As we nestle ourselves into our home, Todd and I finally sat down and each wrote our own account of Tuesday, the day we came home.  Both accounts are posted here.  We realize they are long but so many of you have asked for details so here they are.

Mother of 5...

April 2, 2013

As we left the Guest House for the airport, the girls were giddy with excitement.   This is the day that they have heard so much about, the day they get to go home.  I don’t know if they truly understand what that means.  The day before, as we gathered our party stuff for the crèche, they kept gathering their things to take back.  As with every other time, they knew that the time at the Guest House with Popi always comes to an end and they must return.   As we pack our bags and prepare to leave, I wonder what is going through their heads.

We make our trek down the mountain through villages filled with vendors selling their wares.  Mangoes by the dozens, a chicken here and bins of rice and beans there; each village is virtually the same.  I wonder as our van snakes in and out of a sea of people if the girls know that this will be their last trip through Haiti.  The smells, the sounds the people will all soon change.

We arrive at the airport in plenty of time.  As we wait in line I can’t help wondering what people are thinking.  Do they think this is good?  Do they question our motives?  Do they understand the investment we have made in these girls for the last 2 ½ years?  Can they see my nervousness; can they see Popi’s trembling hand?  We proceed forward as if this is just another normal flight, but inside I’m terrified that someone will stop us.

Our first customs agent, clad in military boots and a handgun, asks to see our papers.  He suspiciously looks at each girl and each passport.  He writes their names down with no smile, no emotion.   He repeatedly looks at text messages on his phone.  Of course because I have been raised with American movie drama I actually wonder if he is getting a text from an official, questioning our departure.  Then I become more rational and think maybe it’s actually his girlfriend wondering if they are going out tonight.  He signs off and sends us on our way.  We check our bags, get our seats and proceed to the next agent.  Her expression is a bit more welcoming than the first.  She asks for papers and passports.  The airport loses power and she seems completely unaffected by it.  Lights dim, computer screens go blank and security belts stop.  Life in Haiti.  She asks for a copy of something and when Todd says he’s not sure what she is asking for, she calls another agent over.   They speak quickly in creole together, back and forth, with the latter seeming quite relaxed.  Oh how I wish I knew what they were saying!  She stamps all 4 passports and off we go! 

Since the time I stepped into the crèche on Saturday, Jaline has stuck to my side like honey on a bee.  “Mommy sit here.  Mommy by me.  Mommy look at me.”  Of course I love it!  I even love when the two of them fight over mommy because all too often I had dreams that the girls met me, didn’t like me or wanted nothing to do with me.  I’m lapping up this attention!   So it is fitting that Jaline sticks to me through the end of our journey.  As we sit and wait to board the plane I make up English word sheets with pictures for them to copy.  Jaline always looks up for my approval, “Mommy, look!”  as she waits to hear, “Good job!”  then smiles.  Of course in the duration of our wait the airport loses power once again, only this time for about 10 minutes and I wonder if this will affect departing flights.  Fortunately it does not!  As we wait we practice our English with pictures and words.  When I take them to the bathroom Marie Line heads towards the boys restroom.  I stop and show them the picture of a boy and the picture of a girl so they understand which one to go into.  With my uncanny ability to unknowingly end up in the men’s restroom on more than one occasion in the past,  Todd questions my competence in explaining this to them! 

It is finally time to board.  As I said in a previous email, I very much feel like Ben Affleck in the movie Argo.   My heart is pounding.  Once we board that plane and it is in flight, the Haitian government with all of its nonsensical red tape is behind us and they no longer have authority over my girls or our adoption.  Huge sigh of relief! 

Jaline is almost bouncing out of her seat with excitement.   Her smile has not waned since we entered the airport.  She looks outside her window and watches.  She and I started playing a little game when we would travel in the van much like the game “I spy” only I say, “Je vois…” which means “I see..” in French.  This is good for me as it forces me to remember French words.  As she looks out her window we again play the game, “Je vois….”  After we name all that we can see I tell her it is time to say goodbye to Ayiti.  We wave as the plane moves towards the runway.  Unexpectedly she says, “goodbye crèche,” and my heart melts.   She gets it.  She knows she is not returning to the crèche.   I try to harness my emotion as much as I can because as I look to my right, Popi has lost it.  His face is wet with tears and Marie Line looks to me like, “Is he ok?”  I remind the girls that people cry happy tears when they are very happy and it doesn’t mean they are sad.  I figure these girls need at least one parent who can talk with them without crying so I do my best to smile and continue the game, “Je vois…”  Jaline loves the plane.  She loves looking out the window.  She is smiling and giggling.  I love it. 

When we prepare for landing Jaline keeps saying, “Me-am-ee!!!” as she knows our first strop is Miami then home to Michigan.  When we land she says, “Airplane encore, mommy?”  which means are we going on the airplane again.  I say, “oui” and she smiles.  Many of you have asked how we communicate with the girls.  Todd’s creole is pretty good and manages to communicate well with them.  I have what I like to call “Franglish” which is me attempting to use as much French as I can remember and then filling in with English when I do not know the French words.  They seem to understand enough.  Often I say, “repetez” (to repeat) and I wonder if they are thinking their mommy is a little slow. 

We arrive at the gate and Todd and I prepare to walk as fast as we can to customs as we only have a little over two hours to complete everything before boarding our final plane to Detroit.  On a good day when I am walking with Todd  I always tell him, “for every step you take I have to take at least two!  Please slow down!”  Well today I have a carry on bag on my left shoulder and a 6 year old in my arms.  As he speeds ahead I say, “Uh my handicap is about a negative 2 right now!”  Thankfully he alters his pace.  Still we manage to be some of the first to hit the customs line.  As we hand our first agent the paperwork she says, after inquiring about our connecting flight, “Didn’t they tell you that you needed more time than that to clear customs and immigration?  I doubt you are going to make it.”  I said, “I know but we have a lot of people praying for us right now.”  She smiled. 

