Several weeks ago our caseworker was over for a visit. She had recently visited Ethiopia and we were comparing our travel experiences. Though she stayed at a different guesthouse, she had visited the place where we stayed. At one point she said “I give you credit for staying at the guesthouse you were at. I don’t know if I could have done it.” Apparently, her guesthouse was a little “cushier” than ours!

Now the funny part about this conversation is that our accommodations in Ethiopia never really struck me as that bad. Okay, so there was no carpet in the house. And it was quite cramped with three of us in a pretty small bedroom. And the guesthouse experienced some plumbing issues that week forcing us to share the bathroom part of the time. And the water wasn’t always warm. I guess the more I started to think about it, I realized that our little guesthouse probably would seem a little “quaint” to the average traveling American.

But, you see, I was not the average traveling American. My expectations have been completely warped by several years of volunteering for EDGE–our church’s high school youth ministry. Through many mission trips, weekend retreats, and sleepovers, I’ve been well-conditioned to endure less-than-four-star accommodations.

So without further ado, I thought I’d have a little fun here and present a list:

“The Top Ten Ways Youth Ministry Has Prepared Me For Ethiopian Travels”

1. I’ve been awakened by many odd occurrences while on youth group trips, including mischievous teenagers (or was it their leaders?) spreading peanut butter on my face. So waking up at 3 AM to roosters crowing in Ethiopia didn’t really strike me as too odd.
2. I’ve grown used to odd bathroom situations, especially on some of the trips I took with the great Niekerk youth group. On several retreats, middle-of-the-night potty breaks would require a trek to another building. On another mission trip, the “shower” was a choice between sticking our heads under a sink inside, or taking our chances outside under a water hose with a thin shower curtain hanging precariously from metal rods to protect our privacy. Our private shower in Ethiopia—though not always warm—seemed perfectly lovely!
3. The noises of giggling and chattering from teenage girls have kept me awake ‘til the wee hours of many a morning. Good preparation for the dog fights and street dancing I heard while in Ethiopia. (I’ve learned that withholding Mt. Dew after 9 pm somewhat alleviates the problem of giggling teenage girls… I’m doubtful that strategy works for Ethiopian dogs.)
4. In youth ministry, I’ve slept on camp beds, air mattresses, gym floors, and rocky mountaintops under the open air. Simply having a bed in Ethiopia seemed impressive to me.
5. On many a youth adventure, I’ve been pushed to the extremes of exhaustion. And, ironically, I also have a horrible time getting to sleep. All that sleep deprivation, while trying to keep up with teenagers, was great training ground for the lack of sleep I had in Ethiopia, this time while trying to keep up with a new daughter!
6. Directly related to #5: My faithful fuel for every youth group adventure has been coffee. Ethiopia—coffee’s birthplace—also fed my caffeine addiction so that I could survive the week. With proper caffeine consumption, I can forgive nearly any inconvenience. Sidenote: Does anyone know if there’s a way to get an IV drip of caffeine?
7. I’ve scratched my head and struggled to understand teen lingo many a time during youth group trips. (And I’m especially clueless about all the texting abbreviations they use!) Trying to understand the youthful version of English was just training ground for the challenge of deciphering the heavily-accented English of our Ethiopian hosts.
   
8. Through youth ministry, I’ve grown accustomed to the “cozy” transportation method of packing people into a van. On one trip, my seat was actually a 24-pack of water bottles wedged between the real van seats and the side door. The taxi vans we shared with other adoptive families in Ethiopia seemed downright spacious in comparison. (Of course, I will add that the driving of my fellow youth leaders has never made me as nervous as that of our Ethiopian taxi driver. And our youth group has never come within 2 inches of being run over by a steam roller.)
9. When teenagers get a little tired and cranky, you can usually brighten up their attitude with some sort of food. A similar strategy works for Ethiopian one-year-olds.
10. Here’s the part where I get a little serious: In youth group, I’ve had the pleasure to serve alongside many wonderful people—both adults and teens. Good preparation, I’d say, for the amazing people we spent our time with while in Ethiopia. I know our guesthouse accommodations were modest—I’m not sure they’d earn even one star on the American rating system. But give me good people over the Ritz Carlton any day of the year. (I wouldn’t know how to behave in those fancy restaurants anyway.) I’ll never forgot our incredible Ethiopian hosts–Nesibu and Birtukan–and I would stay at their guesthouse again in a heartbeat, just to savor being around their beautiful hearts.
    

