Saturday, January 25, 2014

the little princess

 Right now, sitting on the bottom bunk in this guest house with all the windows open and a fan overhead, I can hear no less than 3 types of music playing somewhere in the dark outside. There are dogs barking, babies crying, noisy vehicles making their way down impossibly steep and sandstone-white hills and a guard at the gate of this house. In short, it feels like I am back in Uganda with little exception but the language. The language barrier is a real thing, folks! In Uganda, English was maybe highly accented but certainly we could communicate. In Haiti, I can say nothing but "yes" and "thank you". ACK! Thankfully, our adoption coordinator from the orphanage is with us (direct from California) and there is something very familiar abut Haiti, much the way Uganda felt: mysteriously primitive, devotedly musical, highly colorful and deeply nuanced. Flying above mountainous islands in the Caribbean today, seeing brown and green hills rising out of the sea paved the way for something so foreign to feel amazing. 

 After retrieving all people and luggage from the airport, Andrew and I made our way to the guesthouse with another adoptive family and Three Angels staff. We deposited out things and ate a very American meal of spaghetti and salad, all the while thinking: I DON'T NEED DINNER JUST TAKE ME TO SEE MY BABY AAAAGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH but nevertheless, we ate and waited some more. Finally, we drove about 50 feet away and entered the gates of the property on which the baby house is located. My breath caught in my throat as we rounded the corner to the room which I have seen so many times in pictures, the room where the chidden eat and play, with Noah's Ark-style lions painted on the walls and tiny tables and chairs. All the children were playing and they all stopped abruptly when we entered through the wooden baby gate at the door. Our daughter ran to her nanny and hid behind her leg, where she then planted herself for an hour pausing only to glare at us and scowl when she found we were still watching her. My cheeks ached from smiling hungrily as I drank in the sight of her, just watching her and being in the same room with her. I watched as she delicately ate the simple dinner served to the children, and as she peeked out from under her lashes, presumably to see if we had gone yet. Slowly, I moved to sit next to her...then after a while I showed her the photo as my Wallpaper on my phone screen...then I found us taking selfies on my phone together...and at last, she was unceremoniously plopped into my lap by her nannies who wanted her to give me a payoff for traveling to see her, I could tell. Coaxing her with a small baby doll and some books, I began to win her over and soon we were playing with puzzles and blocks, all the while with her on my lap generously letting me shower her soft, dimpled cheeks with kisses and her arms with warm squeezes. 

 By the time I left at around 7:30, she wrapped her slim arms around my neck and frog legged her legs around me so that I would take her with me. It was all I could do to peel her off after all that work and hand her off to the nanny. 

 This is going to be hard. Everyday, without fail, until she's home. 

 Friends, you have been so faithful to pray and send love and messages! They are fuel! Thank you! Keep it up, please! We need the Lord to keep being who He is and keep redeeming as we go. And He will. 

Love, love, love

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