Kings & Queens

"I can't make a real need matter to me by listening to the story, visiting the website, collecting information, or wearing the bracelet about it. I need to pick the fight myself, to call it out. Then, most important of all, I need to run barefoot toward it. But I want to go barefoot because it's holy ground; I want to be running because time is short and none of us has as much runway as we think we do; and I want it to be a fight because that's where we can make a difference. That's what LOVE DOES.

-Bob Goff

The first time I met Esther was a day I will never forget. It is forever etched in my brain as part of my redemption story, and hopefully a part of hers. It was a beautiful mess in every way. I wrote about meeting her that very night, while my emotions were still so very raw. While the gravity of her pain, and the truth of our story was saturated deep within me. I’d like to share it with you.

As I look around me, soaking up colors and sounds at every turn I stand in awe. There is no separation of affluence and poverty here, they are welded together everywhere you look. A house with a tennis courts stands proudly by a home with a blanket for a door that can’t be much larger than my living room. I am not sure how to feel about anything. How have I lived in this world so long and never been able to truly see? How is it possible that Africa has always seemed so far away on a map, so distant from our own realities; when this place is so real, when I can feel it’s heart beating? As I stand on the cobblestones, with the sun beating on my back, I don’t feel a world away, I feel only a stones throw.  

 It’s incredible here, and intrigues me so. Women walked by with baskets heavier than I could ever carry placed so perfectly on top of their heads-as if it’s nothing at all-and I am awed by their beauty and grace. Chickens and goats scamper by on the roads. The sounds from the cars and the music playing everywhere are lighting to stage for the bright colors and dresses, and buildings all around. The traffic moves quickly with no rhyme or reason; yet somehow it all seems to work together as though one big moving piece.

The people I meet incredible. They are gracious, kind, and so real. Everyone I pass says “hello, how are you today,” and I actually believe that they care. There is this red African dust that blankets things all around me, and try as they do to contain it, it’s everywhere. Boda Bodas zip by constantly, and it takes me awhile to remind myself how far from home I actually am. Though it’s nothing like home, there is something familiar here that I just can’t put my finger on.

As I am thinking about all of this we turn a corner and make our way up the half-cobbled-half-dirt road that will lead me to Esther for the first time. My heart began to race and my palms were clammy. The reality of our journey is starting to sink in, in a way that it never had before. I was thousands of miles from home and I was here to adopt a child, a child I would meet for the first time shortly. A child I already loved-but in reality knew nothing of, and she knew nothing of me.

Intellectually I know all about adoption, intellectually I know what to expect. Intellectually I know that it’s a beautiful mess. My mind knows this all, but I am not sure my heart grasps the gravity of it all. No books can ever prepare you for something like this.

When we arrived all of the children were napping, so I was told that when Esther came home from school we would have a good few hours to ourselves. This thrilled me and added to the nervousness. Time seemed to drag until she arrived.

She and I had been waiting for this moment for a long time, but only I knew it was coming. She knew that I was coming, but not that it was going to be today. When she walked into the room to people from all around her began shouting, “your mommy Esther, your mommy!”

I’ll never forget how fragile and small she looked as I locked eyes with her for a brief second before she passed my eyes by. Her clothes were beginning to tatter, but she had taken care to neatly tuck her shirt into her shorts. She was so much smaller than I imagined her to be, she was so innocent and young, just a child standing in a doorway confused and slightly afraid.

She had looked all around the room, but though she saw me and our eyes met, they passed me by. She had no idea what was happening, I walked up to her slowly and she became overwhelmed. I leaned down and said softly, “hi, it’s so good to finally meet you,” I reached for her giving her a big hug. She very hesitantly hugged back, but she was unsure of me and that much was obvious. We made our way to the couch where we sat for awhile. The home mamas were speaking to her, urging her to say things like “I love you mommy!” “I’m so glad you’re here mommy!” “I’ve been waiting mommy!”

And while all of these were true, she just couldn’t seem to speak. Who could blame her? She was doing her best to process the million emotions running through her mind-as was I.  Meeting the mother you’ve only had in your dreams for the first time is more than any child should have to process. I imagine it comes with great joy and great sorrow for the things lost.

Her defenses in that moment were to zone out. She stared blankly at the small TV in the corner while I sat next to her, unsure of what to do next.

For just a brief second I found myself getting discouraged. Despite the warnings I’d received from other moms who have adopted older children, despite hearing that it isn’t all a fairy tale when you first meet, I suppose that I had wanted her to run right into my arms, and for us live happily ever after. My heart felt almost too heavy for my chest to hold. My mind was foggy and dull. My breath was short and shallow. I had no idea what to do next. Looking back I know now that I could never have prepared for this moment.

