Blessed

I awoke this morning to the sweetest little voice saying, “Mama” over and over while a chubby, little hand patted me on the back. I rolled over to see my precious boy grinning big, ready to snuggle. We laid in bed for a while and talked about what life will be once this nightmare ends and our family is no longer a world apart. At least, that’s what I imagine we were talking about; two year olds who speak an odd combination of Lingala, Swahili, French, English and jibberish are difficult to understand.
We got up and ate some yogurt. It’s one of the things I really enjoy here in DRC; apparently they’ve not heard of low fat or low sugar yogurt just yet. Yum.
Now, Brad and Jecoah are sitting outside our room enjoying some coffee (Brad) and crackers (Jecoah) as has become the morning routine these last several weeks. I’ve spent this time packing our bags, not quite able to comprehend that this is really happening.
Jecoah seems a bit confused when he walks into the room to see our bags spread out across the beds as I place our things in one and his in another. I keep trying to reassure him that everything’s ok, but I’m lying. Nothing about this is ok.
Still, I continue to see grace, even today, even on the very day we will say goodbye to our boy. I want to share these blessings with you, to praise God for each of them as I write.
My husband is amazing. I joked that he’d become the resident husband to all of the adoptive moms at the guesthouse. In addition to caring for me and Jecoah, he accompanied other moms and kids to the grocery store, played with the kids around here and chatted with the moms. There’s not another person on the planet I’d rather be here with. He loves me much more than I deserve.
From the very second this baby boy was placed in my arms, I’ve felt no different about him than if I’d given birth to him myself. We bonded quickly and I’m so, so thankful for that.
I’ve made friends here in Kinshasa that I’m sure will carry on throughout my lifetime. The handful of families who have endured this part of the journey alongside us, the ones who have/will also say goodbye to their children are the only people who will ever truly know this heartbreak. I can’t wait to see whoever gets out of here first; it will be a day of incredible rejoicing.
Our daughters are three of the most gracious and resilient girls I’ll ever know. If five weeks here in Africa haven’t made us more patient parents, I can’t imagine what could. Our family dynamic is bound to change and only for the better.
My parents are our biggest fans. They have not only cared beautifully for our girls but they have been our biggest cheerleaders and encouragers, constantly pointing us to the cross every day.
My dad spent countless hours researching, calling and emailing any and everyone that could possibly help us. He texted and emailed verses, prayers and encouragement almost daily. My dad loves Jesus so much. He loves me a whole bunch, too.
My mom has had to take on my role while maintaining her own. It already wasn’t easy and then her step-dad, my favorite Danny, died unexpectedly, three years to the day after her mom, my Mama Rose died. I’m so sorry, mom. So very sorry.
Perfect strangers have contacted me via email in order to find out where to send donations to help us financially. This insane ride has become even more expensive than the already mind-blowing figure we’d imagined. You can’t begin to know how grateful we are!
Brad and I are going home to the people who love us best. You must know that your prayers have sustained us all this time, that your emails, Facebook posts, messages and texts have been what we most looked forward to each day we were here. You blogged about us, shared our story, asked others to pray on our behalf. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ve never known friendship the way I know it now and I’m humbled and grateful to be loved and cared for by all of you.
So, we will say goodbye to our son in a few hours and we will continue to trust that The Lord will see us back to Kinshasa soon to bring him home forever. We need only be still.
Until then, we will head home and enjoy the rest of our family, our friends, our beautiful state and a million other things that we’ve taken for granted.

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