Adaptive and resilient

Ermias is amazingly adaptive. He shows no signs of sadness or stress. He is giggly and cracks jokes at just about every turn. He loves to pretend that he's asleep, closing his eyes and fake snoring in the middle of anything, particularly when he needs just a little bit of attention. He loves that we call him "Injera Boy" and pumps his fists in the air to own it. 

He greeted me at the car last night, I handed him a bag. He said "injera, no?" U nodded and he instantly and excitedly said "oh good job!"

He put on 3 pounds in a week. Watching him eat, it's no surprise. He eats massive quantities...massive...and also is started to experiment a bit with things like peanut butter and popcorn. We are still serving traditional Ethiopian food at three meals, but are encouraged that he's becoming curious. The nutritionist was right. She told me to give him a couple of weeks of food that felt comfortable to him, not have it be a battle between us, and he would be influenced by the kids around him. 

He has now been to two bouncy houses and has zero fears there, even though three days ago he had never seen anything even remotely similar. He embraces our friends with an open heart, hugging and laughing as quickly as he can. 

Nights are easy. He goes to bed with either Kenzie or Mason, and if he needs to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, he does, then puts himself back to bed. 

English evolves every day. He now practices with the kids and uses the English word before the Amharic one if he knows it. He doesn't know many yet, but the list grows every day. 

He is amazingly comfortable and affectionate. When I came home last night he gave me two big hugs and huge smiles. Kenzie and Mason each love him and care for him in their different ways. Kenzie is a Big Sister caretaker, quickly making a meal for him or taking him to the bathroom. Mason also cares for him but is anxious to play with him at every turn. Church this week was fun to watch. Each kid took one of his hands and together they led him through the maze of people until he was comfortable enough on his own to run free. 

We keep waiting for it to be harder than it appears to be. After our little four-day stay in the hospital, he has quickly integrated into our family. 

Brothers

Mason and Ermi dressed themselves today. 

first videos

Here are the first videos we saw of Ermias in the ophanage.

Not bouncey

Injera

This kid as a new nickname: Injera. It's the first thing he says in the morning. There's nothing he loves more. We went to an Ethiopian grocery store and somehow talked the owner into giving him his own piece in a bag. He carried it around all day. Happiness. 

Monkey see, Monkey do

Time stands still

He spent Saturday night in his own bed. The next night he was up sick all night. The next night he was in the ER. And tonight he's in the hospital bed. I think that means it's almost Wednesday.

I'm not exactly sure how we got here. He wasn't eating much, but we thought that was adjusting to new food. He wasn't keeping much down, but we thought that was all the change he was going through, including new car and airplane rides. We had a previously-scheduled doctors visit for Monday morning and she told us to watch for dehydration and to call if he wasn't drinking more by end of the day. Later when we did she said "skip urgent care, take him to the ER for fluids." He really hadn't woken up all day...which we thought was jet lag. 

So Cindy took Mason to soccer because I said "I'm going to run him up for some IVs and we will be home later." Somehow, once I walked into the ER room, things started spinning. They were very concerned. Here you have a frail six year old, straight out of Africa, who hasn't really eaten in five days, and has been puking pretty consistently through that time. The doctor came in and said "we are admitting him." I was confused. 

They said he needed to be at Childrens but wasn't stable enough to even get in an ambulance. His glucose was at 36, which is very low. Other levels were low too, and his liver markers were high. They said things like "risk of seizure/coma/death" as if it's all one long word. Things got scary very quickly.

I felt terrible for this poor little guy. He has no way of knowing why we are in the hospital. I asked for an interpreter and they found one on the phone. She was unhelpful at best. He was confused as to why someone was barking at him through a computer and wouldn't respond. But I asked her to please assure him that these are doctors trying to make him feel better. 

They needed to do an IV. Two nurses came in, one to hold him, the other to put the IV in. He offered up his arm and seemed to understand our gestures telling him what was about to happen. He barely winced as the IV went in. I thought his face said "I'm from freaking Africa, people, what's the big deal?" Both nurses were astounded at how easy he was. 

