Not much to report, but it also feels bad going a long time without a post, so let me stitch together a couple of random stories.
Two nights ago, I had a dream about adopting. That’s more of a Kristi thing. She had dreams about us getting married … before we were married. She had dreams about kids … before we had kids. But my dreams are usually just crazy, random and psychedelic.
I dreamed I arrived at the orphanage after a long taxi ride where I had to yell at the driver to get going because my child was waiting for me. (the taxi part might’ve happened later in the dream, but chronologically it happens first) I was with a group of a half dozen others, and they were all given their babies. I was the last, and they handed me a rather large baby swaddled up in a blanket. Very cute but something not right. It felt nice to hold a baby again, as I haven’t in a long time and the nurturing, parenting emotions kicked in a bit.
Now I’m not a baby person like Kristi is. I see a baby and think, oh that’s nice. Yes it’s cute. They all are. But so high maintenance and so much a part of someone else. It’s totally different with my own kids. I finally got the baby thing when we had Hannah, and I held her myself and just spent time together. And that feeling kicked in a bit in the dream.
But as I said, something was not quite right. I didn’t catch the baby’s name when the caregiver handed it to me. It was a male caregiver and he came back up to me, still holding another, slightly older child, upright on his side. He asked how things were going and I asked my baby’s name again. He told me and although it sounded foreign (as it should be in Ethiopia), it also sounded masculine to me.
I asked the caregiver if my baby was a boy. He said yes. I told him that I came here for a girl, not a boy. It dawned on him that he gave me the wrong baby, and that this girl he was holding must be mine. We awkwardly traded babies and I looked at her with her bushy hair, wide eyes and ears that stuck out like Elliot’s do – in an endearing way. I knew she was mine.
After that was the taxi thing and something about houses and architecture and back to the typical nonsensical psychedelic dreams. But somehow I held onto this fragment and was able to tell it to Kristi in the morning.
The other thing I have to put on the record is about Elliot’s prayers. Each of our kids prays differently. Logan prays the most, usually at dinner (an important time for him) and with his eyes open. He says the same basic thing and sometimes forgets the words. Hannah still likes to recite the “now I lay me down to sleep” prayer, but then adds on some thank yous and some requests at the end.
Elliot says his dinner prayers silently and you can’t always make out his evening prayers. But they are not typically requests, they are more focused on others.
We’ve sponsored two children through Compassion International for the past year or two. “Diana” is connected to Hannah, and was selected on her 6th birthday. “Bryam” is connected to Elliot, and was selected on his 5th birthday. Diana and Bryam always end up in Elliot’s prayers, even though we don’t talk about them very much.
Elliot started praying for “our little sister” early on when we first started talking about adoption and getting excited with the kids. Once we got our paperwork accepted, we discussed being “in the process” and on the waiting list. Now, one of Elliot’s prayers is to “help our little sister and thank you for letting us be in the process for adoption.”
Pretty awesome, huh?