I don't need an interpreter

     Etienne spoke French last night
     He hadn't done this, to my knowledge, in several months.  I went into the boy's room because Blake needed "retucked."  As I was turning to leave, Etienne started jabbering.  He had already been tossing and turning restlessly.  I lay down next to him and put his face in my hands.  He shook his head and continued jabbering in French.  He wasn't consciously awake and yet I could feel his unrest even after I left the room.
     The remainder of the night, we were uninterrupted but I could hear so much movement from their bed.  He called out again so I went to my son but he didn't respond, again lost in some other reality.  I tried to hold him but I don't think it mattered.  So I just prayed over him.  Later, he came into our room to use the restroom and take off his wet layers.  He didn't wake either Ryan or me.  We had previously praised him for the rare occasion that he did this but this morning, in my heart, I knew this praise needed to stop.  No matter how little sleep I get, my kid deserves help in this task.
    Lately, some stuff going down has been a harsh reminder of our boy's beginnings.  Behaviors that are a result of unlove.  Of hurt.  French is a beautiful language but I don't want it in any corner of Etienne's brain.  It is still a part of him that we can't quite reach.  It's a part that maybe I never will get to.
     It's easy to let this sadness fill me.  To let my tears flow for him.  It is also a comfort.  A  comfort that I do indeed love this child.  That I would jump in front of a train for him.  I couldn't always say that aloud.  That is evidence that God is filling in those gaps of my heart.  And hope in knowing that at some time, somehow, that same grace will reach those dark corners of French and hurt and uncertainty.

   

Pop!

       Life post adoption for this entourage has been peaks and valleys.  The valleys are pretty dark but let me tell you, the view of our Heavenly Father on the peaks takes my breath away every time.  Its exhausting, exhilarating, emotional.  It's worth it.

      Last week we walked with Etienne through some sad days, thinking about his birth mom.  We shared a lot of tears and uncertainty and new emotions.  We shared his grief that sneaked up on him while working on a family project.  Friday morning our mailman delivered just the gift the boys needed after an emotional week.  My close friend, Laurel Greer's husband, Peter, wrote a book entitled "Mommy's Heart Went POP!" , an adoption story specifically regarding a Rwandan little boy...blonde mama, sister and brother waiting at home, big blue gate, Ethiopian Aire.....it's our story too.

Zeke studying "his story."

    The boys and I snuggled up on the couch.  I cried through our first read.  Zeke was really quiet and he immediately started the book over, looking intently at the pages.  As I snuggled close to him, his big eyes filled with crocodile tears and he started crying and crying.  He buried his sweet self into me and said, "I'm just sad that I wasn't always with you and daddy."  Oh buddy!  Some of this was probably a reaction to Etienne's rough week.  Some of this is my baby boy's squishy heart full of love.  We read it again, looking for the hidden hearts on each page and I reminded him that this is a love story!  Our happily ever after.  He decided he needed to carry "his story" with him all day, taking every moment to look closely at each picture. By the time he showed it to his big sister and brother, his sparkly eyes were back.  

     Later that night, we all climbed into bed together to reread it again with Daddy (funny side note, the bed broke and we all crashed to the floor!).  As Ryan read through it, my eyes welled with tears again because I could feel my heart racing at the site of that blue gate and my heart popping as I held my boys for the first time.  

     We came to the page where the mother wonders who is singing lullabies to her Rwandan child.  Etienne nonchalantly commented, "Well God sang to me."  No big deal, just stating a fact.  The coolest thing about this fact is that Etienne has told me this  before.  He has very clearly sang an old children's song that he said "that Jesus whispered in my ear."  This is a boy that lies all the time for attention, out of jealousy, spite or fear but I knew then and I knew while we reading that this wasn't a lie.  This is my sweet boy's memory of his time before his mama could sing him lullabies and kiss his ouchies away.  His memory is that God was with him before his family brought him home.  That is the greatest gift I can give to any parent that is waiting for their adoptive child; the comfort that my child can say without a doubt in his mind that God was there in the dark rooms full of cold metal cribs and mosquitoes buzzing.  God was there each time he fell on that hard concrete slab.  God was there before me.  How cool is that?

     I am so thankful that God's timing is always perfect.  We didn't orchestrate making a family poster followed by grieving birth moms followed by getting our adoption story in the mail ALL THE WEEK OF MOTHERS DAY. Are you kidding me?!?  Like I said, these peaks are amazing.