Then the had to do the second IV because of all the stuff they needed to pump into him. He offered up the other arm and this time the nurse asked me to hold him, realizing we weren't going to have to restrain this kid. It went in easy and besides a little air slipping in quickly between his gritted teeth, he didn't show any pain.

It took hours of pumping him full of fluids plus sodium, glucose, and other nutrition in a bag. Finally they said he was safe to travel, then did one more glucose prick (he slept through three of the four pricks), and his levels had dropped again. Still unsafe to travel. More glucose, more trying to explain this craziness to this little 40 pound boy on the big white bed. 

At some point, maybe 1AM, the ambulance came. We had to wait for a bit because they needed an RN in the car. I later learned they worried they were going to have to do intubate. 

The clinical view of this kid and the physical view of him were very different. He would wake up and seem "fine," but his labs presented him as a very sick kiddo. I realized I've only had this little boy for a week and I really don't know him that well. Clearly he is tough as nails on the outside, belying what's going on inside. Then it hit me...he truly is an Averill male, with all the machismo that goes with it. 

The RN on the ambulance was such a nice man. He noticed Ermi's prized Spider-Man, a gift David and Daniel had given him earlier and was now his new best buddy--he sang him the Spider-Man song and Ermi seemed amused. A big bald white guy singing a silly song...it earned a smile and I was grateful. In the back of the ambulance he offered his phone with YouTube videos of old Spider-man shorts to entertain him on the ride. It worked. Soon we were at Childrens. 

They were ready for us and started a battery of tests. One of the doctors wrote a long list on his bed sheet. I counted. There were 14 tests on this "initial list." They explained that the list of what could be ailing this little guy is very long, and it will take some time to sort through it. I thought they meant hours, but at some point I realized they meant days. 

We stayed in the ER all night. The floor unit wouldn't let us come up. They were alarmed of his lab results and said he needed more observation than they could give and he needed to stay under the careful watch of the ER docs. 

Ermi became hungry. After rejecting Saltines, Graham crackers and Cheerios, he started eating white bread. The ER nurse did a happy dance for him and he again smiled. I again was grateful to see our happy boy still in there. 

He eventually ate nine pieces of bread, drank lots of water, and the ER docs convinced the floor docs to come look at him--the physical and the clinic view are so different. They did and by 7AM we had a new home on the fourth floor.

They were unable to find a vein beyond the two IVs and, after many dry sticks, I said "enough, I can't let you do that anymore." They had called in the special team but his little veins weren't making themselves. Eventually they got all the blood they needed from the IVs.

The doctors and nurses are amazing and so many went out of their way to make a connection with this sick little boy. His smile became more frequent as they blew up gloves as balloons and found different ways to be silly and make him smile. 

We have had two in-person Amharic interpreters. These women have been so compassionate and helpful. We have been able to explain what's going in and hear from him the same. He told one that he likes it better here than Ethiopia, and that warmed my heart. 

He slept most of the day and, as everyone knows, stays in the hospital consist of meeting doctors, waiting, having tests, and waiting for doctors. Repeat. 

Cindy was able to spend the afternoon and early evening. Ermi's face lit up when they delivered a big tote of toys. Legos, bubbles, Play-doh--all his favorite things in one place. We played and realized once again what an amazing kid this is. He is six. He sits in the big hospital bed and entertains himself for hours. He is stubborn, don't get me wrong, but he is incredible through this. I don't think if I were in his shoes I would be such a great patient. The interpreter sat with him while Cindy and I ran to Starbucks for dinner. When we came back they were coloring together. 

So we wait. Yesterday he continued to throw up everything he consumed (except the bread in the ER). He hasn't pooped in days but they don't think there's an obstruction. They're worried about the liver. That's about all we know. Except that today will be more meeting of doctors, more tests, and more waiting. 

