Welcome Nathanael Niyonzima Jukanovich!

We are pleased to announce that Nathanael Niyonzima Jukanovich is home with our family. We started this process officially on August 6 with our homestudy. Received our approval in record time from Immigration and the RWanda embassy on September 29. Submitted our dossier on October 14 after we had moved to Rwanda. Received our non-objection letter on January 19. Received our match on March 15. And here we are - the week of my birthday - receiving him into our home on March 25. We are overjoyed and feel very complete.

I was able to go the sector office last Thursday to fill out our act of adoption. We received our court date for today and I asked if I could attend the hearing. It was very brief, but we asked the judge if he would complete the judgment today - usually it takes at least one day. I was still under the impression we would have to then take the judgment to the Minister's office, receive a travel letter and then bring that to the orphanage, so was hoping for a Friday homecoming at best - braced myself for Monday. However, the attorneys that were present there told me that onec that judgment is signed, the child is ours. It is up to the nuns however if the child can stay the night. Technically they need to have that letter from the Minister. He said yes and we showed up at 2 pm to receive the judgment. Of course, nothing is as simple as receiving the judgment and go to the orphanage. We had to first drive to the district office nearby to find out the bank account to which we would have to pay 800 RWF to purchase copies of the judgment. Then we had to go to the bank and pay the fee and today there were very long lines. Then we had to drive back to the district office to hand in our payment - again another long line (Rwandans are scurrying to get their identity cards finalized for the election this summer). I pulled the Muzungu with two small children card (which was really true - my kids would not have lasted another five minutes in that crowd) and found myself at the front of the line with a nice woman. Of course, then we had to have the bank receipt photocopied before handing in the receipt. Finally got that done and headed back to court. Got the judgment, then ran to the printers to get the documents printed for the orphanage's files. We started at 2 and by 4:45 pm we were standing at the orphanage with Sister Catherine and Sister Teresa so excited to welcome us.

After visiting Niyonzima for the past week, it was such a joy to look at him and tell him he was coming home forever. The girls were so excited and were already telling me they had his bottle, could help situate his blanket, and they are trying to understand why it is so important that mommy is the only one who holds him right now.

His name came to us as we were reading the first book of John with Caroline the other night. Jesus is calling his disciples and he says to Nathanael,"Here is an Israelite in whom there is nothing false." Nathanael asks him, " How do you know me?" And Jesus replies, "I saw you while you were still under the fig tree, before Philip called you." Having adopted three children now, Dano and I would both say that we really do believe the Creator of the universe knows his children by name. He knew our son before we even called him to be a part of our family. Amazing. Nathanael also means gift of God. He truly is.

He has already had his first bottle, first bath, and first bedtime story. There is still more paperwork to be done - medical exam, Ministry travel approval, passport, etc., but for this evening we will focus on the grander scheme of things and simply relish in this new life that has joined our family. Life has changed...for the better.

We Have a Court Date!!!

We received our referral last Tuesday, March 16. I volunteer at the orphanage every Wednesday, so they told me I could visit with Nyunzima Moses on Wednesday. Dano came with me just in case they did let us meet him. He is precious. Eyes full of wonder. Whenever I would sing to him, he would tap me on the back. He has beautiful long fingers and long eyelashes. He seems very tiny to me for 9 months, but we'll know more once we have him checked out by the pediatrician here.

Since then I've been able to visit with him four times, feeding him his bottles of millet and milk, and each time it gets harder to place him back in his crib next to the other 20 infants. He has cried when I've placed him down, which breaks my heart. I sang the song to him that I still sing to my daughters when I leave for a trip,

This momma comes back, I always come back, I always come back to get you
This momma comes back, I always come back, I never will forget you.

Yesterday we were able to introduce him to his sisters. I so wish I could post pictures, but that will have to wait a few more days. They were so excited to see him. Anna wanted to feed him and take care of him. Lian wanted to feel his fingers and toes, measuring them against hers, playing silling games with him and reading to him. And when they left the room to play outside, he seemed to be searching for them. I had the hardest time feeding him yesterday because he just wanted to turn his head towards their voices. I felt complete.

Today we received word that our court appointment is for Thursday morning at 8 am. I've been scrambling the past few days to get all of our docs notarized and to the appropriate offices - nothing is simple. Hopefully we will hear that he is ours by Friday morning, if not sooner. The Sisters said we could bring him home when we have the court approval since I've been visiting him almost every day.