We moved on to the Immigration waiting room.  They took our paperwork and told us to sit and wait.  As I look around I say to Todd, “Seriously, there are bigger fish to fry in here than our little girls!”  There are signs everywhere that say no cameras and no cell phones.  Both of our phones are going crazy because Shelby and Spencer are texting us.  I take the girls into the bathroom to change their clothes and send a text to my sister, “Texting from bathroom in Immigration.  No phones allowed.  Tell my kids.”  Little did I know Todd was in the men’s room texting them as well.

Finally an agent comes out and says their names.  He hands us their passports and says, “You’re good to go.  You can check out in booth no.9.”  Wow.  That’s it?  I imagined us in a dimly lit room with a 2 way mirror answering questions in which I forget even my own name!  Soon that nervous tension that has weighed me down is finally gone and replaced by utter joy.  We are on our way with an hour to spare!!  Hallelujah!

We proceed to claim our baggage and head to our final gate.  Todd’s nervousness has not disappeared as quickly mine has.  We enter US customs once again and as we inquire about baggage location, I start to say to the customs agent that I don’t see our luggage and Todd turns around and says to me, "Zip it!”  I’m hysterically laughing  even as I type that  because Todd would never say that to me in a normal circumstance, but we all know, this is not our normal.  As much as I would normally fire something back, I turn and laugh because I see through him and know that Popi is still very nervous and not relaxed.  He won’t be until we take flight for the last time.

We grab a pizza and eat while waiting to board.  Jaline, who is far more expressive than Marie Line, is nearly bouncing up and down.  She does this thing where she shakes her hands up and down and says, “MICHIGAN” in a low growly voice.  Makes me laugh every time time.     We talk about Shelby, Spencer and Sophie waiting at the airport to greet us.  Smiles all around.  We board for the final time.  No more customs, no more immigration.  We are nearly home free.

This leg of our trip is the most uneventful as two tired girls succumb to naps.  Jaline falls asleep with me within minutes of takeoff.  She is out completely until I wake her up to land.  Marie Line and Todd are behind us a row.  Marie Line gets in a few hands of UNO with Popi until she too succumbs to sleep.  It is a quiet ride home.

Once we land it takes a little while for them to wake up; a potty stop and a splash of water on the face helps.   We make our way out of the terminal towards baggage claim where we know many are waiting.   As we approach, Sophie in her pink winter coat is the first person I spot.  I wave to her and soon I see her running towards us.  Only Sophie.  The others, including Shelby and Spencer gave her the space to meet her sisters first, without any one else there.  I don’t know if that was planned or not, but it touched me deeply that everyone in that crowd knew how important it was for Sophie, the last of the Hendo fam to meet her siblings.

We were greeted by signs, balloons and friends and family who marked this momentous occasion with us.  The girls were a bit shy and overwhelmed but eventually warmed up and smiled.  We all soaked up this moment that we have waited for.  I was so thrilled to see someone from different areas of our lives; family, camp friends, extended family, church friends and neighborhood friends, especially at such a late hour.  It was icing on the cake.

And for the first time, my family of seven piles into our vehicle as we strap in and head home. I look back and say, “I feel just like the Mom in Cheaper by the Dozen, or more appropriate, Cheaper by the Half-Dozen.  I lay my head back, close my eyes and smile.

 

Popi's Perspective...

Mommy and the girls are napping right now and the house is quiet for the first time since the girls arrived home at 1 in the morning last night.  I’m still processing everything we’ve experienced over the past few days.  The girls are FINALLY home and sleeping in THEIR beds.  We know that many challenges await, but we’ve had a great transition so far.  Laughter and giggles have filled the house.  After falling asleep at two in the morning and waking up at 7 am, there were bound to be naps today. 

On Tuesday, we arrived at the airport four hours before our flight out of Port au Prince.  Popi wasn’t taking any chances with car trouble, traffic, protests or any of the obstacles to getting places on time in Haiti.  We had our papers checked as we stood in line to check out luggage.  Yes, my hands shook as I handed the inspector our passports and papers.  After recording everything he handed our papers back and said we were all set.  Breathe…  Next, we checked our luggage and were assigned seats next to each other on the plane.  Next, passports and adoption paperwork had to be checked again, but this time far more thoroughly.  The government agent called another agent over and they exchanged questioning glances as they talked back and forth in creole and looked at our paperwork.   I have no idea what the agents are saying, but I don’t like the looks of it.  Finally they handed us our papers back and said we were all clear.  Breathe… So, we spent a few hours waiting in the Port au Prince airport waiting for our flight to board.   Wow, does that clock move slow!  Yet, we looked at pictures and videos on our phones of our family and the girls; yes, I have accumulated one or two pics and videos of the girls over the past 32 months. 

Finally, it was time to board.  I grabbed my backpack, which held all the girls’ paperwork  in folders and officially sealed envelopes for US Immigration, their passports stayed in my pocket, and we took our precious daughters hands and got in line.  Shaking, I handed our boarding passes and passports to the agent and we walked down the hall to the entry point for our plane.  Yes, as I stood in line, waiting in that hall, I looked both ways just to be sure nobody was coming, nobody was pointing, and nobody was going to say wait before we could board that plane.  Everything was clear.  Was this finally it?  Was it really going to happen?  The girls excitedly boarded the plane.  We got to our seats, but there were three seats on one side and one across the aisle.  Looks like Popi is going to have to sit across the aisle and hold Marie Line’s hand as we take off.  What?  Madame stewardess, are you sure my 8 year old can’t sit on my lap when we take off?  She’s actually kinda small for her age.  Do you not understand?  Ok, looks like Papi will get to look across the aisle, take pictures, hold Marie Line’s hand, and soak in the beauty of mommy sitting between her daughters, as they say “Goodbye Ayiti” and “Goodbye crèche”. 