A new day one

Chilling on the couch

Not much has sounded good to eat...but carrots with burbere hit the spot

Day 5 update

Every day here has been so rich and unique. I can't believe everything we have experienced in less than a week. Today was no exception.

When I was here 3 months ago, I met Ermi's guardian and felt satisfied that I had all my questions answered about his early years. She came to the orphanage and sat down with me (and an interpreter) for quite some time. It was a special time and I felt closure--I learned as much as I could. Ermi didn't even remember her--it had been two years, which is a long time for a six year old. I knew she was very poor, possibly sick, and that she had taken Ermi when the birth mother walked away the day he was born. I knew he was born in her house. I knew she cared for him for as long as she could, but because she also had an Autistic child six years older than Ermi, it was just too much for her.

But she asked me to please visit her on this trip and meet her son, so I agreed to do that. She mentioned it several times so I thought this would give her the closure she needed. I understood this was a different place than Ermi lived in, but I still had reservations about bringing him. Would it be too emotional for him? Would it confuse him to see her with us again? But I knew it was important to her and, because she had given him so much of her love for four years, I wanted to do that for her. I also thought the pictures of her and her son would be important to Ermi at some point.

Another example of underestimating the people here.

Mom, Cindy, Kenzie, Ermi and I loaded into Ephrim's van. We traveled a full hour (or more, who knows, time goes much slower here) through the city--through traffic that's hard to imagine, roads that are unbelievably bumpy, and people that are everywhere--lining the streets, walking through the traffic, huddling on the side of the road. It was warm so our windows were open most of the time, making our skin color even more obvious. Between the dust and people approaching us, the traffic felt extra pronounced. We traveled up dirt hills, through village after village, and finally somehow there the guardian Wude (Woo-DAY) appeared. I opened the door to greet her, wondering where on this dirt street we were going to chat. But then she hopped in the van and directed us to her house. That's what you do, I guess, when there are no addresses. How Ephrim got us to her, I will never be able to figure out.

We pulled up to the corrugated metal gate and she opened it to show us a small community of modest houses, that, it turns out, she owns. A square compound, almost, with about six single or double room cement buildings, probably about 10x10 or 10x20, with plants in a sort of terrarium in the middle. It was clean, the bright colors made it feel warm, and the plants gave a feeling of privacy. She rents the rooms out, as she did to Ermi's birth mom six years ago.

As we walked through she pointed to the second door on the right and said, "that is where Ermias was born." I had to ask Elsa, the social worker who had joined us on the way and was translating, to make sure I heard it right. Yes, this was Ermi's first home and where his birth mother lived. This was where he spent his first four years. All of the sudden I was glad we made the trip.

Two young women came out to greet us, both dressed very modernly. She introduced them as her daughters. At the orphanage I never heard about the daughters. I was quickly trying to both experience this and understand it all. It was not the picture I had in my head. I asked one of the daughters--who speaks English--if she spent a lot of time with Ermi when he was young. She said, "oh yes, he is my little brother."

Then she took us to her home, similar in size to the others, with one large living room and another room behind a curtain that I tried desperately to peek into but continuously failed. Her living room within the cement walls was well furnished with couches, a lovely wooden armoire, and a tv. Inside the glass of the armoire was the picture of Kenzie, Mason and I that I had given her three months ago.

Along one wall was a tall table, and as soon as we sat down she unveiled the feast she had prepared for us. Ermias was obviously comfortable there. He remembered all her kids and took pleasure being the center of attention amongst us all. He was goofy, giggly, and at peace. Elsa explained why we were there and he was happy for the visit. Wude served us the traditional coffee ceremony after the abundant lunch. She pointed to the picture of the young woman graduating from college on the wall and said it was her. Turns out she has a degree in accounting and works as an auditor for the government. Then her phone rings and it's her husband checking on us. Wait, what, there's a husband too? The oldest daughter (22) goes to the university and the youngest (18) is finishing high school.

