The clouds of Satanic award shows, the idols of our day, the evil leaders - they instead occupy our attention. The noise of natural or man-made disasters, food shortages, the drumbeats of war - it is all a mist. A scary mist, yes. But still, just a blanket of clouds that will one day be rolled back and then all we will see is goodness and the purity that was meant to be. </p><p>This world is only a motel room, where we reside a little while. You can fill it with the most beautiful and perfect things - houses, cars, and pretty artwork. But it is still, all a mist, a mirage that we build with our own hands. Just a cloud to be blown away, never mattering at all. What matters is our home for eternity, not this hotel room. What matters is those that we invite to come with us. What matters is those that we warn about refusing the invitation. There is only one way to check in there, and that is trusting and believing in the one who is the ultimate Creator. Keep your eyes on the sky friends.... and look for the SON.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEoQZkOPz8vPmo5ZYjCAS7YDj2U-Pzg-jf3lF8albhcZA5kxPRFzvDu4-3KbzHFOmzmvGrupcCXNZtxNdoRrS0351G52R4V0aZx0g_Qc-Fsug917RAd_zc7gk-C3LkYBYtcvTQxY0pdZkqT6XgJHWSRu7_9pVI8IHB6RuzqDStB8kl-zhPGHPVdTv/s3023/clouds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3023" data-original-width="3023" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEoQZkOPz8vPmo5ZYjCAS7YDj2U-Pzg-jf3lF8albhcZA5kxPRFzvDu4-3KbzHFOmzmvGrupcCXNZtxNdoRrS0351G52R4V0aZx0g_Qc-Fsug917RAd_zc7gk-C3LkYBYtcvTQxY0pdZkqT6XgJHWSRu7_9pVI8IHB6RuzqDStB8kl-zhPGHPVdTv/s320/clouds.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>"Dear brothers and sisters, be patient as you wait for the Lord's return. Consider the farmers who patiently wait for the rains in the fall and in the spring. They eagerly look for the valuable harvest to ripen. You, too, must be patient. Take courage, for the coming of the Lord is near." James 5:7-8<p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-83466014132445622402021-05-06T08:41:00.001-04:002023-02-16T20:26:10.284-05:00Just take my hand <div style="text-align: left;"> Years ago, we struggled through the adoption trials. One setback after another. Smacking me in the face. Pushing me farther from the shore. Farther and farther away from my baby. It just wouldn’t stop - the waves of life. I was drowning. Calling out to God “why did you ask us to do this and then are letting this pain happen??” </div><p>Later, marital troubles hit. Again I was back in that ocean of turmoil. Being hit from every side. Tossed to and fro in the ocean of anger and sin. Drowning in my own tears. Again I cried out, “God, if you loved me, why are you letting this happen?????”</p><p>But the whole time. He was there. Smiling down at me. My Daddy God. Arm outstretched. “Just take my hand”. I was the toddler, bobbing in the ocean, drinking big gulps of salt water and pain. Being hit in the face with waves taller than me. Struggling for a reprieve and here was my God... standing beside me, “just take my hand”. </p><p>You see, our world is full of sin. God isn’t the author of those attacks. That is the enemy at work. Trying to break you. And while I am the toddler who pulls my arm back saying “I’ve got this!! I can do this!!! I’m mad at you!!!” God is the daddy who smiles and just says “take my hand”. Because when you take HIS hand, those waves of life keep coming, but instead of drowning, you float right over. They keep hitting you, but his strong arm keeps you safe, helping you stay afloat. Life is hard, struggles are hard. But it is only when we give up our stubbornness and allow him to comfort us, support us, and love us - that we begin to breathe again. And those waves don’t seem so big and scary anymore.</p><p>Just take His hand. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtq7k1DDKw711zSPnTGp84bujLM7IYuu1EGP9Q9dGeJTgJERAnWpe_Acz1IbgmAB8JcS_TqgkFry5FWL4QuVc7BZdNvMjh83q2TOu7l0Dh3HpFtp_TLyCKqazM3mr__qXl6fe5HLahpfQVyXf-_avEWtApjEubtF4Q_ppNYTBKClepOhj3z_K83LZ3/s1200/Jesus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="943" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtq7k1DDKw711zSPnTGp84bujLM7IYuu1EGP9Q9dGeJTgJERAnWpe_Acz1IbgmAB8JcS_TqgkFry5FWL4QuVc7BZdNvMjh83q2TOu7l0Dh3HpFtp_TLyCKqazM3mr__qXl6fe5HLahpfQVyXf-_avEWtApjEubtF4Q_ppNYTBKClepOhj3z_K83LZ3/s320/Jesus.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"The Hand of God" - <span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Yongsung Kim</span></div><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">“<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;"> For I am the</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;"> </span><span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variant: small-caps; text-size-adjust: auto;">Lord</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;">your God </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;">who takes hold of your right hand </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;">and says to you,</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;"> Do not fear; </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;">I will help</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;"> you.” </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;">Isaiah 41:13</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-73137970033910882762021-01-12T11:32:00.003-05:002021-01-12T11:32:38.089-05:00Is your lamp still lit? <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiAqJuAkAEyVDCHTlKpdgOca_0WhRPvLQea1gpoa-1oLKNqZA2Zdre3pWlUebiGEiyyM27UahCv3yCHt7TiW2YYxoY_GtGY0tkQPghyphenhyphenm_jeNTI9SKC1lhxnMTtHvHYiiJh-mGE0W9qJdM/s2048/BFB0D300-14D1-471B-BE06-F40D3C84D421.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiAqJuAkAEyVDCHTlKpdgOca_0WhRPvLQea1gpoa-1oLKNqZA2Zdre3pWlUebiGEiyyM27UahCv3yCHt7TiW2YYxoY_GtGY0tkQPghyphenhyphenm_jeNTI9SKC1lhxnMTtHvHYiiJh-mGE0W9qJdM/s320/BFB0D300-14D1-471B-BE06-F40D3C84D421.jpeg" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My lamp was empty when the power went out. By flashlight, I climbed to the top of the fridge to retrieve the oil I hadn’t used in years. Honestly, I had almost forgotten where it was. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And this morning, while reading Matthew 24 (a good refresher for anyone right now), I transitioned into Matthew 25. The parable of the waiting bridesmaids spoken by Christ. He describes his return, and those waiting for him. And it made me wonder, for those 5 out of the 10 bridesmaids... They made themselves ready, they were probably wearing their best dresses and had actually put on mascara and lipstick for the occasion. They picked up their lanterns and waited patiently for His return. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But he took a long time. Their lamps went out one by one. Much in the same way, how many of us came out of the gate on fire as new Christians? Quiet time everyday. Bible studies with new friends. Relying on God and prayer for our guidance versus the latest feel good article or website. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But when Christ came back, they had already let their lights run out. Perhaps they were too focused on their new job, or listening to society tell them ‘you don’t need anyone, you are a fierce woman! Pink hats for us all!!’ Perhaps they now shun ‘those silly Christians’ as ignorant or old fashioned... ‘why do we need a fairy tale god to obey when there is so much fun to be had here?’ Perhaps they just went to sleep and forgot they were hoping for him at all?? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Regardless, when the bridegroom returned, they woke up and realized they were lacking. And no borrowing of oil - ‘’my family are all Christians”. No excuses - “I once said a prayer when I was a teenager”. No begging - “I’ve never killed anyone, please let me in!!” Nothing could refill the valuable oil that would have kept their lights shining - The Spirit he had originally given them to light the way and bring others to His party. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“But he replied, ‘I tell you the truth, I don’t know you.’ (Matt 25:12)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">That’s pretty enlightening..</div></div><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-33094928551461992302021-01-12T08:11:00.001-05:002021-01-12T08:11:15.374-05:00God still speaks <p>Bringing over some of my writings from Facebook... Forgive me if seasons and dates are a mess... </p><p>I woke up at 5:30 am with a small nudge. “Come see the sunrise." But I stubbornly closed my eyes and awoke at 6:30 to sun beaming around the curtains. </p><p>Patiently, my Lord waited on me to show up for our date, an hour late. Unsurprised. But still willing to talk. Maybe I missed out on the most gorgeous sunrise my eyes would have ever seen. Maybe I missed out on finding the perfect, unbroken shell. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtVcP4gdMlXXiCy30v-U3M4BvXx2cQnxFCFRIEuaabLbx0ruGMJmounlCfuIA8HxW_WLvg6yQNbru2za3bSSM0j7eX3dA0vEqOV0gbhErcwkHNjHAmfJz0AoDkF04Jfzjb43AAI-r3KVY/s1440/8786F9BF-1965-452A-9BBC-B0C37AB4C96F.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtVcP4gdMlXXiCy30v-U3M4BvXx2cQnxFCFRIEuaabLbx0ruGMJmounlCfuIA8HxW_WLvg6yQNbru2za3bSSM0j7eX3dA0vEqOV0gbhErcwkHNjHAmfJz0AoDkF04Jfzjb43AAI-r3KVY/w329-h329/8786F9BF-1965-452A-9BBC-B0C37AB4C96F.jpeg" width="329" /></a></div><br />But here is what I know. God still speaks to His children. That small voice telling you not to take that perfect job. Don’t date that smooth guy. Don’t go out by yourself here tonight. It’s the little things you chalk up to ‘feelings’ that if heard enough, is your Daddy pounding on the door of your heart, begging you to listen. <p></p><p>Today, being the gentleman he is - he gifted me with the broken shell and the words “you can still see beauty in brokenness.” It can never be fixed. Too far past that. But there is still beauty to be found in the crummy job, the tough marriage, wayward child, or lackluster situation you are in. Just be still and listen, and then hold your hand up to take His. He will walk with you in His patient way. Late or not, He’s always waiting. Isaiah 41:13</p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-24558760491661033582021-01-11T08:06:00.001-05:002021-01-11T08:24:33.129-05:00The Gift of Dream<p>When is a dream just a dream? A secret present given, an experience into another place or time, only for you to see? Or when is that dream meant to be shared, at the risk of sounding crazy? I know that God gives his children spiritual gifts, but when is a vision of your own conjuring, and when is it something more?? It's so hard to discern. I DO think God still talks to his children in dreams and visions. He did in Bible times, why would he stop? My son was once given the vision of a majestic lion, turning a shy and timid teenager into a spiritual soldier from that day forward. Scripture even says it will be happening with greater frequency. <span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">"Christ has generously divided out his gifts to us." Eph 4:7. "Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions." Joel 2:28 </span> My dream was much less of a call to action, but more a gift of HOPE. Here is my account, take it or leave it:</p><p>15 years ago, I had two little boys at home under the age of 5, along with a newborn daughter. I had laid down with her for an afternoon nap and was subconsciously allowed to 'visit' Heaven. The only way I can describe it is intense. Intense, rich colors. Intense beauty. Intense sounds of birds and animals. Intense PEACE. The peace was actually the thing that stands out to me still. How there was no worry of time, or where to go, or things I needed to do. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCEiotHi_FX94EBZY4IbJQaLlRHtvjs_tc7VakDYRPweEZ3b5ZyXTjAlalmvaNQAJoRP380-QgUoXJtQOPr9tgwFpzIXaUE_flXq8aePJfSsvr_xaeBcUHCGIVuyzbw-kZPxCtC265L0/s640/IMG_0419.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCEiotHi_FX94EBZY4IbJQaLlRHtvjs_tc7VakDYRPweEZ3b5ZyXTjAlalmvaNQAJoRP380-QgUoXJtQOPr9tgwFpzIXaUE_flXq8aePJfSsvr_xaeBcUHCGIVuyzbw-kZPxCtC265L0/s320/IMG_0419.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I was in the valley. With a gorgeous blue sky above, and green meadows full of colorful flowers all around me. At the top of the hill before me, under a massive oak tree, Christ waited.</p><p>I climbed the hill and sheepishly approached him as he smiled down at me. It was as if I were the size of a child, and he, a Father. (Which really isn't something I have found in Scripture, but hey, it was the dream I was given and it is what it is.) I asked him if I could sit in his lap and he almost laughed. But just smiled a little smile and said, "Of course you can, Daughter". </p><p>Completely star struck, I then asked, "Can I hug you??" Kind eyes with a big smile this time - "of course you can!" I don't know how long I sat on his lap. Or if we talked. Or went down memory lane. But I can tell you, I remember his eyes. You could fall into his eyes. So deep and caring. I don't even think I could say their color, because they were unearthly. They saw into your soul and hypnotized you into a state of complete peace. Of safety. Of love. I will never forget the feeling I had looking into his eyes, and having him look down on me with a Father's love. Unmatched and perfect. Him looking down into the eyes of the little one he had saved from death.... it was an intense bond I don't think is possible to share with another human.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJuzt5qdl6vfXqFQega0Y72t64532iAy3j2BP5dOOM-ijms7yk9tCa5SIlTo9u_U6U4tkVE0xUVTVvZYy-KnBCeqrYZ3t_gnxH9pcBo8HDpscKHJLvK5DWzUj3KyZtmTWuvIFc9zXfkc4/s640/IMG_0420.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="476" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJuzt5qdl6vfXqFQega0Y72t64532iAy3j2BP5dOOM-ijms7yk9tCa5SIlTo9u_U6U4tkVE0xUVTVvZYy-KnBCeqrYZ3t_gnxH9pcBo8HDpscKHJLvK5DWzUj3KyZtmTWuvIFc9zXfkc4/s320/IMG_0420.JPG" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>When I awoke, it was not with relief but grief. I wanted to be back on that hill more than anything. I was upset and angry. I was never suicidal, but I would have traded this life, my young children, my newborn - all to be back in his arms. The peace was THAT perfect. I don't even remember if I told my husband or best friends about my dream that day. It was my secret to keep.</p><p>____________________________________________________________________________</p><p>My first opportunity to share was a few months later when a good friend was on her death bed, dying at the age of only 30 with cancer. I then thought... here is the reason God had let me have those moments. To share with her. I told her of my dream and told her not to be scared. That even though she would meet him soon, she would be loosing nothing, but gaining everything. And I left her that day with the task, "When you see him, tell him I can't wait to hug him again." I didn't cry when she died. I was jealous in a way. I no longer have a fear of death. This world is not my home. The blessed hope.</p><p>Conversely, a few years later, a young mom I had been trying to get to go to church with me told me about her near death experience during open heart surgery. She had been medically dead twice, and they brought her back. While under, she said she was going down in a dark elevator.... looking up at her two daughters at the top and screaming for it to stop. She said she had no idea what she was going down to... but it was intense FEAR. Her heart raced and she was terrified. Screaming until she awoke. I told her about my dream, and how no matter what, I would NEVER be using that elevator. I didn't have that fear. I explained the Gospel but she insisted, she "just wasn't ready". I have no idea what path she will eventually chose to walk, but I did as the Spirit led, and have peace in that. It is her choice to make.</p><p>I tell you all this because the other night, I had only my second dream ever that I would describe as prophetic. I was walking in the woods and came upon two bears feasting on something. As I froze, one looked at me and came charging. He was literally skin and bones. But rose up to growl at me with huge, nasty teeth. But instead of running, I stood tall. I opened my arms to make myself big, and yelled as loud as I could. I don't know about the bear, but I effectively scared my husband to death!! Minutes later, as he held me and lay his head on my chest, both our hearts pounding - I felt God say: "They are evil. And evil is bearing its teeth now. Trying to scare you. But they are dying. It is time for Christians to stand tall. Act Big. And be LOUD."</p><p>So there you have it my friends. The first blog I have written in years. I share my experience only because I feel like whether we meet on that hill tomorrow, or 30 years from now, our time is short. Be LOUD. God triumphs over evil in the end. Regardless of political parties, sin culture, or economic conditions. But fight the good fight. Stand on the side of righteousness and quit letting culture tell you to be quiet and stand down. Call out evil against our children. WE are children of a Mighty King. And He is alive and moving in these last days. We have the gifts of hope and a peace that they do not. </p><p>For his children, he is waiting for you. For those who are unsure, he is waiting for you to choose to meet him, it is still up to you. I would never dream of choosing wrongly.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihcuyiAuECu1HK2j1NxrQUmNVVKnACzoUR-nrYNC8dFau7jxFe-7VmFI5NSdGZTNfIGBL-WCzfHazTv5eSqZ_DC5b7kCS2cSd2APpj_Y9BTKJW1MC0w2GilEyv93Z0Jpuzn91RJ4Ji1P4/s736/IMG_0421.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="736" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihcuyiAuECu1HK2j1NxrQUmNVVKnACzoUR-nrYNC8dFau7jxFe-7VmFI5NSdGZTNfIGBL-WCzfHazTv5eSqZ_DC5b7kCS2cSd2APpj_Y9BTKJW1MC0w2GilEyv93Z0Jpuzn91RJ4Ji1P4/w348-h213/IMG_0421.JPG" width="348" /></a></div><p>**the paintings are from a young prodigy named Akiane. She painted "Prince of Peace" at age 8 from visions and dreams and noted it was his eyes she was most drawn to. Her website and book showcase other paintings of Christ, his creation, his children, and Heaven. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0South Carolina, USA33.836081 -81.16372455.5258471638211546 -116.3199745 62.146314836178846 -46.0074745tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-14040812352290862382020-11-18T23:54:00.001-05:002020-11-18T23:55:59.680-05:00Kiddie Talk<div>I found this old post that was only a draft.. but looking at printing this blog and this one deserves its own page! Seth is now 20, and Addison is 14. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Well with all frustration and aggravation with our adoption process, I thought I would steer clear to a more lighter subject - my beautiful kiddos. And I realized I really needed to immortalize some of the hilarious things they have said in the past that still make me smile and remember why being a mom is just the best job in the world... on most days anyway...