Finally, we taxied down the runway, as I held Marie Line’s hand, looked into her eyes as she stared back into my tear filled eyes, with those eyes of hers that pierce my heart.  Those were the eyes that stared up at me from the one picture I had of her in the old orphanage, the day I found out that Jaline had a sister.  As the plane increased its speed, Jaline bounced up and down, looking out the window, Marie Line looked back and forth as we went faster and FINALLY the wheels left the ground, the plane pointed up and we were off.  It really happened, the plane left the ground and Samantha, Marie Line, Jaline, and I were really on our way!  Surreal.  Absolutely.  No other way to describe it.  Happy tears, as mommy explained to the girls.  Joy! Relief! Au revoir Ayiti!  I’ll be back, but it’s time these girls finally come home. 

As I tried to soak in the reality of what had just happened, I knew our next hurdle was US immigration.  Oh, Don’t worry, we enjoyed the flight.  Papi quickly moved over to Marie Line’s seat, she hopped on my lap, and the sticker book came out.  The crayons came out.  Disney princess coloring books.  Snacks.  Pretzels, cookies, cheese and crackers, a Kit Kat and juice.  Of course, Jaline saved some to bring to her brother and sisters.  Before we knew it, it was time to prepare for landing.  I couldn’t wait for those wheels to touch down, because American soil means the girls become US Citizens. Finally, those wheels touched the ground and a sense of relief hit me.  They’re not going back!  This is for real!  After all those months, trips, and heartache, it was officially official!! 

I was able to enjoy that for a few moments until my thoughts shifted back to rushing out of the airplane, rushing to customs, and trying to clear customs and get on our plane in two hours (which normally doesn’t happen.  It was so not-encouraging when our first customs agent asked to see our paperwork and asked when our connecting flight was.  When she heard that we were leaving in 2 hours, her response was “didn’t they tell you it would take longer than that to clear customs” and Samantha responded with “that’s ok we have lots of people praying”.  Well, we entered a waiting room and waited, and listened to a door click repeatedly as agents entered and left.  As I heard each click, I turned back to the door to see if our paperwork was done.  Fortunately, as we waited, Samantha changed our daughters into the cutest, most perfect dresses you can imagine for a welcome home.  It all gets a bit easier when you are captivated by the huge smiles, twirls, and beauty of your daughters.  They may have captured my heart wearing ill-fitting tattered clothing but they were ready to emerge from this process as princesses and a testament to our Lord’s handiwork.  Well, the door finally clicked for us, an agent came out holding two passports, called their names, and told us we were all set, in less than an hour. Done.  Finished.  Fini! That was it!  All that was left to do was get on that flight and introduce the girls to some of their extended family and friends that were waiting for our 11:15 pm arrival. 

One more flight.  More excited looks out the airplane windows.  More excited comments mixing creole and English.  Many games of Uno.  Fortunately, they each took a nap.  After arriving in Detroit, we were greeted by our three oldest children, family, and dear friends.  Papi got to take a step back and share his precious daughters with each of them.  I’ve been so excited for everyone to meet our amazing girls.  They are joyful, beautiful, and captivating but you would never know that they are the same children that stole my heart over two and a half years ago.  There are only a few people who saw first-hand how desperate Jaline’s health was 32 months ago, when I prayed nightly that our Lord would heal her and keep her alive until I could bring her home.  I prayed and begged that the few people I knew in Haiti would do everything they could to make sure she was fed and cared for until we could get her out of that orphanage and under better care.  Carrie Miller and Pat Curtis, thank you for loving my Jaline and being the hands of our Lord, in that desperate time. 

If you meet my Jaline today, you will never know just how bad it was.  You will see a completely transformed child.  It will be hard to imagine that her desperation, lifelessness, and starvation made it impossible for me to look away.  I never could have imagined that the amazing child that sleeps in our home tonight, would blossom from that frail child I met in August 2010.  I never saw Jaline smile during my first two trips to Haiti, yet it is her infectious smile that captivates those who meet her today.  If you are new to our story, you might want to read back to the beginning, because we started with one and ended up with two sisters.  The Lord had bigger plans for us.  His timeline was also a lot different from mine!  I’ve believed from the beginning that Jaline’s story was a lot bigger than her.  I had no idea that it would include her amazing sister Marie Line, and I have no idea how it will impact those who hear. 

I do know that I had no idea a few years ago that adoption would be in our family’s future.  I never could have conceived of this journey we have been on.  I do know that I thought my dear friends were crazy when they decided to adopt, a few years ago, after having four children already.  I had no idea that this father of three amazing children would be bringing home two more daughters, when most people are preparing to clear out rooms and send their kids off to college.  I had no idea until I opened my heart and said “Lord, I’m all in.”  On August 21, 2010, as I prepared to fly down to Haiti for the 1^st time,  I wrote “ I pray that my eyes and heart are open to those things I need to see.  Lord please show me your heart for me.  Show me your path.  Use me as you wish… I fall humbly before you with a willing heart.  My heart is wide open.  I bow before you and rest in your will.  Please continue to open doors and lead me in your path…”  I share this because I never could have imagined that adoption was in our family’s future.  I know it wasn’t in my plans, but I’ve learned I need to have an open and willing heart so I can see the beauty of our Lord’s handiwork.  I know I’ll always struggle with the reality of millions of orphans in this world.  I know I can’t make a difference for all of them, but I know that in one way or another we are all called to care for them.