We just enjoyed our time together. I didn't ask a ton of questions but did learn some new things. Primarily Ermi's birth mom was in that house for three years after he was born, so he knew her too, and that Wude gave him up because she knew he could have a better future. She did it out of the most selfless kind of love. There were no tears this time, it was all joy and a kind of family bond. I told her I hope to return and she asked me to visit again. This time I will look forward to it.

Later we relaxed for a few minutes at the guest house. Kenzie taught him Angry Birds and he started to let her be Big Sis. (She already insists he call her "Sister," of course.) They giggled, high fived, and killed green pigs. At one point he got frustrated and yelled "shit!" We each looked at each other to see if anybody else heard the same thing. We let it pass until it happened again. And again. Ok, so those American movies in the orphanage did pay off. We attempted to course correct that one to "shoot." It hard to describe an inappropriate word without language. Most of his little expressions are so cute, though. We hear "oh wow" a lot. And when Yeshi brought back his favorite sweatshirt he told her "thank you Yeshi. Good job!" It's so incredibly cute. We are literally watching him learn a new language before our eyes.

His favorite song is Bingo. When he needs a connection, he starts and we all join in. Randomly, we were walking down the dirt street singing it all together and a Muslim woman covered from head to toe in black, only her eyes exposed, started singing with us as she walked toward us. Such a cool moment.

I'm realizing that travel is so rich if I can experience the people. I've never been much for museums or road trips, but I love finding connections with people, especially people who are different in a way that I admire. I admire the Ethiopian people for their affection and their deep caring. Life is hard here but there is such a strong culture that they share the burden together. They are proud of their country, but have been wiped out by war and disease. They are rebuilding and hope for a stronger future. In the meantime, there are six million orphans who are struggling to find hope for a future. Minus one. This kid is bound for America, but he brings with him six years of Ethiopia that will stay with him forever. We will make sure of that.

PostScript ...
This post was late because the power went out Thursday night and was still out when we left. We are on the airplane to Dubai. He is doing fantastic...especially if you excuse the peeing in the trash can incident. This is one great kid and we are so proud to have him join our family. We are in for a ride! He is spirited, stubborn and insists on doing everything himself. But he is loving, funny, and quick-witted. He's a perfect fit.

I also want to thank his village that has been part of this journey, but has not met him yet. Your words have meant so much as we have traveled across the world in this leap of faith. We have not felt alone, and are excited to bring him home to meet everyone!

Day 4 update

Ok, first of all, we did it! Ermi had a bath last night. He wasn't sure at first, but quickly started giggling as he felt the warm water from the wash cloth trickle down his back. He filled his balloon with water and dumped it over his head. He squealed. He would stand up, sit down, lay down...it was the happiest we had seen him. Again, comparing to the previous day, 10 incredibly cute steps forward. The massive black ring around the tub was the only downside, but he's clean!!

I am cautious about how to tell this next story because it is not fully mine to tell. So excuse some obvious gaps...

We wanted to meet Tigist, my Ethiopian-adopted nephews' sister, to let her know that they are doing amazingly well and see how she is doing with her new baby. As it goes in Ethiopia, my brother knew a guy who could reach her, but the number of the guy didn't work, so Randy had to get his other number...then the guy he knew had lost all his phone contacts...so he had to call another guy who knew Tigist who could call the guy and tell the guy we knew...anyway...we almost left with just a picture of her and no number. Our host Ephrim is also a detective and was sure he could find her. But as it turns out he found her phone number some other way!!! And, yes, everyone in Ethiopia has a cell phone. Anyway, we made contact.

We met Tigist at a hotel that had wifi. She was sitting by the side of the road with her 18 month old baby. We ate lunch together and I called Randy to ask if we could Skype. He said "it's 2am but sure!" He got the boys up, and then the internet went down. So we waited. And then, as it does, it came back about a half hour later. He got the boys up while we huddled in the lobby. She had no idea what Skype meant or how we were able to miraculously get her brothers on this little screen (iPad mini). It was incredibly touching and part of the story that is theirs to tell.