Stay tuned : )

The Miracles of Access

This weekend has been one of so many emotions – on Friday evening I was finalizing my mother-in-law's eulogy, while also painting a lion's head for a prop for my daughter's 7th birthday; on Saturday evening, I was literally placed in the front row for the funeral via a laptop and Skype and my connection was only disconnected once in three hours (a major miracle here). I was able to cry and laugh with my family and friends as we reminisced about the life of Dano's mom. This morning, I had the incredible honor of witnessing miracles take place through Operation Smile – one miracle will effect the future of my two-year old neighbor, Claudina. I am so full of joy right now that I had to share this with a broader audience.

Claudina

is my neighbor. She is often at our home with her brother, Pierre, and five year old sister, Diani. When Claudina was only a month or two old, she was laying in her bed in their one room home. Diani was only three years old and accidentally knocked over the oil lamp that lights their home (there is no electricity for their home even though they live two doors down from us). The petrol fell on her bed, lighting it on fire. Her mom was outside, but ran in and was thankfully able to save her, but her right arm was completely burned. It is deformed now as the skin continually contracts, thus pulling her wrist inwards towards her arm. If she can't use her hand, she can't write or cook, thus she can't pursue an education, and she has no future.

Three months ago, we were introduced through a friend to Beth and Robert Riviello who are doctors from Boston. Robert is a burn and trauma surgeon. They were volunteering with Partners in Health in Rwanda and while here they also received their adopted son. It was beautiful to witness what they do. When I found out about Claudina's arm, I just asked Robert for his advice since he was here and this is his specialty. He asked me if he could come and see her wounds for himself. He did this the day before they left Rwanda and as they were in the midst of finalizing their adoption. We visited

Claudina, he saw the wounds, and I saw him take his own arm, form it in a crooked fashion and then straighten it out slowly, telling her mother that he would take her arm from its current state and make it whole. I couldn't believe it – what if he couldn't, he was leaving, were we making false promises? But he said no, he had a plastic surgeon friend who was coming in July and he thought he could do the surgery.

This morning we met with that surgeon. He was in Rwanda with Operation Smile, so four months before he'll come back with Partners in Health. Operation Smile was doing a clinic for cleft palates, but he thought they could fit in her surgery and he asked us to come to their screening. I have been to medical clinics in the States, but have never experienced anything like I saw this morning.

After only one day of seeing patients, we were number 233. And there were at least another hundred people waiting outside, if

not more. Children and adults with cleft palates, a 10 month old whose head had a huge hole in it and whose face was completely burned on one side, overwhelming. I was there with my girls and I had forewarned them that they might see some really sick people. But in the midst of that place, I turned to my girls and said, “This is a place of miracles.” This place is giving people hope, it is changing their lives. These doctors are miracle workers and what was wonderful is there were Western and African doctors volunteering.

They truly are working miracles. Yesterday as I was finalizing pick-up time with Claudina and her mom, Clementine, a neighbor stopped by. Last month a neighbor had told me that if this surgery worked Claudina would have a future. Yesterday, a neighbor came by and said no one would marry Claudina because she was deformed. I didn't know what to say, but I told her I believed that the good husband would see her heart and that we were working to correct her crooked arm. She didn't believe us. I can't wait for her to see the transformed Claudina.

The plastic surgeon told me and her mom today that her arm can be fixed. It will require much aftercare – she will have to wear a splint for up to six months to straighten the arm and she will have skin grafts that will require much attention, but it can be done. Her surgery will be this Tuesday or Wednesday. Her mom cannot believe this is happening.

As Westerners, we often do not realize how much access we have just because of the friendships we have. It was a friend from Boston who connected us to the Riviellos, who connected us to Steve Naum, the plastic surgeon. We are connected to such educated and accomplished people who are using their skills to serve the poorest of the poor. And in return we have the privilege of seeing miracles happen. I am overwhelmed and humbled by that reality.