I know I am blessed today, as my daughters sleep in their new beds.  I will confess that I was scared that it would be a rough transition, regardless of how much time I had spent with the girls previously.  My worst fear was trying to get my daughters on the plane and them protesting and not wanting to leave.  Yet, the reality is, they haven’t stopped smiling and giggling since we got to Haiti last Saturday.  They embrace their mommy, as if they were formed in her womb.  Jaline woke this morning and afternoon and immediately crawled into bed to lie next to her mommy.  This is how the girls started each day in Haiti. While we may be in the midst of a Honeymoon, it’s been an amazing Honeymoon, and all five of our children have been laughing and playing together, as their bonds tighten.  We know from other adoptive families that challenges often arrive later, but we will continue to pray that the girls transition smoothly to their new lives.  So far, it’s been truly amazing!  They seem so ready to be here.  They put their winter coats and gloves on and went outside to play today (life in Michigan).  Soccer, tennis, basketball, they tried it all as long as their brother and sister were playing with them.  Marie Line stepped away from family movie night tonight, so she could play with all the new bows, barrettes, hair bands, and hair decorations that she found from mommy.  Good times!  Good night and God Bless! Todd

 

 

 

Good Bye…

You would think that the night before I finally get to bring our girls home, that the title would be Hello.  Instead, tonight my heart is filled with good byes.  Yes, I’m filled with scattered emotions and numbness. I know I lose standing in the world of the macho male , but I’ve been on the edge of tears all weekend, especially today.  It started on Saturday, when we drove away from the crèche and knew they would never sleep there again.  I knew they were finally coming home after so many brutal drives away from the crèche knowing I couldn’t bring my daughters home.  I knew it was really going to happen, they were finally coming home.  Everything was finished.  We have their passports, their permission to travel, their visas, everything, there was NOTHING left except to get them on the plane and bring them home.

In fact, I battled with the reality that I just wanted to get out of Haiti and get them on that plane.  I contemplated checking with the airlines to see if there was a chance to get on a flight Sunday or Monday.  I knew we had to say goodbyes and allow the girls to transition out of their life at the crèche.  I knew Mommy needed to spend more time bonding with the girls before we left the country.  However, after all the problems, delays, and heartbreaking nonsense associated with our adoption, I just wanted to get them home fearing that something might happen before we could get them on that plane.  I know I need to be still and know that it is in His hands, but this Popi just wants to bring his girls home.

We hosted a going away party at the crèche this afternoon.  In the morning, Mom and the girls baked and frosted cupcakes, complete with sprinkles.  We filled a piñata full of candy.  We prepared the goodie bags for all of the children at the crèche.  Once we walked into the crèche and started preparing for the party it hit me; this was good bye.  Good bye, this is it.  In the beginning, it took us a couple months to get her admitted, but Jaline entered the crèche in December of 2012, as the first child.  After caring for my daughter for the past 28 months, it was time to say good bye.  It was time for Jaline to say good bye to her 1^st friend at the crèche.  Her first friend, Renalson, is an amazing boy that I have spent a great deal of time with over the past two years.  We had to say good bye today, and it was one of the hardest parts of leaving today.  He is very close to finishing his paperwork and finally coming home, but he had to watch as our girls left and he had to stay.  I know he has a family in the US that loves him and longs for him to finally come home.  I hugged him over and over again, talked to my buddy, and let him know that he will be coming home soon.  Yet, I wanted to pack him up and fly him home to the US, so the ridiculous wait could finally be over. 

He has a special place in my heart as do the others I refer to as the “Original 6”.  If you’re from Detroit, or one of the cities where the Original 6 NHL teams are from, you understand that reference.  The Original 6: Jaline, Renalson, Jameson, Lixson, Woodley, and Islande are the 1^st six children that started at Chances for Children’s crèche.  Marie Line came a bit later, since she wasn’t admitted to the crèche until September of 2011.  I’ve spent so much time with those children over the past two years.  While I always came to see my girls, I always believed it was important to love on each of them as much as I could.  I’ve known them since before some of their adoptive families.  I always loved them as I would want others to love on my girls, so they knew how special they were, so they knew they were loved, and they knew they weren’t forgotten, even when their parents had to go home without them.  Islande spent an hour sleeping on my shoulder today, craving love and just needing to be held.  I know her adoptive parents love her dearly and long for her to come home, but for today she got to sleep on my shoulder.  I’ve known her since she arrived with that big smile, especially when she’s supposed to be napping.  I could go on about each of them and it was so thrilling to see Jameson and Lixson lead the way home to their new families, as they arrived in the US on Saturday. 

With so many memories and bonds, it was hard to leave today, even knowing our girls were finally coming home.  Not for a minute do I want them to stay any longer, but it’s so difficult when people and a place have been such a huge part of your life for over two years.  When you reflect upon the numerous trips to the crèche and all the memories, it can be overwhelming.  I had to say goodbye as well as the girls.  Goodbye to all the mommies who have cared for and loved on my girls.  They’ve held them, bathed them, cared for them when they’ve been sick, prayed with them, fed them, sang with them, dressed them, made sure they did their homework, and many of them have loved them as their own, until today.  The day when good bye finally comes and their adoptive family can bring them home.  I owe so many of those ladies such a debt of gratitude for the way they’ve cared and the love they’ve shared with my girls.  It was so touching to see the tears of Madame Patric, who has been with Jaline since the beginning.  She’s so excited for the girls yet so sad to see Jaline go, because she was with her from the beginning.  From the time when my precious 3 ½ year old was so severely malnourished and had to have her hair shaved off so it could grow back healthy, she was there.   She and the others cared for my sick child when I was unable to and watched her transform into the healthy, smiling, giggling six year old that she is today.  As she said to us through a translator, "I have cared for her as if she was my own child."  It was fitting that one of Madame’s last acts of caring for Jaline today, was to braid her beautiful hair so she could be more stunning when she is welcomed home tomorrow, by a new team of family and friends that will love on her, help raise her, and care for her as so many have over the past two and a half years.

