Auld Lang Syne: A Third Grader’s Reflections and Resolutions

Caleb, my fearless, dirt under his fingernails, eccentric eight year old was asked to write an essay responding to the prompt, “Ring out the Old and Ring in the New!” The prompt asked him to write about his three favorite experiences in the last year and about three things he hoped would happen in 2011. I’m sharing it with his permission. He was quite proud that I thought his essay worthy of posting on the blog. He feels “published” now.

“Pssst! Would you like to hear my writing prompt? It’s about the three things that I loved about the past year and three things I hope will come in 2011! Wait! You have to hear this for yourself!

The first thing that happened in 2010 is that our family decided to adopt a child from South Africa. His name is Duzi. He fits right into our family! So, if you haven’t adopted yet, it’s hard but fun. So, why don’t you give it a try?

The second thing that happened in 2010 is that the USA troops stationed in Iraq were sent home! I think that is important because they fought in wars for our country. So, we should honor them. Let’s get a move on!

Did you hear about the earthquake in Haiti? Well, my aunt Kristen and her family were trying to adopt a boy named Kembe but, then she was trapped in Haiti with Kembe! So, we did everything in our power to help her and Kember get home. But, thankfully, they are home now!

What I hope happens in 2011: I hope that Haiti gets cleaned up and people are all right. I also hope for world peace. Because, I want no war, no violence – so people can live their lives better and not have to think of safety. I also want to help my church as a New Year’s resolution and get baptized so I can have a career as a pastor like my dad.

Did you like my writing prompt?  Well, I did! So, now you know my writing prompt.”

Notice his nice paragraph structure and proper punctuation (the English teacher in me places a high value on these things).

One always hopes they are parenting well. One always hopes that their kids are really absorbing the important things, really internalizing compassion and kindness. This little writing prompt was a gift to me because Caleb, like most 8 year old boys I know, can be quite the antagonizer in our house. He gives me a run for my money just about every day.  When I lay down at night, I often pray, “Lord, give me patience,” and it’s primarily Caleb that I need it for. I'll not go into the big fit he threw while working on the final draft of this essay.

But, this prompt gives me a window into his heart and I really, really love what I see. The wisdom of calling adoption “hard but, fun” amazed me along with how he beseeched others to also adopt. I had no idea that he was paying attention to the fact that US troops were sent home from Iraq. Looks like I’ll keep listening to NPR in the car. And, with the anniversary of the earthquake in Haiti coming up, he’s recalling how scared we were for Aunt Kristen, her baby, Karis, and son, Kembe.  I love his goals – he might end up being a little bit let down by the lofty World Peace one but, I’m not going to crush his spirit just yet.

I’d say this kid is paying attention and I’m so relieved. Tonight, when he fights me about doing his homework, going to bed, or melts down about something random, I’m going to relax and remember how important it is to keep my eyes on the big picture.

The Christmas Report 2010

The last few weeks have been a blur of cooking, shopping, wrapping, sledding, and hanging out together as a family. Here are some highlights of the Howerton Family Christmas.

Duzi's first time tubing in the snow. He was not used to wearing so many big clothes so spent most of the day in the tube making us pull him everywhere, earning the title, "Snow Slug."

Sledding and snowball fights on private property. We got kicked off this hill 30 seconds after this photo was taken. Notice Mike in the background, trying to get one more run in before the Sheriff could stop him. 

Caleb's going through a huge Harry Potter phase.  Also a huge frat boy phase.

Mike and I bought the same Children's book for each other - the longer we're married, the more we're morphing into the same person.

Alex kickin' it in her new peace hat. 

Christmas morning - Duzi was slightly excited. Honestly, we should have just given him this car and called it good.  The other presents really didn't matter much to him after this. He was in little boy heaven.

Kids slept together in the playroom on Christmas Eve. Only took 1.5 hours for them to fall asleep. Listening to them laugh together has been my favorite part about Christmas.

Our Christmas Eve culinary experience with good friends. We've been sucked in to the Hamer family tradition. I spent a significant amount of time regretting this decision -  in the form of upchucking well into the night.

Alex is so OVER her brothers.

Alex's marshmallow fondant sugar cookies

Duzi the pastry chef

Caleb's had a few too many Christmas cookies.

Duzi's 6th Birthday was in mid-December. Only three kids got hurt.

Happy New Year!

Decorating the Christmas Tree

Last year, when we decorated our family Christmas tree, it felt very bittersweet.

Each ornament we placed on the tree reminded us of a unique Christmas memory, a joyful milestone in the Howerton family, an acknowledgment that the kids were another year older or simply that the flimsy egg-carton photo frame ornament had survived another year in storage.  The ornaments invoked memories like - five years ago, we lost power until after lunch on Christmas day. For some reason, the red ornament reminded me of that. Three or four years ago, Caleb prayed for snow in the wee hours of Christmas morning and we sort of laughed at him. UNTIL IT STARTED SNOWING.  Now, when Caleb prays we tend to pay more attention. The snowman ornament reminded me of that. While we decorated the tree last year, we were simultaneously celebrating our family whilst grieving for the missing parts.

Last year’s Christmas celebration was bittersweet because it was the first year I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that our family was incomplete. We were smack in the middle of the adoption process last December and we all felt Duzi’s absence. We put his picture in a Christmas ornament in a hopeful yet, grieving sort of way.  We prayed for him when we hung it on the tree - we prayed that God would bring our son home to us sooner rather than later.

This year, Duzi hung that ornament on the tree himself.  He smiled really big when he saw his photo, from way back when he was 4, positioned in a Christmas ornament on HIS family’s Christmas tree.