I truly feel blessed by all the many adventures God has put in my path, both in the U.S. with our youth group and abroad to Ethiopia. I still shake my head at God’s sense of humor: How he took an uptight, anxious, type-A planner like me and plunked me into high school ministry several years ago. . . I can only imagine how the heavenly hosts got a laugh out of that one. And the way he’s constantly challenged me to hand over all my plans, fears, and insecurities to him over the years—without those challenges, I don’t think I’d have ever been able to face the uncertainties and surprises of our Ethiopian adoption journey.

Of course, it hasn’t always felt that great to have God chipping away at my edges (honestly, at times it was more than I wanted to bear). But in the end, I’m grateful because they made it possible for me to be a little more care-free, a little more adventurous, and (I think) a little more fun. And ultimately, it all led to a little girl named Annie. My daughter. My girl. What a ride. I can only imagine where it will go from here.

Part of our new reality, of course, is that we’ve become a more conspicuous family. For better or worse, we’ve dived into the world of an adoptive, bi-racial family. Before Annie’s arrival, I’d read a lot about the unique issues and struggles we might face.  In particular, I’d been dreading the inevitable rude, bizarre, or unthoughtful comments that many families have had to endure from strangers.  Now, I’m on the other side of the adoption and all those things I read about are becoming reality.

I do feel like we get “noticed” a lot when we are out and about.  Honestly, I can’t go to Meijer with the kids anymore without being stopped by at least three people to comment on how cute Annie is. (The thoughtful folks include Noah in their compliments.)  And perhaps I’d be hearing the exact same comments even if we we had the same color skin.  A few people have asked where she was adopted from, which I don’t mind. And I continue to be amazed by how many people are fascinated by little black-girl hair. (Funniest comment I’ve heard so far about Annie’s hair–which was parted and put in little puffs: “So did her hair come that way?” I think it was just the inquirers way of trying to find out if I did her hair. But really?!?)

For the most part, I haven’t minded any of the questions or attention. But there’s one question that drives me absolutely crazy, and I guess I feel the need to vent (and maybe educate) a little bit. The question that raises my blood pressure is this:

“So what happened to her parents?”

I’ve heard this question in various forms. And I hate it. Why? Well, here’s the thing. I’m guessing most people aren’t really intending to be nosy–they probably just want to show interest in our adoption. But when you stop to think about it, that’s an incredibly personal question. For every child who’s been adopted, there’s a story that brought them there–and it’s never a happy story. Think about it. When you ask an adoptive parent “So what happened to the parents?” or “How did she get to the orphanage?” the answer is always going to involve some pain, some tragedy. Most of us don’t go around broadcasting our tragedies to the world. They are personal and painful, and we only share them with the people we trust most. For Annie’s sake, Brian and I want to limit how much of her story we share and who we share it with. It’s her story–we want her to decide how she shares it when she grows in her maturity and understanding of the past.

This really struck me in a powerful way recently when we were at a graduation open house. There I was, sharing some cake with Annie while chatting with a stranger across the table. They asked where Annie was from. “Ethiopia.” They asked how old she was when she came home. “About a year.” Okay questions. Nice small talk. But then this: “So were her parents killed or something?”  Seriously?  First of all, my daughter is sitting right next to me. And I know she’s only one and a half, but why would you say something like that in front of a child’s listening ears? Secondly, if her parents were in fact killed, do you really think I would want to talk to you about that (with Annie listening in?!). And thirdly, my daughter’s personal family history is none of your business!

