Saying YES - Part 2

This past Christmas, I bought my wife a book online. It was "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. I was planning to just buy the one but I noticed a few other books listed at the bottom of the page. You all know what I'm talking about...one of those readers-who-bought-this-book-also-enjoyed-this-other-book marketing tricks. That doesn't usually get me to buy the other book but I realized that if I did it this time, I would get free shipping. So I bought it and hoped it would be reasonably interesting.

This is the book:

It's the story of Katie Davis, a well-to-do teenager from Nashville, Tennessee who, in 2006, left her life behind to follow the call of God to a village in Uganda where she now lives. Now 25, she has established a non-profit organization that feeds, educates, and tends to the health needs of hundreds of impoverished children. Along the way, she has adopted thirteen little girls.

Rebekah couldn't put the book down and now I am reading it as well. I'm only about half way but so much of what she writes about has resounded in my spirit. The Lord has opened our eyes, through the miracle of adoption, to many of the same things that Katie discusses.

Now reader, please believe that the next part of this post is true. I am not lying, exaggerating, or fabricating in any way.

This past Sunday, I sat in church and listened to my father-in-law teach. He was beginning a series of messages and spent much of the time talking about how the Lord trains us for His calling. I am eagerly looking forward to the next messages in the series.

As I was listening, the Lord seemed to be asking me an unrelated question. He was asking, "Who in the Scriptures has said yes to me and what was the result?" Saying yes to the Lord is something that has been on my mind for a long time. You may remember that I discussed this in an earlier post, hence the "Part 2" in the title of this one. If you missed the earlier post, you can read it here.

I grabbed my ipad and started tapping out some answers to the question:

Abram/Abraham said yes. The result was that he left his familiar country to travel into the unknown. He faced dangers on the way, made mistakes, dealt with dissension, and ultimately received an insane promise from the Living God. Having received that promise, he tried to make it happen on his own terms, then received Isaac on God's terms, then was told to sacrifice Isaac (!), then was rescued from that situation. He became the father of nations, just as the Lord promised.

Joshua said yes. He, along with Caleb, believed that the Lord would give them the land. The result was that he led the people, after the death of Moses, into the land where it was reported that giants lived. He led the host of Israel around the walls of Jericho, obediently following the Lord's seemingly absurd instructions. The walls fell down.

Hannah said yes. She asked for a child and promised that if the Lord gave her a son, he would serve the Lord all his days. When the baby was born, Hannah seems to be hesitant about following through. She chooses to stay behind asking Elkanah, her husband, to wait until the boy is weaned. Noticing her hesitation, Elkanah encourages her to "do what seems best," to "stay here for now," and adds, "may the Lord help you keep your promise." The Lord does help her and, eventually, Hannah takes Samuel and gives him to the service of the Lord. This must have been very hard. No texting, phone calls, or commutes to stay in touch with her son. She was giving him to the Lord permanently. The result....Samuel was used by the Lord in mighty ways, not the least of which was the identification of David as the king of Israel.

David said yes. He was the youngest of his brothers and Jesse's last thought when Samuel came to visit. He made tons of mistakes and was clearly a sinner. But he also had heroic moments. Obviously, the most famous is his challenge of Goliath without hesitation. He walked on to the battlefield and slew the giant without the slightest concern that this Philistine would prove to be too much for the Lord to handle.

Jonah said yes. Well, eventually anyway. First he said no. In the belly of a fish he changed his mind and the Lord was able to use this flawed man according to the plans He had for his life.

Moses said yes. A man who could have lived in the overflowing pleasures and comforts of the palace of the Pharaoh. Instead, Hebrews says that he chose to share in the suffering of his people because he was looking toward a greater reward. The result...a pillar of fire by night and a cloud by day, the parting of the Red Sea, manna, water from the rock, The Ten Commandments. A movie starring Charlton Heston.

OK, just kidding about that last part.

Speaking of Hebrews, it was at this point in my question answering that I realized that Hebrews 11 has a lot of the answers to the question the Lord was asking me. In the "Hall of Faith," as this chapter is often called, there is example after example of people who said yes, with detailed results.

