Chocolate and Brown Sugar

Keza is black. All of the other members of this family are not. (for now, anyway.) Somehow this difference was not noticed by either of my white children. I was surprised that through all of the pictures and videos that they viewed they never said anything. Nor did they notice when they met her. This entire week we have been home they have just been lovestruck by 'Baby Sister', as they should be. Wayne and I have decided not to bring the obvious difference to attention but to wait and see when they make the connection themselves and what their reactions might be. Today was that day for Gideon.

I was changing Keza on the couch when Gideon got up from the table where he had just eaten a chocolate flavored yogurt. He sat down beside me and I could tell he had something to say.
"Mommy, Keza is not purple."
"No, Gideon, she is not."
"Keza is not green either, Mommy."
"That's right Gideon. She's not green."
"Mommy, I wonder what color Keza is? Hmm. Let me think about it." Now he taps his finger on his head and assumes the 'thinker' position. "Mommy, Keza looks like my yogurt! She is brown!"
"That's right Gideon! Good job! She is beautiful-brown sugar-chocolate brown!"
"Ok, but mommy, lets not eat her."

Oh, for everything perfectly cute and adorable. I love my kids.

Siblings

i hear you humming
in the corners of our home

small voice
suspended in secrets

you are looking at her
while you sing

your eyes turning up at the sides
like you two know something

no one else does
the blue of them bluer

I wonder were they always
so deep

were they always
so blue

she is transfixed
ears standing on end

face pressing against
the small song

that you wrap
like a vow around her

does she listen
because you see her

does understanding suddenly
open in her eyes

a hidden flower
found by sun

when she realizes
she is among her own kind

Labels

One of my final days in Nairobi I met a pastor from a Christian church in Texas. He was a really nice guy that was leading a missions trip to do work in Kenyan villages. Eventually our conversation turned to Keza and I relayed the shortened version of our adoption story. After he heard that she was from Rwanda, he immediately responded by asking, "So, is she Hutu or Tutsi?" I answered him by saying that in Rwanda people are trying to move past those labels and don't refer to themselves that way anymore. In fact, it's illegal. He thought about this one moment and said, "Well, OK, but I can tell just by looking at her face what she is."

Anger. Frustration. Annoyance. Rage. Disappointment. Just a few of the emotions that washed over me as I heard this man speak. He was careless with his thoughts, with his words, and it showed.

I expect people to be naive and ignorant about this. Even just a few years ago I was next to clueless about what happened in 1994 to a small country called Rwanda. I get that people have a hard time understanding genocide and the horror it holds. What I don't understand is how a pastor, a man that has given his life to sharing the freeing love of Christ, a man who is familiar and well acquainted with the Rwanda genocide, could be so narrow minded and wrong.

Those labels, Hutu and Tutsi, defined a genocide that caused almost a million people to die bloody, horrible, unimaginable deaths. Those names caused evil and division and nothing profitable. And this child, this sweet little baby girl that is sitting on my lap, is neither Hutu nor Tutsi. The lines of her face, the color of her skin, the build of her bones do not reveal what she is and who she is.

I've thought about that conversation daily since having it and many times I have wandered to a verse in Galatians that says: There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, ( no Hutu or Tutsi),  for you are all one in Christ Jesus. The whole point of Christ coming and dieing was for us to be free, to love God and to be loved by Him and that love is what defines us.

Who is Keza? She is loved. That's who she is.

Home

PKeza and I are sitting at the dining room table in OUR HOUSE! Everyone else is still sleeping in after the late night, but apparently, our clocks are not on the same time-zone yet. So, we have been quietly looking through some of the photos taken at the airport last night and having a good cry!

The flight from Seattle to Anchorage could not have been short enough. I must have asked what time it was every 10 minutes. After what felt like an eternity we practically ran out of the plane in search for our family! We were welcomed by the Jennings family paparazzi! Cousins, Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents, Siblings and friends all with cameras clicking away.

I am so happy to be home. Gideon must have told me he loves me 50 times last night. "Mommy, I love you. I love your back. I love your hands. I love your hair..." My boys looks so much older. It's amazing what happens in a month. AND they are in desperate need of a haircut! They both are loving little Keza. They had a great time on the way home trying to get her to smile and talk by making faces and showing her their toys.

I love my family. 

Here's a few photo's that capture one of my family's sweetest moments in the world:

27 and Counting

This is hour 27 of our trek home. At the moment Keza is curled up in my sweater, sound asleep on the floor in the Washington DC airport. The iPhone is in mom's hand and she is giddily welcoming Internet back into her life with the swipe of a finger. I am sitting here, double-tall-nonfat-toffee-nut-latte in hand (how I missed you, Starbucks) and am trying to process the gamut of emotions that have coursed through me this day.