While Duzi celebrated the idea of his first Christmas with his forever family, he also grieved for his beloved foster family in South Africa. The holidays are structured to be mile markers, watermarks – the time when one takes inventory of how life is unfolding.  The time when one both rejoices and grieves. And, at 6 years old, without being able to articulate why the holidays invoke grief, he grieved. And, we let him. He grieved in his own unique, 6-year old way but I know him well enough now to identify when it’s grief and not just disobedience.

I hesitated to write this post because I imagine that most people want to hear a neatly gift-wrapped, clean adoption story that casts the adoptive family as heroes and the adopted child as the instantaneously healed victim.  The truth is that there is tremendous hope that co-exists with grief in the same moment.

Nothing is neatly wrapped, but everything is being redeemed.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Since we moved to Washington nearly seven years ago, we’ve made it back down to California almost every year for Thanksgiving to celebrate with our families – both sides still reside in So Cal. (By the way, they are all still pretty mad at us for moving,). Each year, airfare has become more expensive – even when I’m organized enough to book tickets early (Um, I wasn’t organized this year). To complicate things further, using miles to buy tickets has become increasingly difficult, as the number of miles needed to purchase a ticket around the holidays has doubled. I have looked into every possible alternative transportation option including but not limited to 1) the train (just as expensive as flying), 2) a boat (virtually impossible unless you own your own yacht) and 3)hitch-hiking (not exactly safe with kids).

That was a lot of background information to justify why I decided to drive 1,200 miles, one way, from Seattle, WA to Orange County, CA with three kids for a very short visit. Um, we still have to drive back (this is a truth I’m avoiding for now). This year, both because airline prices are outrageous and because we’re still paying off adoption expenses, we decided to spend some quality time hanging out in the forced togetherness that only a road trip can deliver. Well, let me clarify, the kids and I decided to drive. Because of his church responsibilities, Michael got to fly down. Alone. More on this later.

Knowing that making the drive by myself, as the only adult in the car, would be disastrous, I begged and pleaded with family members for help. My amazing sister, Jamie, agreed to fly up and help me make the long trek south. I’m pretty sure I’m now required to be her indentured servant for life. Indentured servitude is automatically owed when someone saves your life, right?

We left on Saturday after a soccer game and a basketball tournament. All in all, the drive really wasn’t bad. The kids had i-pods, books, movies, Leap Pads, and drawing materials to keep them occupied. Jamie and I had our podcasts of NPR’s This American Life, and Radio Lab. When we started, I had hopes of making the drive in record time, powering through sore backs and bottoms, to somehow earn a gold medal in the category of moms-on-road-trips-with-kids. The kiddos cooperated quite nicely with this plan until they were tired. Past 8pm, the bickering and picking at one another started. So, Jamie and I decided to abandon my record-breaking goals and spend the night at a cheap hotel 2 nights in a row. Clearly, this was much better than enduring the sibling rivalry drama in the backseat.

Whoever was sitting in the middle seat seemed to get picked on by the other two. The drama sounded something like this:

Caleb: (sitting in the middle): DUZ-IIIIIII!!!!!

Alex: (Using patronizing older sister voice) Caleb, you don’t have to yell.

Duzi: (Smiling) Yeah, Caleb.

Caleb: (Exasperated) Stop it, you guys!

Duzi: (Pokes Caleb in the back)

Caleb: MOM! Duzi just poked me!

Alex: Caleb, I think you should calm down. (Eye Roll)

Duzi: (Pokes Caleb again)

Caleb: (Slugs Duzi in the shoulder then pinches Alex on the leg)

Duzi: (Shocked) That really hurts!

Alex: Caleb, you’re so immature! (Eye Roll)

Me: Time to stop at a hotel.

Jamie: Yep.

We arrived a day late, but the trip was awesome. We jumped on hotel beds, ate lots of greasy food, played in the snow at rest stops, and were thankful for each and every gas station restroom.

We’re introducing Duz to his cousins and are enjoying the sun. My kids are a little big upset with me for “forcing” them to leave home during the first snow of the year but, since they spent half the day in the swimming pool, I’m guessing they’ll eventually forgive me.

Meanwhile:

Michael’s flight was supposed to leave Seattle at 7:40pm last night. I wasn’t bitter that his journey would last 20 hours or so less than ours, but I was a teensy bit jealous. I was counting on him to arrive, take over the parenting post and let me take a nap. However, because of the Seattle “blizzard” (Seattle just doesn’t know what to do with a few inches of snow) his flight was canceled. He was then re-routed to another airport. When all was said and done, my poor husband arrived 7 hours later than planned, at 5 o’clock this morning. His tale of lost luggage, late shuttles, and airline bureaucracy seriously trumps any complaints I could possibly launch. Needless to say, I didn’t get the nap and we’re both exhausted today.

But, we’re finally here – all together. I can’t wait to sleep in one big pile tonight.

Vice-President

Today, my ten-year old daughter, Alex, delivered her much anticipated campaign speech for the quintessential role of Vice President of the Cottage Lake Elementary Student Council, to a gym full of elementary school students.

During the last two weeks Michael and I have worked as her campaign staff, designing posters until midnight, playing the part of the enraptured audience when she practiced her speech, helping her strategize her core messaging and discussing what would happen if she won and what would happen if she lost.

My favorite poster, designed by the candidate herself, features a cut-out photo of Alex with a speech bubble that declares, “Peace and Justice for All!” One of her posters even had Christmas lights on it ($1.99 battery operated string from Rite-Aid).

Her speech evolved from discussing her love of ice-skating and puppies to a real discussion of what leadership gifts she could bring to the table. It really was a fun process to watch. This morning, she woke up early, asked me to straighten her hair, practiced her speech, and insisted that we go pick up her new glasses at the eye doctor before school (the ones she was wearing had been bound together by scotch tape for a month – fair enough.) Mike let her borrow his special black leather folder that he uses for his notes when he performs weddings and funerals (he’s a real pastor, not the internet kind) so she could hide her marked up, crumpled speech and look professional – it was kind of like witnessing the passing down of an heirloom.

