Today we made our way to Tikuret orphanage. Our agency sent a driver and he weaved, pushed, and honked our way through Addis Ababa for the thirty minute drive to the orphanage. We walk in and are greeted by small children who want to hug and touch us. We wait inside for a few minutes and then a woman brings Melaku down to us. He looks exactly like the pictures--curly hair, brown skin, and enormous brown eyes. They are huge! We take him from the woman--our new son and he immediately begins to cry. Not little whimpering, but wailing and crocodile tears. He kept looking for the woman who brought him to us or anyone else with a brown face.
He cried on and off for almost two hours and then we fed him and he fell asleep. The director let us stay during his nap time and we were able to spend another hour and a half with him before leaving. He was content for this second time with him.
It struck me that he doesn't know us, obviously, but he doesn't realize that we offer him more than what he has now. Not just more stuff, but a family where he'll get the time and attention he doesn't always get at the orphanage. He'll get a last name. Something he doesn't have now.
I felt for the little fella. It's so overwhelming to meet your parents--white people from America.
We know that years from now this place won't even be a memory for him. He will forget it as he grows. We will be all he remembers, but I will remember the nannies who watched us with him with bittersweet expressions.
Adoption is incredible, but it comes at a cost.
The Gospel is incredible, but it came at a cost---the life of Jesus Christ.
That's what I'm left with today as we prepare for bed and try to stream some college football.
Pray for Melaku and his nannies in the coming weeks when they will have to say good-bye to him and he to them. He will not remember them, but they will never forget him.
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