We have been blessed by the efforts of the team from Chances for Children, who have made our adoptions possible.  It was a Friday in October of 2010 at 5 pm, when Kathi Juntunen, answered my phone call, after I was told no and to basically give up on adopting our Jaline from Haiti.  I had been turned down by countless adoptions agencies all over the US, who said it was too difficult and I should consider another country.  Well, the Lord placed a precious child named Jaline on my heart in August of 2010, and there was no way we were going anywhere else.  I will forever be grateful that Kathi answered that call and said she would work with us.  She has spent countless hours building a special place for children who will be adopted, developing a network of amazing people who pour their hearts to the effort of uniting adoptive families and their children, and working with our family in the unique issues we have had with our adoption process.  She has been a lifesaver in the brutally complex world of international and specifically Haitian adoption. 

I have been so blessed by so many people from Chances for Children, who have worked to facilitate our adoption.  I have thanked many privately, but without their efforts we wouldn’t be coming home tomorrow.  Nathan, Pastor Maxime, Noah, Kelitta, Nicole, Vivian and everyone who’s helped us from C4C, your work is such a blessing to us adoptive parents and our children.  Some of you have had larger roles in my girls’ lives and adoptions, and you know how much you and your efforts mean to me and our family.  What you do is special, life changing, and will impact generations.  I know the trips up and down the mountain, the traffic, the endless paperwork, and the appointments can be monotonous and frustrating but know I will always be grateful.

 

With every good bye, each person who has invested in caring for our girls all said the same thing, "I am happy but I am sad too."  While it may be good bye today, it is Hello to an amazing future.  Some of my closest friends tell me that they believe this isn’t the end but the beginning.  I’m way too tired and emotionally exhausted right now to process that statement.  One marathon of a journey is about to end and a new one is about to begin.  I am overwhelmed with that reality, but for now I focus on that moment, when Samantha and I are sitting next to Jaline and Marie Line Fleurce Henderson and the plane lifts off the runway in Port au Prince.  April 2, 2013, the date when Jaline and Marie Line finally come HOME! 

 

Lean not on my own understanding?  

Thoughts from Todd

I wrote this a couple weeks ago, but it’s taken a bit to get it posted.  I tend to be the type of person who likes to do projects, but I really love the satisfaction of getting things done.  I don’t like to wait.  I like to tear into something and complete a task.  I know patience isn’t something I am blessed with.  I know it is an area of weakness.  On the other hand, I have an uncle who is a very skilled woodworker.  He is meticulous in his work.  His efforts are painstaking.   He refines his projects over and over.  He sands and puts the finishing touches on his projects until they are as close to perfect as he can get them.  I wish I had that patience and I’m awed by his handiwork and his meticulous attention to detail.

About a week ago, I stopped in my tracks and reflected upon the reality that Jesus was a carpenter.  How fitting that our Lord was a carpenter in the days He walked on this earth.  I often lose sight of that aspect of His life.  In fact, I rarely if ever have paused and reflected upon that reality.  I see God as my all powerful savior who has the ability to move mountains.  My God moves mountains.  What a dilemma.  What do I do with that?  I’ve wrestled with that reality over the past 30 months.  When you jump in with both feet trusting a God who moves mountains, it stops making sense when the mountains rarely seem to move. In fact, you look up to see another mountain in your path and cry out to God “If you can move mountains, where are You?” 

When all you can see is a never ending climb up a mountain, you rarely, if ever, stop to reflect that our Lord is a carpenter.  He is a craftsman who has a vision and a plan that our impatient hearts and minds fail to grasp.   I rushed to bring my precious Jaline home.  I figured we could fast forward the process of bringing His precious child home, regardless of corruption and inefficiencies in the world of Haiti.  I knew my God could handle everything; however, I failed to realize that His plan was bigger. I didn’t know that my precious Jaline had an amazing sister in the very same orphanage I was rushing to get her out of.   I couldn’t grasp the fact that the plan was for us to adopt two.  I couldn’t get my head around two.  I wanted to trust, but only as far as my mind could see and comprehend.  I thought: We don’t have enough money.  How will we provide?   Where will everyone fit?  Yet, His plan was bigger, he saw further ahead.  He had a vision that I lacked.  He saw beyond the mountains that stared me in the face.

After we jumped out in faith again, I prayed “all right Lord, we’re all in, You can bring them home now.”  Yet, days, weeks, and months passed, and He whispered “Not yet, they’re not ready.”  I didn’t hear that, all I heard was silence and my frustration grew.  I argued, we’re ready, they’re ready, let’s go Lord.  I cried out, Lord, I said Let’s GO!  What are you waiting for?  You said trust, I did, Let’s go.

Back and forth we went.  “Not yet, there’s still work to be done.”  No, we’re missing days, weeks, months, years of their lives.  Those are experiences we will never share together.  We’ll never get them back.  This isn’t fair.  They’re ready.  “Not yet, there’s still work to be done.”  If you can move mountains, why can’t you move paperwork?  Why can’t you speed things up?  Why do ridiculous earthly things continue to get in the way?  Why can’t You fix it?

I must admit, I’ve been angry with God. Fiercely angry.  Bitter.  Confused.  Disillusioned.  Why? Why? Why? My impatience and confusion with the endless months has been an incredible challenge.   My Father’s heart and longing for my daughters has tested me in so many ways.   

Well, after two and a half years, it looks like they’re almost home and I am forced to pause and reflect deeply on the reality that my Heavenly Father is a Carpenter.  A perfectionist.  A wise parent that sees ahead and protects their children, even when the children turn rebellious and believe they know more.  As our kids grow older, I absolutely believe it was easier when they were younger.  It’s easy making sure they don’t run in to the street and chase after that ball.  Anybody can do that.  It’s easy to pick them up when they scrape their knee and make it all better.  I remember a time, last Spring, when Marie Line was stung by a bee.  The tears poured out and I picked her up, held her tight, put ice on it, and told her it would be ok.  I knew it she would be fine, even when she was sobbing, scared, and confused.  I knew she would be fine, even when she didn’t understand.  Daddy loves being the hero and taking care of his precious children. 

