Blog post #13

May 16^th, 2013 A short recap of the (long) past two weeks:

We spent a lot of time at the beach in Umhlanga & in Durban. The girls love the ocean & make a game of running into, & away from, the waves. The best of our beach days were spent with a family from the Church we’ve been going to here. They have been so fun to hang out with, so refreshing to talk to, and so encouraging to be around. Our time in Durban would have been much more isolated and more difficult without them. It was so nice to be invited to share meals together. Spending time in someone’s home when you’re overseas makes you feel less like a tourist & more like a traveler, if that makes sense. We will miss this beautiful beach, and especially this lovely family.

We did make it back to uShaka, where I fulfilled my dream of being kissed by a seal. It was…more intimidating than I expected. They aren’t the cuddly pets I had imagined them to be; more like loud, strong, smart beasts that have been trained to kiss. Nonetheless, a highlight of my life! And for any of you who were keeping track, Amahle did finally get to enjoy an ice cream cone there.

All the while, we were periodically traveling to Home Affairs, the office/entity responsible for issuing identity documents to South Africans. It was not as harrowing as I had feared, probably because our adoption lawyers worked long & hard & well-organized on our behalf. We successfully changed Amahle’s surname, got her a new identification number (similar to our social security number), received a new short-form birth certificate, are still waiting for the unabridged birth certificate, received her temporary passport, and will wait to receive her permanent passport when it is ready. Whew! Anyone who has adopted internationally deserves some sort of honorary degree in bureaucratic paperwork completion. Or a lifetime supply of lattes or something energy-replenishing.

Finally, on Tuesday we left Durban behind & traveled to Johannesburg for the last leg of our trip. Nine and a half hours in the packed car with two active little girls. We arrived late at night at the lodge, after a difficult time finding the right road. GPS is very helpful, but not always reliable around here. It often says, “Turn right on Road,” because it doesn’t know the name of the street, or, “Turn left on Unpaved Road.” We got settled in for the night, scrounging through luggage for toothbrushes and pajamas, and didn’t really see our surroundings until the next morning. When we wandered into the grounds behind our lodge the next morning, we were treated to views of zebra, gazelles, & emu! Such has been our experience in Africa—5 parts rush & drudgery, one part incredible splendor. I would even describe our adoptive parenting that way so far—mostly challenging, lots of correction, work around the clock, and then the rare glimpse of how things might be one day: peaceful, joyful, laughing and enjoying our new, expanded family. 

Blog post #12

May 3^rd, 2013: Yesterday we took the girls to uShaka Marine World and water park. We met up with the other family—now just Mama S, Griffin (4), & Sifundo, as the rest of their family has gone back to America. Our kids were so happy to be reunited, having spent time separately since Monday. And I am always jazzed to spend time with my only mom friend out here. We do a lot of talking, comparing notes & a lot of laughing; it’s therapeutic for us both. This adoption and travel experience definitely bonds families together in a very unique way.

The water park was a big hit for everyone—there were all kinds of slides & pools, a dolphin show, and the coolest aquarium, made to look like a sunken ship. Amahle enjoyed trying more & more on her own; she is adventurous & independent, and also likes to show off for mommy & daddy. I view it as a sign of good attachment when I hear, “Mommy, look!” a million times a day. While sometimes independence is a trait to be cultivated in kids, I am working against the stubborn self-reliance she developed in the orphanage, trying to teach her to depend on us. It’s odd, because at six, she is very capable of doing some things alone, which I am teaching her to let me do for her. I kept suggesting rides and activities the girls could do together, or that we could do as a family. Amahle & I floated down the lazy river together, oohing and aahing at the sights along the way. She was tickled to see penguins along the bank, & was pretty scared of the sharks behind the glass. She and Sifundo both keep pretty serious mugs at times, which gives the appearance of being hard to impress by new things. But when asked, Amahle will answer, “I’m scared to them,” which is sometimes the reason for the mask she wears.  

My favorite ride was called “Jika Jika,” which we made into a silly expression of joy throughout the day. As in, “Jika, jika I’m happy!!” in a sing-songy voice. The seven of us piled into one big, round raft, & twisted and turned down a long tube together. I loved looking at each face as we sped along: Amahle laughing & holding onto Sifundo, Tabby screaming & pretending to be in peril, Griffin admitting how fun this was, after staunchly refusing to try it at first.

