Friday night after the airport bash, we led the girls into their bedroom painted faint pumpkin and distressed blue. Their bunk beds awaited them. Their closet was full. They ran to their dolls…and played furiously, undressing them, dressing them, exploring every basket beneath their white bunk beds, reorganizing everything inside, absolutely delighted by their dolls. After play and a short tour of their home, we tucked them, and their dolls, into their beds, prayed with them, and delighted in the reality that they were safe, protected, and nestled beneath a clean, poofy comforter which was their own (thanks to Grandma and Grandpa Halversen).

Saturday morning brought Cole’s fabulous french toast! Big brother couldn’t wait to cook for his sisters. He’s delighted in being the baby of our first three, taking advantage of any perk possible as the baby. My heart expanded watching him thrive under the responsibility of caring for these two. He served us all and we graduated to the dining room fro breakfast, as the kitchen nook would no longer accommodate us all. We’ve graduated to the big table!

Next, there were magical moments in front of the closet. Meseret and Kamise scanned all the possibilities, and without hesitation, went for the tiered, sequined mini skirts, brightly colored, blinged camis, and headbands. They tried on every boot and shoe in their rooms. Prancing around like princesses. Kamise, who had tended to be camera-shy, was posing like a model, babies in arms. Our prom princesses were home.

They played in their room for several hours, cleaned up and organized their belongings (Meseret is quite the organizer) after which, we led them outside to the trampoline. Mes and Kam giggled and gasped (a common Ethiopian reaction…the gasping) tore off their boots and crawled up to the bouncy black mesh. Judy, our dear friend, dropped by for the afternoon to join the wonder. Our girls looked like birds who’d just found their legs. We laughed hysterically. Sequined beauties flopping all over the tramp, giggling hard. Hours and hours of fun. Virginia, a dear friend from SC joined us for the weekend as well. Every one of us taking turns with the sequined beauties.

The girls grew more and more at home as the day progressed. The Londres’s dropped by with a monster bowl of strawberries…we devoured them through the evening, the girls eating to their hearts content. Virginia made us dinner, freeing me to join the kids on the tramp, where the girls clung to me as if they’d always been mine. Jumping as one, we giggled loud, tumbled, jumped, tumbled and eventually, collapsed on the black mesh, watching the sun set and the moon take it’s place in the sky. We were sardined together…Cole, Kamise, me, Meseret, Madison and our adopted sis, Sarah. Coolness came, blankets appeared and for a long time, the six of us snuggled, admiring the moon and one star visible in our Orlando sky:)

They devoured the wonderful lasagna V prepared for dinner, which was a relief. They’d been missing their doro wat, tibs and other Ehiopian faves. After a long, full day, we thanked the Father for His overwhelming grace. A day which brought never-ending wonder. The gift of new eyes. The gift of knowing this could be so challenging, yet our daughters hungered for attachment and it was so good. We’d prepared ourselves for the worst (our adoption education was sobering) and we were being lavished by the best. As we drank in creation, I drank in the faithfulness of the Creator. He whispered to me 15 months ago when I heard His voice telling us to “Go” that this would be for His glory alone. I knew we were in way above our heads, but wanted only to walk in the path He’d prepared for us. He alone pulled off the adoption, led us to Mes and Kam, provided over $43000 to bring them home. He alone brought us worshipers who already seem to adore Him. His grace this day was more than sufficient. Pure joy.

After 15 months, we were seated on an Ethiopian airlines flight with our girls. It was surreal that they were finally coming home. They swallowed the Dramamine pills we offered them like they’d done it 100 times (crazy for it took months of swallow-pill practice for some of our children to master this art), and in middle of Ice Age 3, they dropped in an instant. And were out for the next 5 hours till we touched down in Rome. Dennis served as Meseret’s body pillow for the 15 hours back to Dulles International airport, which was bonding for them….and the most cramped international flight Den has endured.

We deboarded in Washington DC,  occasionally a tear filling my eyes. Finally, we stood before the customs officer, then crossed the threshold. We were on American soil, with our Ethiopian-American girls! I cartwheeled big. The girls giggled. Meseret ran and performed a cartwheel too. It was perfect. Cartwheeling our way into America. Oh, and I must say again today….I LOVE AMERICA. I was tempted to break out in the national anthem several times that day.

The girls boarded the following two flights like experts, however take off and flight was another story b/c they were during the daytime so they could see out the window, and they each enjoyed a window seat. Hysterical. They giggled, their knuckles…well, they don’t really turn white…hah, but they were tense with fear at times, They squawked and squealed and giggled and gasped as we took off and the earth grew more distant and twisted and turned. All around us were filled with joy seeing life through their lens.

