It's my birthday...

And the amazing part is my family is complete. Re and Er are home. Last year at this time, I was praying that they'd be here. I could have never foreseen the events that would lead up to the realization of that prayer. That out of the ashes and rubble of a horrific natural disaster, God would use our little family to proclaim his greatness to others. That we'd be part of a miracle that the entire nation observed.
I don't for a minute believe that God 'made' the earthquake happen so my prayers would be answered. So that families here could be united. But that natural disasters happen as part of a broken world. And he brings hope and redemption into our broken world.

I've wanted to blog about the hours spent waiting for our kids. Of getting the kids. The hours spent with other families. The observation of their miracles. Of many, many, many miracles. With pictures of them. With pieces of their stories. However, we don't have pictures of many of them. And to be honest, that seems overwhelming. As you can see, I haven't even uploaded new pictures of us.

So I'm going to just use words, and trust it will be enough.

We arrived in Miami Airport about 8:30pm to wait. Believing that the kids would be leaving Haiti about 9:00pm, and arriving about 11:00pm. When we walked in there were a few couples, families gathered. Many we 'knew' through a yahoo group. We shared travel experiences, and exchanged what little information we had. The couple we traveled to Haiti with, Tony and Barb and their beautiful family came about this time. I don't think I was ever so happy to see a familiar face. They are a lovely couple, adopting a sweet little girl about 6 months older than Er. We went and had pizza with them, to avoid the media that was present.

About 10:30pm we got wind that the plane had not left Haiti. There was a moment of panic, in my little heart. My greatest fear was that they wouldn't be given permission to leave Haiti, or enter the USA. And then God rushed the words of Isaiah in. "I will bring your children from the east". And on my knees I went. I prayed for the plane's engines to work. For the pilots health, for the US Army on the ground to have an urge to get that plane out of there. For the weather to stay clear. For the other parents to be called to storm the gates of heaven. There was no doubt that there was a spiritual battle raging for these children. And that getting that plane out of Haiti wasn't just about logistics.

The plane left, and there was a quick celebration, followed by the weight of what was happening. Some of these parents had waited 3+ years for their children. Some had received a referral just a month prior. I can't imagine being either of those families. The longer you wait, the harder it is to believe it will happen. And a month of a referral, and a week of preparation to be a parent - imagine that. All of us felt the weight of what was going to happen.

About 1:00am we got word that the plane had landed in the USA. We knew we still had a long night ahead of us, but knowing our kids were in the same country,was enough in that moment. We spent the next 8 hours trying to sleep on the floor, visiting, and trying to keep warm while sleeping on the floor. Around 7:00am, they started to prepare us. Giving us name tags with our kids names on them to wear. We attempted to find a good cup of coffee. We attempted to find something healthy to eat. Both proved impossible. About 8:00am, they took us to a different part of the airport to wait to be given the kids. We were quite the motly crew. About 60 people, who hadn't slept in days, playing follow the leader through through a busy airport. I wondered if people watching us would hear the story, and realize they got to glimpse a miracle in the works.

We were lead into a large conference, where we sat and waited patiently (kinda). The energy in the room was one of hope, trepidation, and exhaustion. There were jokes being made, prayers being said, journals, picture taking, and overall a restlessness. We heard the kids were being moved to the conference room next to us. We started to feel our hearts race.

Dixie (the director of GLA) came in to talk to us. She told us the kids had done good, that we weren't to spoil them, and that is about all I really remember. They would then called us out a couple families at a time to be united with our kids in the hall. We would then go to the other conference room to 'hang out' for awhile, and were free to go when we were ready. As we waited for this process to start, we heard the kids singing through the wall. At the orphanage, when one child left, the rest of them would sing to them before they left. They were singing to each other, to us, to God. Hallelujah. In Creole. It was the sound of heaven. It is indescribable. But I do believe in that moment, we got a glimpse of heaven. Of what redemption looks like. Of spiritual victory. Of Grace. Of peace. Of Love.

They started to call out names, and parents left to become families. The excitement in the room was beyond words. If adoption is a representation of God adopting us, and the angels rejoicing when we are received, then the feeling in that room must be what heaven is like. The pure joy at seeing God working. And lives being forever changed, because of who he is.

The staff came in and gave a quick update, and called our names. And then asked us to give them a couple minutes. I think we did. But maybe not. A couple minutes felt like a couple hours. I know we waited some, because the other families told us to go ahead and go. We walked through the doors into a crowded hall. There were at least 4 other families, a couple news crews, some staff and security. And we saw Re and Er standing there. Waiting for us. Looking smaller than I remembered. Er looked scared, and tired. Re looked excited and nervous. When he saw us, there was a moment of recognition. I told myself I'd be calm, cool and collected. There was media, other people, and I wasn't going to make a fool of myself.

Those who know me, know that this was a ridiculous expectation. All of the worry, fright, uncertainty, exhaustion, and unknowns flew away when I laid eyes on them. All the other people faded away. It became quiet and holy. And I ran to them. And fell on my knees in front of them. And wrapped my arms around them. And told them I love you. And that we came back for them. (We had promised Re that we would come back for him when we left Haiti). And that is about all I remember of those moments. I know I cried like a baby. And I know that God was wrapping his arms around our family in that moment, and blessing us. And that the feeling of pure joy of being united with the children you loved and waited for, was a small piece of what God must feel when one of us come back to him, desiring to be loved by him. That the God who knew what it meant to be separated from the children he loves, also knows how sweet the reunion is.

We then went into the conference room to hang out for awhile. And as we sat playing with our children, we watched family after family come in, miracle after miracle. A family that were on year 4, TOGETHER. A mother with a inconsolable baby, thankful for the opportunity to hold her crying child in her arms at last. Our friends with their daughter, our families sitting next to each other playing again. The strength of the staff to let go of the children they have loved. We watched our children share their juice and crackers around. We watched woman become mothers. Men become fathers. Couples become parents.

There was a group who provided supplies in the conference room, along with drinks and snacks. I am soo grateful for that. We didn't bring diapers thinking that Er was potty trained. I hadn't thought to bring a first aid kit. We hadn't brought nearly enough snacks. We didn't have a change of clothes for Er and she leaked through her diaper before we had a chance to change her. And yet, everything we needed was there. And the volunteers were so gracious.

After about an hour and half, we said goodbyes to their friends and caregivers. To sweet Molly and Joyce, whose strength amazed me. Whose grief I can't even begin to imagine. We tried to thank them, but words will never be enough. If you are reading this Molly or Joyce. We love you.

We got our paperwork, and ourselves together. We then left. Just like that. A family. We just walked out of the room, down the elevator, out to catch the shuttle back to the hotel. Just like any other family. It was a moment we had longed for, prayed for, had faith to believe would happen even when the world fell apart. And it did. Because that is who God is. A God of restoration. A God of completion. A God of Grace and Love. A God who tells his story of love, over and over again. And that he has used us to tell his story, humbles me daily.

I will finish telling about our time in Miami. About the trip home. About more moments of grace and love along the way.

Okay, my disclaimer. The time frame was put together through a fog of memories, and a few notes I jotted down. It is probably not completely accurate.