Embracing the Wait

Waiting is an activity with impressive documentation throughout Scripture, yet it’s
astonishingly ignored in most constructs of how to live the Christian life. Waiting isn’t a
passive occupation but an active and hopeful orientation toward the activity of God for which
there’s no present evidence. Refusal to wait is a refusal to trust. Paul never counseled
passivity or quietism. He did, however, commend the hopeful waiting that expects Christ to
save the day- not only at the Second Coming, but in all daily comings where he shows up in
our lives, offering salvation from one kind of doom or another, whether a doomed marriage or
a doomed business or simply a doomed attitude.
-Eugene Peterson Conversations: The Message with its Translator (pg 1858)

I lost my cool this week. Two weeks ago, the Mother Superior at the orphanage told me she was choosing our son the next day and submitting the match to the Minister's office that Friday. Soon after that the person appointed as the adoption coordinator resigned. I was told the replacement would be there last Friday, then Monday, then Wednesday. So on Monday, as I sat patiently in the Minister's reception room, my friend suggested that I confirm that the Sisters did indeed send in our paperwork. Turns out they had not - problems with the notary, problems with the replacement, too many families adopting. And my heart plummeted. All this time I thought the papers were in the Minister's hand just awaiting the replacement coordinator, but they still hadn't even been notarized. I expressed my disappointment to the Mother Superior and was told to, "Be Patient."

"Be Patient." As this is my third adoption in seven years, I have truly sought to be patient, but for some reason I couldn't quite handle those words on that day. I wasn't rude, but I wasn't pleasant. I felt like I was being made the bad guy. If a doctor ever told a pregnant woman that she had to carry her child for another term because the doctor just wasn't prepared to handle her delivery, you bet she would fight and find a way to give birth to that child. Yet, often adoptive parents are called, "impatient, headstrong, annoying." It's true. But we're really not. We just want the longing of our heart and the longing of our child's heart to be fulfilled.

Today is Ash Wednesday, a day to reflect upon the start of Lent, to confess and seek forgiveness. I open up the first page of a Lenten devotional a friend compiled and read this section on waiting. In spite of my feeling self-righteous in how I responded to the Sisters, I know, deep down, that I was wrong, that I am not trusting, that I am seeking control. Why is it so hard to give that up? And so I seek forgiveness, I relinquish control, and I wait. I pray our son will come soon and I know he has already been chosen, so he will. Until then, I will change my attitude. I will pray for the Sisters who bathe and clothe and feed and clean up after not only these small children, but widows and handicapped men and women. I will trust the One who guards my child at night, that He will truly save the day.

Quick Adoption Update

Last Monday we were told by the Mother Superior that our son would be chosen on Tuesday. He has been chosen for us, but we will not know who he is until the Ministry of Gender approves the Sister's selection. Apparently they can tell them "no." This is fine, except that the woman in charge of the adoption office at the Ministry just resigned last week. Needless to say we were discouraged. I went to the office and was told she would have a replacement by today. We are going to go to the office on Wednesday to see if someone did replace her and if so, if they will place their stamp of approval on our son. It is very difficult living just ten minutes from the orphanage, volunteering there every Wednesday and not being able to know who he is. Please pray for our patience.

The Waiting Game

We received the wonderful news that the Rwandan government has approved our application to adopt a son from Rwanda. In their letter, they ask for our patience as it takes about two months for them to select our son. When I've talked with the woman in charge in person, she has "promised" me we will have him before my mother comes to visit on April 1. So now we wait.

If I have learned anything by becoming a parent through adoption it is patience. We waited 18 months to receive Lian; 2 1/2 years to receive Anna. To know that we may receive our son within seven months of even starting the process is incredible to me. When we first did our homestudy in August and received our approval from immigration within a month of that, we were in shock at how fast things were going. My mother said to me, "There is a reason this is moving so quickly for you - this little boy can't wait."

I remember breaking down into tears every time we learned there was another delay in Lian's adoption, but when we had to wait so long for Anna, my heart was literally close to breaking. Why did it have to take this long to care for a child who needs a home? Yet, now, knowing our Anna...I know she was indeed to be our daughter and I would wait another 2 1/2 years if I knew it would take that to receive this particular little girl. This is the same for Lian. I look at the two of them individually and together and while I see their uniqueness, I also see the incredible way they are truly "our" daughters - the way Lian thinks so strategically and lists out rational arguments, along with the way she really needs her space after being surrounded by people is completely her father. And then there's Anna who has to be with people in order to feel energized, who loves to organize and use her imagination - very much her mother. Adoptive parents say that all the time - this was meant to be. But it really is true.

And I hold onto that. I hold onto the fact that these children were destined for us as we were for them. Because sometimes it is difficult. Sometimes the root fear of abandonment digs its ugly claws into your child's heart; sometimes the fact that they were never held or touched for the first year of their life escalates their emotions in ways that can harm them and others; sometimes when you leave for an hour meeting, your child makes you sing to her the song "This momma comes back, she always comes back, she always comes back to get you. This momma comes back, she always comes back, she never will forget you."