After 30 long hours, we deboarded the plane in Orlando, greeted first by our other three, then a community of 40. The girls walked right into the arms of their new family and friends, unhesitant. I was expecting them to be apprehensive, instead stunning and beautiful freedom compelled them. Perhaps the community-driven culture of their homeland groomed them for our community. Only God knows. We were lavished by love. We were celebrated. We were wept over. And what a celebration it was! 15 months of waiting for these two from Kamashi, Ethiopia and they’re in our embrace…to stay.

Our third day in Addis Ababa greeted Dennis with a bang. He was playing with Mes and Kam in our bedroom on the second floor of our guest house when out of the Norwegian guys’ room about 15 feet away pranced a 20-something Ethiopian woman…buck naked. Into the bathroom she went as if this was normal behavior. I suppose it was for her. Not normal or common for a guest house occupied by adoptive families. Two Norwegian men staying in our guest house (which was only for adoptive families last time we were here) were on holiday for a month partying, brought home some women and gave Dennis an eyeful. Thankfully Meseret and Kamise were facing Dennis instead of naked girl. A few minutes later out walked Norway guy in a towel. Good morning to us. Needless to say, this event was an opportunity to find another guest house for the remaining two and a half days of our stay. The providential aspect of naked lady and Norwegian party guy is that we ended moving to a guest house where our girls’ two closest friends from their village, Kamashi, were staying with their parents from Kentucky, whom we met in court in Oct. and easily adored. So after an amazing day, we headed to the Grace guest house and watched our four girls come to life.

We hired our agency’s liaison, Howie, to escort us out to the Blue Nile Gorge about two hours outside of Addis on Tuesday. I was determined to see how Ethiopians live in rural areas so I could taste an inkling of how our girls’ lives might have been. The bonus is that the Gorge, which is similar to our Grand Canyon, is only 2 hours through the country from Addis.  Howie hired a driver whom I think, might have killed us 5 times during our trip out to the Gorge. Somehow we survived Crazy Driver…must not have been our time yet b/c if it had been, he would have been the man to make it happen.  Kamise grew carsick within the first 10 minutes of the ride. Barf bag to face. Thankfully we moved her into the front seat before she lost her breakfast. Once we broke through the city line, a totally different side of Ethiopia greeted us. Miles and miles of teff, wheat and barley grain growing golden. Every few plots of land we’d see 4 Ethiopian men or women or both, on their knees and elbows, rears in the air, cutting teff grain with little knives. It’s hard to imagine people still doing it that way. There were little mud huts, or corrugated steel/mud huts, one room only, scattered around the vast land, maybe 3-5 in the same area then a long break. Repeat. A man churning butter. Children running raggedly free. Nowhere to go, nature was all they had. When we slowed down for any length of time, teenagers and young ones raced to our car, begging us to purchase their marble crosses. We passed a piece of land with honeybee boxes, orangutans and dogs, intermingling….tons of orangutans hanging out covering the land. We stopped to take it in, creation taking our breath away. Within 30 seconds, boys were surrounding our van, shoving their treasures through our windows, begging us to buy their goods. Dennis gave one of the boys 10 birr, the equivalent of $1, asking him to keep his treasures. The boy smiled wide, shocked. You would have thought it was $100 at the look on his face.

We began our time there at an Ethiopian Orthodox monastery/cathedral where we were given a tour by one of the monks. Haggard older women lounged on the floor, awaiting mass. Prayer shawls covering their heads, we learned these women sleep around the outskirts of the compound as homeless worshipers who spend every day fasting alongside the monks and priests til 3 pm and may eat and drink through the evening only and on weekends. There are about 5,000 monks/priests/homeless praying women residing in the area presently. They live a life of rigid law-keeping, hoping to make themselves acceptable to God. I would make for a terrible orthodox worshiper…that I know. I grew even more thankful for the undeserved grace of Christ which births life day after day within me, in spite of me.

The Gorge was breathtaking, being away from the crowded, chaotic city was restoring. We enjoyed lunch at the only restaurant there on the edge of the Gorge, wandered down to an overlook which I think freaked Kamise out. She was quite secure to stay a ways back from the edge. I, on the other hand, freaked Dennis out by how close I was to the edge. Hmmmm, that’s how I roll. We could have been content there for days. Nature is so restoring. For a few hours I was able to escape the gnawing discomfort and impact of the poverty around me. I was grateful. I’d been uneasy during this trip in Addis, mores than our last visit.

I ached for what had become luxurious comforts!

I miss toilet seats that are attached so I’m not taken for a sleigh ride when I sit.

I miss toilet seats for that matter.