Okay. Sorry about that rant. But I guess this is one of those aspects of adoptive parenting that’s going to be frustrating for me. How do you handle questions like that from strangers with truth and respect? I don’t want to lie. And I’m not trying to “hide” the truth because we’re ashamed of it or anything. But it’s Annie’s story. And I’m not about to throw it out there just because someone’s curious.

I just wish more people would understand that and think through what they’re asking when they want to know about a kids’ past. Adoptive kids (and their families) have a history to deal with–a bittersweet history because one family is born out of the pain of another family. I’m an adult and I’m still struggling with that reality. So please don’t bring up that history with me–and especially with my young child–when you don’t really know me. It’s personal. It’s painful. And I don’t want to talk about it at the grocery store or while I’m eating cake at an open house.

So there you have it. My simple plea for the day: You can comment on Annie’s adorable cuteness all you want, but please don’t ask me to share her story. Its hers. And with God’s grace, I will help her learn it, wrestle with it, and treasure it.  And then, when she’s ready, she can decide if she wants to tell it to you herself.

Yes, I’ve been using the infamous social-networking site as a place to plea for money. Here’s why:  I’m a youth group leader at my church and next weekend I’ll be joining our teens in World Vision’s 30 Hour Famine. It’s a pretty simple concept, actually. We’ll go without food for 30 hours, and in the process we hope to heighten our awareness about hunger and poverty–and to raise some money to fight it along the way.

Now I’ve always been a fan of fighting world hunger. (Who isn’t?!) But there’s something about going to Ethiopia and seeing “world hunger” in reality that has put a new scar on my heart. When you sit in a “taxi van” on the dusty streets of Addis and see a child begging at the window–hunger clear in his eyes–it does something to you. You don’t forget eyes like that. I can’t begin to tell you how many times my mind wanders back to Ethiopia and all I saw while we were there–how many wrestling matches are currently going on in my mind and heart as I reflect on my situation in life compared to those I saw in Addis.

I’ve been home for three months and I still can’t wrap my mind around it all.

But the pertinent point for today is that my Ethiopia experiences have lit a fire in me where this 30 Hour Famine is concerned. I don’t just want a random weekend of fasting so I can go on with my life and feel like I did my part for world hunger. I want this experience to create more hunger–in me and hopefully the students who join me–a hunger to care, to notice, to bring relief to the millions who struggle with poverty, hunger, and disease.

And so I decided to use Facebook as a venue for finding Famine sponsors.  And in the past couple of weeks, I’ve updated my status about a dozen times with some variation of “Would you be willing to give $20 to feed hungry kids.  Learn more at My World Vision Fundraising Page.” I even came up with a clever “20 for $20 Campaign” to make things interesting: Could I find 20 Facebook friends to give $20 apiece as my 30 Hour Famine sponsors?

Honestly? I didn’t think it would take so long to find twenty sponsors! But it’s a busy time of year for people. A lot of folks have been gone for Spring Break. And I know there are always causes and people looking for money. And my appeals for money have probably gotten swallowed up by more exciting posts and pics on the Facebook news page.

But I can’t forget about those eyes. Those small hands making an eating gesture and looking up at me with an appeal for help.

So I’ve kept begging for money on Facebook. I’ve kept checking my fund-raising page each morning to see if anyone else has decided to sponsor me. And since I haven’t reached my 20 sponsors yet, I’ve gone back to my Facebook status again and again, trying to come up with a new way to keep asking for the same thing: money for hungry kids. And here’s how I’m starting to feel: I’m sick of begging. I’m tired of swallowing my pride and making yet another appeal for sponsors. I’m starting to wonder if everyone else on Facebook is sick of my begging too! Are they getting annoyed with my constant pleas for money? And who am I to ask anyway, when so many of my friends and family already give so much to various people and causes?

In the end, here’s what has happened. I started out this Facebook “20 for $20″ thing thinking it’d be a “fun” way to get a few donations for the Famine. And instead, it’s become an interesting lesson for me about begging. If this is how I feel after a few Facebook pleas for cash, what does it feel like for the people who literally beg for food every day? What kind of hunger must you feel to keep holding your hand out day after day, even as you suspect the people passing by are annoyed with your presence?