Seth (age 5) - singing at the top of his lungs, praising God, singing "Blesser be your name O Lord, blesser be your naaaaaame"
Addison (age 4) - playing in the backseat with her dolls, Barbies introducing themselves to each other - "What's your name? My name's Calista. What's your name? My name's Addison. What's your name? My name's may-naise" (mayonnaise? why?)
Addison (3) - flower = fla-ler. Sleeping Beauty = Sleepin Booty.
Addison (4) - able to swim now! But has apparently watched too many Mermaid movies as she swims with her legs together and her little tushy just bobs up and down, up and down.
Addison (4) - singing sweetly in the back seat, again with her dolls. Beautiful little song about how lovely the friends were. Ending in the phrase, "and then she bit him in the FAAAAce."
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-64972107765877148562014-09-16T22:25:00.000-04:002014-09-27T21:59:31.969-04:00Hummus Habesha style<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In Ethiopia, Habesha is their word for true Ethiopian. I, however, am a ferenque. And I'm cool with that. As long as I can insert little moments of Ethiopian love into my life, I'm good. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNuwoNDrudq0lm89aNls6IgtCFArPv1MbfJTeqxb11a-FttQuADz3iB1y-zDllOOq3T3XX1LCjHELAOO3yoKICH34-UBFlMEP3JaZXambSYLSCDqe0A8m_scYj73sWL1LdQFSkS8U9c4/s1600/photo3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNuwoNDrudq0lm89aNls6IgtCFArPv1MbfJTeqxb11a-FttQuADz3iB1y-zDllOOq3T3XX1LCjHELAOO3yoKICH34-UBFlMEP3JaZXambSYLSCDqe0A8m_scYj73sWL1LdQFSkS8U9c4/s1600/photo3.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a>Backstory: My dear sister Jerry loves me. And brought me a Mac-Daddy bag of berbere when she came to visit a few months back. And I'm not even going to <b>tell</b> you how excited I was to get the powder to make shiro. Seriously, I was ecstatic. <br />
<br />
Hence I am on a mission to find uses for that huuuuge container of berbere. Add it to chicken salad? Of course! Dust baked chicken? Sure. Sprinkle it on plain popcorn? Yes, please!!!!<br />
<br />
And now, I present my new favorite -<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
</h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<br /></h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Black Bean Berbere Hummus</span></h2>
Can I get an Amen to the sheer genius of this marriage? I actually had pinned a recipe for <a href="http://www.chef-in-training.com/2013/04/black-bean-hummus/" target="_blank">Black Bean Hummus</a> on a Chef-in-Training site. So if you aren't lucky enough to have berbere (I was having to order it from an <a href="http://www.ethiopianspices.com/" target="_blank">Ethiopian spice company</a>. Seriously, go order some now.), you can use her combination of spices as well. But for those of you who stashed berbere away on your trip back from Ethiopia, here ya go:<br />
<br />
(I doubled her recipe to make enough for our small group. So thankful I did! Leftovers for lunch!)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ils2HWZzrhvCOVsaOrFkwamvwCKZtX2OZ6tN86wbH4ZjpEpM-esJfx7UTytQ7asty7gRbdwdxCetw7qeWVaXHwPP_3VWX3uPv7zglHlZ7FHCHfSXL2eqkXFSSeuezx6_Kl0JUsrXa4Y/s1600/photo2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ils2HWZzrhvCOVsaOrFkwamvwCKZtX2OZ6tN86wbH4ZjpEpM-esJfx7UTytQ7asty7gRbdwdxCetw7qeWVaXHwPP_3VWX3uPv7zglHlZ7FHCHfSXL2eqkXFSSeuezx6_Kl0JUsrXa4Y/s1600/photo2.JPG" height="320" width="273" /></a></div>
<br />
2 cans black beans, drained and rinsed<br />
4 T olive oil<br />
1/2 lemon, juiced<br />
2 T white wine vinegar<br />
1 tsp kosher salt<br />
2-3 T Berbere, depending on how much heat you like. I used 2 T.<br />
2-3 cloves of garlic, chopped<br />
<br />
*combine all ingredients in a food processor and process until smooth. Serve with veggies, tortilla chips, or homemade chips.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqIt9ESOfOAwtVOJDqQvk4izElqCsUQWEtyAt5EZyPBE4Y4zgnsnNgja-gP0cRnpRoZUzf6OQNb3n_BtHgbEgsE9UZAUG5mxgOugCvGGafHkI1qrlC9i_knYqgU_y2Nct5ezGmtTAoIp8/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqIt9ESOfOAwtVOJDqQvk4izElqCsUQWEtyAt5EZyPBE4Y4zgnsnNgja-gP0cRnpRoZUzf6OQNb3n_BtHgbEgsE9UZAUG5mxgOugCvGGafHkI1qrlC9i_knYqgU_y2Nct5ezGmtTAoIp8/s1600/photo.JPG" height="320" width="318" /></a></div>
* I originally had made homemade corn tortilla chips with berbere as well. Cut them in 6 pieces, place on baking sheet and spray with a good bit of cooking spray, and sprinkle with berbere and kosher salt. Bake at 350 for around 10 min. until brown and crunchy. Umm, they went quickly. (I burned my second batch so didn't get a picture... figures).<br />
<br />
<span id="goog_153145505"></span><span id="goog_153145506"></span><br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-45535865991508354212014-07-05T09:24:00.001-04:002014-07-05T09:24:53.889-04:00Idiots Guide to: being a Church Family to an Adoptive Family<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Now, with my battle armor off.... I can look around and see those still fighting and can say unequivocally, the Church needs to step up. So often I am hearing, "during/after our adoption - we were so disappointed in our church". <br />
<br />
What we mean to say... what we need to say... is that we <b><i>need </i></b>our family. And so often what I have been hearing is that their church families are letting them down. Yes- there are some rock star churches out there being the hands and feet of Jesus. But so often, I think the church is kind of in a place of wanting to help, but not understanding what to do, or how to do it. And we need to get better. Adoption doesn't look like a 9 month pregnancy, so what should the church be doing? So... I'm not calling anyone an idiot, just saying that sometimes a little guidebook is necessary... <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjn2RX_mLUHG8PCfW5Ezho4faMx73iFS-H-8mvsArdyzUzvzU6S8IegYVlh50Vy28z5UEYLbsRn3AT7FOFNtMoquotWdpX1PJyANcbSHwrxceIGGkmyaPV5pKdL-vOilWz38MsoTcvmqs/s1600/complete-idiots-guide.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjn2RX_mLUHG8PCfW5Ezho4faMx73iFS-H-8mvsArdyzUzvzU6S8IegYVlh50Vy28z5UEYLbsRn3AT7FOFNtMoquotWdpX1PJyANcbSHwrxceIGGkmyaPV5pKdL-vOilWz38MsoTcvmqs/s1600/complete-idiots-guide.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="color: #073763; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Being a Church Family to an Adoptive Family</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>- The Church family should bless.</b></span><br />
Imagine having a six year old plopped in your lap to care for. What would you need? A new wardrobe, shoes, pajamas, socks, underwear, child sized eating utensils, toys, books, toothbrushes, hairbrushes, a bed, a room, bedding.... the list can get pretty long. And now imagine you just spent every single dollar you had on $1000s in flights to bring that kid into your home. The crickets in your wallet are chirping and the Ramen Noodles are sounding pretty good.<br />
<br />
Yes, we know. 'Well, you shouldn't bring a child into your home if you can't provide for it.' And we will. But the initial investment to set up a home for a new child is usually pretty remarkable. Church families provide showers for new mothers to celebrate the birth of a new baby. Should not the church family celebrate the status of an orphan-no-longer even more? A battle over that little one was won my friends! Everything in the world today is making adoption harder and harder. Legal hoops, financial commitments, foreign governments. <br />
<br />
Celebrate that child who now has a family!!! Go to the airport to hoop and holler, scare the beejebees out of that baby, but show them you are excited for them. That moment is only one moment, but for that child to be able to look back years later and see the photos of the welcome signs, the balloons, the tears - they will know that they were wanted, and celebrated, and loved by a community who cared about them. Show it.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>- The Church family should feed. </b></span><br />
Adopted children of any age are scared, unsure, and have special needs. Imagine being taken out of your current surroundings- placed in a new room, a new bed, with new people all around you (who may speak another language). Sleep will not come easily (for anyone in the house!). The food is weird. It plainly, is the making for emotional breakdowns, temper tantrums, and stress (and that's just the mom!!) <br />
<br />
When trying to bond with a new child, and make them feel comfortable in their surroundings, that doesn't allow for meal planning, trips to the grocery, and cooked meals. Parents may instead be spending hours huddled on the floor hugging a thrashing and screaming 9 year old, trying to speak love over them. But other kids still need to be fed... and the budget (remember those Ramen noodles?) also doesn't allow for frequent trips for fast food or home cooked restaurants. <br />
<br />
But, adopting parents are so confusing!!! One minute we are telling you
that our new child needs to bond so, 'Please, let us learn to be a
family and leave us alone for a bit..'. And on the other hand we are
asking, 'Please, let us learn to be a family, but please Lord, please
don't make me do this alone!'<br />
<br />
Just as the church family comforts a grieving family with food at funeral time... they should also pitch in when a new child is introduced to a family. That child, even newborns, are usually grieving. Grieving for their lost friends, a favorite nanny, just the comfort of familiarity. Even if the situation wasn't a positive one. Those parents need to invest their valuable time in helping that child to heal. No, we may not be able to invite you in for extended visits - but a gift card in the mail, a lovingly prepared meal delivered to the front steps, a meal tree organized. Just those 5 minutes on the front porch chatting over a pan of lasagna can be the most valuable gift you could ever give in that moment. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>- The Church family should pray.</b></span><br />
This one really needs no explanation. Pray church. <b>Pray</b>. The enemy is not happy with a little one being rescued out of his grasp. These children, no matter the age, are part of a battle waged. They are unsure, they are hurting, and they are often fighting the love that the Father is wanting to lavish on them. Many come from backgrounds where they were never loved or valued. And our job, as their new parents, is to convince them that we do love them. Our job sometime is to MAKE ourselves love a child who is desperately fighting that love, even when we don't feel it. So pray.<br />
<br />
And let us know you are praying. A card in the mail. A quick email. Let us know that in our moments of desperation and thinking, 'Why, oh why, did I do this to myself? To my other kids?' Let us know then, that you are holding our arms up, praying for the Lord to heal our hearts and the hearts of our children. We may not tell you we need help, but we do. Very rarely does an adoptive placement happen easily and smoothly. Even if parents are smiling and saying how happy they are to have their child home (and they are happy!), they are more often than not, having a hard time adjusting in their new roles as well.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>-The Church family should give.</b></span><br />
Now here is the sticky one. Again back to the, 'You shouldn't get a kid if you can't afford it'. Over and over, and over in scripture does it say to take care of the least fortunate. To take care of the fatherless. To feed the hungry. To love the unloved. And if God has called a family to adopt, HE has promised them that HE will provide. And he could choose any fashion to do this. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills for goodness sake! But as the Church family, it is your responsibility as family members to support your own. I have heard of people getting offended when they receive support letters asking for help. Really? Seriously? This is a HUGE undertaking and the decision to include you in this job is not an easy decision. But get to it. Show you are serious about loving the Man who came to adopt YOU, and help others show that love to a little one without a family. <br />
<br />
Does this mean selling your car and donating thousands of dollars? Maybe. But not likely. It could mean $5. It could mean $50. God does this amazing trick where he multiplies little things like fish and $5 bills. They miraculously become thousands. Just give. Show that you love. Buy a silly trinket the family may be selling. A cupcake or two from their stand. Just show them you care.<br />
<br />
<br />
These families are investing their hearts into loving a child they have never met. Invest with them. Feed them. Pray for them. Bless them. And I <b>promise</b>--- there is a blessing you will receive for helping to bring a child home - every time you hear that child say 'I love you, Mommy'. Or run to their new Daddy for a hug? You can puff your chest out and say, "I helped build that." Be the Church. Be his hands and feet. Just be the family He has called you to be.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-49017454388934290832014-01-16T12:56:00.001-05:002014-01-16T13:19:09.762-05:00Dear Compassion sponsor we'll never know:<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span id="goog_582168187"></span><span id="goog_582168188"></span>Dear Compassion sponsor that we'll never know:<br />
<br />
Perhaps you were handed his packet at a concert, that little boy in Ethiopia.<br />
Perhaps you picked him off the table.<br />
Perhaps you felt led to choose his face off the website.<br />
Of this we'll never know.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7ju-69d_bVLTxYGJIM1N7fg2xSBlVSFKzB8B9QdAZvjcvafBv6xbtphCt8f_J4iT7hquMY9URCVyGkSaQXRUZ220HCDyrFmo02qEbW0kmG6__S80T46yLEnYfykTYMFqi-CS24nUur8/s1600/Picture16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7ju-69d_bVLTxYGJIM1N7fg2xSBlVSFKzB8B9QdAZvjcvafBv6xbtphCt8f_J4iT7hquMY9URCVyGkSaQXRUZ220HCDyrFmo02qEbW0kmG6__S80T46yLEnYfykTYMFqi-CS24nUur8/s1600/Picture16.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
But what you will never know is how life changing you picking that little boy in Ethiopia was.<br />
You will never know how indebted my family is to your family, for choosing that little boy as your own.<br />
<br />
Because what you will never know is how because you sponsored that little boy...<br />
Perhaps your decision is what led to the decision for that little boy's family to save the life of MY little girl.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it was the gospel which you shared in your letters which led that family to share love...<br />
Perhaps it was the gospel the project shared with the family that led that family to share love...<br />
Because when someone poured compassion into this family, compassion they then gave to MY little girl. <br />
Of this we'll never know.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it was the economic burden lifted of sending that one child to school, that allowed them to feel they could take in another child with five little mouths to feed already ...<br />
Perhaps it was the little store that Compassion may have helped them start, that allowed them to feel they could take in another child, with five<br />
little mouths to feed already ....<br />
What made them say yes to her that day? <br />
Of this we'll never know.<br />
<br />
But what I do know is that MY little girl's life was saved, and she was loved - and only because this family chose to help her, as you had helped them. Without ever knowing.<br />
<br />
They could have walked on by her little face.... but they didn't.<br />
You could have walked on by his little face... but you didn't.<br />
And how the two intertwine and depend on each other, we will never know.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But God knows.</span> And His writing of her story is far more beautiful than you will ever know.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1qd3g9XcW_waE5TezcNjF3yn9XBHAmwrWakAVXvbSw_WPsZxeOecLSql6zU1OVRizZd0TzGvo8uI6fUMSQ3op4RbbaldjvxYCEUMe8bqElfEdQPxuzVQqynDQDRIyomCcd0MCxEHxzc/s1600/DSC03252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1qd3g9XcW_waE5TezcNjF3yn9XBHAmwrWakAVXvbSw_WPsZxeOecLSql6zU1OVRizZd0TzGvo8uI6fUMSQ3op4RbbaldjvxYCEUMe8bqElfEdQPxuzVQqynDQDRIyomCcd0MCxEHxzc/s1600/DSC03252.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></a></div>