When our two families get together, Sifundo & Amahle always have a wonderful time. I love to see them so excited to greet each other, and have a chance to talk feely in Zulu, but I am aware that it does hurt Tabby’s feelings to see Amahle’s bond with Sifundo, when Tabby is so desirous of that kind of sisterly bond. Her face always falls a little, and she is constantly being shrugged off for hugs by Amahle & Sifundo. To be fair, there aren’t a lot of hugs going around at the orphanage. Tabby’s type of sweetness & affection is something Amahle will need to get used to. Griffin, however, loves Tabby very much; they spend much of the day holding hands or hugging.

This was a pretty great day for all of us. One bright spot in the financial cloud of adoption is that the economy here makes it possible for us to spend the day at a water park for not much. We stayed the whole day, skipping naps, eating at a nice restaurant, and didn’t spend a lot. That makes entertaining kids for almost seven weeks a bit easier.

At the end of the day, both Sifundo & Amahle had some behavior issues. For both families, they were big enough rule violations that we needed to discipline them clearly and quickly. We had been heading to get ice cream, and Mama S, Jamie, & I decided that Sifundo & Amahle would not get ice cream because of their misbehavior. Parent friends out there: how hard is that to do?! I am a firm believer in clear and consistent discipline. But watching a child watch another child eat ice cream? Feels cruel and unusual in the moment. Not to mention, from the outside it looked very much like we buy our white children ice cream, but none for our African children. An uncomfortable impression to give off in public, especially in South Africa.

Other than that blip on the behavior radar, this was one of my favorite days here. Tabby said it was ‘the best day of her life,’ and she only says that very rarely! It was great to have such a fun, relaxing day as a family. It makes the counting down days and dreading paperwork recede for a while. I am very grateful for the gorgeous weather we’ve been having. This would all be so much harder in the rain.  

Blog post #11

Funny and/or Surprising

At the lodge, we send our laundry out to be washed, & they return it in a big, folded stack, wrapped in cellophane. The first day our new kiddos were with us, Sifundo, who is four years old, automatically took the stack of laundry, put it on top of her head, and walked it down to the bedroom. That’s how women in Kwa-Zulu carry heavy things. So cute and surprising to see little Sifundo do it!

Amahle refers to her sandals as “flick-clocks,” because that’s how it sounds to her when we say “flip-flops.”

For those of you who know my usual modus operandi at home, it would surprise you to see me frequently pick flies/bugs out of my drinks & continue drinking them. That’s just how things are here!

When Jamie blew his nose, Amahle looked surprised & said, “Daddy, you sound like a vuvuzela!”

Apparently, when I order a “7Up” at a restaurant here, it sounds like “Savannah,” which is an alcoholic cider. Not as refreshing as I was expecting.

In Amahle’s first days with us, her English was so limited that we rarely knew what she was trying to say. However, she knew all the words to “Gangnam Style” and “Call Me Maybe.” Kind of similar to not having enough money for nutritious food, but always having grape soda available.

At the zoo in Cato Ridge, we stood for a long time watching an adorable baby monkey make eyes at us through the bars. After several minutes, he climbed over to the side of the exhibit & let himself out. There was nothing stopping him from spanning the twelve inches between us, but when his mommy called him, he let himself back in the exhibit.

At Church in Durban, there is a small playground where the children romp after Sunday services. Our first time there, a two year old boy was climbing the ropes on the jungle gym, naked from the waist down. Both of the girls looked at him & craned their necks to make eye contact with me, as if to say, “Are you seeing this?!” I guess that’s just how they do things in SA. We have seen soooo many naked children here—not at the orphanage, at the beach.

There are signs all over our apartment building that say: Please do not feed the monkeys or feral cats. The woman who cleans our building warned us to lock our windows when we go out, unless we want the monkeys to let themselves in & finish our food.

Probably the biggest surprise is how we all eventually adapt to any situation. We didn’t watch any TV for our first two weeks here; we didn’t have air conditioning; we have eaten enough, but not been “satisfied” for most of our meals, since our food & cooking options here are limited; our skin is continuously slick with dirt, sunscreen, and bug spray; geckos run across the walls with no warning, and we don’t even jump. So many things that seem “necessary” in our lives at home, apparently aren’t. But friends & community—that we truly miss. 

Fair warning to my diverse group of dear friends: this is an overtly Christian post! I don’t believe it will offend, but if it does, please talk to me directly. This is based on my personal life experience, & I would be glad to share it with you one-on-one.

To ransom: to obtain the release of a prisoner by making a payment demanded. 