At 11am, I tucked myself into a folding chair in the back of the gym and waited for my baby girl to speak to the masses. I’m pretty sure I was more nervous than she was – not in a stage mom kind of way – just in a I-want-to-protect-my-child-at-all-costs kind of way.

While her tiny head barely made it over the podium, she knocked it out of the park – or at least that’s what this audience member thought. My favorite line was, “ My favorite subject is writing, and… I love puppies.” My next favorite line was, “I will do everything in my power to make this school a better place – more exciting and fun for everyone.” My third favorite line was the clincher at the end, “I would make a good leader because I have hope.”

She clearly gets her optimism from her father.

Oh, and she won.

Here's the very rough video I took of it - minus the first 10 seconds (I couldn't get the thingy to turn on.)

Messy

Before Duzi came home, while we were still gestating in the paperwork pregnancy process that is adoption, I had the incredible opportunity to glean wisdom from friends who have adopted. Most of these friends attend my awesome church. Some of these sages are in my very own family. I’ll never forget what my friend, Kathleen (mother of 5-- 3 bio, 2 adopted), told me about parenting adoptive kids from traumatic backgrounds. Over lunch one day, she said, simply, “Adoption is messy.”

She didn’t say it in an intimidating way – she said it in an honest, encouraging way – in a setting realistic expectations kind of way. I took her words to heart and began trying to adjust my expectations. Even though I had read lots of books and blogs on adopting older children, I knew that I had romanticized the process to a certain extent, and I wanted to prepare for reality.

The truth is, I don’t think any parent, biological or adoptive, can truly prepare adequately for the arrival of a new child. You learn on the spot, adversity becomes your teacher, and you cry a lot. Most often, you learn by making mistakes. The addition of Duzi to our family has been wonderful and hard at the same time, just like the other two times we’ve added children to our family.

But, we are definitely encountering new challenges - challenges that are unique to adoptive parenting. I haven’t blogged since August. I’ve avoided writing because I haven’t known how to articulate just how messy our life has been. I’ve hesitated to write about the chronic messiness of our new family life because 1) We are supposed to be a poster family for adoption, 2) I don’t like feeling vulnerable, and 3) Denial is just more comfortable sometimes; It’s a pretty awesome coping mechanism.

Here’s my full confession: I’m exhausted and am dropping balls all over the place. I’m forgetting things. I’m not doing a good job caring for important friendships in my life. I’m having a very difficult time processing any adversity that pops up outside our family life. I’m grieving for my new son and all that he’s lost in his young life. I believe God uses adoption as an incredibly transformative, redemptive tool but, all adoption stories begin with loss – and I’m grieving for his loss.

The grieving is what caught me by surprise. Mike and I have traveled all over the world, visiting orphans and street children in unimaginably poor communities and slums. I thought we had grieved for these injustices. I thought we were appropriately outraged.

And then, we started grieving these things for our son. Our SON. We’re committed to protecting his privacy and to allowing him to tell his own story when he’s ready. But, as you can imagine, there was a significant portion of his life that was lived under very unjust circumstances.

Strangely, this has thrown me for a loop. We knew all about his story before he came home. The story itself wasn't a surprise. But, as we bonded with him and really became his parents, the story we had memorized felt different. Now, I’m incredibly angry about what he’s lost and profoundly sad about it - in ways that feel paralyzing and incapacitating sometimes. For the first time, because I am an upper middle class American woman and have lived a life of privilege, I am seeing injustice through the eyes of a mother, and it has wrecked me.

So, if I haven’t responded to your emails, texts, or voicemails – I apologize.

I’m a mess.

I do think that this mess is holy. And I know God is at work, doing His usual thing - redeeming pain, transforming our mourning into gladness, making a way in the desert.

Miracles

Now that we’re home, I feel the need to fill in some gaps of the story of our adoption journey. So much has happened in such a short time frame, that I fear I will forget the earth-shaking miracles we witnessed if I don’t write them out.

The process of getting our son home from South Africa was not an easy one. We were the first American family to obtain approval to brave the adoption process in South Africa in nearly 8 years. After leading a few church mission trips to the country, and seeing the incredible need for adoptive parents, we felt called to adopt from SA. Note that when we received permission in November, we merely received permission to try. There were no guarantees. There are lots of reasons Americans weren’t allowed to adopt from South Africa, and lots of reasons we decided to try anyway…. e-mail if you want details about adopting from South Africa. It’s a long, complicated story, and I’m still not entirely certain that we succeeded in ironing out the numerous kinks in the process for other American couples to easily adopt from South Africa. But, we tried. And, I hope our case will be catalytic in helping South Africa and the US forge a working adoption agreement. I’m seriously crossing my fingers on this one.

Since November, when we heard that the South African government would consider an American adoption, we’ve known that the process would be difficult. We understood that we’d be charting an unknown course, blazing a trail, if you will. And, our assumptions have been proven true. We had the guidelines of the Hague Convention on International Adoption to work with but, the US and South Africa did not and do not have a working adoption agreement. We’ve had to wrestle with government entities, fight hard against the negative stereotypes that precede Americans in the international community, and research our butts off.

We spent a lot of time praying and crying, filling out paperwork, and praying and crying again.

At every stage of this process, we have literally witnessed miracles. Miracles. I do not use the word “miracle” lightly. Sometimes when people use the word, they actually mean “coincidence” or “luck” – as in “It was such a miracle that I got the parking space in front of the mall” or “I got out of a speeding ticket, I’m so lucky.” These phrases are uttered flippantly and are not miracles.

The fact that I tucked my newly adopted son into his own bed tonight is a FREAKING MIRACLE, people.

Here’s one story to prove it.