So here’s the deal. I saw people starving in Ethiopia. People who don’t have clean water to drink, much less a Facebook account or a laptop to blog on. They really don’t have a voice here. They don’t have any way of sharing their story with you or asking for your help. But I do. And so for today, I just want to be a voice for them. And here’s my humble plea:  Would you consider helping the hungry?

Maybe you can sponsor me for the 30 Hour Famine. (Yes, there is a small ulterior motive to this post.) Or maybe you do something else, and that’s good too. But whoever you are, wherever you are, if you are reading this in a home that has food in the cupboards, would you take a minute to think about the people who don’t have that luxury? And what that must feel like?

I know that, personally, I have a lot to wrestle with here. Nearly everything I buy these days feels extravagant compared to the way many in our world live. And that’s hard. How much do I give away? What’s okay to keep? What can I justify buying when 26,000 kids die of hunger every day? Hard questions. Ones I would rather ignore. (And sadly, sometimes I do.) I don’t have any answers here. I haven’t achieved the right balance. I just know that it’s important to keep wrestling for it. To keep hungering for the right way.  And inviting others to join me along the way.

At any rate, I didn’t hop on the blog to write about running. It was the thoughts racing through my mind during my run that prompted me to finally break my recent blogging silence. It’s been busy around here, trying to find the “new normal” of life with a new person in the home. Obviously, I haven’t made the blog much of a priority in recent weeks. But today, I’m just feeling… thankful. Blessed. Filled to overflowing with God’s love. I guess I just felt it appropriate to let it pour out a little here on this tiny corner of the Internet. (God knows the Internet could use a little more of his grace, right?)

So here’s what I was thinking about today. First of all, it’s hard not to rejoice when you live in Michigan and get to enjoy your first tastes of spring. I started my morning at the coffeeshop (a little editing work to do) and watched an employee take down the winter wreath on the wall and replace it with a cheerful spring swag. I swear the flowers winked at me as she hung them on the wall. Then, as I left my morning Bible study, feeling blessed by the sweet community I shared with my small group, I heard birds chirping away all around me. After lunch, I headed out for a wagon ride with Noah and Annie, and much to my delight, I got to stop and point out the first crocuses poking their hopeful purple heads out of the ground.

I guess that’s all to say I was feeling pretty darn blessed even BEFORE I got to my run. After successfully getting both kids down for a nap (another reason for deep gratitude, to be sure!), I decided to head out for a run. My first since early December, when the cold wind finally blew me and my running shoes into the house for the winter season.

As I started feeling the familiar rhythm of my feet on the pavement, I started thinking about all the many times I went running last year. All the many times I prayed as I ran. (I pray a lot when I run: Being a mother has forced me to multi-task.)  I especially thought about all those prayers for our child in Ethiopia.

Last spring, we’d never seen her face–or even knew if she was born yet. Late last summer, we got our first glimpses of her sweet smile in our referral pictures, but still knew little about who she really was. We had yet to hold her in our arms or watch her toddle across a room. We knew about her, but we didn’t know her. And so all I could pray was that God would hold her for me–keep her safe, keep her healthy, help her feel loved, even though she was thousands of miles away.

Much of our trip to Ethiopia feels like a blur to me. It was such a whirlwind of activity. There were so many emotions swirling around my heart and mind. And since I only managed to get an hour or two of sleep each night, I simply became exhausted, emotionally, physically, mentally.

Amidst all that haze, I have one vivid memory. We were sitting at Shalom–the orphanage/home where Annie had lived during all those months. It was the day before Ethiopian Christmas, and all the children had received small trinkets to play with. The air was filled with the happy sounds of children’s laughter and play. The weather was gorgeous. Sunshine and a soft breeze wafted into the home’s courtyard, where the Bethany staff had set up a going-away party of sorts for the families who were there to adopt their children. Within minutes of our arrival, one of the nannies asked me if she could hold Mulu (Annie) again. And soon she was whisked away into the home, where the nannies began to playfully “fight” over who would hold her. The staff served us some simple refreshments and of course, traditional Ethiopian coffee was roasted and brewed for the occasion as well.