After we Skyped I noticed the 88 year old man in the corner of the small lobby who had been listening to the whole thing. He was touched. He said (in English) that was the most compassionate thing he has ever seen. He kissed me, held Ermi, kissed my mom, and asked me for my address and phone number. I have no idea what he plans to do with it, but Ephrim said it was ok, so I gave it to him!

We drove though the village and met their tribe. I am excited to try to share this experience with the boys through videos and stories. We sat in her humble home. No kitchen, no bath, just four people living in a cement 2 room building. She let me ask all my questions, I told her about her brothers and then she shared some family pictures that I can take back to the boys. Tradition would have had her serve us coffee but I think she could not afford it--she probably spent all her spare money getting to the hotel to meet us. We left her with many pictures and assured her the boys are amazing.

In their village we handed out about 20 soccer balls to random little kids. We would tell "kwas!" (ball) and they would usually run to the car. (Some had never seen "orange people," as Ephrim calls us, and were afraid.) Ephrim knew to only let us hand them to groups of 2 or 3 or a brawl would break out. I love the picture of the little boy clutching both his old ball and his new one.

Cindy got pretty good at pegging random kids with balls on the side of the highway on the ride home as we worked to get rid of the rest of them. The guys in the truck behind us laughed at every toss and would give is endless "thumbs up" as we saw the pure joy on each face. A soccer ball is gold. On her first high-speed toss, though, she mistimed and the overshot the boy just standing watching traffic (cars, trucks and donkeys). He didn't see it. As we drove away, he still didn't see it, we drove further, until finally he saw it!! He jumped straight in the air, then ran full speed toward it as we drifted out of view. We laughed thinking about how he was going to explain that when he got home. People don't just lose soccer balls and they don't just drop from the sky...or do they? Still cracks me up when I think about it.

Ermi is still so drawn to strangers but our bonding is starting. I had to get help from Yeshi and Ephrim to bridge the communication gap a bit. I'm a little worried about going home but this is a good transition period for us.

But today he giggled with us. He's starting to show his silly side that I saw in the orphanage. It's in there, we just have to earn his trust to see it. Baby steps...it is only day four.

Day 3 update

How can it be that yesterday's post was only a day ago? Doing this journaling helps me mark time and progress, so I look back at where we were when I wrote that and feel ten giant steps ahead.

After the meltdown we had during our first quiet time together as a family, the goal of the next day was simple: stay busy.

We roused early for a walk through the neighborhood to Kaldi's, the Ethiopian version of Starbucks. We walked through the dirt roads, narrowly avoided getting mauled by hay-carrying donkeys (not kidding), and crossed the four-lane highway. Mom was nervous about that last one because Frogger is the visual I get when I try to describe it. She said she couldn't do it so I said "ok let's go to the crosswalk" and we walked the sidewalk for another couple of blocks til we found another unmarked section of the road. I said "here it is"--and she quickly realized that meant "go time." Cindy grabbed Ermi, I grabbed Mom's arm and we raced for the median, then the other side! We did it! (Only got honked at a couple of times and I'm pretty sure those were friendly honks.)

We ordered coffee, hot chocolate and banana bread, but Ermi was interested in none of it and soon drifted from our table. He was looking around and felt more drawn to things happening with others than us. We look different. We don't sound the same. He doesn't relate to us. He found a table with two 50-something Ethiopian businessmen and put his arm on the back of one of the men's chair. I was embarrassed and called him back. The man said to me "it is okay" and put his arm tightly around Ermi. He pulled him close and began speaking to him. The other man joined in. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what they were saying and felt powerless that these strangers could comfort my son in a way I couldn't. Then I sat back and just let myself observe it. These men didn't know this little boy, but they dropped whatever conversation they were having and gave him physical and emotional consoling. They were coaching him, strong words that I couldn't understand. They let him play with the money they had on the table. The love, the connection, the care was overwhelming to me as a fast-paced American. I eventually stood to thank them. They pulled out a chair. Soon we were all at one table. Ermi drifted away again and they said "let him go, he will come back." They were right. The men held him again and told him that his life will be good, his family loves him, told him to love us and trust us, and that maybe someday he will grow up to be Obama. We took pictures of the group of us, surely this is one of those moments of humanity I will forever remember, they were so warm and kind. They thanked me for what I am doing, but only after they asked questions to verify that he truly has no Ethiopian family that can care for him.