Toward the end of our month long stay in South Africa, we were feeling desperate. There’s nothing quite like waiting aimlessly with three anxious children on documents in a foreign county with poor government infrastructure, that you need in order to go home. After repeated promises from our South African social worker that good news was on the horizon, we continued to hear nothing about the progress of our paperwork (new birth certificate and passport needed for US immigration), even though South African courts had already granted the adoption, for 24 long days. On Day 20, we decided to go to the US Consulate for emergency counsel. We knew that the Consulate had no control over the South African government’s policies and processes but, we didn’t know what else to do. I mean, when you’re an American citizen and you’re in trouble, you go the US Embassy, right?

We arrived at the US Consulate in Johannesburg on a Friday afternoon, all three kids in tow, looking wretched, and were able to speak with Someone In Charge. She was very sympathetic, took a surprising interest in our case and offered to “make a few phone calls.” She was clear that she couldn’t promise anything, that there wasn’t any official channel through which she could help us obtain the necessary documents. But, she said she would review our file and see if there was anything she could do.

We left feeling encouraged, if only for the fact that someone in government was nice to us. I will never know what phone calls were made, or how this supervisor helped us behind the scenes. But, by Monday afternoon, we received word that all the documents we needed would be ready within a few days.

I have never felt so patriotic.

We wept with joy and relief and incredible gratitude and made our appointment for the final Visa interview. On the date, after 3 hours at the US Consulate, when all the documents had finally been turned in, the same Awesome Woman called our name and Mike and I approached the window.

She told us that Duzi’s Visa had been officially approved, with a smile. We thanked her profusely, did a family celebration dance, and then Mike took the kids outside to play while I waited for the printed documents.

She called my name again and handed me the official sealed envelopes we needed to bring our son home to the United States and said something like, “Congratulations. I’m very happy for your family. I must say, I took a special interest in your case because well, I’m adopted.”

We talked for a while longer (I was trying very hard to repress my sobby, hicuppy, ugly-cry voice) and, if there hadn’t been a panel of bullet-proof glass separating us, I would have hugged her for a very long time. It probably would have been one of those long, socially awkward hugs.

This is just one tiny little piece of the story of the giant miracle we’ve witnessed......

Home

We’re home. We arrived at the Seattle airport at 10pm last night and drove home. Today, we woke up in our own beds and ate breakfast, lunch and dinner at home. We played in the sprinklers, drew pictures with sidewalk chalk, played with trains, did yard work, ate dinner (thank you, Francine!), walked the dog, and started unpacking at home. Today felt completely surreal. I have imagined Duzi’s first day home ever since we started the adoption process. After my sparkling, blissful Brady Bunch daydreams about adoption, I was always careful to remind myself that the superficial world of happily-ever-after-narratives and cheesy Disney channel sitcoms in which we live is seldom accurate, that reality can often be disappointing.

Not today.

Watching Duzi play in the yard, in the playroom, and in his bedroom was just pure awesomeness. He confidently walked around the house, exploring the place he had long dreamed about. We rode bikes, brought out the Slip n’ Slide, met neighbors, and collectively basked in the security, familiarity, and promise of home. Although Duzi has been in his new home less than 24 hours, it is clear to me today that he knows what home means. After eating breakfast this morning, Duzi looked at me with a very serious expression and said,

“Mom, I just have a family.”

After swallowing a huge lump in my throat, I replied,

“You do, buddy. Duz, we have been waiting for you for a very, very long time.”

He smiled really big and then ran outside to play with Alex and Caleb.

Heading Home

We're headed home on Friday!

Today we found out that all the documents we need are, in fact, ready. I expected we'd hear maybe one piece of good news today. Turns out, we had the perfect trifecta of good news this morning. Birth Certificate? Ready. Tuberculosis sputum test results? Ready and Negative. Visa Appointment? Scheduled.

Can't tell you how much we appreciate your prayers. God moved a huge mountain.

Since lots of you in America will have the pleasure of meeting Duzi soon, he wanted to introduce himself.....

Complications

We're running in to some significant obstacles here in Johannesburg, South Africa as we struggle to obtain the necessary documents and medical tests necessary to bring Duzi home.

I'm writing to ask for your focused prayers as we wait on disorganized agencies here in South Africa to produce a birth certificate. Our adoption was the first one processed in the entire country that is subject to new legislation enacted on July 1st and no one seems to know the new proper procedure for delivering this very simple document.

Also, we are encountering difficulty with Duzi's TB test. He's tested negative in both the skin test and the chest x-ray but, apparently the CDC in the United States is requiring a sputum test. This test adds considerable delay to our visa process, as final results can take up to 6 weeks. We are hoping to hear today that the CDC will waive the requirement.

We're headed to the Consulate today to beg and plead our way to a visa.

No matter what happens, Mike, Alex and Caleb will be home on July 23rd. If we don't have a visa for Duzi, he and I will be staying in South Africa until we can get one.

We need your prayers desperately as we try to navigate these unpredictable waters. We're feeling very discouraged and VERY ready to come home.

I will try to update the blog when I have more information....

Breakthrough

Tonight, my littlest man and I had a breakthrough.

Duzi has been a member of our family since last November when we started the adoption process. I have felt emotionally connected and very much like his mom since then. He didn’t know us, though. He didn’t know that an American family from Seattle wanted him desperately, and that they were fighting hard to be united with him. Mike and I have had months and months to prepare for the adoption. We’ve read books, taken classes, prayed, and gleaned wisdom from other adoptive parents. And, we’re grown-ups. Duzi, though, at just 5 ½ years old, had just ten days to prepare for the biggest life change he’s known so far.

Since he joined our family physically on June 25^th , he and I have had our ups and downs. I’ve been ready to mother him from day one. By “mother,” I mean hold his hand, snuggle him at night, dry his tears, feed him things he likes, talk him though hard days, fight off anyone who tries to hurt him, and generally dote on him excessively. On day one, I was ready to be the person he ran to for comfort, encouragement, and safety. But, on day one, Duzi wasn’t quite ready to hire a new mommy and I realized that this process wasn’t about me.