I just remember looking at this home–Shalom–and realizing that I was looking at the answer to all those prayers. This was a beautiful home: A lovely two-story house with indoor plumbing and a kitchen in a city where most people live in shanties and cook outside. The children had blankets on their beds. And the nannies seemed to have plenty of smiles and hugs for the children. Annie was loved there. She was safe. She was taken care of. Just as I’d prayed about so very many times.

So back to today. And the realization that my prayers have changed pretty drastically since that last run in December! No longer do I pray for someone else who is watching my child: I pray for the love and wisdom to care for her myself. No longer do I wonder what her personality is like or how she’ll respond to her new family: I now get to watch her at play and listen to her say “Mama, mama” as she walks my direction. I tuck my little girl into bed for naps now. I sing her silly songs and dance with her in the kitchen. I know that she loves yogurt and hates mashed up peas.

Do you understand why I started wiping away tears during my run this afternoon?

There’s much I have yet to unravel when it comes to processing this whole adoption process. The experiences we had in Ethiopia are simmering in my heart. And I have yet to master all the puzzles to this process of adoptive parenting. But for today, I just want to say this: I am thankful. Awed by God’s answer to all those many prayers I lifted up while my feet were hitting the pavement.

I admit that sometimes I feel ungrateful. There are days when I whine to Brian and just long for a break from being “mommy”! And other times, I start to doubt. To feel unsure about my ability to be a good wife or a good mom. To wonder how all the pieces of my life will fit together.

But this I know: God has always been faithful. And when I really open my eyes to the ways He’s been at work in my life, I can’t feel anything but gratitude. And renewed strength to keep running this race He’s marked out.

One question many people have asked me is how Noah has been with all the adjustments. Honestly, I don’t think I could have asked for a better response from him. He’s been just amazing with Annie. Our biggest issue seems to be his tendency to tackle her over when he’s giving her a hug! I actually think Noah had more behavioral issues BEFORE we left to pick up Annie. Now that we’re on the other side of the trip, I see that some of those problems were just his way of expressing anxiety about all the upcoming changes. Since we’ve been home, I’ve found many of those things have improved, and now he just seems to be enjoying having a sister around. Of course, he steals her toys on occasion and sometimes bumps into her when he’s busy ramming his trucks around. But thankfully, Annie’s still too young to get too worked up about it. (I kind of dread the day she starts fighting back.)

Anyway, enough random musings from me. I just wanted to note that Noah’s been a great big brother and Annie seems pretty taken with him. Here’s a little video of the two of them having some fun together. Enjoy!

Noah and Annie Playtime

Without further ado, here are some snapshots of our Ethiopian princess.

Eating some cheerios

What a sweet smile!

Noah's been a great big brother

Brian with the kids

The Tol girls

I love this smirk!

Just relaxing...

Thank goodness for coffee is all I have to say.

As for Annie, she’s doing as well as can be expected. She’s been clingy and crying easily, but that’s understandable given that her entire world was just turned upside-down. She’s also been extra tired because she’s not quite in our time zone yet. Waking up around 4:30 or 5 in the morning makes for a long day! Today was a good day, though. She seemed to be a little more like the happy-go-lucky baby we met in Ethiopia. She really is a joy when she’s busy playing and interacting with the family. She smiles so easily and enjoys just watching her busy brother playing around her.