** Dearest Sponsor: Olivia Selam has been with her adoptive family for one and a half years. She is happy, and thriving, and healthy. A milk allergy was the cause of the family's need to place her for adoption. They unselfishly gave her away to ensure her health. Her easy transition to our family is primarily due to that love that your Compassion family invested in her for those months. Because you chose to invest in them. And for that we are eternally grateful. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-15514349009903117552013-07-21T15:25:00.003-04:002013-07-21T15:25:31.348-04:00My Passion for Baked Oatmeal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have died and gone to Heaven, this stuff is SO good - and besides the amounts of brown sugar, isn't too bad for you! You can do a search for them under Weight Watchers baked oatmeal and they usually come up as 8 servings for 6 WW points. Not QUITE as healthy if you eat 3 servings...<br />
<br />
I actually have become an addict of Lynn's Kitchen's baked oatmeal variations. We have made the <a href="http://www.lynnskitchenadventures.com/2010/11/baked-pumpkin-oatmeal.html" target="_blank">Pumpkin Baked Oatmeal</a> many, many times and seriously, still am in love. The canned pumpkin just gives it this perfect sweetness that makes me smile.<br />
<br />
Until I met her <a href="http://www.lynnskitchenadventures.com/2012/01/coconut-baked-oatmeal.html" target="_blank">Coconut Oatmeal</a>, and I debated breaking up with Pumpkin. But hey, a girl can have two besties.<br />
<br />
UNTIL..... I saw her recipe for Peach/Blueberry and decided to jump right in with our glorious bounty of fresh fruits and fashion a love after my own heart... I am usually a cook from recipe girl but decided to go at it on my own with a few tweeks and man, was it good!<br />
<br />
The ingredients:<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(pardon the olive oil hanging out in back, should have moved that)</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLCF34eeCfm06gWRc8JiRBYRDHyeGn6V7GgT8gJ3mYF1R483nsD2U9xUehYja_LqxEMullBubUXNZhmCYUW_x4f90TQAptNv0ez4J0yR3uRWdEfg2BtCKTIy8L6mUygKjF96dvugJoJk/s1600/1-DSC_0333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLCF34eeCfm06gWRc8JiRBYRDHyeGn6V7GgT8gJ3mYF1R483nsD2U9xUehYja_LqxEMullBubUXNZhmCYUW_x4f90TQAptNv0ez4J0yR3uRWdEfg2BtCKTIy8L6mUygKjF96dvugJoJk/s320/1-DSC_0333.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Blueberry/Peach Oatmeal</span></div>
<br />
3 cups quick cooking oats<br />
1/2 cup brown sugar<br />
3/4 cup almond milk (or regular if you can tolerate it! Liv and me, not so much)<br />
1/2 cup yogurt (vanilla or plain would work)<br />
2 T melted butter<br />
2 eggs<br />
2 tsp baking powder<br />
1/2 tsp salt<br />
2 tsp coconut flavoring (I am a cocoNUT. You could use vanilla)<br />
1/2 tsp cinnamon<br />
2 fresh peaches, cut in chunks (or 1 can drained, if not in season)<br />
3/4 cup frozen or fresh blueberries<br />
* more brown sugar to sprinkle on top; around 1/4 cup<br />
<br />
**Melt the butter and mix in all ingredients and spread in greased 9X13 pan. I don't grease my pan because I am in love with Pampered Chef products and their perfect baking results.<br />
** Top oatmeal with the extra brown sugar and bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes.<br />
<br />
It is the bomb, I tell you. My 9X13 pan is already 3/4 empty and it has only been myself and two hungry Littles digging into it. Olivia usually has about 3 bowls full of my baked oatmeal when I make it! I usually have one bowl. And maybe one (or two) later.... it really warms up great, even the next day. Just ask my sitter who likes to 'make sure Olivia's tastes ok' when I send it with her lunch the next day, if it lasts that long!!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPS-kCtYR3sO_O9ydZgekTBOjxoKESu-1bgEJtNfZOScUlzjaN36dku7f6OzkecCbwuidHJsYjBhyphenhyphen1ZAucuh5GG1quavgzCZAjoGLlcJaYypB9F5sJrx9ApbaMM6-VHfYvymUNiNa9mMQ/s1600/2-DSC_0338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPS-kCtYR3sO_O9ydZgekTBOjxoKESu-1bgEJtNfZOScUlzjaN36dku7f6OzkecCbwuidHJsYjBhyphenhyphen1ZAucuh5GG1quavgzCZAjoGLlcJaYypB9F5sJrx9ApbaMM6-VHfYvymUNiNa9mMQ/s320/2-DSC_0338.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-23841951097960395002013-06-19T11:43:00.002-04:002013-06-19T11:43:14.908-04:00Just a sip of water...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQLMWe2fuvijwePZsf4jhZdTcBP9V3YJZNSLjtuBUkSsca88bTkYdPs-CsOlC7cukLRQLG9Q3VrzlDp9onlQDk7EVm7aqCHf8fN48GbYitbYTdXuPtlKXCfr6JskwpUGxRetv-Rd2JUI/s1600/DSC_0034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQLMWe2fuvijwePZsf4jhZdTcBP9V3YJZNSLjtuBUkSsca88bTkYdPs-CsOlC7cukLRQLG9Q3VrzlDp9onlQDk7EVm7aqCHf8fN48GbYitbYTdXuPtlKXCfr6JskwpUGxRetv-Rd2JUI/s320/DSC_0034.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/>
<w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/>
<w:OverrideTableStyleHps/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="false"
DefSemiHidden="false" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="371">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="index 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="index 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="index 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="index 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="index 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="index 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="index 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="index 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="index 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="footnote text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="footer"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="index heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="table of figures"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="envelope address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="envelope return"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="footnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="line number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="page number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="table of authorities"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="macro"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="toa heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:8.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:107%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her little face has haunted me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe 8 years old?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe 12?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Her image has now been replaced with the image of so many of the little
girls I have now seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dressed in
clothing hand washed too many times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mended as best as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hair
matted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Combed as best as possible in
anticipation of our visit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But her face haunts me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As it was one of the most shameful moments in my life that haunts
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her hollow eyes looked to my sports cup sitting at my feet,
and back to my eyes, begging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pointing
at my water, then signing the universal sign “drink?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“water?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Back to the cup, and back to my eyes, begging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then I did what I have done so many times before – I
turned my head and ignored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I will
forever feel the shame from that moment.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my defense, it was only a few hours off the plane from
our comfortable country that I had stepped foot on this dirty soil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had never traveled before but had been
told – ‘drink as much water as possible or you will get sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And you don’t want to get sick.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was our first visit, our first
project, my first real encounter with the third world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I handed her my only cup, full of clean
water, would I get any more today?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Would she give my cup back?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
if she had a disease?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if she gave <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">me</b> that disease?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All those thoughts went through my head in
the span of those precious minutes when I choose myself over a thirsty little
one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And if
anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is
my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Matthew 10:42.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
CHRIST’S words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
I lost my reward that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I chose
self over sacrifice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How often does that experience play over and over
today?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In all of our lives?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No – you may not be faced face to face with
a third world child begging for a sip of your water…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But are we choosing our own comfort (bigger house, newer
car, nice vacation) over a child begging you for only a sip of what you could
offer?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are we choosing to protect our bodies from harm by not
reaching out to the little one asking for help?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What about the orphans with diseases asking
to be adopted?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are we scared of the
harm they may do to our families?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are we
scared of what the world might say if we bring a child of another color into
our family?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are we scared of the
emotional problems a foster child might bring upon our family if we were to
reach out?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are we choosing to protect ourselves, as we don’t know when
we will get resources again – from this here and now loss of what we see as
valuable?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do we not give to the child
in need because what if we commit to sponsor, but then loose our job?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or need that money for other things later?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do we choose not to help because of the distrust?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if I don’t get back something from that
which I have given?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if others are
just trying to take what is mine?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So you see – you have your moments where you deny those
searching eyes as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I know that God gave me that experience so that the next time those
eyes come looking to me for aid – I hope I will not turn my eyes downward and
ignore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lesson learned.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everything I have has been given to me by my Father in
Heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All they are asking for is
just a sip of that bounty I have been given.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So who am I to refuse to share?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Don’t we tell our kids they have to share?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doesn’t God tell us the same?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are you obeying?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or
ignoring?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is God asking you to
share that you instead are grasping tightly to?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Recent research has statistically shown the dramatic effect Compassion International and their sponsorship program has made on the lives of these children as they have grown up. <br />
<a href="http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2013/june/want-to-change-world-sponsor-child.html" target="_blank">Christianity Today news on Compassion</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Right now some little ones have been waiting close to a year for that
little bit of help you can offer - can you at least research these
children and see if God is calling you to give them a sip from the huge
pitcher he has given you??</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm?referer=78973" target="_blank">Compassion International</a></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-77025623657157227352013-06-02T00:23:00.001-04:002013-06-02T00:27:38.141-04:00Meetcha Day Revisited<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">We've been a bit busy with wrestling and ball schedules, SOOO back to the story - I figure if I write one blog post every few months, I will have our 10 day trip journaled in what - a few years or so?? )</span><br />
<br />
After landing in Addis Ababa, early Monday morning, we went back to the guest house to unpack and rest a bit before going to lunch and then to meet Olivia, for the FIRST time ever. <br />
<br />
Why not go straight there you say? Because this mama was not in charge of the schedule, obviously...<br />
<br />
This would also be the time to mention how hilarious it must have looked to have the 6 of us, and all 18 of our bags, loaded up on trolleys to tie to the roof of our van. Even funnier, our guide was no longer allowed to come and meet us inside the airport so we were standing around - all 6 of us, and our 18 bags, in a foreign country - really looking like fools. Kind of like Eddie Murphy on 'Coming to America'. How much luggage do these Americans need??? Seriously? (A reminder that 85% of that luggage was donations for the orphanages but the Ethiopians didn't know that! And we were able to call our guide and found out that he was outside in the parking lot waiting for us.)<br />
<br />
Once at our gorgeous guest house, a few of our crew fell asleep, a few showered or changed after our 2 days traveling. After 2 days, I felt like stank with a capital S. <br />
<br />
After a quick (1.5 hr) meal at Island Breeze, (my least favorite of the restaurants we visited), we finally boarded back up to go and meet Livvie. And FYI, liking tuna and liking pizza - together does not a harmony make. We then started our habit of boxing up our left-overs to give to the street kids. I think they got a whole Tuna Pizza minus one bite. I'll just chalk my menu choice up to exhaustion.<br />
<br />
After loading up we made our way to the big blue AWAA sign outside the gates of the America World transition home. It is the pentacle moment of your Meetcha Day as it announces that you.have.arrived.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOnnWMcD4cRHzoETyJoV2a3MHUz6Q16oVUNJLbbqpjoRiDGPmUkwIrZ3wirck2LNt3mL5vOqQJYVfDr2qBCmhd9m1cWxM9DEVBDP9emN-5g9UVfnIy2TIIascACDSDeDM4P2z-0t6GZfg/s1600/1-DSC_0178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOnnWMcD4cRHzoETyJoV2a3MHUz6Q16oVUNJLbbqpjoRiDGPmUkwIrZ3wirck2LNt3mL5vOqQJYVfDr2qBCmhd9m1cWxM9DEVBDP9emN-5g9UVfnIy2TIIascACDSDeDM4P2z-0t6GZfg/s320/1-DSC_0178.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">From there you wait at the bottom of the steps while they go to get your
child ready. In our case, our friend Mindy snuck in to try to find
her while we waited outside. She was able to snap some
now-dear-to-my-heart photos of the nannies preparing our little one like
a bride on her wedding day. Minus the white dress and plus some