I began to pray, begging God for direction from here. Lord tell me what to do! Tell me what to say! Lord you’ve brought me here, guide my steps! Quickly my heart began to change as God whispered to me, reminding me of how He had pursued me lovingly and gently for years before I received Him. It was then I decided to let her talk to me and take me in slowly, and on her terms.

At that moment I truly began to truly pursue her.

She was quickly offered lunch and sat down on the floor in front of the TV, not looking at me at all. Nervously, I sat down next to her and began to rub her back while she ate. Not saying too much, but sometimes whispering softly things like “we love you,” “you are special,” “you are desired.”

After awhile I got out the phone and asked if she wanted to see a picture of her room. She nodded quickly, and as I showed her a picture of her room she smiled for the first time. We looked at pictures and videos for some time and she began to snuggle in closer to me. Still not speaking, but not wanting me to leave her side either.

We played for a good hour on my phone. It seemed to offer some good middle ground, and eventually she started speaking. Slowly at first, but hearing her voice come out from the shadows was magical. Once she had started talking, it wasn’t long until she whispered softly in my ear, “take me home to my sister and my daddy” with a tear in her eye.

For the first time she was opening up, she was allowed herself to be vulnerable, to show me a glimpse of her pain. I realized finally that she wanted to be loved so very much, but after all of this time without love- she didn’t know how to receive it.

She eventually curled right up to me in a corner of the room and colored on my phone. I rubbed her back the whole time and we talked on occasion. She was still rather quiet, but I knew she was opening up. She was letting her walls down slowly.

After a few hours she took a risk and decided to show me her homework, I think in an effort to attest to her worth. She pulled out a pile of paper that was wrapped with old newspaper for a binding and curled up to me, making sure I was paying close attention.

I can’t say for certain, but one of the mamas and I believe it was as though she thought if she wasn’t “good enough” maybe I would change my mind. She needed (or told herself she did at least) to prove herself. She started to write numbers 1,2,3,4 and so on. She did very well until the 30’s where she began to get confused. She would write 1-3, 2-3 instead of 31, 32 and so on. I wouldn’t have pointed it out, because I could tell she was getting flustered, but one of the mama’s who helps her with her school work kept kindly correcting and asking her to try again. After a few times of this happening she became frustrated, she felt she was failing me. I tried to reassure her that we knew she was smart, but that it doesn’t matter anyways because we love her.

That seemed to start the tears; she began to cry softly into my lap wiping her tears on her dress that was 4 times too big. I picked her up and began to rock her, she cried herself to sleep in my lap; and even in her sleep she sobbed. I rubbed her softly and whispered to her that she was loved.

It was the most incredible image of God’s adoption I’ve ever seen. We come to Him, broken in pieces, trying to prove our worth, and when we fail we have no choice but to crawl into the lap of our father and weep while we grieve.

Her pain, as well as her joy, were very real that day-and so were mine.

When she woke up not too long after realizing she had fallen asleep, she decided to stay on my lap awhile. Perhaps she found that she rather liked it there. She began to really look me over, inspect the person who would soon be mommy, and when she found the Proverbs 31 tattoo on my wrist she began trying to rub it off, even licking her finger to remove it, and I laughed.

After that one of the mama’s suggested I take her outside to a new environment to play. We walked out of the doors holding hands and I saw the Esther from all the pictures and videos come to laugh.

She was so funny, so smart, and so playful. She was so wonderful.

We only had a few minutes of play time until the other children began to wake up, or get up from quiet time. Slowly, one by one, they began coming out of the doors, excited to see another Muzongo Mom there to play with. Children began crawling on my lap, playing with my hair, and vying for my attention. I did my best to love each of them, but it’s so hard to do when you are trying to bond with your child one-on-one as well.

We played games while I watched the very same joy and pain come from many of the children. As one child ran around laughing hysterically, another would come to me weeping, needing to be held. Many of them covered in their own urine or feces. I did my best to love each of them, to tell each of them that they were special, because they are. Every single one of them, I instantly loved them all.   

Esther, being one of the older children, introduced me to many of the kids so I could begin to take pictures for each of the mothers to show one day. Esther and I held hands as we marched around chasing each of the children until they either jumped into your arms for a hug, or laughed wildly and whole heartedly.