Yet, when they grow up, it’s so much harder.  You can’t always be there, you hope and pray that you’ve taught them well, you try to make sure they know how deeply you love them, you pray that they will understand when you say no and try to help them make the right choices.  You pray, worry, and hope that they will trust you when you’ve experienced pain, made poor choices or mistakes and try to help them not to make their own mistakes.  Even when they believe they know better.  Even when they believe you don’t know what you’re talking about.  Even when they believe they think there’s a better way.  You want them so badly to trust, yet their human impatience and lack of understanding causes them to think you’re wrong or don’t know what you’re doing. 

Yet, you yourself are too short sighted to realize that you do that in your own walk with God.  You think you know what the timing should be.  You think He doesn’t care and has forgotten you.  You wonder if you were wrong all along to trust in your hero.  You wonder if He’s let you down.  You try to find your own answers even though you know deep down what the truth is, but you just can’t seem to understand it or find it. You so quickly forget all the amazing ways he proved himself to you in the past.  You forget the days when Dad came home and you thought he was Superman.  You forget all the amazing ways he invested in your life and taught you, guided you, and shaped you into the person you are today. 

You act like the Israelites who constantly rebelled from God, had to be reminded over and over again of His faithfulness, despite all of the amazing ways He proved his Love to them.  You forget how he held your hand at the start of this journey, like a protective parent.   He took you by the hand, and walked you into to that orphanage and placed his precious Jaline before you and said this is the one.  He opened the doors, He watched out for you, He placed a burden upon the hearts of friends and acquaintances to give when you couldn’t afford to adopt.  He opened the doors for your wife to visit Haiti, bond with Jaline’s sister, and make sure you understood that there’s no way you could ever leave precious Marie Line behind.  He led you to the perfect house for your expanded family.  He opened door after door as a Father does for a child. 

He watched over you every step of the way, but gradually he stepped back.  He still watched with the same love, concern, and caring, but as he watched you grow, he stepped back, knowing there were some things you would have to learn on your own, so that you would be prepared for the future.  He shuddered as you turned away.  He hurt as you questioned him. He wept as you failed to trust.  Yet, he loves you all the same, with the unconditional love of a Father who takes joy in His children and melts when they come back and realize that they need to be patient and trusting as they grow.  He knows they will be stronger from the trials, despite the pain of watching them battle through them.  I know my Heavenly Father is a perfectionist.  I know He is way more patient than I.  I know that He is creating masterpieces in Jaline and Marie Line.  I know his plans for our precious girls are amazing.  I know it’s been a brutal heartwrenching process.  I know now that he’s been shaping and refining the girls and our family for when they finally come.  I know that there will be trials ahead, but I know that it is in His hands.  I know I need to trust more, even when it doesn’t make any sense. 

Proverbs 3:4 Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding…

Dear friends,

Last week we spent a relaxing week with my parents on our Winter Break.  In a conversation we were having about the adoption my dad said dejectedly, "You know we've been waiting a long time.  We were hoping they'd be here by now."  Perhaps you can relate to my dad's dejection.  Or maybe you have thought, "Haven't heard from the Hendersons in awhile.  I bet they have the girls now and I missed the email."  Well you didn't miss a thing.  Trust me, when they come home you'll get an announcement and if you're a facebook fan, it will be all over our pages!

Truth is, I feel like I am a marathon runner.  Though I have no intention of subjecting my body or mind (utter boredom) to that kind of misery, I can imagine along mile 10 or 12 the runner might be thinking, "Will this ever end?  Will I ever see the finish line?"  Seems like we were in mile 10 or 12 of this adoption marathon for a long time, wondering if we would ever turn that corner and see the finish line.

Well we’re getting very close!

Earlier this week we indeed turned that corner, perhaps mile 25 for the runner, and for the first time we can see the finish line.  

Todd will interject here with some recent developments and an update on what still has to happen: 

In late December, the girls’ birth parents were interviewed by officers of the US government.  This is to insure that they are on board with the adoption and we have not unduly influenced them.  We cleared that hurdle after many challenges of paperwork and the logistics of getting everyone in the right place at the right time.  After that, we waited for the girls’ files to be approved by the Haitian Ministry of Interior and then for them to be granted Haitian passports.

This means that there are two precious girls in Haiti named Jaline Fleurce Henderson and Marie Line Fleurce Henderson, who are officially recognized by the government of Haiti as the daughters of Todd and Samantha Henderson. They have passports to leave Haiti, but now we need the US government to get out of the way and give their approval for them to enter the country permanently. 

On Monday, The girl's dossier and final paperwork was submitted to US Citizenship & Immigration Services (USCIS), for Immigrant Visas.  Of course, we found out that Jaline’s original Birth Certificate disappeared from our file, so our representative in Haiti went to get a new one last Friday, but there was a roadblock and uprising that prevented him from getting to the government offices in the town nearest the girl’s birthplace, so he had to go again on Tuesday and get a new “original” birth certificate for Jaline (You didn’t think it was going to be easy, did you?)

Now we wait… The US government will review all their paperwork, the girls will have to be taken to US approved doctors in Port au Prince for Medical tests, and then they will go through all their approval process, cross-checking everything.  They still have the prerogative to bring the birth parents back in for a final interview.  So, we shy away from any hard time lines, but it will most likely be a month or two until we get final approval.  Once we get final approval, we will head to Haiti for a meeting at the US embassy and bring home our beautiful girls, who are about to have birthdays within the month and turn 6 and 8.  Sweet little Jaline even shares her birthday with her Grandma Henderson!

Yep, it’s been 29 months since we started this process… No, we couldn’t have ever fathomed it would take anywhere close to this long.  We thought it was painful to wait when Shelby was 10 days overdue… Well, we’re nearly 18 years past that day now and eagerly await the arrival of our girls with the anticipation of 1^st time parents.  We’re all a lot older, but we ready ourselves for the joys and challenges of being 1^st time adoptive parents.