mismatched clothing. You can see the little cow outfit beside them
that I had sent 3 months prior. A size 3 mos outfit for my (then
unknown) 9 mos baby girl. The nanny must have taken one look at that outfit and then said, "yeah, that ain't gonna happen."</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixktu9lc7qunEjNOz66ofhNtGd-5eTPANW2v5r07h_WXUlXcJUp8Xv32CTWuUFIFR9MZ3KI1ZrkaSSzbFLc8qAc7zEFkzFBQ02ngdOmO1nD4kxzEfrcdzgTyVTwv8RaZOrK4dN-shqeDo/s1600/1-IMG_3048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixktu9lc7qunEjNOz66ofhNtGd-5eTPANW2v5r07h_WXUlXcJUp8Xv32CTWuUFIFR9MZ3KI1ZrkaSSzbFLc8qAc7zEFkzFBQ02ngdOmO1nD4kxzEfrcdzgTyVTwv8RaZOrK4dN-shqeDo/s320/1-IMG_3048.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmM53m9Sp5a0fLp1jKJ-Jg9Qk4RhifTxuDeNWFPXHUg7oCCgSJXNs68f2vVCtd-f6inKvBGK8t0zYsu1Bnswp3buX0HXTDJM_iyTFWp8TfTTSxqIbp_VEa31vQ6wzZAgiRneht2ALOWQI/s1600/1-IMG_3051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmM53m9Sp5a0fLp1jKJ-Jg9Qk4RhifTxuDeNWFPXHUg7oCCgSJXNs68f2vVCtd-f6inKvBGK8t0zYsu1Bnswp3buX0HXTDJM_iyTFWp8TfTTSxqIbp_VEa31vQ6wzZAgiRneht2ALOWQI/s320/1-IMG_3051.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
As we waited, our hearts going a million miles an hour, Mindy comes running out the door saying, "here she comes!" and there she is. In the flesh, scared to death.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4wYhw1Ectye6W5gT9m6fHHklyv8RuWRP87gvztP45SZwzoQuWEgnEpZ6VLhPT5N_KgZRxlxly0I6kQAkEePSe-2HlVWy29prRtZfzl9TSa9tmSBwBY3a8__Hr5CtX1ZpbFGJ26ps4TEk/s1600/1-IMG_3054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4wYhw1Ectye6W5gT9m6fHHklyv8RuWRP87gvztP45SZwzoQuWEgnEpZ6VLhPT5N_KgZRxlxly0I6kQAkEePSe-2HlVWy29prRtZfzl9TSa9tmSBwBY3a8__Hr5CtX1ZpbFGJ26ps4TEk/s320/1-IMG_3054.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfg-euSaCJI5G0dGmajPVnKkmc8hCm2zXMaFdtYioK74LVHkDRKFWqIPnNchYGoMh6Mfo2UZO7IaV_6NVC4S_2kpQpOVe49ImV0mhBokhyphenhyphenRpHqKPOGalHSu0kUz1wQamR9AOoVSnTXJig/s1600/1-DSC_0022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfg-euSaCJI5G0dGmajPVnKkmc8hCm2zXMaFdtYioK74LVHkDRKFWqIPnNchYGoMh6Mfo2UZO7IaV_6NVC4S_2kpQpOVe49ImV0mhBokhyphenhyphenRpHqKPOGalHSu0kUz1wQamR9AOoVSnTXJig/s320/1-DSC_0022.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9OJLEr04nx52dD2ntpLvvO-sCZv4QkzfbN0xbhLp16GaKH6JkZyxqkeQ1j7d5PsalLpMRH7YUa0lnAUy_ePYlJ2Y8n504Ob91y7kJ_TrP9Vzo4tcy327_mynhZM6ViuO-WtBrfFU1Vjo/s1600/1-IMG_3056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9OJLEr04nx52dD2ntpLvvO-sCZv4QkzfbN0xbhLp16GaKH6JkZyxqkeQ1j7d5PsalLpMRH7YUa0lnAUy_ePYlJ2Y8n504Ob91y7kJ_TrP9Vzo4tcy327_mynhZM6ViuO-WtBrfFU1Vjo/s320/1-IMG_3056.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1YfIMi5CaD2I_6dWWd3Ro6rFGdzksF5bL6z4udVjijJnBxbvMycPi759ElzqB6UcrwUAWU90N8ANt-GKoTNr1A5Gvv2QbzEuiHYB5oY2gW5g8WKvx7td8d8gvaUyC6gnYkBkg78V2rNA/s1600/1-IMG_3060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1YfIMi5CaD2I_6dWWd3Ro6rFGdzksF5bL6z4udVjijJnBxbvMycPi759ElzqB6UcrwUAWU90N8ANt-GKoTNr1A5Gvv2QbzEuiHYB5oY2gW5g8WKvx7td8d8gvaUyC6gnYkBkg78V2rNA/s320/1-IMG_3060.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
And thus Livvie fulfills her Daddy's prophecy of months earlier saying, "you know we will get the screaming baby, right??" We later did find out that a screaming baby is actually a GOOD sign. As it means the baby is able to attach to her caretakers (the nannies) so will have an easier time transferring that attachment to her new caretakers (us). <br />
<br />
Many have asked me if I cried when I saw her. No. She was my baby. And she was scared, and upset, and I just had to comfort her and let her know it would be alright. Crying wasn't on my schedule for that day. (now the day we left, that is another story). <br />
<br />
Within a couple of minutes, she had stopped screaming and was only giving us little sniffles. She would stick her little bottom lip out when she was feeling anxious and it was a good thermometer to know to back (the kids) off of her.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Dd75ITo8Xtb71jPppUowriBwfmHlqQpk-RPdIYIBQkSuqDn6m9tTsd0urOxn6Bz84CrXaitBciz9a41igfABdKTEcmXp64ze3xk3Wf_JkVly-7_8qop8BVwpqTZMRxtTZ3jecHyvAQE/s1600/1-DSC_0041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Dd75ITo8Xtb71jPppUowriBwfmHlqQpk-RPdIYIBQkSuqDn6m9tTsd0urOxn6Bz84CrXaitBciz9a41igfABdKTEcmXp64ze3xk3Wf_JkVly-7_8qop8BVwpqTZMRxtTZ3jecHyvAQE/s320/1-DSC_0041.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRFU9YxTdPStlMDqGHJXkLAx3lKwaIVygjiRZw3zwu6udUaUNAXfqLKzky_cHrud1ZMFu6JQ4WjiVVefDLosWwtdSlwrSUAEZsmfUSF42QMN6bp0duDtkGBfwDDVQMaCsY2Hofkopn2Q8/s1600/1-DSC_0055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRFU9YxTdPStlMDqGHJXkLAx3lKwaIVygjiRZw3zwu6udUaUNAXfqLKzky_cHrud1ZMFu6JQ4WjiVVefDLosWwtdSlwrSUAEZsmfUSF42QMN6bp0duDtkGBfwDDVQMaCsY2Hofkopn2Q8/s320/1-DSC_0055.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We emptied out her baby bag - trying puffs, rattles, squeaky toys. She would look at each one but really had no interest in playing with anything at all. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHpVx8CioqiBmx4CUrwel7N-kAjWUUy2lqLHeQzdaeurAU2L3jslKxtxW8GTd_GFoEwGm9hYm_dFNLCqDcWe0M37oSr_lpYA7jn1vKndimv3lI43VNe3eVNn8-1r-IEGWoZWTY5gEtqbE/s1600/1-DSC_0069-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHpVx8CioqiBmx4CUrwel7N-kAjWUUy2lqLHeQzdaeurAU2L3jslKxtxW8GTd_GFoEwGm9hYm_dFNLCqDcWe0M37oSr_lpYA7jn1vKndimv3lI43VNe3eVNn8-1r-IEGWoZWTY5gEtqbE/s320/1-DSC_0069-1.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I was able to get a few quick little half smiles. Progress for only an hour in. And she easily fell asleep on Daddy after he fed her some kind of gruel they brought her. Their food usually looked like some kind of porridge, or smashed pasta bits with carrots, tomatoes, and onions. And usually didn't smell so hot... SO tired (him, not her). </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuUWcqZQuLDLK6aSFOJiCY0FYGndFbTY0ni09pEMRQgdIZkSv_inhMwxGaTXun4h1Eg_C1OeWt2Z6PnJKWKkMynB3xsWVthEc_xj99HG4YEoa-VSlBYw_tKLmJx72_yHx6LQ-dWSU94is/s1600/1-DSC_0084-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuUWcqZQuLDLK6aSFOJiCY0FYGndFbTY0ni09pEMRQgdIZkSv_inhMwxGaTXun4h1Eg_C1OeWt2Z6PnJKWKkMynB3xsWVthEc_xj99HG4YEoa-VSlBYw_tKLmJx72_yHx6LQ-dWSU94is/s320/1-DSC_0084-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1loiHX5-debebqwyrC-KYbQ9R261mzStrEOXY2AlFMFy2vykCh0eAzBsJ4C38UyvwEpZKk6PAcHYrSU_f7Z9qj9G0SpNnALccsOgTftH7QH8oCUDqgDbA-nhAmQlEFoG60cMVLKedv-4/s1600/1-DSC_0127-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1loiHX5-debebqwyrC-KYbQ9R261mzStrEOXY2AlFMFy2vykCh0eAzBsJ4C38UyvwEpZKk6PAcHYrSU_f7Z9qj9G0SpNnALccsOgTftH7QH8oCUDqgDbA-nhAmQlEFoG60cMVLKedv-4/s320/1-DSC_0127-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXfZc0F0goBdwguUhjl8zajInlZcg3gEKJmzZcfmKv31ZyMxzvHacp4rmiL6tg-XvmV2qlmIKvHmiuTjUYrkSTW6MP9iIHXII6vv2HWg6hyGAUXNxHRw7UrLWUsvXZhEOSy0idIrSe-E/s1600/1-DSC_0128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXfZc0F0goBdwguUhjl8zajInlZcg3gEKJmzZcfmKv31ZyMxzvHacp4rmiL6tg-XvmV2qlmIKvHmiuTjUYrkSTW6MP9iIHXII6vv2HWg6hyGAUXNxHRw7UrLWUsvXZhEOSy0idIrSe-E/s320/1-DSC_0128.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
The necklace I am wearing, I wore everyday. She would hold onto the beads as she drifted off to sleep and smell the perfume I had brought to wear everyday. I brought both back in May for her Gotcha Day, hoping she would remember them somehow and remember how much I had loved her, and how even though only 10 days later, I had left her (just like everyone else had), that I had come back. <br />
<br />
Hopefully my next post will be quicker than 6 months. As her transformation over the next several days was amazing... from orphan to daughter almost over-night. Adoption is amazing, and painful, and tiring. But so, so beautiful. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://wagest.blogspot.com/2012/03/olivia-wages-at-first-sight.html" target="_blank">Original meetcha day post</a> posted on March 5th, 2012.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-78110982519664199772013-02-04T21:43:00.000-05:002013-02-04T21:43:01.737-05:00Jobs 2 Do - my 4,584th attempt at a chore chart<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKWYSGR4lHrTosHyRm6MLJAYiGMw1uwfkjRYj7Y_fj4fYhD_ccmgDV7EImuQHrBFLynB5rddHSxut5hfp9QoirP6MThd15u6AyeV53cuS6BhH6jkNGNJl8PRgIXZdyH21tynG9EFSNTbQ/s1600/DSC_3208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKWYSGR4lHrTosHyRm6MLJAYiGMw1uwfkjRYj7Y_fj4fYhD_ccmgDV7EImuQHrBFLynB5rddHSxut5hfp9QoirP6MThd15u6AyeV53cuS6BhH6jkNGNJl8PRgIXZdyH21tynG9EFSNTbQ/s320/DSC_3208.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
FINALLY! Something that is somewhat working for chores! We have tried charts, allowances, regular weekly chores, and nothing really worked. Consistency. Consistency is something<strong> I</strong> struggle with in making them follow through. <br />
<br />
So I turned to the Meca of Mommy ideas - Pinterest. And hit gold. (so far anyway)<br />
<br />
Kirsten at <a href="http://embellishgoods.blogspot.com/2011/08/free-printable-color-coded-chore-sticks.html" target="_blank">Embellish</a> designed the sticks and her sight features a free downloadable 'chore sticks' file and <a href="http://www.whateverdeedeewants.com/search?q=chores" target="_blank">directions for making the sticks</a>. It is alot of pages with alot of chores. I choose to print only the pages that I thought we would use and instead printed several pages of blank sticks for custom chores.<br />
<br />
So with sticks, jar, and chore chart made - here's what is working for us:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>We try to have our 'draw chore' day on Sunday so that they have all week to work on them. Chores have to be done by Saturday night to get paid.</li>
<li>With three kids working at them, we have 40 main chores. 38 that are split into two piles (19 for every other week) and 2 extra that are in the jar every week (Freebee & Trade Chore sticks).</li>
<li>The kids like the freebee and trade sticks. Unless they are the kids that doesn't get the freebee or trade chore stick.</li>
<li>So it works out with us to have 21 sticks each week, or 7 each. I begin by having them each draw specific colors so the main jobs (like bathroom and kitchen) are split equally between them. They place them in their pocket on the left and when it is done, move it over to the right, also where they store their 'chore bucks'.</li>
<li>Chore bucks are in 5s and 1s - I just printed them off the internet as well. The kids get $5 a week IF they have done all of their 7 chores well. If they miss one or two chores, they are docked accordingly. </li>
<li>The reason I chose chore bucks vs. real money is that they tend to burn through real ones alot quicker. Usually on dumb stuff like gum or chips. With the chore bucks, they tend to save more. The way we work it is with my debit card. When we shop, they just know how many $$ they have and I just pay with my debit when they find something they want. Eventually, we will move to them having real money so they learn the fun of taxes eating up more than the pricetag, but for now, this is working. The bucks can also be traded for real ones if they need money for something at school or to give their tithe.</li>
<li>The spare sticks - they hang out in the can all week and can be used at mom's discretion. They are a little harder chores, like cleaning out the fridge, refolding all the clothes in your drawers, dusting all the dustboards. "You were talking really mean to your sister - go pull a chore stick". </li>
<li>I also have chores that may be room specific that I can just add to their pockets when they need to be done - vacuum your room, put your clothes away, dust your room. Things that aren't every other week chores, but need to be done asap. </li>
<li>If by Saturday, one of the kids hasn't completed one of the chores, I'll ask one of the other kids if they want to do the job and give them the $1 or $2 from kid #1. "Congratulations, you just paid your brother to vacuum the TV room". </li>
</ul>
So far, so good. The kids think it is fun to draw the sticks and are happy to finally have a real allowance again. Mom's just happy that I don't have to clean toilets for the time being. <br />
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-89908897920385880332013-01-12T00:33:00.002-05:002013-01-12T00:33:47.995-05:00To Addis Ababa we went...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So remember me saying that we had $2,000 + $5,000 = $7,000 for the kids plane tickets they had been praying so long for?? Half of what we needed. Which would really have been sweet with a BOGO deal?<br />
<br />
Ethiopian Air - if you booked <b>by</b> <b>January 31st</b>, and traveled <b>in March</b> of 2012 - you could get BOGO. Slim to none chance as we had just gotten our referral on January 9th and court dates are usually assigned two months later. <br />
<br />
We got our <a href="http://wagest.blogspot.com/2012/02/court-date.html" target="_blank">call with our court date</a> <b>on January 31st</b> at 1:30 pm.<br />
Our court date was <b>March 8th</b>, 2012. <br />
Miraculously, our 6 plane tickets costed a little less than $7,000. <br />
<br />
And to sing the praises of my wise friend Farrah - we had been contemplating getting the kids shots 'just in case' (even though we didn't have their airfare) months prior and Farrah had said, "Get the shots. Move like God has already put that money in the bank, have faith". So we did. Thankful that the Lord choose to show off a bit with minutes to spare, just so that we could laugh about his sense of humor and how it could only have been a loving God to provide such an awesome surprise. <br />
<br />
100's of dollars of shots in preparation, about 6 old and huge suitcases purchased from GoodWill, clothing sprayed down with the highest powered bug spray I could find online, and a TON of donations for the orphanages that I had been collecting for about, oh, 3 years. <br />
<br />
So it was great the kids got to go - otherwise there is no way we could have taken all those donations - toys, diapers, clothing, medicine, you name it. I wish I had charted how many hours I packed, weighed, repacked, weighed again, repeat. 50 lbs is easy to hit with heavy baby items! We each got one carry-on and 2 suitcases. (Our friend Mindy had also volunteered to go to help with the kids). This is just a <i>portion</i> of our finished pile.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3zM4HlgsLqyZiJhcU-q3yesmgdZ0cbBq3aXeQ0EodZCuUU20Lh_Oi7ReaBZ4frVoZU_rHUpXEnHII43_w0Lcgtp882-y3y6XlGhn8IKpVeLQF_yZ7ENHHpCWWlqKN_MeYv6nJyZ_XyA/s1600/100_0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3zM4HlgsLqyZiJhcU-q3yesmgdZ0cbBq3aXeQ0EodZCuUU20Lh_Oi7ReaBZ4frVoZU_rHUpXEnHII43_w0Lcgtp882-y3y6XlGhn8IKpVeLQF_yZ7ENHHpCWWlqKN_MeYv6nJyZ_XyA/s320/100_0003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The kids actually have commented how they loved flying and miss the airplane food. (I think it was the drugs I was giving them... had to be). Breakfast consisted of a bread, more bread, and a fruit cup. (can't help but think of the K & W Cafeteria ladies - "bread, bread, serve you bread??") <br />
<br />
We landed in Addis Ababa and collected our mountains and mountains of luggage. It was frankly, hilarious. To see these clumsy Americans trying to roll along carts of 12 large suitcases and 3 carry-ons, all with backpacks on their backs. We looked like the Queen going on holiday. I wanted to tell everyone staring, "really, this isn't <b>all</b> for us. I promise! We aren't this high maintenance!!"<br />
<br />
Riding through the steets of Addis Ababa, it felt like I had come home. Having been there in 2009, not much had changed on the ride from the airport. The same maneqquins that hang out in front of EVERY store. <br />
<br />
<br />