I miss toilet seat covers.

I miss manicured spaces.

I miss clean things.

I miss not feeling the freedom to safely walk around my living space barefoot.

I miss big, safe plates of salad and veggies!

I miss sinks and showers that drain.

I miss how beauty is deeply valued and the resources are available to create beauty.

I miss my safe fruit smoothies.

I miss my family.

I miss my friends.

I miss comfy beds and pillows.

I miss fresh smelling laundry detergent

I miss dryers which produce fluffily soft clothing/towels.

…and that’s merely the beginning of my list. How spoiled am I. How indulged is my life. As we headed into town and were stopped at a light for quite some minutes, immediately long-faced mothers with babies begged for anything. One in particular was asking for something in particular. Finally I connected the dots as she pointed to the 6 litres of water bottles on the floor of the van. I grabbed one and as she received it, her about two-year old boy lit up and exclaimed, “Waha!” It seemed like Christmas for him. Another momma pulled out one of her breasts and her two-year old looking son, grabbed it and began to ravenously suck for nourishment. She was unveiled for the world to see, seemingly oblivious to her exposure. Perhaps the other mothers around her equally desperate diffuse any self-consciousness. Poverty strips people of dignity, as does wealth. Yet in this place, it doesn’t feel like they’ve chosen this. How I am forced to wrestle in this place, which is why returning to America is so appealing to me each moment of every day. I wish I could say it was different.

When we walked into the Grace Guest House, our new living space filled with 3 other adoptive families and their children, Zemene and Agare ran and wrapped themselves around our girls. They laughed and talked a mile a minute and we, parents,  were so blessed to see our daughters come alive in the presence of one another. The girls’ enthusiasm didn’t stop for the remaining 2 1/2 days in Addis. And we’re equally fond of their parents so Naked Lady proved to be a blessing (in not much of a disguise…HAH).

We were awakened at 4:30 am with the Muslim call to prayer which sounds like death to me every time I hear it. It not only stirs the people but the dogs, who begin barking incessantly for hours. Then at 5:30 the Orthodox church competes with their call to worship, which is equally obnoxious. Then the chickens chime in and it’s one loud and a wild free for all. And sleep is hard to come by. And the suburbs are that much more appealing.

We happened to sit down in front of a young couple adopting a baby boy, who just happened to attend church with one of Dennis’s roommates from his Montana days. How wild is that! We talked until they were hailed to one of the 14 windows. About 5 minutes later, they walked away from that window, the momma smiling radiantly. A long long journey comes to an end with strangers in a DMV-like room in a foreign land with the driver who took us there high-fiving and congratulating us. Perhaps this is why we are so looking forward to the airport party…celebrating this journey is a challenge without our community surrounding us.

While we stood at the long-awaited and highly anticipated window, the man on the other side told us that when Meseret and Kamise’s birth father appeared last week,  he shared that he is a day laborer who makes 50 birr/month ($30) and has 3 other children to support. With their birth mother gone, he can’t care for them or provide for them.

It was another holy offering, full of gratitude for another detail of our girls’ history which will help us read them bits of their story one day.

After our 5 minutes in front of the window, Howie, our escort congratulated us. Though we met him about 60 minutes earlier, he is such a warm person I felt like we had a friend with us;-) I’m not sure what I was feeling. Because I’m so very relational and cannot verbally communicate  with our daughters, I’m feeling quite a void. I hunger to know what they’re feeling and thinking each step of the way. Because that cannot yet happen, there’s a tension within me. One of the first requests of Meseret when we picked her up yesterday was asking us if we could go to Kamashi, their village. Everything in me screamed “Yes!!!” I want to meet your father and tell him we’ll give you all the love we can possibly muster. We’ll protect you the best we’re able. We’ll educate you. We’ll celebrate you! We’ll weep with you. And so much more. But….

it’s not possible to get to their village right now. It’s too far away…14 hours by jeep. But hopefully some day we will have the privilege of taking them back there for a visit. I ached to meet her longing for her two vastly separate worlds to collide.

We headed to a market to purchase some souvenirs. Within 10 minutes we had spent the equivalent of their birth father’s salary on some sandals and bags for them to carry their crafts onto the plane with them. No wonder Africans hold the stereotype that Americans are rich.

They crafted and nourished their growing technological addiction all afternoon long. After a few hours, Meseret was walking around plugged into Den’s cell phone singing the theme song to one of the games. That’s one way to learn some english.

Presently, they’re watching a movie with their new friend from Denmark, who was adopted from Ethiopia 8 years ago and here with her parents adopting a baby boy. Maybe they’ll pick up a little Danish while they’re at it.