I know many of you are eager to meet Annie. And we are eager to show her off. This girl has a closet full of cute clothes from her grandmas and aunties, so trust me when I say she’s looking adorable every single day. But for now, the saying “all dressed up and no place to go” will have to rule the day. Annie needs time to adjust to us, our home, our life. She needs to feel safe and secure and settled into our routine before we start introducing too many new experiences and faces to her. I know she’s young, but even at her age, there’s awareness of big change. Just consider that since last week, she now deals with:

- people who look different
- foods that taste different
- a language she doesn’t understand
- different smells
- different surroundings
- different time zone

She lived in a world where diesel fumes permeated the air and goats roamed in the front yard, where Amharic flowed from the lips of her nannies and she slept in a room with several other babies. As out of place as I felt last week in Ethiopia, at least I knew I was coming home at the end of it all. Annie’s out of place now, and I feel for her–because even though she’s in a good place here, I imagine she has to wonder if she’s going back “home”, or if we are just another set of caregivers who will pass her on to someone else.

Well, I guess I must be tired because I’m rambling on a bit. But all this is to say that we are home, we’re adjusting, and we’re just taking our time to let Annie settle into the Tol family. Thanks for all your ongoing thoughts and prayers. We are so blessed to have such supportive family and friends.

- Annie is pretty happy-go-lucky. She’s done well with all the changes in her schedule this week. For the most part, she’s content and happy unless she needs food or sleep.

- Annie’s got a cute smile, and she gives it pretty easily when she’s not too sleepy. I think she’s already got Brian wrapped around her little finger. But for all the smiles, I haven’t really heard her giggle yet. Something tells me Noah will find a way to bring that out in her!

- Annie is quite small. The 12 month clothes I brought her fit pretty well. (Well, except for the jeans that don’t adjust around her waist. It was pretty funny when I attempted to put a pair on her. I think I could fit two of her waists in those pants!) Her shoes, on the other hand, were a problem. I brought size 5s, and she came with size 3s on from the orphanage! Looks like we’ll be doing some footwear shopping when we get home.

- Annie is a lazy eater. Whether it’s bottles or cereal that we try to feed her, she just takes her time to eat. Maybe that’s why she’s so small!

Well, speaking of Annie, she just woke up from her morning nap, so I think I better log off. Can’t wait to introduce you all to her in person soon!

We’ve been with two other Bethany families throughout the week and we’re all staying at the Morning Coffee Guesthouse. Nesibu and Bertukan, who operate the guesthouse, have been amazing hosts, really making us feel at home throughout a stressful process. They have an amazing heart for the orphans of Addis, and I could write a whole blog post just about them, but I’ll leave that for another time. Nesibu and Bertukan have four children. Then we have one Bethany family who adopted a 9-month-old, and the other family adopted two kids, an older 1-year-old boy and a 5-year-old girl. Put them all together and there’s eight kids hanging out around the place most of the time! It’s noisy, but joyful place to be.

Here’s a look at the activities of our past few days:
Sunday: Attended church with Nesibu and Bertukan in the morning. Lunch at the guesthouse, and then visited a nice restaurant in the evening at a golf course, where the kids had some room to run around.

Monday: We started by visiting the Bethany office in the morning, and then we went across the street to the Shalom Transitional Home, where Annie was staying before we came. They took us to a nice resturant for lunch and then we spent the afternoon sight-seeing, visiting Entoto Mountain. There were lots of interesting historical things to visit at the top, as well as panoramic view of the city. (Largely obscured by smog, though.) On our drive up the mountain we saw dozens of women hauling huge bundles of brush and sticks on their backs. They gather this every day and then take the very long walk down to town, where they’ll sell the bundles for the equivalent of about US $2. It’s just one of the many, many sights that remind us of the incredible poverty here. But on the same drive, we also saw colorful markets filled with traditional Ethiopian clothing, people chatting with neighbors as they buy from local shops, and school children laughing as they walked home in their uniforms. There’s much to love in this country, even amidst the overwhelming poverty here. Again, there could be a whole blog post just about my impressions of Ethiopia, but I’m still trying to sort through it all. Not quite ready to put it all into words…

At any rate, Monday ended on a great note: We got to bring Annie back “home” with us to the guesthouse and get her settled into our room.