The same charcoal / car exhaust smells in the air. The sights of donkeys, goats, and sheep being led by children down the busy streets.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicOUyjRtZ8ubychxLvV1NHeTTae9ARkJoYzmTtJ3uz2vQhQOHeGj38pYpfCErkKBIMoVHom8LFbzsqegGicvxowvET816gRwP5cbYXLPhGC2rUPQ4bYuqo_NsIL1Nb2Vloq0f48ZiY6Yc/s1600/IMG_3480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicOUyjRtZ8ubychxLvV1NHeTTae9ARkJoYzmTtJ3uz2vQhQOHeGj38pYpfCErkKBIMoVHom8LFbzsqegGicvxowvET816gRwP5cbYXLPhGC2rUPQ4bYuqo_NsIL1Nb2Vloq0f48ZiY6Yc/s320/IMG_3480.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The city is such a mish mash of old vs. new. Villas and tin shacks side by side. Internet cafes but yet a jungle of power lines criss-crossing every which way. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTIiVsXFQj4W5jp_fGPGFo5jyOS17EN7T1R4A4pXi7reXRQVjtLMqRSMn5VFs1AL-Mx881AaE7WbCD3grVxjwyPLUuq0HSz9ZKh5LxmcKxsnIi0sldJTdkcRtz9YGMWPabGygc5AAQQM/s1600/DSC_0165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTIiVsXFQj4W5jp_fGPGFo5jyOS17EN7T1R4A4pXi7reXRQVjtLMqRSMn5VFs1AL-Mx881AaE7WbCD3grVxjwyPLUuq0HSz9ZKh5LxmcKxsnIi0sldJTdkcRtz9YGMWPabGygc5AAQQM/s320/DSC_0165.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDU2qURcSurLq5E97IygUyN9tCagprVwrduJvKBijl7Ja-p4_IRIiRpDGivx12lDBYiglJAYKVdFqnRdx6NgecLcnxAfSrL616XEvoY90kr9lnGEY5Ju95BI2LyE7RV7dg1tVjHBn4dM/s1600/IMG_3273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDU2qURcSurLq5E97IygUyN9tCagprVwrduJvKBijl7Ja-p4_IRIiRpDGivx12lDBYiglJAYKVdFqnRdx6NgecLcnxAfSrL616XEvoY90kr9lnGEY5Ju95BI2LyE7RV7dg1tVjHBn4dM/s320/IMG_3273.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Half finished buildings are everywhere. It's like they start a big project and run out of money before completion...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-ANJ24VfeH9hETmFtSGGNkZtcTIK5-ZA3HnRAX_6d_A039NZ01-lwfD7sLS_Rfo9lTXzjBKOs_8_4CgseRtXYP63fmSoxLpVI8KZ0SyYNcBZNMdTNRt0bfDu_Exv2wS-lhyphenhyphenbBDI9yug/s1600/IMG_3214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-ANJ24VfeH9hETmFtSGGNkZtcTIK5-ZA3HnRAX_6d_A039NZ01-lwfD7sLS_Rfo9lTXzjBKOs_8_4CgseRtXYP63fmSoxLpVI8KZ0SyYNcBZNMdTNRt0bfDu_Exv2wS-lhyphenhyphenbBDI9yug/s320/IMG_3214.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Raw meat hanging for sale in store front windows. Our guide said that it can stay there for a day and still 'be alright to eat'. I'll take his word for it....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxhC32wjyV66UR9TM9k6as5yBq21CjPscYUmVLjX1LIqDHaZOD7IFJWnEr8ti4AxaWKZVhmQmhQUfgkJg6oTXeHnQSOS1vQ270ROCLe1Oxg8rrzdEmqXVOOMSYNJ4PHzugLqrdmUWtJS8/s1600/IMG_3147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxhC32wjyV66UR9TM9k6as5yBq21CjPscYUmVLjX1LIqDHaZOD7IFJWnEr8ti4AxaWKZVhmQmhQUfgkJg6oTXeHnQSOS1vQ270ROCLe1Oxg8rrzdEmqXVOOMSYNJ4PHzugLqrdmUWtJS8/s320/IMG_3147.JPG" width="275" /></a></div>
<br />
And those on the streets - Kids on the streets just laying around, or flocking our van signing 'eat, eat, mama - eat??'. Teens on the streets busy shining shoes or holding their boxes in hopes of a customer. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz15PLmDryMImuPLsJ9ZS6bRmk_H0p6wtvLEicTuRGYZUtHkfzcnrFSb_h7BnnrM1AHWatOkI7MaySRvpDO5Mn7h723jw_BymEuUdtEQUSSTOg_0r4shnRoMIL3XvGc1k1GzmdGLK30lo/s1600/IMG_3467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz15PLmDryMImuPLsJ9ZS6bRmk_H0p6wtvLEicTuRGYZUtHkfzcnrFSb_h7BnnrM1AHWatOkI7MaySRvpDO5Mn7h723jw_BymEuUdtEQUSSTOg_0r4shnRoMIL3XvGc1k1GzmdGLK30lo/s320/IMG_3467.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9pLPBxL1lpIv4bbn28PndlYIEubSp2QQ4t9-1bBTULTPMloF3UjBNy_bdwBHpYMUiA1FQtJj32aoxj_HRXzq2PwPN-o73rEegfn8DwbiYleD-uzO0W6SIbrI9yYuL_4FAIBuWgfHTeY/s1600/IMG_3465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9pLPBxL1lpIv4bbn28PndlYIEubSp2QQ4t9-1bBTULTPMloF3UjBNy_bdwBHpYMUiA1FQtJj32aoxj_HRXzq2PwPN-o73rEegfn8DwbiYleD-uzO0W6SIbrI9yYuL_4FAIBuWgfHTeY/s320/IMG_3465.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Mothers with babies begging for coins. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5luTsANRFGSmD5wAGmtt2RA0Jnkts17xKxBGC_zyNhfhgt35_I1agewBmXxSH_L8ofowOxh0F1kPtw2mVp79TFJRJaA0INLWg0Vt6XLoTKx3oKorSYeX5f6ql96i1jhVX_a-Xj4JGI90/s1600/IMG_3553.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5luTsANRFGSmD5wAGmtt2RA0Jnkts17xKxBGC_zyNhfhgt35_I1agewBmXxSH_L8ofowOxh0F1kPtw2mVp79TFJRJaA0INLWg0Vt6XLoTKx3oKorSYeX5f6ql96i1jhVX_a-Xj4JGI90/s320/IMG_3553.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Traffic is crazy busy with an unspoken rule of drive fast, pass quickly, and somehow miss the millions of walking pedestrians. There is a lot of beeping going on as well. Beeping your horn can mean a host of things - and somehow the drivers understand their meanings like a mother understands her baby's cry. There are no stoplights, or stop signs. Just speed and quick turns down the hundreds of little bumpy streets. Paved and unpaved. We were amazed we didn't see a hundred accidents with the way we sped down the streets and pushed the nose of the car into traffic until we gained right of way. It is a finely tuned instrument I suppose. One I hope to never have to play on my own...<br />
<br />
Disabled dodge in and out of
this crazy traffic begging...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfqPlWuFwYTwLVRFbugz6rRUDs05_4OBudBhqsEq6scFTCXV4awbozAiuBwgh2Q7V5sK-Z4_gnjkasJE3eYD__zHgryZyD5CS37vjHpqqfDMzu7_aljTGZwzv0zydhP1dKKd8oNB4AnCw/s1600/IMG_3474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfqPlWuFwYTwLVRFbugz6rRUDs05_4OBudBhqsEq6scFTCXV4awbozAiuBwgh2Q7V5sK-Z4_gnjkasJE3eYD__zHgryZyD5CS37vjHpqqfDMzu7_aljTGZwzv0zydhP1dKKd8oNB4AnCw/s320/IMG_3474.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And it wasn't unusual at all to see someone
sleeping (or using the bathroom) in the middle of a median. Thankfully, I think the kids missed the latter of the two... <br />
<br />
We kept seeing tiny boxes we assumed are living quarters. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGpfFXABPPNj_jGKW10J6QXQPqJQdtKt0MzUm9cpmHY_tkOvN9cObswXV2qSXvs56hd6gewbvKKSoQ3tWlXp__uX0USHd1tqmFhrzOUiLu8eAdfJjtuW6k0wvCF89QCrN4clGhjRlDCcs/s1600/IMG_3482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGpfFXABPPNj_jGKW10J6QXQPqJQdtKt0MzUm9cpmHY_tkOvN9cObswXV2qSXvs56hd6gewbvKKSoQ3tWlXp__uX0USHd1tqmFhrzOUiLu8eAdfJjtuW6k0wvCF89QCrN4clGhjRlDCcs/s320/IMG_3482.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
And tiny patchwork tin shacks we know held entire families. And wondered how they
withstood the rainy season when sheets of rain flood the city...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxwT718zcq9DHWuiZih7MNsJElYrndu8S7xYYsb8Pkl5H7p72dj58jGhPp3yy9DiUtDxb8Sxafo0aBRYd3CbzhRQqRS4IggIvWaGzsUBFPZOKDLfboPEQ_-3SiKI75_clNsmI87B1Hou8/s1600/IMG_3533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxwT718zcq9DHWuiZih7MNsJElYrndu8S7xYYsb8Pkl5H7p72dj58jGhPp3yy9DiUtDxb8Sxafo0aBRYd3CbzhRQqRS4IggIvWaGzsUBFPZOKDLfboPEQ_-3SiKI75_clNsmI87B1Hou8/s320/IMG_3533.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Gorgeous homes that seemed so out of place dotted the city as well. Most had high walls with broke glass across the top as security systems. And most were next door to the tiny tin shacks like above.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYDbTbiCLXQqABOULg6w7tGukbhl9jg6OINSbjiHZt8yQCQd-K935Y-rKTcnfrD7FgFmGd7UDCLiDopKqrQIfDGn0twsd7HzkTXE-GwEnnaDr-i_wVxr0edBRC_hCdWzN0GvrMSeJ8es0/s1600/P1030915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYDbTbiCLXQqABOULg6w7tGukbhl9jg6OINSbjiHZt8yQCQd-K935Y-rKTcnfrD7FgFmGd7UDCLiDopKqrQIfDGn0twsd7HzkTXE-GwEnnaDr-i_wVxr0edBRC_hCdWzN0GvrMSeJ8es0/s320/P1030915.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And over my 2 trips - what became my favorite landmarks -<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The familiar Coca-Cola store</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeAMhLlT8LGPSrLtUdFYh5bChyphenhyphen95dj0vuuvm6V-m1_-9-vBBgPHamGYJBEINeNDD8j8WQ1M3kWAY4ZuHlYsxX73ffjryUHi5gpuNmYWW0iNQmBW9JqDlzfUl4JOuT3TdN-JotYXPQ2XY/s1600/DSC_0631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeAMhLlT8LGPSrLtUdFYh5bChyphenhyphen95dj0vuuvm6V-m1_-9-vBBgPHamGYJBEINeNDD8j8WQ1M3kWAY4ZuHlYsxX73ffjryUHi5gpuNmYWW0iNQmBW9JqDlzfUl4JOuT3TdN-JotYXPQ2XY/s320/DSC_0631.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<i>The 'Tupperware' store.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-dZvDQjvqekqvrMje0mSUi2bwlNCRm4Gjv_2SKc1Bn42IoZEc7pQ8HzZvCiyP2hcoxiLluqQFqDxZl1ShHGfIi-IJzOB5DFUYVyz9Fx8Au8BFWhjEXnDmSqfGQq_xcy7LS4yiukW1cY/s1600/DSC_0632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-dZvDQjvqekqvrMje0mSUi2bwlNCRm4Gjv_2SKc1Bn42IoZEc7pQ8HzZvCiyP2hcoxiLluqQFqDxZl1ShHGfIi-IJzOB5DFUYVyz9Fx8Au8BFWhjEXnDmSqfGQq_xcy7LS4yiukW1cY/s320/DSC_0632.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Again, I thank God my kids were able to see a world where everyone doesn't own a car, kids walk to school in torn and ratty uniforms, children lay around on the streets as their parents can't afford for them to go to school at all. Because although my photos are interesting, there is no way I can describe or help you to picture such a land without seeing it. As I once told someone, we see these photos and they are but snapshots of a land far away. A photo in a frame. But to realize that the reality is, they are not singular shots, but a moving narrative that continues on, and on, and on. The pictures of poverty never ended. Those in Ethiopia cannot just 'leave the bad part of town' and resettle, as this is their everyday life. And yet, it has a rare beauty in it's simplicity.<br />
<br />
We later left the city for the countryside for a whole other view. The beauty of this land is amazing and the contrasts in city/country and new/old stood out even more with each mile our bumpy van raced down the mountain, away from the capital, Addis Ababa, and into the true country of Ethiopia.<br />
<br />
But that is a story for later..... <br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-62386476260081329112013-01-08T22:08:00.000-05:002013-01-08T22:08:44.869-05:00The Unwritten Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This week has been a week of memories. Remembering how depressed I was this time last year as we sat at #1 on the waiting list for 2 months, and had just missed another Christmas without our baby. Remembering how many walks I went on on Friday afternoons, praying for that blasted phone to ring. <br />
<br />
And then Sunday, our pastor mentions taking that first step. Walking in faith. When God says move, making that move so that you don't miss the story he has for you. And I wanted to jump up and run to the front to say "that was us!! that's our story!!! It was hard, it was long, but it was worth it to take that step!" <br />
<br />
And then another friend asked our story and I wanted to point her here - until I realized that in all the hard, long days of last year - I really didn't write our story. Sure, I wrote the prelude but our actual story was lost in the excitement of 2 trips to Africa and bringing a new baby home. <br />
<br />
So here is my attempt to journal the story I forgot to write. And if I have 2 readers still left after my months of no blogging - here ya go.<br />
-------------------------------------------------- <br />
<br />
During the months and months of us waiting, the kids had been begging to go with us to Africa. Knowing that tickets are around $1,400-2,000 a piece, I told them what any mom would tell a kid asking for $2000 X 3. PRAY.<br />
<br />
Pray for God to give you the money to go. Because we sure don't have it. So they prayed. Like every night. They even set up little lemonade stands asking for donations. (I pity anyone on our block who received a dirty little cup of cheap Minute Maid Lemonade - but thank you for being sweet and helping my kids fly to Africa). I told them, "if God wants you to go, he'll provide the money. IF he doesn't, then we'll know that HE knew that if you were to go, you might get sick, or really sad, or hurt. And we'll know he wanted to keep you safe at home." <br />
<br />
A couple months before our referral, we got the most unexpected gift from precious friends who donated $2000 specifically for our kids plane tickets. They were saving for their own adoption but felt the Holy Spirit telling them to donate toward our kids as it was 'investing in their spiritual growth'. Who knows what our kids will accomplish with this knowledge of missions so early?? <br />
<br />
And $2000 was wonderful, and unexpected, and so, so generous. But a far cry from the $6000 we needed just for them. $14,000 for all of us to go. <br />
<br />
And then we found out Tony's job had an adoption stipend for adopting state employees. For $5000. So, work with me here - $2,000 + $5,000 = $7,000. Half way there. <br />
<br />
Half way. Which would be perfect if tickets were half off. Which they were, IF you booked by January 1st and traveled in March. What were the odds?? We didn't even have a referral yet. (hold that thought)<br />
<br />
Tomorrow is our one year anniversary of our referral day. And looking back, in my frenzied state, I didn't set up the scene well enough for you. <br />
<br />
I get the call, miss the call, call her back and we can't get Tony on the line. <br />
I race to the courthouse where he was working. Race up the front steps and run through security. Seeing another deputy I tell her I need to find Tony because I have big news. She lights up and asks, "THE news???" I nod and try not to cry. We run from room to room in the courthouse looking for him - no dice. She says he must have walked a judge out so we head downstairs and out a back door.<br />
<br />
Now I'll set this movie scene up for you - one year ago - I open the door as my husband is walking up a long handicapped ramp. I run and jump in his arms and whisper in his ear, choking back tears, "we got our girl". It was so Hollywood it is crazy. <br />
<br />
Until he had to go on a top secret job interview to change police departments. 15 minutes later. So no going home just yet for Daddy.<br />
<br />
Have I reminded you yet that it's about an hour since I got the call and I still haven't seen my baby's picture or know her name yet??<br />
<br />
I race to Seth's school where I ask to sign him out. I go to the front and wait a stinky for.ever when he comes walking down the hall. He sees me and mouths 'a referral????" He runs and jumps to hug me. <br />
<br />
We both go to the elementary school and I ask to sign Braeden and Addison out. Addi arrives through the door first and I hug her and say "we got your baby!" To which she says "Where????"<br />
<br />
Braeden comes through the doors with HUGE eyes. He takes one look at me and says, "Did we get a referral??" When I nod yes - he jumps to hug me and for some reason (I later see on the video), I lift up my arms and he completely hugs thin air. Whoops, middle child. I completely stiffed you of your hug and I will forever hate that when I smile at your face when you found out. <br />
<br />
We go home, set up the video camera and about 30 minutes later Daddy
FINALLY arrives home. New job in hand, and we all sit together on the
couch and open the emails with her photos. These photos: <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmDsYOdLIGfrD9cascQqkA647u24vR9ELw0_nVv6lkoyaRNH_sMO4cbS9u4KgF-5VuOsvtqOqOSUzpxwJtJ2n4byhRb91Td2IqcaupJzZuL_JzdTjCU-FLXDACNJQnLvMQ7hiUFzT-1tU/s1600/Selamawit+Referral+Photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmDsYOdLIGfrD9cascQqkA647u24vR9ELw0_nVv6lkoyaRNH_sMO4cbS9u4KgF-5VuOsvtqOqOSUzpxwJtJ2n4byhRb91Td2IqcaupJzZuL_JzdTjCU-FLXDACNJQnLvMQ7hiUFzT-1tU/s320/Selamawit+Referral+Photo+1.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaeRTQHidCIKgY2InLIHucFuzqdjFBJOwoqGzZI5W4bscYBjXO961HMHAiY-NXxSA5YVXx3MZvRjz9wsA48PH8hqsOA3spoKLXPl3-ON6dNMmnA6sOZP0G6E066qRCPjmx8zZDfmavIX0/s1600/Selamawit+Referral+Photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaeRTQHidCIKgY2InLIHucFuzqdjFBJOwoqGzZI5W4bscYBjXO961HMHAiY-NXxSA5YVXx3MZvRjz9wsA48PH8hqsOA3spoKLXPl3-ON6dNMmnA6sOZP0G6E066qRCPjmx8zZDfmavIX0/s320/Selamawit+Referral+Photo+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB1-eC6-CRCuZJBMZ11pUPcMtxX5c7N8aHu1e5814cIBK2emOLyVbAZkfxEgs6NgDqmhRXdxeTxWN0R0ccbHWi9LOoBXQYnv8ESFbdFGxjHggjM1AkAy-gWfvNt3BvZQJe_lrg5YqAOck/s1600/Selamawit+Referral+Photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB1-eC6-CRCuZJBMZ11pUPcMtxX5c7N8aHu1e5814cIBK2emOLyVbAZkfxEgs6NgDqmhRXdxeTxWN0R0ccbHWi9LOoBXQYnv8ESFbdFGxjHggjM1AkAy-gWfvNt3BvZQJe_lrg5YqAOck/s320/Selamawit+Referral+Photo+3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
She looked so sad. And SO big. A week before, a friend of mine had told us she saw them taking pictures of a 3 months old with long, curly hair. I had just sent a 3 month outfit in a care package to Ethiopia with a friend. This was NOT that tiny 3 month old I had pictured in my mind. <br />
<br />
But then I printed her photos out. And took the middle one to my room that night to place on my dresser. I placed it right beside a painting an adoption friend had sent to me ONE week before to try to cheer me up. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09D8aM4KzEyKCFenGYXHuXLfw-FnLsaqHKw54WYg7jpdwtsxvGOnlVtVMQLAdsw1NbftnUe966dnwwCCB0bYg6TKIs_7BLMcRxnJ7sXjY-j7WtVZCBNzfU5p8-VmzQR6ziX85bHf3Guc/s1600/OliviaPainting.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09D8aM4KzEyKCFenGYXHuXLfw-FnLsaqHKw54WYg7jpdwtsxvGOnlVtVMQLAdsw1NbftnUe966dnwwCCB0bYg6TKIs_7BLMcRxnJ7sXjY-j7WtVZCBNzfU5p8-VmzQR6ziX85bHf3Guc/s320/OliviaPainting.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