So even as Todd detailed the happenings here and there, it seems as if we experienced too many "just around the corner" moments only to realize that the finish line was just a mirage and the end actually wasn't in sight.  So accepting this final step and the reality of their Homecoming seems a bit surreal to me.  I'm about to be the mother of FIVE!!  Giggles will soon fill our home, doll clothes will be picked up off the floor and Candyland will soon be unpacked.  Oh the glories of a young family!!

As we turn the corner and wait for that adrenaline surge from God to give us the stamina to cross the finish line, we ask that you wait in eager anticipation with us.  As always, we covet your prayers: for the process, our family here and the girls in Haiti.

Fondly,

Samantha & Todd

It's Wednesday at 4:45 am.  I sit here in the Detroit airport, waiting to head off to Haiti for yet another trip. I decided Saturday afternoon that is was imperative that I take a trip this week. I will be in Haiti from today until next Tuesday night. Why?  Because our adoption has stalled yet again. Once again, our lawyer is failing to handle his responsibilities and move this process forward. It has been two years since we started this process and there is still no end in sight. We have seen staggered progress and then the inevitable delays. We are with our 2nd lawyer, because our first lawyer, who had been a great lawyer previously, stopped responding and working on moving our case forward. Our current lawyer owns the firm our first lawyer used to work for. We were about to switch attorneys this summer, yet our 2nd lawyer insisted that he wanted to finish the case and wouldn't give up our dossier. He made a little more progress but has stopped answering calls, stopped showing up for meetings, and hasn't submitted paperwork and schedule an appointment for me in Haitian court, that was supposed to be done a month ago. 

So, here I sit waiting for another flight. I am fortunate that I have six weeks in my contract that I can take for the adoption. Unfortunately, I have to miss a week of school to handle something that doesn't make any sense. Yet, we will continue to fight for our girls. The girls are two years older than the first time I met them. I am excited to see them and spend time with them, yet I already fear the bitter good bye that will inevitably come on Tuesday. The same painful good bye that has happened so many times before...The same good bye that doesn't make any sense to me and is so confusing to the girls...  

What's the best case scenario for this trip?
  
*I submit some necessary documents to the US embassy on Thursday morning. 

*I will fire our Haitian lawyer on Thursday afternoon at our 2:00 appointment. 

*Our lawyer will turn over our adoption paperwork to me, without it costing us a fortune. Yes,    he holds the cards and I will be operating in the world of Haiti. 

*I will meet with the new attorney we are planning to hire,  who is very highly recommended by a major Haitian adoption organization. 

*Our new lawyer will be able to set up an appointment at Parquet, which is the Haitian court that is the next step in the adoption process. It would be incredible if this could happen on this trip. 

*Finally, Shelby and I will spend some amazing time with Jaline and Marie Line. Yes, Shelby is joining me on this trip and she's excited to get to know her sisters. Her heart breaks for her sisters and she has deeply struggled to understand why this process is taking so long. Well, we have all deeply struggled to understand that...  

I've given you the best case scenario. I want you all to know what you can specifically pray for.  We are in a battle and nothing is certain on this trip. I'm headed down knowing I have to do whatever I can to speed this process up and bring our girls home. However, I know our lawyer has failed to show up for numerous meetings and he has refused to give up our case already. I will attend the meeting with a Haitian pastor that will speak on our behalf. I will sit and pray as they talk and inevitably argue in French. Unfortunately, I don't understand French. 

I know our updates have been infrequent, but there's often nothing to say. When nothing seems to move and all that wells up in you is frustration, sometimes it's better to say nothing. We still have to get past Parquet (a level of Haitian court that has a number of steps). Then we head to the Ministry of Interior, which has a number of steps also. Then it's on to the Haitian passport agency and lastly the US government has to issue passports and final approval. Yes, we still face a number of months and the reality that the 3rd Christmas will pass since we started this painful process.  

Yes, our girls are doing wonderfully. They are filled with joy and are in excellent health.  They go to Haitian school every morning and they look ridiculously cute in their new uniforms. I reflect upon the time I was carrying my emaciated three and a half year old daughter, Jaline, and she whispered in creole that she wanted to go to school.  She saw the older kids in their uniforms in class and wanted to join them. Well, now she's got her own uniform, her backpack, and her own books and she walks to school each day with her big sister.   They also have English class in the afternoon. 

It's amazing to see the transformation, yet it's also painful to see them grow and reflect on everything we've missed in their lives. I think of a friend of a family who sees a child for the first time in six months and comments on how much they've grown and changed.  When our own kids grow, we often don't notice how much they've changed.  Well, I am about to see how much our girls have grown and changed in the past six months. I'm a bit nervous and excited at the same time. 

Please lift up our trip in prayer. There's so much that needs to happen and so many obstacles that need to be overcome.  Thanks for coming alongside us in this journey. 

Todd

Below is a picture of the kids in their "u-nies".  Jaline is in the first row, second girl from the left in orange.  Marieline is in the first row, the second girl from the right in orange.  Jaline's smile says, "I've been waiting a long time for this!"  Priceless!

Chances for Children Students dressed and ready for school!

She loves me, she loves me not...

Jaline, Spencer, Marie Line & Poppi

She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not, She Loves Me!

After you’ve left you’re beautiful daughter so many times, with your heart broken and tears streaming down your face, it’s not surprising that she resorts to distancing herself from you and her emotions.  Little Jaline is my precious bebe that the Lord led me to in that orphanage in Barbancourt, Haiti, in August 2010.  He led me to a three and a half year old starving child that was so emaciated and weak that I truthfully wondered if she would be alive the next time I returned to Haiti.  I begged those I knew in Haiti to look out for her and prayed fervently that the Lord would protect her from starvation, disease, cholera and anything else that could end her precious life.  Little did I know, at that time, that her amazing sister was in the very same orphanage, less emaciated but still vulnerable to a host of problems that could sweep her away. 