Beautiful as the home is, loving as the mamas are, and as close as they all are I couldn’t shake this thought from my mind: no child should be growing up here, no child should be growing up without a mother and a father. How do we live in a world where this happens and we don’t care? Why aren’t we crying out to God to bring healing to these children?

A little later Esther and I had a chance to talk in the corner for a few minutes alone, and she kept repeating, “take me home to my sister, take me home to my daddy today.” As much as the mamas love her, and they TRULY do, she knows this is not where she belongs. It took all of a few hours for her to give me her heart, not all of it of course, but her need for a mother quickly outweighed her fears. In a matter of only hours I went from being a mother of one, to a mother of an American Sweetheart, and an African Princess.

She is my daughter, all that awaits us now is the paperwork saying so. In my heart she couldn’t be any more my family, and it happened just like that; in one great-big, beautiful, messy, unexpected and slightly clumsy first meeting.

It was an incredibly beautiful thing.

It was an incredibly difficult thing,  I’ve never felt a load so hard to hold.

Being there for the first time was something I’ll never forget. I realized that day that I will forever advocate for the fatherless, this is a part of God’s plan for me, and for our family.

Though the day was filled with joy and glimpses of the beautiful redemption to come, it was also filled with pain. Anger at myself for wasting so much of my life, sorrow at the injustices children live with around the world daily, frustration that I have no idea how to make people truly care, and confusion why someone like me had been called to this journey.

As day drew to an end I felt my emotional bank depleting. I was running on fumes and prayers from home.  I’d seen pictures of the home, of the children, and I knew their plights. But as I’ve since told TeJay, you can’t see the hunger for love in the pictures; you can’t smell the sorrow and the weight of the home full of children but void of mothers and fathers.

You can’t see it, because you don’t take pictures of the children who break into sobs for no reason at all. You don’t video the child eating rocks and grass and paper out of hunger. You don’t broadcast a video of you holding a child wetting themselves right in your arms.

You simply cannot feel the burden of the orphan in a photograph. You might catch a glimpse, but the reality of it all goes much deeper than film. The home is heavy, and this load is hard to carry.

Why me God? I found myself asking when I was unable to wash the emotions off of me. I’m not strong enough for this; I’m not capable of this! My heart aches too much! I can’t CARRY this load alone. I’m not strong enough to be here!

Then I heard Him whisper back,

Neither are these children, they aren’t strong enough to be there either.

You see, after 9 months of waiting, I had finally made it to our baby. I thought the battle was halfway through, but now I know it has hardly begun. I saw immediately I couldn’t fix her. I can walk her through her pain, and hold her hand, but the injustices she’s endured she will have to eventually give to God much like she did to me early on. She will try to prove her worth, feel knocked down, and have to crawl into the arms of her eternal father who has always been with her, even when I wasn’t.

I cannot say what I will feel when I have to leave her here. I imagine I’ll quickly be able to wash the beautiful African dust off my hands, but I imagine I’ll never be able to wash it, or its people off of my heart.

This place is now a part of me, and I of it.

11-8-12

It's been 2 days since I've been home. I'm doing okay adjusting, but I can't get the trip, the people, and the children out of my mind. I woke my darling Eva up yesterday morning with a kiss and a hug from her bed and my heart sunk and pounded with anger at the thought of how she would be if she had to grow up in that home, at the thought that only one of my daughters is where she belongs, while the other spends day after day without her mother and father their to guide her.

The weeks and months until we bring our Essie home will be long. We need prayer to keep going. Leaving her there was the hardest thing I've done, maybe ever. My sweet Essie longs to go with me like nothing else in the world. She would have literally run from those doors and never looked back if I had told her we could go.

I'll blog more about the incredible people, the amazing believers, and my simply wonderful trip when I've had more time to decompress.  Until then please keep praying. We have some big choices and big things coming up that we need prayer over. Continue to pray our girl home please, I cannot stand to have her so far away with my hands tied. Please continue to pray for the financial aspect as well, as it looks more and more like we will need to get an apartment and stay a month (or possibly more) next time as we go to court and await all of the other clearances needed to bring her home. We need around $8,000 to make it all possible.

My heart is heavy and I don't know where I feel like I am anymore. I am back in my home, but I've left so much of myself 10,000 miles away.

Thank you SO much for the people who prayed for our trip daily. It was sometimes the only fuel my mom and I had to run on. 

This journey has found a way to change me from the inside out. God has taken a thought the size of a seed, and stretched it into a blanket big enough to care for our daughter. Without him, without you, this would have all been just a dream.

Thank you friends.

Until Next Time,

TeJay, Ashleigh, Big E. and Little E.