We left to cross the highway again, and as I carried Ermi he rested his head on my shoulder and wrapped his arms around my neck. I carried him the rest of the way home enjoying our first moment of connection.

Oh, and we passed embassy yesterday! He will receive his visa on Thursday and will become a US citizen when he steps foot on American soil Saturday at noon. Hurray!

Then we went to the Post Office (outdoor market) to shop. Ermi wanted me to carry him most of the time and would cry when I put him down. It's still sweet and special but I can see my temperature on this cooling once he gets a tad more adjusted. And, by the way he eats, the cooling may be accelerated quickly.

Our days goal was met: both kids fell asleep in the car on the ride back.

We tried to give him a bath, but considered it a success to wash the limbs and torso fully clothed. Baby steps.

By the evening he was starting to play with us, still guarded. Cindy fed him nuts like you would a squirrel. Over and over, back for more. We lost electricity and played with portable lights, and then bedtime became very easy. No tears, he climbed in next to Kenzie and closed his eyes. We consider that a great day!

Day 2 update

Leaving Dubai was crazy but hardly seems worth talking about now. Between switching gates, getting put in a weird holding pen, taking a 20 minute bus ride across the Tarmac and under tunnels, we weren't quite sure we would make it. But we did. We arrived in Addis Ababa, casually got our bags, changed money, and finally found our friend Ephrim.

Ephrim said the agency was looking for us. That's nice, I thought..we were late and they were worried. Then he handed me the phone. They wanted us to have Ermis going away ceremony immediately. Wait, what?

His three good friends, Teddy, Tigist and their little brother, were having theirs and they wanted to include Ermi. Of course, I said, realizing it was ridiculous to try to plan anything in Ethiopia in the first place.

We quickly dropped our bags and headed straight to the orphanage.

We waited patiently in the front room for about five minutes and then Kenzie boldly got us permission to go see him. He was in the room where all the big kids sleep and play. There he was, dressed in the traditional Ethiopian attire with a huge smile and lots of hugs for each of us. I picked him up and he squeezed and kissed me. He was ready to go.

One of the first things I noticed was that so many kids were new. Many of his friends that were there 2-1/2 months ago had left before him. He has seen many goodbyes.

But the ones that remembered me spotted that I was carrying something so I sat on the floor and opened my large white envelope. I had printed all the photos of the kids from my last visit with Lauren. I took out one, showed the cute girl that Mason loved an image of him spinning her in circles. She giggled and I gave it to her. Then another. Pretty soon I had the huddle of kids all around me. It was comforting and sweet. Pretty soon the pictures were spread across the floor, then they vanished one or two at a time. Cindy took a sweet picture of one girl hiding a cherished photo under her mattress--the only place they have that is truly theirs. A bunch of the adults came in too. A couple asked if they could have some too. We had printed a few specifically for the special people in his life--one of the guard being led obediently up the stairs by Ermi, for example--and I was grateful to have something meaningful to give them as a small token of the incredible impact they have had on this kid.

Next we had the going-away ceremony. I could write an entire chapter on this, but it can be summarized by saying it was an awesome display of unbridled love for these four kids who had each spent two years there. Many tears, lots of joy, hugs, kisses, more hugs, more kisses, some songs, prayers, and gifts. Love, joy, and sadness overwhelmed everything else.

And then we left.

