Craig couldn’t bear the silence, so he contacted our adoption agent hoping to pinpoint exactly where we are in this waiting train. The answer felt like a mixed bunch of flowers in a vase, but what we really want is a single flower with roots planted in our family garden.
I’ll explain. There’s still no court date. Our file is, however, on the desk of our lawyer in Uganda, and this is cause for celebration. It’s taken us ten months to get this far. The lawyer, however, just became father to twins this week and he’s not feeling the urgency that we are. I can understand this both as a parent who treasures baby’s first days as the most precious experience in life, and as a voyeur to the Ugandan way of taking time… no rush…no urgency…no worries….relax all things get done in their due time. That’s not a concept most American’s can live by, especially when it involves one mama’s empty arms and one baby across the world who needs to meet her parents and brothers…and come home.
So this means any day now we could receive our affidavit and return it signed to our lawyer who will then make our court appointments! That will shift my life into its highest gear. I have a long list of “ready, set, go” once that happens. It’s exhilarating to finally believe we are so close to the most exciting bit of this whole adoption process. It’s been interesting up to now, but it’s going to become fascinating. I live for this sort of adrenalin rush.
But…for now, we carry around our photos of Kira, repeat our adoption story ten times a day, give into urges at baby gap to cute denim jumpers and polkadotted tights, furiously knit to finish the last bit of her crib blanket, and pray for her without ceasing. Someone told us in a smoky gruff tilt the head back and laugh sort of way that this child won the lottery. I cringed when I heard that. This arranging of child to family was a divine appointment and each member involved wins in an equal way. I also suspect that any person who connects with her will take away a fingerprint of God’s hand in her life.
Mzungu Mama 