These first few weeks, we’ve done fun things together: playing, laughing, tickling, wrestling, watching movies, coloring, and reading books. While we’ve had a blast and there have been many, many significant moments of connection, he’s also been exhibiting some rejecting behaviors with me. He’s not overtly rebellious, not at all. I almost wish he was! Instead, he refuses to hold my hand when crossing the street (he wants Alex’s hand instead), tells me to go when my tuck-in at bedtime lasts too long, and recoils when I rub his back. And most significantly, until tonight, he hadn’t cried.

His attachment to Liz, his foster mom, was (and is) powerful. He was well loved at Ithemba Lethu. Incredibly loved. While he always knew, having seen countless other children in the home be adopted, that his “real mom and dad” were coming someday, leaving behind the life he’s always known and the love he’s always been covered by, has been difficult. On our flight from Durban to Johannesburg, he said, “Look, mom! I can see Ithemba Lethu!” Later that night, he asked if we could adopt his best friend, Thandeka, and mentioned that we were now very far away from her.

Since then, we’ve seen that he loves to play pretend. What 5-year old doesn’t? When he’s pretending to be Ben-10, he can talk about how his friend, Duzi, is feeling. When he’s pretending to be a baby lion, bear, or cheetah, he can let us, as the mommy and daddy lion, bear or cheetah, snuggle with him and care for him. In pretend mode, I can rub his back, kiss him, hold his hand, and feed him. Somehow, the simple story of an animal family is less complex, less intimidating, and makes sense to him. Really, I think I could win an Oscar for my performance as a Lioness.

Tonight, though, the real Duzi and the real mommy connected. Earlier this evening, I had to put him in his first time out, or rather, time in. I’ve been putting off some discipline stuff simply because we’re living in limbo, not at home, staying at other people’s houses, and unsure of when normal life will begin. Duz was having a hard time listening and obeying, so I took his hand and said that we had to come inside and sit down for a while together. We sat together in time out/ time in for 3 minutes. I explained how much I loved him and that part of the mommy’s job was to make sure her kids were safe. His eyes welled up with tears and I picked him up in a gentle mommy cheetah hug and sat down. He quietly cried on my shoulder for forty minutes. When I saw his first tear, my own tears flowed freely. We sat in the chair and cried together. After the three minutes, he knew he could go play, that he could leave my lap of his own free will.

But, he decided to stay.

Together, we grieved and bonded, expressing pain, joy and apprehension all at once. He let me comfort him and rub his back. And then I gave him ice cream.

I realize that this is the first breakthrough of many, that our relationship will likely be 3 steps forward, two steps back.

But, he’s sleeping next to me right now, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

Living in Limbo

Yesterday, our new son, Duzi, boarded his first airplane. It was a short 45 minute flight but, to him, it was the most exciting thing in the entire world.

Here he is, meticulously looking over the safety information after the flight attendants gave an incredibly fascinating and informative pantomime of safety procedures.

After Caleb and I convinced him that we wouldn't crash, he chewed some gum and smiled for the camera.

We're now in Johannesburg, trying to meet the US requirements for an immigrant visa for Duzi. It's a long story but, we are now waiting for the Department of Home Affairs here in South Africa to process Duzi's new birth certificate with his new last name on it. This can take anywhere from 1 day to 3 months. When we have this piece of paper, we can come home.

We have very much enjoyed our time in South Africa. We've loved living in Duzi's world, learning about his heritage and story, getting to know his caregivers and advocates, and connecting with friends here. Honestly, there is no hospitality like South African hospitality. If you're not careful, you'll ingest so much tea and eat so much cake, that you'll shake uncontrollably with caffeine jitters and not be able to button your jeans. We have been very well taken care of, as has been the case every single time I've been in South Africa. With the World Cup happening here right now, the entire country (this represents a staggering amount of different people groups - there are 11 official languages) is collectively hopeful about the future and committed to showing South Africa's best face to the international soccer community. We've had the privilege of being in South Africa during a significant and impactful time in the country's history. We love South Africa, it's our son's motherland and we plan on coming back whenever we can.

But, we're very ready to come home now. We're ready to introduce the Duz to our regular family routine and to what his new normal will look like. Right now, we're eating out in restaurants, going on mini-safaris, watching movies, and generally having a blast. I'm certain that Duzi thinks he's landed the Daddy Warbucks family. That said, we're actually bonding in incredible ways without the pressures of our busy Seattle life. We've had meaningful family time and have been able to meet parenting challenges without distraction. And, let me tell you, there have been challenges.

Challenges so far (at least the ones I'm willing to post):

1)While welcoming Duzi into our family, Caleb has felt very nervous and a tad bit jealous. He is determined to prove that he is older than Duzi and more proficient at just about everything. He has needed constant reassurance that we know he's "big" and that we will not treat him like a 5-yr old.

2)Alex has said she just "misses time with mommy." She has felt the need to over-mother her brothers when they disagree or when she feels I'm not performing well enough as a disciplinarian.

3)Duzi is overtly independent at times, rejecting the love and care of mom, and strikingly dependent at others, insisting that he "must be carried." He has bonded quite easily with dad and sister, but is having a hard time viewing me as his new mom. This is actually good - it means he has been well cared for and attached to his foster mom. I'm not hurt - I completely understand. But, I think this challenge makes me all the more eager to get home and start taking care of my new baby where I best know how to do it.

4) I'm also having considerable anxiety about Duzi's ears. He gets chronic ear infections but is currently fine and healthy. I'd really like to board the plane to America without Duzi's ears acting up. Hint: RIGHT NOW WOULD BE PERFECT!

I'm not complaining, just venting and trying to be real.

