We were desperately trying to get to Africa and bring home our son. 5 years. Has it really been that long? Seriously? I remember it like it was yesterday. Every detail. Every emotion. Every bit of ache that we felt along the way.
It wasn't the easiest trip by any stretch of the imagination. Everything that could go wrong, seemed to go wrong. The biggest snowstorm hit. our luggage never made it. And on and on, it seemed to go. If you want to read about the entire trip, click here. But my husband and I were undeterred.
5 years ago they handed us this tiny little cutie pie. All dressed in pink. (That was terribly funny, because we thought they gave us the wrong child. But in Africa, at the orphanage, a shirt is a shirt. It doesn't matter who wears it)
5 years ago we had the hardest meeting of our lives. We thanked our child's birth mother for the most precious gift. She loved her son more than anything. She just couldn't afford to take care of him. She wanted to give him a better life.
My favorite thing to tell people is that when we asked her what she would like for us to do for him….anything…….she said, "she wanted him to know the word of God."
The word of God, people. Think about that for a moment….
In a highly muslim region, our child's birth mother was a Christian. Only God himself could orchestrate this. And one day. One day. I will walk through those pearly gates in heaven and hug his birth mother once again. We will sit and laugh at all the stories I will tell about our son. I feel so blessed. He will get to meet and be with her again.
5 years ago today. Africa called our name and we were forever changed.
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