Letters to My Boy

My sweet Oliver, 
For twenty-two days now, I have not known where you were. For these three weeks, every detail concerning bringing you home has been in question. My heart has feared the worst...The silence has been unbearable. I have grieved that perhaps I would never be able to bring you home, son. My arms ache to hold you, to comfort you. I long to see your smile.

But God has truly been my portion. As I have sorrowed, God has provided joy. As I have felt so very lost, the Word has been my Compass, guiding me to think on truth. As all around, my world feels as if it's giving way, God has been my Hope, my Stay, my Anchor. 

God has blessed me abundantly with a spiritual family who has supported and uplifted my heavy heart. Some of these are our physical family, while others are apart of our church body. Others have been friends from the past, who have particularly been weighed to bring our situation before the Father. These ones have prayed fervently for you, for me. They have spoken reminders of truth, Who God is, into my life. They have been a gift. Truly. 

Amidst the uncertainty, God has seen fit to give us another gift. Since we began this process, my heart has been knit together with another momma who is also waiting for her son to come home. Around the same time, we both began this adoption journey with the same agency. Unknowingly, we were both completing the "paper chase" at the same speed. We both jumped into the "waiting to be matched to our sons" boat at about the same time. It was at this time that I first became acquainted with Clarisa Polanco. Little did I know, we would battle together for you boys. We would weep together. We would fight together. What began as a casual acquaintance has grown into a sisterhood. Together, we pray that our sons will come home. I pray for you, Oliver. And she prays for her Tiago.

Every day that I feel afraid or low, Clarisa knows. When we get good news or bad news, she hears from me. And I hear from her. We rejoice together and we weep together. 

Because another friend gifted your Daddy and I with an unexpected trip to Florida, we have been privileged to finally meet Clarisa and Jorge in person. Our time with them has been sweet. They know precisely what we are going through, as they are experiencing the very same emotions. 

Our first night, we stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, overjoyed to finally be together. The next day, we all sat together as we anxiously listened to a conference call with the ones we hired to find our boys, to investigate into your stories, to find out if you were truly adoptable-in need of our families. 

During this call, we learned that they still did not know for sure where you were. We also learned that your stories were indeed true; and, provided you are found and that Ethiopia allows us to continue, we could still adopt you. We learned that two other adoption agencies were willing to work with us and the Polancos respectively. It would not be easy. The road would not be steady nor straight. It would be costly. The end is still not certain. 

But we were given hope. In this we rejoiced. 

Although there were still many uncertainties, we rejoiced at this new information. The first real information in weeks. When our call was finished, your Daddy led us all in prayer and we thanked God for His goodness and prayed for further news and direction. 

The rest of the day, our conversation was filled with questions and hopes. Together, we rejoiced that there was light--You may still be coming home. 

Finally. On Wednesday, we received an email that calmed my greatest fear of the past month. You have been found. I know where my son is. He is no longer lost. You had been moved hours out of the city to eastern Ethiopia. Your orphanage knows that we want you. That you are connected with us. We are yours and you should be ours. The orphanage has agreed to shelter you and care for you until we can finally bring you home. 

We also learned that by the end of this week, another agency has agreed to help us. We will need to redo much of our paperwork. You will need to be re-referred to us. Many of the fees will need to be paid again. The road is uncharted. It is risky. Uncertain. There are still many moving pieces, some of which could end everything. 

But today, we have hope. 

We are coming. 

With love, 
Momma