Ermi was so excited to be looking out the window of the car that he didn't even glance back at the orphanage. He was happy. We went back to the guest house and changed him (into a bright orange soccer shirt, of course). He loved the light-up shoes and stomped around the place. We realized that we didn't bring much to entertain him, and as the hours wore on, the language barrier became pronounced. He couldn't say anything we could understand or visa versa. It became frustrating for him...his new family couldn't hear him.

Thankfully, Ephrim and Yeshi had a party for us and two other families in the other guest house, so at 7:30 we went back there. We ate amazing Ethiopian food and pasta (Ephrim calls it Ethiotalian). Ermi ate like a champ.

Things started to unravel a bit when we started bedtime routines. Ermis big eyes were red and I could see he was holding back the tears. Eventually he was unsuccessful and the sobbing turned to a bloody nose. He wasn't ready to sleep with us. Eventually he passed out with his feet at Kenzie and my heads.

He had said goodbye to everyone he knew and loved. Now he is going to an unknown place with people who look and talk different. The hugs help, but they don't yet bridge the gap. I know this will take time and I can comprehend the adjustment period ahead of us. I understand that language will come, that new things will soon become familiar. But he doesn't understand that yet. I know we are giving him and amazing opportunity and soon he will be a sassy spit-fire Averill, but just today I'm sad for the little six year old orphan who once again had a major loss. I love this kid already.

But he is with us! Now let the adventure begin. Pictures to come. And some sweet video of him saying goodbye to three of his caretakers.

Both Mason and I loved this kid.

During the going-away ceremony.

Three siblings that spent two years with Ermi left the same day, making the orphanage without many kids he knew.

Ermi and the director of the orphanage. He asked me to never forget him.

As part of the going away ceremony they prepared a traditional coffee ceremony.

This woman cared for him for two years...she cried and cried when he left.

All the kids wanted to say goodbye. Ermi was a favorite.

Lots of goodbye hugs

With his family photo book in hand, he was ready to go

Happy to see Sister in the orphanage

Leaving the orphanage...he looked outside, never back.

Day 1 update

It's weird to call this a day 1 update because we have been gone 24 hours and have yet to see daylight. It's 3am and I am feeling fortunate to have slept this long.

Today we fly to Ethiopia and head back to the orphanage for one of the last times. We will play with Ermi. He will meet three new key women in his life, but likely will wonder why we didn't bring his big brother back. Kenzie is geared up to play with him, but I suspect that being able to say "let's go see Mason" may help us through some rough spots on this weeks journey ahead.

We really don't know what is going on in his head, how he will feel about leaving everything he knows, and how weird the bigger world will look through his eyes. Those eyes have only seen the inside of the orphanage since he was four years old. Soon he will be on an airplane...and all the new adventures that trip allows.

After we see him, he will spend one more night in the orphanage. We will do some things in the city that we can't do with a six year old (shop) while he has one night for goodbyes. (I have some coffee and soccer jersey orders, and am happy to buy for anyone else--just message me.)

Tomorrow is our big day. We play in the orphanage in the morning, then take him to the embassy for our appointment there, then hopefully head back to the orphanage for the going away party. We each brought individual packs of Kleenex.

The rest of the trip is a bit more flexible. We are hoping to meet our nephews', David and Daniels, sister Tigist, and return to their village so she can show us places and people that are special to them and allow us to bring that back on video for them. We are also hoping to go to the house of Wude, the woman who raise Ermi for four years. Neither Tigist nor Wude speak English, and I have only expanded my 4 Amharic words by 20%, so we will bring a translator (unless we want to say a lot of hello and thank-you's and talk about birds and pineapple). Oh darn, I think I forgot my fifth word.

So, consider us excited but also very nervous. If you're a person who prays, please consider us in need of traveling mercies and open hearts--but not so big that they break seeing all we are about to see--and for Ermi a sense of peace knowing that we love him and are taking care of him, that he's going into a huge community (inclusive of all the people here) who will open their arms to him as he learns everything new again.