Truth is, we are loving where we're at, challenges and all. Loving, loving, loving it. I just finished a wrestling match with my two sons. I'm proud to say that I can, for the moment, still take them both at once.

Pretty sure I'll have a sore neck in the morning but, it was definitely worth it.

Goodbye

Yesterday was a very emotional day. It was our goodbye day. All week, we’ve been dropping by Ithemba Lethu (Zulu for “I have a destiny”), the children’s home where Duzi lived for 3 years, immersing ourselves in his world and asking lots of questions about his life, needs and routines. We played in the garden, followed Granny Liz (Duzi’s amazing foster mom), around and spent time loving on all the other kids. At one point in the week, Caleb emphatically reported that the next child we were going to adopt was a 2 yr old little girl named Stella. He spent all his time at Ithemba Lethu taking care of her – he even helped give her a bath. I didn’t have an answer for him about whether or not we could adopt her. But, I didn’t exactly say no.

Ithemba Lethu is a joy-filled place. The children there are loved beyond comprehension. The staff members are dedicated to providing the best possible environment for orphaned children and they pray for the kids like crazy. Duzi was well loved and nurtured there. My son was prayed for every day. The staff believed in him, took him to swimming lessons, gymnastics lessons, and preschool, and poured life into him through every interaction. He was the big man on campus.

So, you can imagine why saying goodbye to Ithemba Lethu was incredibly difficult. There was happiness and celebration in the goodbye, as it meant that Duzi now had a family. There was also a tremendous amount of grief and loss in the goodbye. As painful and hard as grief can be, it is also a necessary, healthy part of any transition and we didn’t want to skip over it.

We decided to take Granny Liz, and 4 yr. old Thandeka, Duzi’s close friend and roommate, to lunch before the official goodbye. Before the lunch, Duzi and I went shopping for presents. He picked out some fancy lotion for Liz and a Princess Carriage Set for Thandeka. He gave the ladies their gifts with a proud, proud smile.

We returned from lunch to say our official goodbyes at Ithemba Lethu. Liz sat down with Duzi and gave him a gift of her own – a book about Durban that included photos of all the places she had taken him during his three years in her care. As we lingered in the garden, the Ithemba Lethu staff trickled out, one by one, to form a semi-circle around the garden gate. The Children’s Transition Home is just one arm of IL’s ministry. They also work in the local townships with primary students, educating kids about HIV/AIDS and about their incredible importance to God. All the youth workers who staff this program, and who have been quite influential in Duzi’s life, were there.

We walked out of the gate and the youth workers broke into powerful, joyful song and dance. They were singing in Zulu but my heart understood what they were saying. They were praising God for his provision and generosity and speaking blessing over Duzi. Duzi was absolutely thrilled, in his shy, quiet way, that so much attention was being lavished on him. With some gentle prodding from me, he made his way through the crowd, hugging each adult and each child, while the singing continued. All on his own, he kissed one of the babies tenderly, and I just wept.

Mike and I, and half the staff, were a soggy mess of tears. It was beautiful, painful, and holy all at once.

We eventually made our way to the car and drove away. We looked behind us, and 5 of the youth workers were following, huge grins on their faces, sprinting down the street after us - singing. Duzi exclaimed with glee, “They are chasing us!” And I replied, “You’re right! That’s how much you are loved.”

Mike and I cried the entire way back to our hotel. And then some more tonight.

(Again, having trouble uploading photos - check out the facebook profile for pics! - Jodie Gordon Howerton)

Finalized

Today we had our day in court. After months of battling the unknown, completing massive mounds of paperwork, and praying a lot, we became the official, legal parents of Mduduzi Ezekiel Howerton. While it ended very well, our court appearance, like many parts of this process, did not go exactly as planned.

I actually wasn’t anxious about our court date. I was under the impression that it was a rubber stamp sort of formality, that the right paperwork had been submitted and necessary permissions granted. We were excited but sort of felt like Duzi already belonged to us, that we belonged to him, and that he was already a permanent part of our family. The night before court, we tried to explain to him what was going to happen in front of the magistrate. He replied, “But I am already Howerton!”

Before court, the social workers in charge of our case prepared a luncheon for us, as they do for all adoptive families before their court appearances. Usually, the lunch is lighthearted and filled with excited, hopeful conversation. When we arrived, however, the room was filled with tension and uncertainty. Our primary social worker asked to have a word with us outside. Really, that’s never a good sign. There were problems with our case, we were told. There were glitches caused by the passage of new legislation that went into effect THAT DAY. There was a letter we needed that was going to be faxed, and there was a chance that the adoption would not be approved that day. If it wasn’t approved that day, there was no telling when it would be. They didn’t want to scare us; they just thought we should know. You know, in case. We were the first international adoption that this new law would apply to. The social workers had never encountered these obstacles with the courts before.

Michael and I took in the news with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. We had done the paperwork correctly and passed every rigorous screening and test. We had believed that the big hurdles had already been overcome. We weren’t ready for another obstacle. We bravely and empathetically thanked our social workers for keeping us in the loop and then found some privacy to PRAY. Helpless, we cried out to God for answers and intervention. I stepped into the bathroom to wipe the soggy black mascara from my cheeks and then we re-joined our celebration luncheon.

While we ate, the social workers flitted about, taking phone calls outside while nervously pacing back and forth. Shocked, and over-reacting quite a bit (as I have a habit of doing), I tried to imagine telling Duzi that we could not adopt him, that this whole week had been a mistake, that we were going to America without him. I tried to imagine telling Alex and Caleb. In that moment, the Mother Bear came out in me. There was NO WAY I WAS GOING TO HAVE THOSE CONVERSATIONS. AND THERE WAS NO WAY ANYONE WAS TAKING MY SON.

I thought about the hundreds of people praying for us, the miracles we’d already seen, and decided to rest in the knowledge that God had destined Duzi for our family and that He had a plan. I don’t mean for this to sound noble. Seriously, I didn’t have any other choice!