But here is the thing the Lord was trying to show me. When we look at these examples, we often see the end. We focus on the victory. The blessing. The awesome result. That's a great thing to do and I encourage you to keep doing it.

But there is also a middle.

For each of these people, there was a call, or an instruction, or a word from the Lord in some way at the beginning. And then they acted. They did something uncomfortable. The stepped out of their comfort zone.

Abram left the only home he'd ever known. Joshua faced giants and did so while leading a nation that had just been led by Moses (a tough act to follow, no doubt). Hannah gave her son away. David walked out on to the battlefield with no armor and a sling. Jonah went to a city that he didn't want to visit and was populated by a group of people that he thought didn't deserve God's mercy. Moses returned to Egypt, where he had committed murder, to demand that its ruler release his slaves.

Each of these people were strong and courageous to ACT. To say yes. Katie Davis made a similar decision and the Lord has fashioned a miracle out of her "yes".

Here's the part I'm not making up:

As I was reading Kisses from Katie tonight, I came upon a section of her book in which she writes almost exactly what I had tapped into my ipad. She discusses Moses, David, and Jonah. She also includes Mary and Paul from the New Testament. Flawed people who had an extraordinary God.

If that wasn't enough, the Lord drove the point home tonight as I was putting the kids to bed. Inspired by Rebekah's success last year, Henry, Stella, and I are reading through the New Testament together in 2013. Tonight was Luke 1. One thing stood out like a lighthouse.

Mary, speaking with an angel and faced with the realization that her life will change forever, gives the perfect response. Certainly she has an understanding of the social stigma she will have as an unmarried pregnant woman in Nazareth. But this is what she says:

"I am the Lord's servant. May everything you have said about me come true."

That response was the step in the middle. Wedged between the announcement from the angel and the glorious victory which was the birth of Jesus Christ.

Let this be my response, Lord. Let my heart be broken by the things that break the heart of God. Give me the courage to say yes to doing something about it. Give me the desires that You wish me to have in my heart and the strength to obey Your call.

Let me be an ordinary servant of You, my extraordinary God.

Goats and Divas

I am writing this at 10:30 p.m. on Sunday, March 3. I have been home from work for six weeks and tomorrow is my first day back. I am not dreading it because I knew this day would come and I know I am returning to a job that is a gift from the Lord. I'd be lying, though, if I didn't mention that I'd love to stay home permanently.

I really wish I could get paid to be home with my family.

This has been an amazing six weeks. The first week was spent overseas and the next five just being together and adjusting to our new reality of seven people under one roof. We've all grown immensely - through successes and failures - and the Lord has helped us at every step.

Yesterday was one of the busiest days I can ever remember. We started the day early, as usual, when the littles rolled out of bed around 6:30. We ate breakfast quickly and get ready for the day (no small feat with five kids) and headed out to the Family Fun Fest at the local mall. There were tons of vendors offering handouts for the kids, crafting stations, games, and stuff the kids generally think is pretty fun. We left there at noon, ran home for a quick lunch, then headed off to the junior high for the second of two performances of the JH musical, Teens in Tinseltown. Henry and Stella were in the show and I was directing the pit orchestra. After the musical, there was a cast party, then a run to the local ice cream shop (didn't matter that it was only 28 degrees outside), then home to get the kids to bed. After that, Rebekah and I went on a date (more about that later).

At the Fun Fest, there was a petting zoo that featured Hugo's favorite animal. That's right folks, there were goats. In the mall. You probably remember from the video of our time in Ghana what Hugo thinks of goats. The terrifying goat living at the guest house was about ten inches tall. This goat was twice Hugo's size. He took one look and just shook his head.

The farmer who owned the goats was actually a friend of mine. He doubles as a teacher at one of the local elementary schools and, in one of those "small world" moments of life, served in the military with my brother. He very kindly picked up a much smaller goat that I hadn't seen at first and held it tightly for the kids to touch. A kid for the kids.

Very unexpectedly, this happened:

He actually touched the goat. I couldn't believe it. This boy has come so far in the last six weeks. There are so many fears that have just disappeared from his life. More to go too but I am confident that the Lord is helping him shed them all.