The thing about newly adopted children is, they don’t clean themselves up & present themselves as fully-formed, shiny individuals in order to be adopted. They, like each of us, are works in progress. Though they certainly bring us joy & blessing during the time we care for them, initially, they bring nothing to the table but open hands. They are needy, and full of unmet wants. In some ways, they are more independent, after living without parents for so long, but they quickly begin calling for mommy & daddy more often than a same-aged child who has grown up with parents present. They have years of attention-seeking to make up for. They are unpolished—saying and doing things we have learned to pretend we don’t think or do. They don’t blend seamlessly into our already-established family dynamic; they exert their own will and seek their own satisfaction above the good of the family. Simply put, they don’t “deserve” to be adopted, they don’t “earn” a family by their good behavior.

If Amahle did exude every sweet and docile quality that would make her “deserving” of a family, and had no bad habits or flaws, I would miss out on the poignant metaphor God is showing me in our family: I don’t need to be cleaned up and good enough in order to be accepted by Him and lovingly adopted into His family. He accepts me as I am, and He has rescued and ransomed me from a life without Him. This metaphor has sustained me during years of tedious adoption paperwork and aggravating hoops I’ve had to jump through in order to bring a child home from life in an institution. When people have asked about the process, and I have shared some of the big costs associated with adoption, they often either balk or say something to the effect of, “You are a stellar person—I couldn’t go through that.” But neither of those is accurate. I’ve been sustained knowing that I, myself, was ransomed at a very high cost. Jesus did not balk at the high price he had to pay to bring me into His family. Even when I asked for too many things; even when my habits were unattractive; even when I don’t see the tremendous gifts He gives me; even when I don’t say thank you.

When I see Amahle being herself in our midst, when she is picking up & using all our things without hesitating or asking, when she shows us her most ungrateful or selfish sides, I am reminded of the truth about myself. The grace I have been shown was unearned. That’s what grace is. That’s what we’re here to extend to our children.

Now when Amahle joined our family, that very first day, she began calling us “mommy” & “daddy.” She began using all our things, eating our food, putting holes in the knees of the leggings we just gave her. There was no hesitancy, no dipping her toes in the water. This is what it means to receive like a little child. When she was in the orphanage for all those years, she prayed earnestly for parents. She didn’t wonder whether that was the right thing to do—she asked for what she wanted, and she just kept asking. When she was told she was going to have a family, she rejoiced freely. There are lessons to be learned here about what God has for us & how we respond. When we enter into the Kingdom of God, we aren’t borrowing; we aren’t second-class citizens of heaven. We are full children, co-heirs, joint-conquerors with Christ. The boldness Amahle has in our family, the entitlement, shows that she fully receives the gifts she’s been given. At first, I am taken aback, seeing her so confident. It seems presumptuous, maybe impolite, because that’s not how adults in our culture behave. But I know that it is good, and that it means she has fully entered in. My job is to keep my hand open & let her take freely from it. When I want to close it, to make some qualification or contingency, I am stealing. I am adding on to what has already been finished. Freely freely you have received; freely freely give. 

Inside the courthouse, looking out. 

She just "randomly" chose this picture to color.

Blog post #9

April 23^rd, 2013

Court. Today little A officially became ours: Amahle Gaffga. The whole house was up early, bathing & getting the kiddos fed & fancied for court at 9am. We took some family photos ahead of time, and arrived at the courthouse with about 15 minutes to spare. (When will we ever accept that things here run on “Africa time?”) We weren’t sure exactly what all goes on at that courthouse—we looked to be the happiest & most dressed-up people there. We saw at least one man come in wearing handcuffs, held securely by a police officer. We were an excited, jittery group of ten adults: three pairs of adoptive parents, a supportive grandmother who flew in from America for the occasion, two lawyers, & one social worker, and six impatient, decked-out children.

The magistrate was not there when we arrived…or at 9, when our appointment was to be…or at 10…It was after 11 when the first family went in for their proceedings. So the 16 of us took up all the benches in the lobby, as the littlest kids melted down, Amahle sung a constant stream of too-loud made up songs, and the anxious adults said No! to a continual list of requests from the kids. It figures that on this momentous day, our children would not behave angelically—we cleaned them up on the outside, but they were just as rambunctious and self-interested as on any other day. And we were not perfect parents, as we waited to pledge our commitment to our new children. That’s the reality—adoption does not look as pretty, up-close, as it may seem from afar. Adopted children don’t behave “gratefully” for having been taken out of an orphanage! They act their age, usually younger, making up for years of not having anyone to ask for things. They don’t have lovely social skills, they don’t smile & give a hug at every appropriate moment. They are just kids who haven’t been tended to, who have some deep wounds, who struggle with the same desires to do the wrong things as any other child.

