Addis Ababa, Part II

A favorite blogger of mine whose youngest son we were able to meet during our time in Addis Ababa and who got home a couple of weeks ago just wrote a beautiful piece on their experience there. My only criticism of it is that she self-deprecatingly titled it "Indescribable." No ma'am: you did a fantastic job. I could never write a better description, so for my Part II, I'm directing you all over to this post (that first picture might get you).

A few of our favorite shots, some with captions, some not:

The road to Entoto Mountain.

Tibs and enjera

Car seat, Ethiopian-style

Milestone

After a few weeks of going backwards pretty well, ending up in some random spot across the room, Abe started doing this yesterday:


I don't think he even realizes that he's now going forwards, because unless we've put something right in front of him to lure him onward (like the red balloon my mom is using), he'll sit there and cry as he looks at me from across the room like he doesn't know how to get to me.

I was surprised at how thrilling it is to see your child figure something out like this. When I first saw him go forwards, I got tears in my eyes, tears of joy with a little bit of melancholy, thinking, "yep, this is it...the first step to leaving." It made me think of these lyrics by Sara Groves, a song that I think encapsulates perfectly what I feel like as a mother:

I just want a small piece of you
a token to put in my pocket
and I will own that one things
and it would make me happy
I just want a small piece of you
something to put in a locket
and I will look at it daily
and that will make me happy

I guess it's human nature to want to hold you very still
I guess it's in a mother to inject a little guilt
Go on son and see the world; I hope you see it all
But please please please don't forget to call

Free to fly free to go free to not look back
That's how free I want you though it scares me half to death
Free to wander miles and miles and free to come back home
That's how free I want you though it chills me to the bone

...Go on son and spread your wings; I hope that you take flight
But please please please don't forget to write

I know you're just a baby sleeping in your bed
And you probably have other thoughts drifting through your head
I know this conversation's a little premature
It's just that I've heard eighteen years goes by like a blur

...I know that it's not fair for me to hold you down now is it
But please please please don't forget to visit

Free to fly free to go free to come back home...

Aid Organizations

I'm not sure which of these aid organizations are the best, but I at least wanted to direct anyone who might be interested in giving.

Compassion International

Children of Ethiopia Aid

United Nations World Food Program

Care

Oxfam America

UNICEF

Food for the Hungry

World Vision

If anyone has useful info about any of those organizations or can recommend another, please leave a comment and I'll be sure to look it up and post about it. Like my friend Pattie said, this is the kind of situation that makes me want to stand up and scream. Loudly.

I read recently about a modern-day hero after the earthquake in China. This story is astounding. The compassion in this woman's eyes is so evident. You can read it here.

Abe is happy his Gee is here.

Here, he's talking to Susan on Skype and being held by his Gee while a photo is being taken by his Ma. Life is good for this little man. That's a lot of female attention directed his way.

Drought

Please read. The magnitude of this is overwhelming.

Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters

Abe slept most of the way to Portland, waking up to find a nice woman two seats back he could flirt with the last ten minutes of the flight. I unpacked our suitcases, fed Abe his favorite sweet potatoes, and went for a walk around the neighborhood. The grass has grown up in our front yard very quickly, and so right now we are that family on the street. I was lamenting this fact with my favorite neighbor Linda, and her thespian teenage son flitted out of the house and around the corner shouting, "I'll mow your grass!" Okay then. Just could you do it before my mom gets here so she doesn't know that we've become that family on our street?

Late in the evening, we opened up a package that had arrived from my aunt and uncle in Memphis: a hand stitched and framed I Samuel 1:27. It's a lovely reminder from a couple who know how to love well. Then, after Abe had dumped all the toys he'd forgotten we'd left behind out on the rug, we found our retro Up, Down Little Golden Book to read. Abe snuggled up in my lap and I started to read while "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" played through the speakers from a mix CD Susan had made for me. On page three of the book, I think on the part where the grass is down and the clouds are up, Abe turned his head completely around to look me in the eye. I stopped reading and looked back in his eyes.

Then he smiled a very gummy smile, never breaking his gaze at me.

It was right at this point that I heard Elton say, "I thank the Lord for the people I have found," lines that have been meaningful to me in the past but that have now taken new shape. I could hardly get through the rest of the book.

I read a book to my smiling son while listening to a CD made by a friend who inspires me to write, after being offered a grass-cutting from my neighbor's enthusiastic son and being reminded by my aunt and uncle to treasure the time we're in because it passes very quickly. Go hug the people you love. Um, or write a blog about them and really hope they read it, the way that family on the street seems to do.

"And I thank the Lord there's people out there like you
I thank the Lord there's people out there like you."--Elton John

Another Reading Recommendation

This just in: I don't know how I missed this, as it's almost a month old, but our friend Neola just wrote the most lovely piece about family. You can read it here. It made me happy.

***

This is why I respect Melissa Faye Green so much. If you haven't read her Informal Guide to Ethiopian Adoption, I encourage you to high-tail it over there, especially if you're in the beginning stages of adopting:

"Is he or she the “right” child for you, the one destined by heaven to be yours?

Hard to say.

You’d hate to wish that anyone’s “destiny” included becoming an orphan. The child’s history is tragic; the child’s luck is about to change in a big way, beginning with your appearance on the scene."

She includes in this article an excerpt from There is No Me Without You about the first meeting between Meskerem and her new parents. I have read this several times and cry every single time.

She makes the point that not every meeting is so magical (though some certainly are) and that, "Even if the relationship doesn't feel perfect or magical or pre-destined for the first few weeks (or months), just pretend that all is unfolding according to plan, according to a higher intelligence than your own.

The child will simultaneously create in you the right mother or the right father, the one who knows where to tickle, what to cook, which bedtime story to read, and which flavor ice cream flavor is the best, the ice cream flavor ordained by heaven to be the one you both happen to love."

She also goes on to make the very true point that little boys are just as cute as little girls. True dat. Here I offer proof:

Susan, Books, Gee, Heat

The two newest members of the Mutual Admiration Society: Susan and Abe.

I finished one book, then read another, all in the span of a week.

My mom is coming to visit on Wednesday.

It's stinkin' hot on the west coast. Why people say they don't mind the heat, I will never understand. How can you like being sweaty?