the other side

First off, I want to apologize for the lack of posts while we were in Africa. For two years I planned to be a blogging queen during our big trip, but it wasn't meant to be. Internet access was horrible where we stayed in Rwanda, and once we got to Ethiopia we couldn't even access Blogger. Ironically, Ethiopia would have been the best place to blog since we had lots of downtime. Rwanda, on the other hand, was IN-SANE. Even if we'd had reliable internet, I doubt I would have found the time or energy to write more than I did!

We've been home for a little over a week now, and almost every day I've been telling myself to get online and post something, anything! It always drove me crazy to follow (stalk) other traveling families' blogs only to have them fall off the face of the earth upon returning home. Well, now I understand.

It's different than I expected, being home. Beautiful, miraculous, exhausting, and difficult in ways I never anticipated. I love my daughter, but I don't know her. I'm scared of doing this badly, I'm thrilled to have the chance to do it at all. I look back on the waiting with relief that it's over and sadness that a unique chapter in my life has closed. I miss the familiarity of the past in spite of its pain, and struggle with guilt that such feelings could consume even a fraction of my heart when such an incredible blessing is sitting right in front of me after so many dark nights and days when I believed she would never come.

It's life, not a fairy tale, but life is far sweeter. There are tantrums, sleepless nights, and poop-up-the-back diapers, but there are also giggles, goodnight kisses, and an endless appreciation for anything I cook. Tiny hands exploring my face, arms reaching up to be held, a head lolling on my shoulder in sleep. These are the things that tell me it will be okay. The old adventure, the one I despised but learned to navigate, is over. This new one...the one that scares the bejeebers out of me...well, I'll get through it the same way I got through the last one: one step at a time, not on my own two feet, but in the arms of the One who knows where He's going. Embraced by grace.

Introducing...

Avivah Ingabire McLennan

Avivah: [Ah-VEE-vah] Hebrew, meaning "springtime." Chosen for the significance of:

• The coming of spring after perpetual winter when "Aslan is on the move."
• Steven Curtis Chapman's song "Spring is Coming," which gave us hope through a long winter of waiting.
• The fact that we began our adoption and she was born in springtime of 2009 (we made our final decision to adopt 2 days after her estimated birthdate), she arrived at the orphanage in springtime of 2010, and we were united with her in springtime of 2011.

Ingabire: [Een-GAH-bee-day] Kinyarwanda, meaning "gift." Together with Avivah, her name means "Springtime Gift."

"Gotcha" Moment

Beautiful Eyes!

Daddy's Girl

First Grin

The Appointed Moment

Today, we received our referral for a precious little girl. Hours later, the blue gates opened and we met our daughter for the first time. The prayers of many...YOUR prayers...were answered with a resounding "YES."

I wish I could capture the beauty of those first moments, but words are insufficient. I will say that as Tim and I waited in the courtyard of the orphanage for our daughter's appearance, all I could think was, "We finally made it, and God carried us all the way."

I hope to be able to post some pictures in the coming days. For now, this photo communicates a fraction of the joy we felt upon our first sighting of our little girl.

Arriving

May 2, 2011

We took off from Entebbe (Uganda) about 20 minutes ago. All I see below us are thick clouds, but we should be landing in Rwanda in about 15 minutes. I can already feel our plane beginning to descend.

All of a sudden I am flooded with emotion. Is this really happening? When we drop below the clouds I’ll see my child’s birth country for the first time with my own eyes. This beautiful land I’ve dreamed and prayed for…the place I’ve been so eager to reach for two years.

I’ve doubted God’s calling us here so many times. Every hiccup in the process, every extra month of waiting, every frustrating miscommunication or deception…they’ve all led me to ask, “Is God really for us in this?” There’s always been a part of me that doubted we’d reach this final destination, and the more I wanted it, the more I doubted. The gift of God’s “yes” in this just seems too lavish. I am undeserving. But He is the giver of good and perfect gifts – lavish gifts – and I am underserving of all of them, most especially the gift of the cross.

We’re dropping into the clouds now. In many ways we’ve been here for months, but this time I can see patches of green far below – the color of new life.

Rwanda. We are here at last.

I am overcome.