And once again I knew that God had this all under control. <br />
<br />
And this my friends, is just the beginning of the rest of the story.... <br />
<br />
.....to be continued......<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-80875451156168780202012-08-27T21:56:00.002-04:002012-08-27T21:56:34.424-04:00Seamless Transition<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"it is so, so rare that I see a child who transitions so seamlessly" -- these, my friends were the words of our social worker at our first post-adoption visit.<br />
<br />
Oh.my.word. I was all smiles, all day. As I told Tony, yes - I knew she was doing good. But to hear it from a professional, that made it so much more real!<br />
<br />
(and in answer to the question I am getting quite frequently - 'why more home study visits, she isn't yours yet? can they still take her away?' NO. She is legally ours, although we needed this homestudy report to re-adopt in the states to change her name to Olivia as it is still Selamawit legally. The visits are more to check on us and see if we have any questions, need any support - and more importantly - will be sent on to Ethiopia to let them know their child is in a loving home.)<br />
<br />
Our social worker also kept saying "I am just in shock!" at her bonding, her words, her following any direction we gave her. And I think we have been a little in shock as well. And don't think for a second this is due to us being great parents, because there are tons of parents way more patient and wise than Tony and I who are still having difficulties adjusting with their little ones. I just think God knew that we needed an easy adoption, as I had thrown enough temper tantrums during the 3 years leading up to her! I think he may have been tired of hearing me whine. <br />
<br />
So back to our rare child... and rare she is!! <br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(these facts are more for my future reference than yours but feel free to read on or scroll down for some videos of our little ham!) </span><br />
<br />
- At one day in my care, she would not go to my sister or mom and would scream outside my bathroom door or at the door of the shower. How did she know I was hers and not my sister??<br />
- On day two, she pulled away from the nannies who have been taking care of her for 5 months when they reached for her.<br />
<br />
At 4 months:<br />
- she is toddling - everywhere! Climbing steps, sitting on her bum to scoot back down them. Climbing up on stairs.<br />
- she is eating - everything! Fruit, pasta, pieces of meat, some veggies.<br />
- she is signing - A TON! She is using the signs: milk, dog, eat, cold, bird, water, music, butterfly, please, cookie, sleep. And for the first time today, looked at me and signed "LOVE + YOU"!!!<br />
- she is talking - ALOT. She can say on her own: dada, mama, (ba)nana, Addi, Nana, cookie, baby, water, up, down, Papaw, dog, no, ow, diaper, hat, hot, hello (for the phone), book, bath.<br />
<br />
- I kinda gave her a speech test to see where she ranked and she was above average. At 2 months home :)<br />
<br />
Lil sis is just so, so much fun. And so, so loud. Her words are loud enough for the neighbors to hear. ESPECIALLY in a restaurant or church. If it's quiet - she feels it is her duty to be loud. <br />
<br />
We have still seen a little bit of 'adoptive child' reactions but they are getting better. She was originally scared to death of average sized men. She would climb me like a scared cat if a young guy came in the room. This hasn't happened in a while. She had done great for 2 Sundays in the church nursery so on visit #3 I didn't check on her after 5 min of her doing fine. I came back to find her doing her 'sniffling' really, really upset cry. The remainder of that week she was SO clingy and didn't want me to leave the room. And she is sort of that way after a week of me working a lot. In the evenings, she just wants me to hold her - which is kind of hard with 3 others who have homework and need to eat. Showers have gotten better with her now sitting at my feet vs. screaming at my feet to be picked up. Ever try washing your hair with one hand and a toddler on your hip?? Not the easiest thing ever!!<br />
<br />
Here are a couple videos to make you smile :) Cause we do most of the day and we ought to share a little....<br />
<br /></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/gtjFaXaIfoY" width="420"></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/9BKR13dyYhE" width="560"></iframe></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-37148861872801999002012-07-22T01:02:00.000-04:002012-07-22T01:02:25.153-04:00'You outta write a book....'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
.... except for the minor fact that I haven't been able to effectively write a simple blog post since bringing home Lil' Olivia - much less start a huge undertaking such as a book. Lil' Miss HATES the computer. If I sit down in front of one, it doesn't matter what she was doing - her mission is to do her little drunk lady walk over to me and whine to be picked up. <br />
<br />
But, I've now been told I should write a book around 7 times in the last several months. Usually it is right after I hear the question 'What made you decide to adopt from Ethiopia?' and I commence to exhibit diarrhea of the mouth with my 5 minute prepared service announcement regarding how we got on and sailed down (in the rough waters) our path of adoption and God's provision on getting us there.. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">See 'our story' to the right for said announcement</span>.<br />
<br />
(oh, and 8 people if you count Braeden, out of the blue, telling me I should write a children's book. Which is a little more tempting as 10 lines vs. 4,587 lines just seems a little easier...)<br />
<br />
SO. With that said - I am here to make amends and write a simple blog post. Just to show myself I still can. <br />
<br />
<b>Olivia and the last 2 months</b> --- what can I say besides amazing, miraculous, surprising??<br />
<br />
To adopt we (as in me) had to read a couple books (and then give Tony the Cliff notes version), take a web course, and go through about 12 hours of training with our social worker. Nothing prepared me for our little princess.. because she is completely a horse of a different color. So far anyway.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ3CmD1cTkMoAKsO7e-j5lWely55KhdBxtq5nKHDg3-qCUcTESvvXCekE1MBtzzSjlRIPOCeOsL0Zq733YTzA1_ruwS9mI8eXAJnxnDzbSlAbhd8iX-o4RGcV_IkEJWla7dlrfTQFJYiU/s1600/DSC_0038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ3CmD1cTkMoAKsO7e-j5lWely55KhdBxtq5nKHDg3-qCUcTESvvXCekE1MBtzzSjlRIPOCeOsL0Zq733YTzA1_ruwS9mI8eXAJnxnDzbSlAbhd8iX-o4RGcV_IkEJWla7dlrfTQFJYiU/s320/DSC_0038.JPG" width="212" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1AXnrw1OXABPwADgye-nKoyLEex4ZNPrOvOamrG39hMW1IYpyYBgV8sSkZl0X_0kyLMUFt9LAE_gh8uvZjqDAd2SgHRMUQxLbLP30aTI8J94iEs-J3fqPgbUqeB23UyxiElyMT_Hsk6o/s1600/DSC_0005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1AXnrw1OXABPwADgye-nKoyLEex4ZNPrOvOamrG39hMW1IYpyYBgV8sSkZl0X_0kyLMUFt9LAE_gh8uvZjqDAd2SgHRMUQxLbLP30aTI8J94iEs-J3fqPgbUqeB23UyxiElyMT_Hsk6o/s320/DSC_0005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Princesses First Birthday Pics - 1 Month HOME</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I expected long nights of her up screaming and refusing to be comforted by us. Kicking or pushing us away. I didn't expect, from night one, her searching for us and waking just to make sure we were still there. Wanting us to pick her up and cuddle her back to sleep.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2U5mvHftispkQrHGkbKtUBxWWv6jP_FlJDUEDuOivnrKD4kUzrv2oH91DYXouNiY18pOgknlPnHVD3HWy4gpCK8Gt06sRJyrX6Apg30bYwpi-wZqVfysrfUPjbAzS7n64CpSB_oxdtwM/s1600/P1030770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2U5mvHftispkQrHGkbKtUBxWWv6jP_FlJDUEDuOivnrKD4kUzrv2oH91DYXouNiY18pOgknlPnHVD3HWy4gpCK8Gt06sRJyrX6Apg30bYwpi-wZqVfysrfUPjbAzS7n64CpSB_oxdtwM/s320/P1030770.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Our Gotcha Day - May 7th, 2012</span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I expected battles over food with bottles and spoons being pushed away. I didn't expect this child to eat anything I put in front of her. Even salmon cakes. And spinach. And no, you do not need to call DSS on me. I've given her french fries and she had her first taste of cotton candy yesterday as well thankyouverymuch.<br />
<br />
I expected the need to 'cocoon' and limit our outings for a couple months. I didn't expect her to be completely at ease at church, sleepovers out of state, at the beach or movies. As long as we are near her, she is at home and perfectly content to be there. Now those first few days, me walking into the bathroom or shower resulted in complete melt-downs. And I currently still usually have a little one at my feet in the shower or face to face with me while I'm in the bathroom. A little TMI? Hey, every mother reading this knows what I'm talking about!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MxSxCmEcIO1Xj2QGUvzLMZntlBA0HicCPlc-KW5wvFQ0yfiIGsQ6CrxIiWWT2qDf57NGpykFrASMAIHf2nH3QLsjxDei-HMS3MCeMsyOoLbBOt6Hb46TH9vFHgLTK1R2K9G2YJgr2Vo/s1600/DSC_1204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MxSxCmEcIO1Xj2QGUvzLMZntlBA0HicCPlc-KW5wvFQ0yfiIGsQ6CrxIiWWT2qDf57NGpykFrASMAIHf2nH3QLsjxDei-HMS3MCeMsyOoLbBOt6Hb46TH9vFHgLTK1R2K9G2YJgr2Vo/s320/DSC_1204.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Our happy little American citizen in Washington, DC</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I expected the need to make sure we were the only ones to comfort her, feed her, attend to her needs. The need to make sure she knows that WE are her mommy and daddy. And not every other adult. I didn't expect her to reject the nannies on our second day of having her, or push away from every Ethiopian that spoke to her on the plane. I didn't expect her to plaster herself against me when someone puts out their arms to hold her. Or to now, 2 months later, be comfortable enough to go to others for brief moments before wanting me again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOz_dalHMHsOSkbptyXnOEXaWB8xFdjLJARWPSpln8cFCVbDqZTnwdXeSnpOc6CdSv7c083NAwf-qehOict3bgB4tFCIEojCFNvmwHgYpWjRf8Haa_F_okPcuEw35B5KlkIKKZZS55q94/s1600/DSC_0078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOz_dalHMHsOSkbptyXnOEXaWB8xFdjLJARWPSpln8cFCVbDqZTnwdXeSnpOc6CdSv7c083NAwf-qehOict3bgB4tFCIEojCFNvmwHgYpWjRf8Haa_F_okPcuEw35B5KlkIKKZZS55q94/s320/DSC_0078.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Our airport welcome crew, minus the photographers I absolutely love for dragging their children 2 hours just to show us some love - Keely and Farrah.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I guess my biggest surprise is how I expected how HARD the adjustment would be. But once again, God showed me that 'He's got this'. He knew that with 3 other kids, and my lack of the patience he had been trying to teach me the last 3 years - I might need a tiny bit of 'simple'. If you can say mothering 4 children is simple. (I expect the tougher times to begin hitting around this time next year at age 2.) And yes, we have had the adjustment of getting up earlier, adjusting to a new baby and all the related paraphernalia.. but really, it's just like we woke up on May 13th, the morning after we came home - and our one year old baby was standing up with her cheesy grin in the crib beside us. As if she had been there forever. She knows we are hers, and we know she is ours. And it just fits perfectly and is more beautiful than I could describe in a simple blog post anyway. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQzCM6pospmQce93ZtiJAmZmUBaj_GoqRmDZ0Bs4lwjq05oljpzilwkJ50JSEkGQX-GtYzFMfKYNBXTRQKW3tyAmA40WbsUt5oV4MXTUiHmAvUzBk4U7XBfJmWinPRUHS61iVus6Aurg/s1600/DSC_1299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQzCM6pospmQce93ZtiJAmZmUBaj_GoqRmDZ0Bs4lwjq05oljpzilwkJ50JSEkGQX-GtYzFMfKYNBXTRQKW3tyAmA40WbsUt5oV4MXTUiHmAvUzBk4U7XBfJmWinPRUHS61iVus6Aurg/s320/DSC_1299.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Miss Personality at 10 days home.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnRDhqnos-j65MPAJMRbumII7fn-ikyPPyPF7Gs04y8tOWNVm8kDvJgoHXbZqcmbuKfRkgQgCrpG2I9D09fIBepemXEIDwbxCdSJIldnryYEme9dcxixPta00k6_Cbb4WzRXzJk23pKM/s1600/DSC_1479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnRDhqnos-j65MPAJMRbumII7fn-ikyPPyPF7Gs04y8tOWNVm8kDvJgoHXbZqcmbuKfRkgQgCrpG2I9D09fIBepemXEIDwbxCdSJIldnryYEme9dcxixPta00k6_Cbb4WzRXzJk23pKM/s320/DSC_1479.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>As a post script, let me say that NOT all adoptions work out this simply at first. And it doesn't mean they aren't God-willed. And it doesn't mean that they are any less of a parent than I am or that their precious new one is any less of an angel than ours. It just means that God knew they had more patience than I and could handle the more complicated cases while we still needed the preschooler's course in adoption. </i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-42317165607741058052012-06-30T01:28:00.000-04:002012-06-30T01:28:29.941-04:0030-some years old<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In the early hours of my 30-somethingish birthday, someone may have over-indulged on my brew of choice and drank a little too much Mt. Dew with her cheap pizza tonight. A party animal I am..<br />
<br />
So reflection/confession time. <br />
<br />
Things you may not know about me:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I HATE my birthdays. Like really hate. I don't know why but I am so uncomfortable with the attention and would rather the day went by unnoticed. I think it is because having a summer birthday, most of my friends were usually at the beach and it was all the expectation of presents or 'Happy Birthday, I just miss you soooo much!' calls that never came and the downer after. </li>
<li> I also HATE singing the 'Happy Birthday song'. My children have been blessed to have their Daddy sing it or it would never be started and nobody would know when to blow the blasted candle out. Thank goodness I make really, like <i>really</i>, good cakes.</li>
<li>I have yet to see a psychiatrist for my Happy Birthday phobia. And I'm dealing with it fine, thank you very much.</li>
<li>Voted 'most changed since junior high as I went from a homely little one who was said to look like 'a little owl' and had never been given a boy's Swatch watch to wear (HUGE let-down in the day), to the Vice President of Student Council.</li>
<li>Worked at Sonic as a car-hop, without the skates. It was required I learn in 2 weeks after hiring but after falling on my tail too many times, I risked firing as I turned my white skates in with a 'no thank you note'. Thank goodness I was hot so they let me stay on and drink free Cherry Lime-Aids to my heart's content.</li>
<li>Did the beauty pageant wave in 3 home-town parades on the back of a convertible mustang. </li>
<li>Participated in 2 pageants - one of which I won (with only two competitors) and was crowned 'Miss BBQ Queen'. The other of which <b>had</b> to be rigged cause I didn't even place runner-up. Still a little bitter bout that one.</li>
<li>If I show you my owl pictures and my pageant pictures you would swear I was a liar. I can promise you that. I was a reality make-over show before reality make-over shows came on every other hour on cable tv.</li>
<li>I fell in puppy love with a jock who was my bus driver and sat behind him drooling over his shoulder every day of my sophomore year. Shocker is that my pageant days had not yet hit and he still flirted with the little owl anyway.</li>
<li>Even more a shocker was that the bus driver turned Navy Sailor would come and visit the non-skating-Sonic-carhop who was now hot on his weekends off. </li>
<li>Even more a shocker was that we got married between my Junior and Senior years of college at a party school. Was I <i>trying</i> to throw away my free pass at being-an-idiot-years??</li>
</ul>
So in my last 15-17 adult years I have pretty successfully:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>married my high school crush, and stayed married to him - SCORE</li>