To some in the courthouse, we were an annoyance, waiting in the crowded lobby, but many people looked our group over & smiled, knowing what we were there for. When it was finally our turn, we met with the magistrate in his office. He was a vibrant, faithful, amazing man. I came away wishing he were a second father to me! He read over all our papers, checking for errors, asked us if we had any questions, interacted with both kids, and had us sign our pledges to care for Amahle for life. Though outwardly things seemed different—we dressed the part, we were in a courthouse, this was THE date—I truly didn’t feel any different. I felt like Amahle was mine from the moment we took physical custody of her. Our lawyer playfully said, “Call us tomorrow & let us know how you feel when the reality sinks in.” But no extra layer of emotion hit me. For me, it comes in small waves, when I watch both girls sleep; when I find myself laughing at their silly antics during dinner; when I line up two sets of little girl shoes. After signing all the documents, the magistrate, who sees his appointment as a divine calling, prayed for our family with such authority & fervor—it was an awesome close to a long morning at court.

Though the official adoption is now complete, we have a lot of work to do in the coming weeks, in order to be able to leave the country as a family. We need to apply for a new birth certificate and ID number for Amahle, a visa, a temporary passport, and secure her a plane ticket home. She needs to be registered in SA’s official record of children adopted out of the country. She needs to be cleared by a specific doctor before she is allowed to leave the country. This is all a part of the red tape we need to persevere through in order to finish this process. We have been told we will be dealing largely with the Department of Home Affairs for all these documents.  Praying people, please lift this process up for us. 

Blog post #8

April 22^nd, 2013

Today is Tabby’s fourth birthday, and the day has been lovely so far. I am so, so proud of how mature and open she has been throughout this adventure. Sure, she has had her bratty moments (as have each of us), but she has largely been good-natured, trusting, and kind to everyone here. If we were at home in the States, first thing this morning I would’ve stood her against the door to the nursery & measured her height. We have done that every year on the 22^nd of April. Three lines of black Sharpie, representing the three best years of my life. I feel a little sentimental pang that we can’t do it today. But I can stand her straight-backed against an aloe tree and take a photo.

One of the gifts Tabby received today was a pair of kites—one for her, one for her sister. When I bought them months ago at Walmart, I didn’t know they would be flying them on the most perfect, windy morning here in Camperdown. But God did. Last night was a ferocious storm, with extreme winds bringing down a lot of branches. I’m told it was unseasonable, but we have experienced almost every type of weather since we arrived. I couldn’t have guessed last night, as it was pouring rain, that 8 am this morning would bring beautiful kite skies. To a child, that’s no surprise. They greet each day with joyful expectation, certain life will bring them good. I’m so thankful today is bringing my girls good. I pray for the children still living at Lily, that they will be able to hang on to that precious expectation.

After kites, we spent the morning at a zoo in Cato Ridge, where we hadn’t visited before. The previous zoo we went to mostly had birds & tamarins, and those wild monkeys uncaged. This one had tigers and lions, which A had never seen. The girls are getting along well enough that I was largely able to stroll & think my own thoughts. They did continually chant, “Mommy, look! Mommy, pick me up! Mommy, I can’t see!” But it seemed to me so mundane—not adoption-related, not other-country-related, not out-of-birth-order neediness—it was very welcome. They were just little girls being sisters at a zoo.

Not so mundane was Tabby getting a serious, bleeding slice on her finger from a tall blade of grass she was trying to pick to feed to a lion. I’m pretty sure only Tabby could sustain a grass injury.   

Blog post #7.5

April 21^st, 2013

On Sundays, all around the world, in all countries, in all languages, there are mothers arguing with their children about what to wear to church. Amen? At least it seems that way to me. After a small battle about clothes/appropriateness/flip flops, we were on our way to Umhlanga, looking for The Rock Christian Church. What a wave of refreshing grace, being a part of a large group, singing praise on a Sunday morning. Like water when you don’t know how thirsty you are. I was so thankful to be in that environment, soaking it in. One of the hardest parts of this journey is being cut off from my people. I know with grateful certainty that we are being held up in prayer by hundreds of people, some of whom I don’t even know. But it is really hard to not have casual conversation with other adults on a regular basis, let alone receive good, solid advice from other believers.