I remained tense but was able to shed maybe 70% of the anxiety, which is exceptionally good for me. With faith, we traveled to the judicial building in Durban for our 2:00 appointment. For an hour and a half, the social workers advocated on our behalf with the magistrate, imploring the court to do what was in the best interest of the child, which clearly was to let us adopt him. After 90 minutes of waiting in a tiny room, all three kids were going a little nuts. OK, a LOT nuts. They were ready to climb the walls and I’m fairly certain were considering a hostile take-over of the building. Finally, finally, finally, we got word that the magistrate was going to sign off on the adoption but wanted to see us first. All five Howertons immediately filed into the magistrate’s office and sat down.

She was very kind. She was a mother. She asked us questions about why we wanted to adopt and why we wanted to adopt from South Africa. She had read our file and knew I had 5 sisters and that Michael’s brother had adopted two boys. She asked Duzi if he knew why he was there. He wasn’t quite sure what to say, believing correctly that he was already a Howerton and all. She asked Alex and Caleb what they were most excited about in getting a new brother, told them to say hello to Mickey Mouse and THEN SHE SIGNED THE ADOPTION DECREE.

There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that God showed up in court today. There is no other explanation, no other way I can explain the miracle we witnessed. God has moved mountains in every stage of this process and has always known that Duzi would be our son. I can see his sovereign plan and yet, am still incredibly surprised by it.

We are rejoicing tonight. Our good friends hosted a celebration dinner for us tonight, complete with champagne. We celebrated big and are now completely exhausted.

We still have some obstacles to overcome. Well, one really. We need a new birth certificate for Duzi with his new last name on it – this is a US immigration requirement and could take a week to get. Or, it could take a month. The sooner we get this, the sooner we can come home. Will you continue to pray for us?

I just tucked all three of my kids in bed and am feeling very, very happy. And exhausted.

(for some reason, I'm having a hard time uploading photos to blogger. to see the latest pics of the Howerton clan, log on to my Facebook profile - http://www.facebook.com/jodie.howerton )

Meeting Duzi

I’ve been trying to get a blog post together since last Saturday night. So, so much has happened in our family since then, that I haven’t had a clue where to begin and I haven’t had more than five minutes to jot my thoughts down. A lot of our story is going to remain private – just for us. But, there are some moments I simply must communicate to avoid bursting.

My last post told the story of our victorious appointment at the US Embassy. The following day, we travelled to Durban to meet our son. I’ll pick up from there….

The night before we left for Durban, I didn’t sleep very well. Meaning, I didn’t sleep AT ALL. I knew that the next day we were to board a short, 1 hour long flight and then be driven to meet our son. Our son. I had no idea what to expect, so I stressed about the coming day all night long. I’m sort of good at stressing – it’s almost like I have a degree in Freaking Out. Here’s a sampling of thoughts that occupied my sleepless night: Will he like us? Can I really do this? Am I a good enough mother to do this? How will Alex and Caleb deal with the changes in our family structure? What if I can’t remember how to take care of a 5 year old? What if he doesn’t bond with me? What if I can’t bond with him? Anxiety and anticipation, coupled with jet lag, do not make for peaceful dreams.

Exhausted, and hanging by a thread, I spent the entire next day snapping at my husband and kids, and wistfully remembering the way the world once looked through the blessed lens of a fitful night of sleep. Michael, Alex and Caleb were also very, very tired. I could not believe I was going to meet my son with such an incredible deficit of energy. I had pictured the moment when we would become a family and it looked a lot more like running through meadows of wildflowers in the pristine sunlight than showing up with blood shot eyes and a suitcase full of anxiety.

And yet, I was completely unwilling to delay our meeting. I couldn’t think of any malady worthy enough to put off meeting my son. On the short flight to Durban, I prayed like a maniac for energy and then passed out for 40 minutes.

Long story short – we rallied. Once we landed, pure adrenaline kicked in and absolutely nothing could have prevented us from meeting our son/ brother. When we arrived at Ithemba Lethu, the children’s home where Duzi has been well cared for for the past 3 years, our little man was waiting expectantly by the door. Wearing a yellow Ben-Ten T-shirt and black jeans, he smiled shyly at us as we bolted out of the car. He’d seen our pictures and recognized us instantly. Alex and Caleb made it to him first. Mike and I made it just after. We hugged him repeatedly and began the work of becoming a family.

It’s been 5 days since our precious Duzi joined the Howerton family. We couldn’t be happier. He’s an amazing, amazing kid that keeps us laughing. We’ve had moments of pure joy and moments of hard transition. God is clearly and completely present through it all.

Thank you all so much for your continued prayers. We feel them.

Can’t wait for you to meet the Duz.

Introducing Mduduzi Ezekiel Howerton

Progress

Yesterday, we met with our South African social worker for the first time. We met her at Impilo, the children’s home that she founded (our little guy isn’t at this home – he’s in another city – we travel to Durban on Friday). We offloaded our mammoth cargo of diapers (to the great relief of our children), toured the facility, and flirted unabashedly with all the babies. There were 12 or so babies and toddlers lined up in a row of cribs, some crying, some sleeping, and some flirting with us back. I watched Alex and Caleb take in their surroundings and realized that this was the first time they had ever been in an orphanage. Wide-eyed, they took in the scene, trying to process the concept of so many babies without parents all in one place.

When we left Impilo with our social worker to go to our first appointment at the US Embassy, Caleb said, “Mom, can we adopt one of these babies, too? I’m really good with them. They love me….” I told him we would have to see.

Our first visa appointment at the US Embassy went incredibly well. Since South Africa doesn’t normally adopt out to the United States, the US Embassy here is unaccustomed to processing adoption paperwork. And, apparently they have a reputation in South Africa of being “difficult.” We didn’t know what to expect. Turns out, they were ready for us. They had our file, knew us by name, and were smiling. They even simplified the process a little bit. We’re hoping that there will be many more adoptions for them to process in the future!