<li>Made it through graduate school as a married student who never saw her new husband, and <i>still</i> stayed married to him - SCORE++ </li>
<li>Been pregnant and gave birth to 3 beautiful children. Each through the magical moments of epidural deliveries. And do not regret never doing it naturally. Not one iota. And my hair and make-up still looked good for after birth photos. So there. Another +. </li>
<li>Did my tour of duty in the public schools before starting my own business. Loving the work I do but hating every minute of the required paperwork and labor it takes to get paid. I think I need an epidural drip for my office chair. </li>
<li>Made three trips to Africa. The first completely 'on my own' with a group of strangers who were to become life-long friends. My longest (and only) plane ride prior had been approximately 45 minutes to Florida. On my honeymoon.</li>
<li>Fell in love with Africa and began the short, but turned out to be long, process to adopt our daughter from there. And realized that natural labors are bound to be much easier than adoption pregnancies. Why is there no option for medication in adoption labor?? oh wait, there is - it's called anti-depressants.... </li>
<li>Have realized anti-depressants are not the enemy. They help me to curb my desire to yank my eyebrows out if I have to wait too long at a stoplight during my week when Tony feels compelled to ask 'are you PMSing!!!!' Why yes, hubs, yes I am. Did the chocolate ring around my mouth give it away??</li>
<li>Have realized that said chocolate doesn't fall off my thighs as easily in 2010's as it did in the 2000's. Dang it.</li>
</ul>
<br />
I have also realized that I am the daughter of a King. A fact I think I somehow missed in my early years. I thought I was good to go to the party but really was one of the virgins stuck outside the gates with a lamp with no oil. (Matt 25:9-11 for an explanation of the virgin reference) <br />
<br />
And my only regret <span style="font-size: x-small;">(besides letting Dave Ramsey advise us to move our deductibles really high before a hailstorm which wrecked our cars and roof..)</span> is that I started it all so late in the game...<br />
<br />
How much more could I have done if my passion, or light, had been lit earlier? How many more miracles could I have been able to witness had I opened my eyes earlier? <br />
How many more friends, true friends, could I have made if I had searched them out sooner?<br />
How would my life have changed if I had let loose and given it over to HIM at a younger age?<br />
<br />
Somehow I don't think things would be much different because one thing that it did take me 3 years in the adoption race to learn is that HIS TIMING IS PERFECT and patience is hard learned. So I guess He has me right where he wants me and the above bullets are exactly where he wanted 'em to be...<br />
<br />
just wondering where the next 20 years may take me. Cause my fire is lit now, and I pray that my path will be as well. <br />
<br />
Happy Birthday to me... if I celebrated birthdays that is.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-56813865816780300372012-06-26T21:07:00.001-04:002012-07-25T21:13:28.449-04:00Not all adopted kids have AIDS... but so what if they do??<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimz4E3EeUxFdC-saP0IgMPoVeMp2YZAVzP-EhqRkAeOmRaMHUc8D8Xz4PWQz1IsVrYrct5-26Fjm_bFLXFaU1fkT-SkMY1Qo4k3-R8regSp7dYINwar5kxj_9hKLAwHKIpXlxEt9ftVfw/s1600/DSC_0096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimz4E3EeUxFdC-saP0IgMPoVeMp2YZAVzP-EhqRkAeOmRaMHUc8D8Xz4PWQz1IsVrYrct5-26Fjm_bFLXFaU1fkT-SkMY1Qo4k3-R8regSp7dYINwar5kxj_9hKLAwHKIpXlxEt9ftVfw/s320/DSC_0096.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Olivia has been home now a month and a half! She is so healthy, so happy, and just exudes such joy to everyone who meets her. She's gone to the farm, to the beach, to the mountains, and even (gasp) to the grocery store since she has been home. I had expected it would be harder... and I know I should be knocking on wood here. But I thought her transition would involve many more tantrums and the feedback from our little Southern town would be less than enthusiastic. <br />
<br />
But it hasn't been that at all. Strangers (black, white, old, young) have frequently stopped us to comment how beautiful she is and we haven't had a single negative public comment as of yet. Again, knocking on wood. I'm still expecting to meet that idiot at Wal-Mart who starts out with 'Where's her real mama?' (ahem, I am her real mama. I have thousands in dr. bills to prove it.)<br />
<br />
The one comment that <b>has</b> knocked me on my behind is<i> 'well, she doesn't have AIDS does she??</i>' Because obviously, she is from Africa.... and well, everyone knows AIDS comes from Africa. <br />
So all black African children must have AIDS. (insert eye roll)<br />
<br />
And let me start by answering - no, adopted children are tested before, and often after, adoption to find out any conditions that may be present. There have been cases of false positives, but not negatives. If they don't have it, it does not 'mature' and exhibit itself at a later date. Decades of research, decades.<br />
<br />
But let me also say, if my child<b> did</b> have HIV - #1 it wouldn't really be anyone else's business but ours.. and #2 your child would most likely be the dangerous of the two when they play together as it would be <i>your</i> germs that could hurt <i>my</i> child's fragile immune system. Just sayin'.<br />
<br />
It is pure idiocracy that the media has ignored this issue for so long. No new information has been publicized since the 1980s. And that is a crime. HIV/AIDS is no longer a death sentence. Especially in a country as affluent as the old US of A. Medicines have made great strides and the condition, and treating it, has actually been said to be much easier to manage than childhood diabetes. So why hasn't the media told us this??? Children diagnosed with AIDS can now be medicated to the point that they would actually test negative their counts are so low. They can marry, and have sex, and have children without passing the disease along. Didn't know that did ya??<br />
<br />
Why is there still the stigma put on these children, who had no say in the matter anyway as to whether they contracted the disease or not?? Why are they the ones that parents don't want their kids to play with on the playground - when no cases have shown casual contact like hugging, wrestling, or swimming can transmit AIDS?? There are even no cases of an adopted child passing the disease along to their parents or siblings - even with contact with blood from accidents or scrapes.<br />
<br />
So IF my child WERE sick:<br />
<b>The facts</b> are that unless your toddler is planning on having sex with my toddler, they can't get it.<br />
Unless you toddler is breastfeeding from my toddler, they can't get it.<br />
Unless your toddler is sharing needles under the plastic slide with my toddler, they can't get it.<br />
<br />
And let me take another wild guess that your child would not be giving birth to mine as that is the ONLY other way to get it, and happens to be the way that the majority of orphans abroad contracted the disease. <br />
<br />
So back to Africa - yes - the rates are high. But they are also high in the Ukraine and Russia, worried about that little blond boy at the playground lately?? His mom has dark hair, he might be adopted? Who knows? <br />
<br />
These orphans in other countries have a very good chance of dying from childhood illnesses they contract in the crowded orphanages. These children in the US have a much better chance of leading long and healthy lives. These children were orphans, and throughout scripture it says to defend the orphans, so how Christ-like are people who call themselves followers of Christ who are shunning these children like they have leprosy?? I'm pretty sure a guy I look up to ate with <b>them</b> as well... <br />
<br />
So NO, not all black, adopted children from Africa have AIDS. <br />
But if they did, <b>so what</b>? My children have played with children with HIV in America and in the African orphanages, and you know what, I don't know which ones had it and which ones didn't. And my kids could have cared less either. So, <b>so what</b>? <br />
<br />
This awesome video explains the above in a much more friendly way - without the aggravated tone I was unable to hide:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.projecthopeful.org/get-involved/truth-pandemic#.T-pVtXVQDeE.blogger">Truth Pandemic</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There is no excuse for ignorance.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Get the FACTS:</span> <br />
take the time to browse <a href="http://www.projecthopeful.org/">Project Hopeful's</a> website. They have been making tremendous strides in trying to educate the public and defend the orphan.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-40586821978164272302012-06-05T23:11:00.000-04:002012-06-05T23:11:39.164-04:00Blame it on the Rain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Written a few weeks back, and just now finished (cause I've kinda been a bit busy) </span></i><br />
<br />
People have asked me - 'how did your kids do in Africa?' Amazing. Great. They loved it. Seth was begging me to take him back for trip #2. My response, "Bud, if you go back; you will <i>fail 6th grade</i>." I think he would have been ok with that...<br />
<br />
Braeden prayed yesterday for the guard at the guest house who had played soccer with them to be safe (and to dream about them). One of the boys woke up a couple nights after we returned home and said he had had a bad dream that he was one of the boys living on the streets. These are the feelings I had hoped they would feel. Eyes opened with new vision.<br />
<br />
Addison, I thought, just went with the flow. She saw dirt, and poverty. But she also saw kids. And she played. And saw hippos. I thought she was too young to really process and learn a lot from this trip but there was no way I was leaving her at home. But I didn't think she would 'get it' - that life lesson I wanted the boys to learn.
But oh, was I wrong. One night after our trip (prior to bringing Olivia home) while coming out of the movies, it was a torrential downpour. Like the kind where you get soaked to the bone even with an umbrella. The streets were flooded instantly and Daddy had to go and get the car for us from across the street. As we waited underneath the overhang of the Little Theatre, her eyes went big and she had that look of terror.
"Mommy! What about Olivia!??!! What will happen to her in all this rain???" So I explained that Olivia will be fine. It was not raining that exact moment in Ethiopia, and even if it were, Olivia would be nice and warm inside the transition home.
To which her eyes got big again and she asked, "but what about all the little boys who live on the street??? Where will they go!!??!!!" To which I had no soothing answer. <br />
<br />
Because there are so, so many little boys living on the streets of Addis. And big boys. Sleeping in the medians. And old people. And handicapped. And mothers with babies and toddlers huddled under their shawls. <br />
<br />
And it is now the rainy season in the city of Addis. A necessity for crop production but a season which brings tropical storm type winds and heavy rains almost every day. And where DO they go? And why don't we care as much as my 6 year old??? <br />
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jRH3Wq9sQnsFOA4oTkhI0JjbTkp2hnQzQ4nko0iLI3wrqUoT6b5ixd9DyYdUxhzWpOOb4NjElPOiLr90q3DzELhNAj-Uc7P3NJ5_7Lnsk1dEtdxIua7JJnADc1up16sruBquNAuxQVI/s1600/boys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jRH3Wq9sQnsFOA4oTkhI0JjbTkp2hnQzQ4nko0iLI3wrqUoT6b5ixd9DyYdUxhzWpOOb4NjElPOiLr90q3DzELhNAj-Uc7P3NJ5_7Lnsk1dEtdxIua7JJnADc1up16sruBquNAuxQVI/s320/boys.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh22xmqTB7PU3KwABV3R5xWuvni4Ko8rcUerjOOc_JyXeOWSboFoabhWH8OHBltubsQmBFUi_siG9eFfVLLu_7hnv4KjuqE-L4f6tA4PaYwomlgk1Zn-I6SLirqRJfwO7IcNI2lZGry3g4/s1600/boy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh22xmqTB7PU3KwABV3R5xWuvni4Ko8rcUerjOOc_JyXeOWSboFoabhWH8OHBltubsQmBFUi_siG9eFfVLLu_7hnv4KjuqE-L4f6tA4PaYwomlgk1Zn-I6SLirqRJfwO7IcNI2lZGry3g4/s1600/boy.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Qc49fn5Phdka6Z0_ItcqPPDFULEiI_XcaGR1H3Ab77Y7WSEujBMNmjaUCbRjC63q4Ix-pYAkAzr8ME4u1BKM1pyN6O00kr5lC8ZS2Rl9RenYA8hWa5a2OnJ73rA3i-Zu3paI_41Dfz0/s1600/Addis+rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Qc49fn5Phdka6Z0_ItcqPPDFULEiI_XcaGR1H3Ab77Y7WSEujBMNmjaUCbRjC63q4Ix-pYAkAzr8ME4u1BKM1pyN6O00kr5lC8ZS2Rl9RenYA8hWa5a2OnJ73rA3i-Zu3paI_41Dfz0/s320/Addis+rain.jpg" width="320" /></a>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUiFjtj3AWbU7vW5FT4fbKnyJ7NIlo0iyR1dRnHadf3bmk7idLakNuZc3KOTqQsExmCJig8hw2o-jcEhWvBl9_TwzVPdx0is5FpEfghxxFAC29ue7fDohF0v5AWrvMKK1L2fz58juOaaY/s1600/feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUiFjtj3AWbU7vW5FT4fbKnyJ7NIlo0iyR1dRnHadf3bmk7idLakNuZc3KOTqQsExmCJig8hw2o-jcEhWvBl9_TwzVPdx0is5FpEfghxxFAC29ue7fDohF0v5AWrvMKK1L2fz58juOaaY/s1600/feet.jpg" /></a></div>
And even for some 'lucky' enough to have shelter.... how much shelter from torrential downpours can this be? <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0mGdSzFv8adErdDU5UgnTMg0C3NNUckLVa5oOIuIHsURpUUHlF1lFXgebwN2bmX-kfg6bKQmqbgn3GZlPH-QjxtLZ0ssuVLPXSoog7SXZNZeqxt4x7834saPuqi9T8rwFEpQTWtTkfo0/s1600/house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0mGdSzFv8adErdDU5UgnTMg0C3NNUckLVa5oOIuIHsURpUUHlF1lFXgebwN2bmX-kfg6bKQmqbgn3GZlPH-QjxtLZ0ssuVLPXSoog7SXZNZeqxt4x7834saPuqi9T8rwFEpQTWtTkfo0/s320/house.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6o2XwlnUGF89d_A-SU4EPqwHsjc3OqQ5EYnICiP210uGovTLL5B5WKVl0wTG6e-8BqlkejAqCjM05rzegNWVMyzhi8sD0X9SDvU-ws80px7IIohdOB0Ar_GbZSv9TThChjpJBxJFuv5Q/s1600/403562_4071509225336_838933227_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6o2XwlnUGF89d_A-SU4EPqwHsjc3OqQ5EYnICiP210uGovTLL5B5WKVl0wTG6e-8BqlkejAqCjM05rzegNWVMyzhi8sD0X9SDvU-ws80px7IIohdOB0Ar_GbZSv9TThChjpJBxJFuv5Q/s320/403562_4071509225336_838933227_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">homes we passed on the way up Mt. Entoto</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
On those nights when I complain about my back hurting from our super thick mattress... or I complain about having to pay to have a brand new roof put on our house after our last one was damaged... I stop myself and thank God; for blessed doesn't even seem to describe our affluent lives.....</div>
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-18488578567235626962012-05-20T08:43:00.000-04:002012-05-20T08:48:45.778-04:00Destined<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-dlYSFNmGRht2DHOGRz14cY2UEY-m9nJTOjv5f4SeY0yZ8-yqc8ys7j9Fi_Yjv2uJ-utokOw6_ahO7RIKsHeyvFFhOsVvT7Ao0kC2uDDA0FhuKwk1mXUw2fyuCVarKBwta852JeOTXw/s1600/art.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-dlYSFNmGRht2DHOGRz14cY2UEY-m9nJTOjv5f4SeY0yZ8-yqc8ys7j9Fi_Yjv2uJ-utokOw6_ahO7RIKsHeyvFFhOsVvT7Ao0kC2uDDA0FhuKwk1mXUw2fyuCVarKBwta852JeOTXw/s320/art.JPG" width="246" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0xgTxFlGfN7yE0l-ma285eRNGhNCltZ-uXIcdMeMa2z1pdqVkqivzPGx3-LPtlgnuq-S6Pve6zh9LWwcrUbha5omKD-P_G4xFMRuBB12wGo_3EmbtI1_Hdsz6uFj8Jrv7wzz96tZGgq8/s1600/art.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2ERlmjE779Fezw273SYmpZDTUDcmHL4uEq5VP24ADfam4tburs0FO5-fEDf4hM-a3uVGp5beCH8GeurA-AogDt443kW5T8VRVU6LbsorwbOTgKwAlGuBJW3KCOd4eBBmXoqw3u5T9LM/s1600/560644_4142163671653_1210542956_33830618_1082382534_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2ERlmjE779Fezw273SYmpZDTUDcmHL4uEq5VP24ADfam4tburs0FO5-fEDf4hM-a3uVGp5beCH8GeurA-AogDt443kW5T8VRVU6LbsorwbOTgKwAlGuBJW3KCOd4eBBmXoqw3u5T9LM/s320/560644_4142163671653_1210542956_33830618_1082382534_n.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
And just a reminder: the art was painted in Oct, 2011 by Katie Bradley from <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/MossyRockDesigns">Mossy Rock Designs</a>. Olivia Selam would have been around 4-5 months then. You can go to Katie's shop to purchase other children's prints and support her adoption of her little girl as well.<br />
<br />
She has never seen Olivia and sent the print to me a month BEFORE our referral to cheer me up. It still cheers me up to see how perfect and planned she was for our family!!
