Time for Progress

To our dear friends & family back home,

There comes a time at the tail end of every adoption process where the process ends and progression begins. Many following and reading know of which I write, having experienced the trials and travails, and victories and triumphs of starting adoption with a thought, a dream, a wish if you will, and then completing the mechanics only to begin life anew, life as a family, life as one. Surprisingly that usually happens not (at least this is our experience) when you first embrace your new gift of a son or daughter, but rather days later when all of the paperwork and moving to and fro to "make it official" cease. One of the final dominoes of countless is the swearing-in ceremony held at the Consulate of your native country. Today was ours, at about 3:30 p.m. There were thirty-two children in this room (now our third visit there in less than five years), represented by thirty-one families. Many, if not most, of the children were special-needs kids – those with a disability or medical condition requiring special care (unless you're Xiao Qian, and she's classified as "special needs" because of her older age). Five years ago the healthy children being adopted far outnumbered those with special needs. It does a heart good to scan the room and see these helpless souls from all parts of this vast country known as China being absorbed into loving families who really can't see any special need at all, except the need to be loved, cared for, and become a part of something that isn't created by the hands of mankind. This is an image, a reflection of the one who really stands in the mirror, because His handiwork is pressing through all of the darkness in the world. Victoria and I rejoice and literally stand in awe of His kindness seen in His pottery, even though it's worn, chipped, cracked and sometimes leaking. Love always wins out in the end, and greater love hath no man than He who is love.

While waiting for the actual oath taking to occur, families are usually scurrying around the Consulate waiting-room excitingly "talking story" about their experiences and also so proudly showing off their treasure while at the same time admiring everyone else's. It's been a long journey for everyone in that room (as I stated in an earlier post, for some over four years), and now most want to get the process over and let progress begin. Foreign food, living out of a suitcase, understanding little (if any) of the language, rarely seeing the sun, shelving out oodles amounts of cash, adjusting to new time zones,… let's face it, everything is catawampus. The familiar is what's longed for so that your new child can know, taste, feel and be a part of what you rest in as familiar. I mentioned in our last post that Xiao Qian and I are not feeling too hot (she's better than I am, and it's really only a nuisance cold for me), but there was a nice couple sitting behind us in the Consulate waiting room that also wasn't feeling too hot. In fact, someone had said just before the swearing-in ceremony that there was a nasty flu bug going around in one of the local hotels where many foreigners were staying (not ours). No sooner had she said this than, right at the moment the official welcoming and raising of the right-hand was instructed, a father directly behind me lost it all, and I mean all. The room became instantaneously silent and many sitting nearby scattered to a safe distance. We turned around and just felt so sorry for this man – he was obviously very sick (white as a ghost I might gander), and there was no place for him to go. One man ran to the restroom to grab so paper towels, another mother handed baby-wipes over to his wife (holding their newly adopted daughter), and all he could say was, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." And we all were so sorry for him. As disgusting as his accident might sound, I don't think most thought it was disgusting at all, wanting more than anything else to relieve him of his embarrassment and hope he feels better quickly. Wiping up the mess and making sure he was clouded by bodies so others might not peer too intently was the mission, everything else seemed to come to a standstill. The official oath taking transpired shortly thereafter, and everyone moved on with child in tow. But again, I can't help but think of the testament of goodness found in others, even in such a simple event as this. That poor sick man will never forget his experience in the U.S. Consulate on February 2^nd, 2010, and nor will we, not because he got sick, but because his sickness gave evidence of something much greater.

Writing/typing of something much greater, we all three played card games for hours this evening, with Xiao Qian laughing her head off whenever I'd lose. (Why do all of my children like it when I lose a game to them? I think I know the answer to that question.) That happened after we enjoyed a wonderful meal at a local restaurant located right in the heart of a fresh fish market (and I mean fresh because everything, including alligators, eels, lobsters, crab, snails, etc… are still alive but contained). This restaurant is only known by the locals, but I remembered eating there less than two years ago and wanted Xiao Qian to experience it. She winched and said in her low voice broken English, "I don't like." Victoria and I said, "I like." She laughed at us like we were crazy Americans. We think she's crazy because she loves chicken feet (see picture of me holding up two bags of those things). But the restaurant and the fish market, and even the card games were not what was much greater. What was much greater was the joy of being a part of something that's evolving into a family. Xiao Qian physically presses into her MaMa, she hangs on her Baba, and she's working hard to communicate in meaningful ways. And the most meaningful thing she said to me today was her echoing back to me what I said to her as we squeezed one another good-night, "I love you".

In the midst of all this joy, our hearts are a little heavy right now because our sweet little Rosie-girl (Golden Retriever we've had for twelve years) will pass on tomorrow. Austin told us this morning that she's not eating anything and seems very weak (she's been slowly battling cancer for a long time). The family took her on a walk last night and she couldn't make it home, so they had to go get the car to bring her back. No doubt it will be a hard day as some of them intend to be by her side as she goes to sleep one last time (I cannot think of a stronger bonding between our family in our absence than this providential grief). I know it's just another animal to those reading, but these little creatures represent something significant in a family's history, they're chapters or bookends on periods of life (as Victoria likes to say). As catawampus as our life is and will be over the next few months, losing Rosie removes one element of familiar that is hard to let go of. We wish we could have said good-bye to her. "Sweet dreams our dear dog. You were good to us."

In closing, we told Xiao Qian that tonight was her last night in China before we head off to Hong Kong tomorrow. She's too smart and rapid-fire reminded us that Hong Kong IS China. We told her we would come back some day. She said she was excited about that. We asked her to clarify, "Excited to come back to China or go to America?" She said, "Bose" (Both).

Progressing in Jesus,