Owen (wrapped in yellow blanket) & Kyle (in blue blanket) asleep in the Hotel Montana the afternoon before we were to fly out of Haiti. Braydon had just spent hours trying to arrange for flights to the U.S. We were in Haiti during a very dangerous time, very few Americans were in the country, and all flights were booked due to the movement of United Nations troops and foreign dignitaries trying to get out before the then predicted violence related to Karnaval [click here]). Braydon was finally successful when a Haitian airline employee at the Port au Prince airport became committed to personally seeing to it that we get the boys out ASAP. We spent an incredible amount of money on the tickets, but had not one care in the world about that. The sense of relief that washed over us -- knowing that we had four tickets to leave Haiti the next day -- was intense. I remember taking this photo of the boys sleeping on the hotel bed, thinking how completely oblivious they were to how their lives were about to be completely transformed.
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Three years ago today we spent our first day at home as a family of four. We celebrate our Adoption Day as January 31st -- the day we were united as a family forever. But each year on February 5th, I cannot help but think about our homecoming. This year February 5 is no different for me than the past two years have been...These two photos (Kyle top, Owen bottom) were taken by Braydon our first morning in the U.S. with the boys. We had just been home a few hours (we had arrived at our house at about 2:30 a.m.). K & O were still wearing the clothes that they had worn on the plane flights home. Those red onesies with tropical palm trees on them were the first clothes we bought for the boys. We had bought them the day after we had received our referral in late May 2004.
...I'm distracted all day with it. I think about our travel, our immigration of the boys in Miami, of our drive home from the Philadelphia airport in the pitch dark wee hours of the night. I think about those first hours in our house with Kyle and Owen. I think about those first days and weeks with them at home. And I think about Haiti. I can't help it; those few hours, days, and weeks of early 2005 transformed my life in the most profound ways. It isn't simply about becoming a mother, or becoming a family. Yes, of course those things are powerful. But it is more about the profound transformation in me in as the result of experiencing the most true miracle of my lifetime. A miracle in the most real sense: unexplicable by science, logic, or reason. The possibilities of the human heart and soul, at age 8 months and at age 30-something years -- the human capacity for love, healing, attachment, and transformation -- were made real to me in those moments of our early family life. There is nothing that compares (at least not in my lifetime so far) to witnessing such a profound transformation in myself, Braydon and our boys.
Acting in the world to use what one has to give new life to another human being... originally it was, for us, meant solely to empower two others, but it unexpectedly resulted in empowering four. I have never before felt such a profound miracle, such a profound sense of empowerment, such a profound knowledge of knowing with absolute certainty that our lives were being used in exactly the right ways. The depths of this cannot be overstated. The human heart knows no bounds. The soul can be set asail. Home can heal. Hope is transformative. These things became real to me, in the truest sense, in those first few minutes, hours, days, and weeks home from Haiti. In my mind, there is no greater miracle.
Today we've been home from Haiti for 3 years. Although so much has happened since then, that first day home with Kyle and Owen is so vivid to me today that it is as if it was yesterday. There is a Haitian proverb that says, "Piti, piti, wazo fe nich li" -- translated to English it says, "Little by little the bird builds its nest."
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Please click here to read an Associated Press article entitled "Poor Haitians Resort to Eating Dirt." This article was released a few days ago, but I've been waiting for today to post about it. For those well-aware of the dire situation in Haiti, the eating of "mud cookies" in Cite Soleil (where Kyle and Owen were born) and elsewhere throughout Haiti is old news. But still, given how little news coverage Haiti receives, we celebrate any internationally recognized press on Haiti in hopes of raising at least some public awareness.
Last year on our Adoption Day we posted a bunch of photos of our first days and weeks together. If you're interested in seeing more photos, you can check them out by clicking here.
8 comments:
Precious pictures.
Beautiful. My feelings exactly.
d
E ou, ak Braydon, te fè yon bèl niche pou ti wazo ou! (and you, with Braydon, have made a beautiful nest for your little birds)
What a long way they have come- and you.
I know Cite Soleil well. The summers I am in haiti, I walk along the festering sewage canal daily on my way to the Brothers'. I traverse the maze-like "streets" looking for more of this, more of that, that we have run out of to treat the sick. I help treat the poorest of Haiti's poor at St. Joseph's clinic.
I have seen stands and stands of "mud pies". I have tasted them... the grit stays in your teeth for a while. The ache that someone must eat these stays in your soul forever. I had one in a shadow box for a very long time. Now, it sits broken in a chalice that used to belong to a priest friend. A chalice made of wood carved by Haitian hands in Cite Soleil. Fitting, no?
God bless your family. Happy Homecoming Day.
Today is Malía's referralversary, too. Our beautiful children share a special moment, of sorts, in their adoption stories. Mwen renmen sa. :)
Such a beautiful post! It gives hope to a waiting heart. Thank you for sharing this. ~Juli
Those are two of the luckiest children in the world. And you are lucky to have them. They grow more beautiful every day.
Braydon's lucky mom.
What precious memories ...
Beautiful. May the memories of those first days always remain vividly etched in your mind.
Love to one of the most beautiful families on this Earth.
Trish
As we enter the eighth month since we were placed with our little Rosalie in Burkina Faso and still don't know when we can go to bring her home due to a nightmarish situation of complications and corrupt officials and laywers, reading this has lit a candle for me...these are the things I tell myself, when I can't stand waiting anymore, when I wonder if I'm being told by the universe that I should just give it up. I too believe in the transformation and healing and magnitude of the human heart - it's this belief that is holding me afloat right now. Thank you for your reminder, and for those pictures, and for being the living proof that we humans are capable of so much love.
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