Today we said goodbye to Africa. I'll be honest, it was not hard to leave Nairobi. But, as we sat in Ethiopia awaiting our second flight, the intercom sounded the call to board a flight leaving for Kigali. My heart constricted. Part of me never wants to leave Rwanda. I love that country. I could live there. I could. I'm not sure when it happened or how, but I love her and am sad to leave her behind. I suppose in way, though, she is with me right now, wrapped up in a little bundle at my feet.

The first flight was difficult. Keza was exhausted but fought sleep like a ringed professional. She cried and screamed 1 1/2 hours of the two hour flight. The second flight was awesome, minus being delayed in Rome which added 2 hours to the already 17 hours we would be in the plane. We got the best seats in the house after first class. We had no one in front of us, lots of leg room to stretch our limbs (so our swollen legs look much less like 'cankles' than they did the first time around) and a bassinet for the baby to sleep in.

Customs and Immigration took a total of 3 minutes. I asked God to give me a male customs officer (Why are men ALWAYS nicer and more helpful?..OK, don't answer that) and I got the nicest one of them all, I am sure. He looked through my paperwork, said how beautiful Keza was, and sent us on our merry way. I said, "is that all? Am I supposed to go somewhere else?" He said "Nope. Just go home!" Walking away from that counter I had tears streaming down my face. 2 years of waiting and hoping and work, so much work. 2 years of planning and money and stress. 2 years of anticipation and yearning and hope and disappointment. All of it, all of the prep work, all of the adoption work, came down to that moment. The moment I brought my daughter HOME. She is in the United States of America. Free and clear. She is part of me, my family, my country. Everything was so taxing and so much work and then, a stamp on our paperwork and 'BAM', it's done. It just feels surreal, like it's all one big dream. May I never, ever wake up.

We still have a long way to go. DC to Seattle and Seattle to home. I can't wait to see my boys. Every time I close my eyes I see them running up to me, I hear them calling, "Mommy! Mommy!" Tonight. 9:30 PM. I'm almost home.

Adam Walsh, Baby!

Like cold water to a weary soul,
So is good news from a distant land.
                                             Proverbs 25:25

Tonight the phone rings. Mom wearily puts it to her ear and says hello. Suddenly her eyes widen, and she trips over her words when she realized who is on the other side of the line. "Hanna! It's Brad!"

I pick up the phone hoping that this is good news and not news of another delay. Brad hears my voice and says, "Well, I finally got through to the person that makes things happen just now (which means he is indeed working after-hours) and I have news that your Adam Walsh has cleared. You can pick up this Visa first thing in the morning!"

I burst into tears. Mom squeals like a pig-tailed little girl. Brad says, "Um, are you ok?"

Am I ok? I am WAY better than ok! I jump up and down and do a victory dance with Keza in my arms, who looks very startled at the sight of two crazed white women flopping and flailing around the room.

One month ago today I left my family and my home, boarded a plane as a mother of two children and flew halfway around the world into the biggest adventure of my life. Tomorrow I board a plane as a mother of three, my arms full, and my heart fuller.

THANK YOU, God, for answering our prayers and getting us on a plane before another weekend comes. Thank you friends, the many hundreds of you, who got on your knees and asked God to move on our behalf. I can't say He was early, but He is faithful and He helped us yet again.

Saturday night I will kiss my sweet little boys and introduce my husband to his brand-new, beautiful baby girl. Keza will meet her forever family and we will have every cause to thank God for all that He has done for us.

Slightest Cracks

Update:
If we are to get the Visa before the weekend we have one workday to complete it. The DC office opens in less than four hours. For two hours the Embassy here and Washington will have time to communicate before the United States of America closes shop in Kenya. In that two hours, my contact, his name is Brad, must call and have his call anwered. He must speak to the right person who has the clout or authority to understand the problem, correct the problem and issue an approval.

Please pray for Brad. He has been helpful, but he is not as concerned as we are. We are stuck in Nairobi with a problematic visa. He is not. We have a family split in two, he does not. Please pray that he will be motivated to do whatever is necessary and possible for him to do on this side of things. Pray that God blesses his conversations and directs clear paths to the right people at the right times.

Despite having an awesome discount on our hotel, we are averaging about 215$ a day between food, lodging, water (which is ridiculously expensive) and transport to and from the Embassy. This isn't counting Internet, phone or any other expenses that we might incur. That means that this oversight made by the Embassy and DC has already cost us an extra $1,500. Every day that increases. We would really love to check out of this hotel!

I was able to change our tickets (again) for tomorrow night. Pray we will be on that flight. Also, I have been very sick but am recovering. Keza, however, seems to be coming down with something. Since I've already given you several  prayers to work off of, maybe you can add that one to your ever-growing list.

I don't know why this is happening, but whatever the reason may be, God is still my Father. I hope He acts sooner than later and as his daughter I am asking (begging) for Him to move ASAP. But even if He doesn't open the doors at the rate I want them opened, I am going to try my hardest to trust Him and to have a heart of gratitude. In the meantime, I will push through every door that has the slightest crack!