We fly to Durban on Friday and will meet our son on Friday afternoon.

Thanks, everybody, for your prayers. We can feel them in a very tangible way.

On Our Way

We’re on our way. I’m sitting on the plane as I write, filled with wonder that this day has actually arrived. Paperwork has been approved, bags have been packed, preparations have been made, and we’re actually on our way to see our son. It feels surreal, dream-like.

We were up late last night packing, cleaning and generally flitting nervously about. The air was pregnant with anticipation and if I’m being honest, a little bit of anxiety. Alex translated her nervous energy into helpfulness, asking repeatedly what else she could pack or clean. Caleb’s nerves came out in loud sound effects and a teensy bit of orneriness about whether or not I had packed his favorite tattered and stained red bathing suit (FYI - I gave in and packed the wretched thing). Michael was mostly mellow, like always.

Unfortunately, my anxiety turned into a short temper and I may have had to issue some apologies this morning.

In spite of our nervousness, we did manage to relish a few moments of the preparation. When we tucked the kids in last night, we realized that it was our last night in the house as a family of four. So, Mike and I snuggled up with the Alex and Caleb and lingered an extra long time in their rooms. We marked the moment in our minds and allowed the full emotion and excitement of adding to our family wash over us.

Highlights from the Airport this morning:

1) We saw the first bit of divine intervention when we checked in at the airport today. We shared that we were traveling to pick up our adopted son, and the ticket agent checked our bags all the way through to South Africa. We were supposed to pick them up in Atlanta and go through security again. Those of you with kids understand what a HUGE pain in the butt that would be.

2) Because we delight in growing the character of our children, we thoroughly embarrassed

Alex and Caleb by hand carrying packs of diapers through the airport. We’re bringing them to the orphanage to donate. Let’s just say neither child would allow me to photograph them anywhere near the diapers. My taunts of, “Come on, let me put this on Facebook…” were in no way amusing to them. They acted like the diapers had been laced with arsenic.

It’s such a relief to be sitting on the plane, knowing that everything is done - or if it’s not, there’s nothing I can do about it now.

Now, only 22 more hours of travel to go.

Nesting

In the weeks before Alex and Caleb were born, I took on many of the characteristics of OCD. In spite of being 9 months pregnant and exhausted, I remember cleaning things I had never even known could get dirty, arranging and re-arranging picture frames, cabinets, and closets, and then worrying that our life would never ever be scrubbed clean enough to deserve a new child.

At the time, I was under the impression that hormones produced by pregnancy had taken over, that crazy irrational nesting was a phenomenon exclusively related to physiological chemical reactions linked to the upcoming birth. “The human body is truly amazing, “ I thought. “Mothers are hard-wired to prepare for the arrival of a baby, hard-wired to create a safe space for their offspring. ” 8 years ago, when my son was born, I knew very little about adoption and could not have predicted that it would be God’s plan for our family.

I now know first hand that biological pregnancy is not the only way to produce these mysterious nesting hormones. For the past 9 months, we’ve been in the process of adopting a 5-year old little boy. And, the entire time, I have felt very pregnant. And, for the past month, have once again been bussling around the house, obsessing about whether or not things are organized or clean enough to be worthy of our new son.

We head to Africa to meet our son in less than two weeks. I have an irrational task list longer than you can imagine. It includes but is not limited to: Cleaning out gutters, cleaning the garage, training the dog, losing 10 pounds, weeding, sterilizing bathrooms and cupboards, and ridding Alex and Caleb of any and all bad habits.

Notice that packing our bags is not even on this list. That’s on another list.

I'm coming to terms with the fact that everything might not get done. Besides, we should probably introduce him to what regular life is like in the Howerton home instead of the scrubbed clean, well-sanitized version. The truth is we're pretty messy. :)

Stream in the Desert

We’ve been busy making plans. Lots and lots of plans. Coordinating an international trip and an international adoption in a country that doesn’t usually do adoptions to the United States requires lots of formulating, concocting, stipulating, and well, trusting. (By the way, if you know where we are adopting from, please do not mention the country in any blog comments you might make. We’re still in top-secret mode!)

In the last two weeks, I have had conversations with airlines, adoption agencies, embassies and State Department employees, hotels, concerned family members, car rental agencies, my boss, and school office staff. As crazy and hectic as all this sounds, it has actually felt really good to be working off of an active task list. I’m not good at waiting. Waiting is passive and inefficient. I know that King David wrote many Psalms about the glory of waiting on the Lord. There are many lessons to be learned while waiting. But, if I’m being gut-level honest, I much, much prefer being actively engaged in tasks that could result in bringing our son home sooner. I get that waiting is an inevitable part of the adoption process – I just happen to not like it very much at all.

So, here’s the skinny on our adoption process. We are traveling on June 22nd (Robbers, thieves, or burglars – be warned! We have studly house-sitters and a fearless guard dog) to finalize our adoption and bring our son home. The kicker is that we need to be gone for a solid month. Since we are pioneering a process in a country that is more or less brand new to US adoptions, there are some rusty, inefficient elements of the affair to contend with. But, we’re fighters. We are not leaving the country without our son.

At first, the prospect of being gone for so long and spending so much more money freaked me right out. But, details are falling in to place. Peace is reigning in my heart. And I am reminded daily that this adoption was supposed to be impossible.

Apparently, God is doing His usual thing and making a way in the desert. When things seem hopeless, He performs inconceivable miracles. When you’re all dried up and out of solutions, He shows up and provides one. (Isaiah 43:19 See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.)

God specializes in moving mountains. This we’ve already seen.

I can’t wait to post pictures of our little guy. Look for them on July 1, 2010.