I was fortunate enough to return a number of times after my first meeting with Jaline, and she clung to me, ate from my hand, and would often fall asleep under my watchful eye. However, things started to change.  I started to feel her pull away physically and emotionally and wondered why she seemed to be drifting away.  Did she love me?  Did she resent me?  After trying to recover from being spurned by Jaline while her friends at her new crèche couldn’t wait for a hug, to play, or laugh together, I started to process what my little girl was processing.  I have tried to explain before how difficult it is to explain to a 3, 4, or even 5 year old child, in English or Creole, that you’re going to bring her home to her new family that loves her, as soon as the government lets you.  I can’t even understand that.

I drove away from the girls crèche/orphanage again today with tears streaming down my face, wrestling with the stupidity of the fact that we can’t bring our girls home yet.  I can’t imagine what’s going through the mind of my precious Jaline, who celebrated her fifth birthday just over a week ago, as she watches her Poppi walk out the door again and drive away.  I wish I could make sense of that for her, but I just can’t.  Now her big sister Marie Line, who turned 7 about two weeks ago, has to experience her father walking out and driving away.  Every time I go, I whisper “Mwen Pral Vini Pita”, “I will come back”, and every time I do I pray for the day when we’ll walk with them onto the plane and finally bring our precious girls home. 

Well I’ve figured my precious Jaline out… She has been protecting herself by distancing herself and gets quiet and reserved to protect her little heart.  I watch her play with her fingers and twist the fabric of her dress when she is sad.  When she knows her Poppi is going to have to leave, her eyes go down and her fingers start twisting.  I had to watch that again this visit.  However, she showed her heart this visit in so many amazing ways.  I was blessed to be able to take our thirteen year old son Spencer with me to meet his sisters.  He was simply amazing.  His tender heart embraced his beautiful sisters and played as if they had been together their entire lives.  He may not speak much Creole but he didn’t need to… his language was love.  He brought such joy to their little hearts. Smiles and giggles were everywhere.  I am confident they have never laughed and smiled that much in their entire lives.  The healing of their hearts, especially Jaline’s, is evident as they are so quick to smile, laugh, and seek one embrace after another.  We were able to spend from Thursday night through Monday afternoon with the girls and it was amazing.  One day, we took the girls to the beach and a pool for their first time. The most telling moment was when the girls stood at the side of the pool and leaped, trusting that we would catch them, giggling into our arms and splashing into the water.  Amidst my joy, I had to stop and dwell on the word TRUST.  They trust, those precious hearts trust… As an adoptive parent, I know there will be many challenges, but it was unbelievable to see the growth in these girls as their hearts have learned to Love and Trust again.  Each time I leave, I struggle mightily, but TRUST our Lord is protecting and healing our daughters.

When we had to bring the girls back on Monday, Jaline walked up to the nannies and immediately told them she wasn’t staying there - she’s got some spunk to her…  She got very quiet, wouldn’t look at anyone, those sad eyes came back, as she twisted the ruffles on her dress.  She is still quite reserved with me at times and I see her protecting herself.  Marie Line seemed to be doing well until she came out crying.  She’s more open with her emotions and has a smile that she shows over and over again that melts you.  She smiles and looks at you with those eyes that say “I know you love me”. It’s so amazing and heartbreaking at the same time.  We left on Monday thinking it was the last time we would be able to see them this week, since we were working on building a rock retaining wall at the new crèche they are building for the kids, but we were able to make it back to spend the day with the girls today, before we left on our late afternoon flight out of Haiti.  I struggled over whether we should go back today, since I knew we would have to say good bye again.

When we walked in the crèche and the girls saw us, they both had the biggest smiles on their faces and they quickly came out to hug us.  I was overwhelmed to see that reaction out of Jaline especially.  We had a wonderful day playing with the girls and the rest of the kids in the crèche.  It’s always a balancing act since you never want to stop playing with the girls, but you know the other kids want and need to be loved.  All of the other kids in the crèche, except one, have adoptive parents waiting for them, but it’s often so long in between visits with their adoptive parents that you want to hold and love each one of them.  At nap time, we knew we had to say goodbye for good this trip.  It was quite painful again, especially when the tears are rolling down Marie Line’s cheeks, and you see your son broken, knowing he has to leave his sisters, not knowing when they’ll finally come home.  After we walked out, I peeked back in through a window a number of times, and I watched both of the girls staring at the pictures we had left for them at their beds.  They each have pictures of Poppi, Mommy, Shelby, Spencer, and Sophie taped around their beds.   They want to come home and you can see the genuine pain they struggle with knowing that they can’t spend more than just a weekend with their new family.  They know they are loved and they are learning to love back.  They are learning to trust.

We continue to trust.   I filed our I600 form at the US Embassy in Port au Prince on Monday.  That is a key form which is part of the ridiculous process of the US government giving us permission to adopt and to prepare the paperwork for the girls to become citizens and gain their passports.  The girls’ paperwork is currently moving through IBESR, which is the Haitian government agency which handles adoptions.  They need to process our paperwork and give their approval.  Once we have IBESR approval, we need a special Presidential dispensation/approval, from the office of the Haitian president, since we already have more than two children.  Finally, the last step will be approval from US Citizenship and Immigration Services (CIS) approval.  How long?  We don’t know.  We hope everything could be wrapped up in 6 more months, but there is no telling.  In the meantime, SHE LOVES ME… 

We pray that the process will move swiftly.  We pray that the girls will continue to grow, learn, and heal from the pain of their past.  It has been amazing to see the transformation in each of the girls.   We love them and we had an incredible glimpse into Jaline and Marie Line’s capacity to love this past week.  Thanks for walking this journey with us.  Your support and prayers help us push through those difficult days, weeks, and months when it seems like it’s taking forever and we can’t see any progress.  Please look at Samantha’s blog post from earlier this week to see some wonderful pictures of the girls. 

She loves me...I know I no longer have to pull the petals of the daisy.