So we wait for our new son....as with any biological child, we have no idea what to expect. But I trust that in the divine ordination of events that has brought us thus far, we will receive a little boy who is perfect for our family and our family for him. He may have wounds that are deep. He may not. But what we can promise him is that he will be loved and treasured. We can promise him he has a future and a hope.

Op-Ed Columnist

Our Basic Human Pleasures: Food, Sex and Giving

By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF

Published: January 16, 2010

Want to be happier in 2010? Then try this simple experiment, inspired by recent scholarship in psychology and neurology. Which person would you rather be:

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Fred R. Conrad/The New York Times

Nicholas D. Kristof

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Times Topics: Philanthropy

Richard is an ambitious 36-year-old white commodities trader in Florida. He’s healthy and drop-dead handsome, lives alone in a house with a pool, and has worked his way through a series of gorgeous women. Richard’s job is stressful, but he spent Christmas in Tahiti. Unencumbered, he also has time to indulge such passions as reading (right now he’s finishing a book called “Half the Sky”), marathon running and writing poetry. In the last few days, he has been composing an elegy about the Haiti earthquake.

Lorna is a 64-year-old black woman in Boston. She’s overweight and unattractive, even after a recent nose job. Lorna is on regular dialysis, but that doesn’t impede her active social life or babysitting her grandchildren. A retired school assistant, she is close to her 67-year-old husband and is much respected in her church for directing the music committee and the semiannual blood drive. Lorna believes in tithing (giving 10 percent of her income to charity or the church) and in the last few days has organized a church drive to raise $10,000 for earthquake relief in Haiti.

I adapted those examples from ones that Jonathan Haidt, a psychology professor at the University of Virginia, develops in his fascinating book, “The Happiness Hypothesis.” His point is that while most of us might prefer to trade places with Richard, Lorna is probably happier.

Men are no happier than women, and people in sunny areas no happier than people in chillier climates. The evidence on health is complex, but even chronic health problems (like those requiring dialysis) may have surprisingly little long-term effect on happiness, because we adjust to them. Beautiful people aren’t happier than ugly people, although cosmetic surgery does seem to leave patients feeling brighter. Whites are happier than blacks, but only very slightly. And young people are actually a bit less happy than older folks, at least up to age 65.

Lorna has a few advantages over Richard. She has less stress and is respected by her peers — factors that make us feel good. Happiness is tied to volunteering and to giving blood, and people with religious faith tend to be happier than those without. A solid marriage is linked to happiness, as is participation in social networks. And one study found that people who focus on achieving wealth and career advancement are less happy than those who focus on good works, religion or spirituality, or friends and family.

“Human beings are in some ways like bees,” Professor Haidt said. “We evolved to live in intensely social groups, and we don’t do as well when freed from hives.”

Happiness is, of course, a complex concept and difficult to measure, and John Stuart Mill had a point when he suggested: “It is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied.”

But in any case, nobility can lead to happiness. Professor Haidt notes that one thing that can make a lasting difference to your contentment is to work with others on a cause larger than yourself.

I see that all the time. I interview people who were busy but reluctantly undertook some good cause because (sigh!) it was the right thing to do. Then they found that this “sacrifice” became a huge source of fulfillment and satisfaction.

Brain scans by neuroscientists confirm that altruism carries its own rewards. A team including Dr. Jorge Moll of the National Institutes of Health found that when a research subject was encouraged to think of giving money to a charity, parts of the brain lit up that are normally associated with selfish pleasures like eating or sex.

The implication is that we are hard-wired to be altruistic. To put it another way, it’s difficult for humans to be truly selfless, for generosity feels so good.

“The most selfish thing you can do is to help other people,” says Brian Mullaney, co-founder of Smile Train, which helps tens of thousands of children each year who are born with cleft lips and cleft palates. Mr. Mullaney was a successful advertising executive, driving a Porsche and taking dates to the Four Seasons, when he felt something was missing and began volunteering for good causes. He ended up leaving the business world to help kids smile again — and all that makes him smile, too.

So at a time of vast needs, from Haiti to our own cities, here’s a nice opportunity for symbiosis: so many afflicted people, and so much benefit to us if we try to help them. Let’s remember that while charity has a mixed record helping others, it has an almost perfect record of helping ourselves. Helping others may be as primal a human pleasure as food or sex.

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