Tuesday: Tuesday morning we visited Gelgela orphanage, one of the orphanages that Bethany partners with here. Annie spent a short time here, so it was valuable to see, though difficult too. It’s heartbreaking to see so many kids without a family. The orphanage does the best they can with the limited resources they have, but still, it’s not a home. One little boy tried to climb in the van with us when we left–it was hard to drive away.

Tuesday afternoon was our embassy appointment. We waited for quite a long time there–about two hours. Thankfully, Annie didn’t get too fussy and she fell asleep on my shoulder toward the end our wait. This was the ultimate reason for our visit to Ethiopia: The embassy issues the visa we need to take Annie home. After all the waiting, we went up to a window, answered about five questions, signed some papers, and it was done. Quite a feeling of relief! The embassy agreed to issue the visas for all the Bethany families, and we could pick them up the next day.

Tuesday night, the Bethany staff treated us to dinner at a traditional Ethiopian restuarant. We dove into the injera (Ethiopia’s trademark food) and tried out a bunch of different dishes. We also got to see some great entertainment, music and dances from the various Ethiopian tribes. And of course, we had the coffee and popcorn that go along with any traditional meal here in Ethiopia. Thought it was an exhausting day, it really was nice to end Tuesday at the restuarant, celebrating the rich history and colorful culture of Ethiopia.

Wednesday: Wednesday morning we visited a museum about Ethiopian history and then did some quick shopping at a market. I really hate shopping in this kind of environment–having to barter and being flocked by people who spot foreighners as an easy market for their wares. But it’s our only chance to buy items for Annie from her birth country, so I went to town. Brian just stood back while I grabbed scarves and dresses, and then I left him to do the bickering on price. Don’t worry though, he got to pick out a few things too, including a traditional Ethiopian coffee set. (I think coffee and popcorn must become a new Tol house tradition!)

Wednesday afternoon we returned to Shalom Children’s home one last time for a farewell party with all the kids there, the nannies, and the Bethany Staff. Mulu was really loved there, I think. I saw the nannies fighting over who would get to hold her and play with her during our visit. It was a really special party, and I felt incredibly grateful as we sat in the courtyard and watched the children playing and laughing with the nannies. I prayed so many times over the past months that God would care for Annie and fill her life with love and peace. And I saw Shalom as the answer to that prayer as I watched the children enjoy special treats and saw how much the Bethany staff loved on them while we were there.

And that brings us to today, which is Ethiopian Christmas. It’s been nice to just hang out here at the guesthouse and let Annie get some much-needed napping done! We started the morning with a massive plate of traditional Ethiopian bread (Christmas bread, as Nesibu called it.) And we were also treated to a very nice traditional Christmas dinner at lunchtime. Have I mentioned what amazing hosts we have here?

Tomorrow we pack up and head to the airport in the late afternoon. And then a really long day of traveling! If all goes as planned, we’ll be back in Michigan late Saturday afternoon. So keep sending up those prayers for smooth flights and no delays as we travel!

We’ve really enjoyed our time here, but we’ve also been missing home a lot. Living out of a suitcase with a one-year-old in a third world country isn’t an easy thing! It’s been one of the most difficult, but also wonderful experiences I’ve ever had. Thankfully, Brian and I have been staying healthy, although we’re definitely behind on sleep. (No big surprise to us with the addition of a one-year-old to our room!) Poor Annie’s got quite a cold, though. After we picked her up from the transition house on Monday, she had fever for a couple days. The fever seemed to break yesterday. So keep our little gal in your prayers that she can get over all the coughing and congestion she’s dealing with, especially with a long plane ride coming up for her tomorrow.

Well, this has been quite the post, I guess. Thanks for keeping up with us on this journey we’re on. We can’t wait to get Annie home, introduce her to her big brother, and get started with our new life as a family of four!

It’s rather surreal to wake up to noises of Muslim prayer calls and roosters crowing here in the capital city of Ethiopia. It’s a whole different world. Things are overwhelming right now. So much to experience and take in while we’re here. Please continue your prayers for good sleep and health as we enjoy our time in Ethiopia. We’ll try to update more later.