Melikam Genna to all!

Just wanted to wish everyone a very blessed Christmas in Amharic... Melikam Genna! (Melikam=happy/greeting & Genna=Christmas) Just be sure not to say "Melikam Gema" or you will be wishing someone a "Happy Stinky." And of course, it should not be confused with Mele Kalikimaka, the Hawaiian Christmas greeting (can you hear me singing along with Bing Crosby?).

More than half of the population in Ethiopia is Orthodox Christian and celebrates Christmas. Because they follow the ancient Julian calendar, Ethiopians won't celebrate Christ's birth until January 7th, the Feast of the Epiphany. Christmas Eve is a day of fasting for Ethiopian Orthodox Christians, as Christmas Day is a day celebrated with feasting.

Enjoy your feast with the ones you love--Merry Christmas from the Witmers!

Holding Steady

Donovan and I found out yesterday that a family working with our agency in Ethiopia just accepted a referral for a four-month old baby boy. They had sent in their paperwork a few weeks after us. As you can imagine, my brain has been mushy gushy since this discovery. Then…today we received a letter from AAI stating that there are “more babies than ever” coming to the orphanage and that families whose Dossiers were sent in late July are currently receiving referrals. Ours was submitted July 24th. Goosebumps. The countdown is on.

Top 10

“We (too) can wait only if what we are waiting for has already begun for us. Waiting is never a moment from nothing to something, but a movement from something to something more.” - - Henri Nouwen

Top 10 Things that I have had to wait for in life:

1. Getting back the Sesame Street Fever record (my favorite) after my mom got rid of it because it made me "too hyper."  Still waiting.
2. A feather boa. Any color—it didn’t matter. All I wanted for Christmas in Kindergarten, first and second grade was a boa. Still waiting.
3. That very first kiss. Obviously no longer waiting. Donovan still thinks he was the first.
4. Taking communion for the first time in secret—long awaited.

5. Summer. Every year, the countdown to the next summer when I could visit Lucy the Elephant at the Jersey shore began the day I moved back to PA for the school year.  
6. Leaving for college. Started anticipating that one long in advance.
7. Finding a partner in this life. Waiting is over.
8. Receiving a diagnosis for this “wacky joint dislocating thing” I’ve got going on.  Waited five years.
9. A house where every room is furnished, heated, is used for its intended purpose and is free of power tools. Still waiting.
10. Parenthood. No longer waiting.

We may be waiting for that baby to officially come home, but parenthood began long ago for Donovan and me. We are already in that space of something—anxious to move to something more. We embraced parenthood when intense commitment to this child struck us long ago and we continue to defend and celebrate our developing family. And when this child physically arrives in our lives, we will throw that long boa around his/her neck (pink or blue yet to be determined) and disco shamelessly in pure celebration that the wait is over.

Big Steps, Baby Steps

Our next big step: getting that phone call. YES—you’ll all see the fireworks going off over top of our house on that glorious day. From what we understand, we will receive a phone call from AAI when the folks in Ethiopia have matched a baby with us. At that point, we will be sent a file with as much information that the orphanage has about the baby. This will depend on how much family/medical history has been provided (or not provided) to them by the person who brought the baby to the orphanage. The orphanage also employs a doctor who conducts well-baby check-ups, so we will have some first-hand medical information as well. At least one photo will be included in the file. 

Donovan and I have been encouraged to take our time to review the file, and possibly consult a pediatrician who specializes in international medicine with questions/concerns. We have already made contacts with the International Adoption Health Program at CHOP so that we have someone lined up in case we feel we need a consultation. Once we accept a referral, we are legally the guardians of our little tike! In Ethiopia, if a referral is accepted and then the adoptive parent reneges on that decision, the child is deemed “unadoptable” and must remain in the orphanage until the age of 18. For this reason, our agency has a policy that once we accept a referral the legal process of adoption begins and we may not change our mind.

After talking to other families, we have learned that AAI is very careful and skilled with matching children with families and more often than not families accept the first referral. Donovan and I cannot possibly anticipate what that “file review” process will feel like, so our hope is that that baby feels right, obvious and immediately ours.

And YES—that phone call could happen any day now. Not likely, but possible. Let me repeat: not likely, but possible.  In the meantime, Donovan and I continue to try to get this house in tip-top order (a working heating system and a fully functioning bathroom are on their way…) and read up on bringing chocolate children into our vanilla world (so much to learn)!  And we focus our thoughts and prayers on the baby and a mother and father who will soon give up their child for tragic reasons we will never truly comprehend.

Our Advent

The season of holy waiting begins. I have had a new appreciation for advent in recent years, feeling a bit closer to the spirit of longing. Last advent, the image of a pregnant Mary made me cry. I related to her fear of truly not knowing what God was asking of her. I saw a vulnerable woman who was asked to trust—asked to hope—asked to stay physically strong as she propped herself on that donkey and rode away. She must have wrestled with how something so beautiful could burst forth from such complication, loneliness and confusion.

Earlier this week I was struck by an encounter with a strangely large decorative statue (like the ones our mothers would have made in their ceramic classes in the early 80’s). The statue was of three kings huddled around a happy baby Jesus, nestled in straw. It sat on the check-out counter at TJ Maxx—someone obviously had thought to buy it, then changed his mind. No wonder—the thing was more gaud than glory. As I stood in line, I couldn’t take my eye off of this terrible representation of the Christ child and the wise men who were so committed to finding him. Surely they didn’t look so stylish by the time they got to him? Surely they weren’t able to maintain that level of joy on their entire journey—or were they? This year those garish, happy kings will serve as a symbol for my own advent. They were asked to believe in a child that was born a continent away. They had nothing tangible to guide them, only the clarity of the night sky and a small star in the distance. And most importantly, they maintained their joy, knowing the miracle that awaited them at the end of their journey.

Dear friends gifted Donovan and me a glass star last year during advent as a symbol of hope for our someday coming children—that star continues to hang amongst my earrings on my dresser (really, did you expect me to hang it anywhere else??). It offers me new hope this year. God has given Donovan and me a star on which to focus. A Jesus in which to believe. A journey for which to be thankful. A treasure at the end of the longing. Amen.