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-31182429537203013942012-05-10T14:47:00.000-04:002012-06-28T15:55:42.728-04:00Why my baby may live in a sling..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Just so you don't think we are being stingy with Olivia. Or overprotective. Or rude. Parenting an adopted child looks a lot different than parenting a biological child. Especially at almost one year of age.<br />
<br />
So a brief summary of our new daughter:
<br />
<br />
We arrived in Addis Ababa on Monday morning. After not sleeping much on the plane with sleeping pills and Melatonin on board I asked 'should we bring Olivia home today? Or wait til tomorrow when we are more rested?' We/I decided we would wait and see how she reacted to us and if she was very skittish, we would let her stay at the Transition Home one more night. Turns out she did great with us! She was a little scared at first but within an hour was smiling and playing so I decided to take her with us even though the little Livvie that loved being held by mommy from our court trip wasn't quite back yet.
<br />
<br />
As soon as we entered the guest house, her fear level went through the roof. Big eyes. Scared cry. Big tears. Even though she was ok with me holding her, she was just so, so scared.
Clinging to me with wide eyes.<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhemXx3D-g4EnoxZbGYlKDg5sdlDjU6k4hp-4EVWSNJwdt1FFNx7-Ssp8vJ063VwnBfIsRzYzeZ7sKY3BYf1EeUrpburD9x2VZec20wBCppKcbtY2jphlqf2GXQfAkkKq_aQOUYfIXY4yI/s1600/DSC_1051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhemXx3D-g4EnoxZbGYlKDg5sdlDjU6k4hp-4EVWSNJwdt1FFNx7-Ssp8vJ063VwnBfIsRzYzeZ7sKY3BYf1EeUrpburD9x2VZec20wBCppKcbtY2jphlqf2GXQfAkkKq_aQOUYfIXY4yI/s320/DSC_1051.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
And now, almost a week later - She is extremely attached. Extremely to the point of me not being able to take a shower or go to the bathroom without her screaming. And I mean screaming. Loud! If I stand up, she clings to my legs and cries to be picked up. If she is on the floor, she wants to be sitting in my lap. She is scared to death of falling asleep in her portacrib. She finally has a mother and is so scared that I might not be permanent. Although today, with our last official Embassy appointment - she is definitely permananet. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Her official birth certificate with Tony and Tracy Wages listed as her parents. </div>
<div class="separator" dir="ltr" style="clear: both; text-align: center;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0m8O707mKfEW8XZftCPbAzyaARXxm0IlyWiPzs3SYPTphtXZk8zwcogU4Nnltxjruci1VlXpJVidgHKBuA7ga0JiJvIA7ypv92tnt4CpKu9_j-uy-IW0p5Gpiz6Gpn3ZYwhT3fB40St0/s1600/DSC_1181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0m8O707mKfEW8XZftCPbAzyaARXxm0IlyWiPzs3SYPTphtXZk8zwcogU4Nnltxjruci1VlXpJVidgHKBuA7ga0JiJvIA7ypv92tnt4CpKu9_j-uy-IW0p5Gpiz6Gpn3ZYwhT3fB40St0/s320/DSC_1181.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="left" class="separator" dir="ltr" style="clear: both; text-align: center;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" dir="ltr" style="clear: both; text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>So what does that mean for the coming weeks/months?</b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
- Olivia has been abandoned by those that loved her at least three times in the last 11 months. So while she is attaching to me great. And loves me. She doesn't understand or know for sure that I am forever. So we have to teach her that WE are her parents and not just another shift of nanny care. Which means WE will need to be the ones to comfort her when she is upset, give her her bottles, and feed her. </div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
- She also doesn't understand that every new stranger may not be a new 'mom' or 'dad' wanting to take her away. So she gets very serious when strangers talk to her and will cry if taken or held. It has taken a week for my sister and mom to be able to hold her without her crying just so I can go to the bathroom. So you can imagine that she would not be comfortable with lots of different people holding her at church or the ballfield. I will be trying to keep her in the sling as much as possible to assure her that she is attached to me/us.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
- Just as she became very scared as we enter new places here, she will get very anxious with new and unfamiliar places outside of our home. So aside from 'have to' appointments and places for the next several weeks, we will be trying to limit how much transition she is exposed to, to help build her trust. If she settles in great. But if not, we may need to limit church, grocery stores, park outings, etc.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
- And just as this new mommy came and took her away from the nannies that she loved. She may have trouble adjusting to new people coming to our home to see her as she will not understand or know if that means she is being taken away or not. So we may have to limit visitors as well for a time. And all the above is up to Olivia, not us. If she begins to settle in great. Is showing that she is attaching to our family vs every family. Is sleeping without night terrors or screaming fits of fear, we will be able to return to our 'old' chaotic, crazy lives much quicker. But all that is up to her little emotions.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So please don't think we are hogging our new baby, not wanting to share her gorgeous smile. Or that we are withdrawing completely from all our friends and family. It's just that until we see what this little fragile 11 month old mind and soul can handle - we don't want to expose her to more stress and anxiety than absolutely necessary. Which is why she may hang out safely in my sling for the next few weeks. At least she is loving it now. Kind of hard to take a shower with a 22 lb baby attached though...<br />
<br />
We love you all and thank you so much for the many prayers and support we have received in the past, almost 3 years. She is finally coming home. Praise the Lord!!! </div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-40082054902959542092012-05-05T07:50:00.000-04:002012-05-05T07:50:02.010-04:00Leavin on an Aeroplane<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Did I happen to mention that every morning for the last 2 weeks, I had been waking up at 3 am and again at 5 am to check my email to see if a response from the embassy had come? 'It should take less than a week... most do. It may be right at a week.....' When it wasn't, I started freakin out a tad bit (understatement). The Embassy's form response email says they have 15 days to reply. SO.. Get the email to the Director - request status of file. Get the email to the dude in Ethiopia's Embassy - request status of file. I'm told that it could be 2-3 weeks before they make a decision... that's norm now.<br />
<br />
So I curl up in a ball and cry. Add to this the fact that on the SAME day, we get her monthly update and baby girl is now taking steps. What!?! We had a deal chick!!! No walking til mommy gets back!!! Feels like a punch in the mouth. Oh, AND, I get an email saying we need to start the renewal process for our fingerprints, for the third time (they are only good for 18 months...) THIRD time. Because they expire in June. WHAT!?! I may not get her til June?? I go into fetal position.<br />
<br />
But after all that crying, I sleep well. Like, til 6:15 well. When I wake up, think about going back to bed and making Tony take the kids to school, cause I did all that crying last night and just feel like Part II. Instead I go check the email and WHAT!?! It's there!! We are clear! I immediately email right back 'can I have an appointment for Thursday??" But low and behold, they close half day on Friday, so IF I had woken up at 3, or even 5, they might have gotten that request... but at 6:30, they had already left the office.<br />
<br />
SO -- Go? Stay? Delay? Our paperwork is set to mail out of Nairobi on Monday. Which means 1-3 days to get to Addis. So possibly, if our paperwork is there, I could meet with Embassy on Thursday, pick up her visa on Friday, and come home as planned. Another family that live in India and got the same email as me that they were clear emailed right back and WERE given a Thursday appt.... so hoping that they honor my request as well and that ok meant they foresee the file being back in time. <br />
<br />
SO -- a bazillion people tell me on Facebook to go. My husband tells me to go - and we HAVE to honor our husbands, right?? So after staring at the computer screen for a good hour, I finally pull that trigger, purchase the tickets...... and we leave tomorrow morning at 6 am. Oh.my.Heavens.<br />
<br />
SO -- IF the Embassy gives me a Thursday appt.... and<br />
IF the paperwork gets to Addis Tues-Thurs......<br />
I could bring her home with my mom and sister on Saturday into Charlotte at 3:00 pm.<br />
<br />
BUT -- IF the Embassy says their Thursday is full.... or<br />
IF the paperwork doesn't get there til later....<br />
I could have to stay to meet on Monday, pick up her visa on Tues/Wed. and come home by myself next week. <br />
<br />
It would be an understatement to say that this is all a little 'dangerous' to my usually plan oriented, follow the rules, do as advised personality. The agency recommended we be safe and wait until the file gets to Addis, sometime this week. But my heart says go. So we GO. <br />
<br />
Pray friends, God has been in the details of every.single.step of this adoption so far. I know he can do this too with the snap of his fingers. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHIgf2bORz0AJe6-auPGWdG8ADNfTzQwFX5yt1ac2mGQGuBhgqIR5Tj-PSgMiGtMdz_n_eFMHnJvURLUzGoMdcPn9jg63ZzfalFi4XvjJOcxWgKcmOYNHokCQE2DEdB5cCKqHHdWCpC8/s1600/DSC_0084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHIgf2bORz0AJe6-auPGWdG8ADNfTzQwFX5yt1ac2mGQGuBhgqIR5Tj-PSgMiGtMdz_n_eFMHnJvURLUzGoMdcPn9jg63ZzfalFi4XvjJOcxWgKcmOYNHokCQE2DEdB5cCKqHHdWCpC8/s320/DSC_0084.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnGqoxT_K-qt4be5uSjlYTUYuftN5FmASguu0KYFd4UYyWF5OyfqQfgOwx-aYTiiS4cWMySaJQIOL4fyW6zCZ2qrWhvKNEtWjGa_N1SXoBfTw41QVGZbjkuNNOh9h4-0986i3j7j1K1k4/s1600/DSC_0088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnGqoxT_K-qt4be5uSjlYTUYuftN5FmASguu0KYFd4UYyWF5OyfqQfgOwx-aYTiiS4cWMySaJQIOL4fyW6zCZ2qrWhvKNEtWjGa_N1SXoBfTw41QVGZbjkuNNOh9h4-0986i3j7j1K1k4/s320/DSC_0088.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
The last step - bringing her home. Oh.my.Heavens.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-84772511269583834242012-04-19T11:59:00.006-04:002012-04-19T12:27:12.990-04:00To Nairobi we GoRemember how I said our case might go to Nairobi?? It went to Nairobi. As most cases of her type have.<br /><br />Which is a not so great thing - as it meant the Embassy in Addis didn't call me last week and say - come get your girl...<br /><br />Which is also a kinda great thing - because it meant the Embassy in Addis didn't call for more investigations or let it set on their desk for 2-3 more weeks but sent it on pretty quickly. About a week ahead of schedule actually ...<br /><br />Which is also a kinda great thing - because it should arrive early next week and the Embassy in Nairobi has been making decisions under a week normally.<br /><br />Which means we might be able to go and have our appointment with the Embassy when the file returns a week or so later to Ethiopia.<br /><br />So the countdown is on ya'll!! Hopefully, I will be back on a plane within 2-3 weeks. I'm starting to pack a little here and there!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Cause we got more pictures this week and our baby girl has gone from this baby girl:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGgSXJ5dG73ObnErO65xRATxIvzYyshVq26QwWqoOUtsVmCzfzu9eA9wsoWvnwaGAIJC_zeV52IU9CJdHkhKvUa-leutpyBycGmFhrNh7PIrALZEpXpY-QQifRyiK4d6tMOstF3xQ-FI8/s1600/DSC_0693.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGgSXJ5dG73ObnErO65xRATxIvzYyshVq26QwWqoOUtsVmCzfzu9eA9wsoWvnwaGAIJC_zeV52IU9CJdHkhKvUa-leutpyBycGmFhrNh7PIrALZEpXpY-QQifRyiK4d6tMOstF3xQ-FI8/s320/DSC_0693.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5733147538905196658" border="0" /></a><br />to this baby girl:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ7LnkK8BiJ5W90zaZ1y_EW0GlQBrAyjWxRFUsJ6U2Qa-R1KND1hM_PEjzFiMYRSSb1oyUPp_s0iLbPl2i7xi8UQpacMgnwMbQ1cbpQVlmsv4E8kU8Pt7_bBbSVRlRcMeRdXxM_BqhJCs/s1600/Day+Five+161.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ7LnkK8BiJ5W90zaZ1y_EW0GlQBrAyjWxRFUsJ6U2Qa-R1KND1hM_PEjzFiMYRSSb1oyUPp_s0iLbPl2i7xi8UQpacMgnwMbQ1cbpQVlmsv4E8kU8Pt7_bBbSVRlRcMeRdXxM_BqhJCs/s320/Day+Five+161.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5733146243123409730" border="0" /></a><br />SO she needs to become this baby girl again, like NOW. We need some baby spoilen going on! Nuf said?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV581F27UsZ7lehOxY5DVJ54Hlx56WlmZVmj3tPQy1406WSWqwWV8umaizXqDJVn6sAH26yexGMO5R5gkrOu1blDCb7kvL_OVDrynlApjdmXVpsDHDn0t-s5esDL_MUDXLMMsER_rRRxQ/s1600/DSC_0618.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV581F27UsZ7lehOxY5DVJ54Hlx56WlmZVmj3tPQy1406WSWqwWV8umaizXqDJVn6sAH26yexGMO5R5gkrOu1blDCb7kvL_OVDrynlApjdmXVpsDHDn0t-s5esDL_MUDXLMMsER_rRRxQ/s320/DSC_0618.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5733145995013585618" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972994903755419790.post-2348994971048350152012-04-10T12:18:00.004-04:002012-04-10T12:29:55.036-04:00HomesickAs in 'bring her home' sick. I am feeling literally sick to my stomach every time I think about how much longer it could be to bring Olivia Selam home.<br /><br />I KNOW we were submitted at lightening flash speed.<br />I KNOW our 2 weeks, until you hear something, is just up tomorrow.<br />I KNOW many, many, parents had to wait much, much longer than us so far.<br /><br />BUT, I still know that every morning as soon as my eyes open I am popping up and racing to a computer to check emails for early morning Embassy news. And my stomach drops at 10 am everyday as I recognize the end of their workday.<br /><br />Last week we heard of some really fast, like super duper fast, Embassy clearances. Like under a week cleared. And the next day we got a generous, $2000 donation to pay for my plane ticket so I was reading the writing on the wall that said God was moving and I should get packing. This week, my weakness has kicked in and I'm back to trying to prepare myself for our paperwork to take a Nairobi trip which = a month more minimum. So much for my flexing those faith muscles. Thank goodness for my prayer warrior friends who I know have got my back!!<br /><br />Someone had told me this was the hardest part of the wait and I was all like, 'NO, our 2 year referral wait was pretty dang hard - this is a piece of cake'. I have 300 brown eyed munchkin photos and 2 hours of video to feast on. Well friends..... this is the hardest part of the wait...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Come home soon baby cakes. Mommy has baby fever.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68ugAqBaUJEa4PEuf09CyDPz93552AHnOEuNR0odNx68DW833HRiKYUUzJiAPLBNrsWplTXOyaYYElnMOAp7BeWvn2M-TaZNFzalm8jD-OIvPFMw4SYbv_ed07D2Qd4hFJHrZIEYRdZs/s1600/tn4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68ugAqBaUJEa4PEuf09CyDPz93552AHnOEuNR0odNx68DW833HRiKYUUzJiAPLBNrsWplTXOyaYYElnMOAp7BeWvn2M-TaZNFzalm8jD-OIvPFMw4SYbv_ed07D2Qd4hFJHrZIEYRdZs/s320/tn4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729809542181953074" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1