Now to the date.

Months ago, it was announced that Renee Fleming, the world's greatest living operatic soprano would be performing locally. She was, in fact, born in our town and her parents attended the university here. Despite this being her birthplace, she had never performed here and likely never will again. Her normal venues include the world's grandest opera houses. She has performed at the Olympics, at Nobel Prize ceremonies, presidential inaugurations, and recently on the balcony of Buckingham Palace for Queen Elizabeth's Diamond Jubilee celebration. She is the only woman in the history of the Metropolitan Opera to have her name solo headline the opening night of a season.

We saw the concert advertised for March 2 and didn't buy tickets because we didn't know when Hugo was coming home. Then Hugo was home and we didn't buy tickets because we thought for sure we wouldn't be able to leave him with a babysitter. Then Hugo started sleeping like a champ.

I bought tickets.

She was absolutely incredible. Several times during the concert, Rebekah and I looked at each other with this "am-I-really-hearing-this?" look on our faces. It seemed surreal.

A goat in the morning and an opera diva in the evening. This was a day of contrasts. It's been a month and a half of contrasts. In fact, it's been a whole life of contrasts.

I'm thankful to be living the life the Lord has made for me.

Psalm 138:8 - The Lord will work out His plans for my life - because your faithful love, O Lord, endures forever.

Day Seven and Eight - Friday, January 25-Saturday, January 26

I apologize that I haven't entered an account of the trip for over a week. It's been a busy week. The strange thing is, this entry is probably the most important one I've ever done. This is the day that Hugo came home. OK, at least he started the trip home. It actually took two days but I'm going to include them both here because I felt like one REALLY LONG DAY.

Before I get to that though, I thought all the prospective adoptive parents out there might like to know that Hugo has gained four pounds and has grown an inch and he's not even been home a month yet. His health is improving - still waiting for his ears to get better but, thank the Maker, his bowels are under control.

Speaking of PAP's...anyone adopting from Ghana will really want to pay attention to this post since you will be going through these same procedures soon enough.

Now on to homecoming day....

The car was set to arrive at 5 a.m. Hugo tapped my arm and woke me up at exactly 4:59. I have no idea how it happened but I clearly set my alarm wrong the previous evening. I chalked it up to being exhausted from the spending the day visiting William and didn't even bother to see how I had screwed it up. I was just very thankful that I bothered to look at the clock when he woke me up. I mean for Pete's sake, even the rooster had apparently slept in!

It really wasn't a problem anyway since the driver was chronically late. He finally arrived, Hugo slept on the way, and we parked in front of the embassy at 7:15.

There is an outdoor seating area between the security checkpoint and the entrance to the consular building. This is where Hugo, Boat, and I were directed to wait, along with about 80 other people after we easily passed through embassy security for the second time that week. As usual, Boat seemed to know everybody; security guards, Ghanaian police officers, and other attorneys greeted him warmly like an old friend. I commented to him that he is one of those people who can easily talk to anyone. He replied, "Ahhh, well, it is good to be nice to people because you never know when you may need someone to be nice to you." True, Boat.

After a short wait, the very nice man that started Hugo's visa interview the previous Tuesday came outside and asked everyone to gather around to listen. Every mouth was silenced and every ear bent toward the words of this kind man. He gave tons of instructions but most of them did not apply ti our situation. Every time he got to something really important he would implore his audience to realize that they had to do every task he was describing exactly to the letter or their visas would be refused or revoked. One time, as he was trying to convey to us the importance of performing a follow-up task within the defined time frame, he said, "Listen to me people. The United States is not like Ghana. They will know where you are at all times. They know where you live, where you work, where your family works. The only time they lose track of you is after you die and even then they could find you if they wanted."

We laughed several times as he interjected humor despite giving life-changing instructions. The most important direction he gave us applied to every person there. "You will receive a yellow envelope. These are the immigration documents that you will need to be able to enter the United States. DO NOT OPEN IT. If you open it, even a little, even by accident, you will not be allowed to enter the U.S. They will send you back here and you will start the process all over again."

Mental note: Do not let Hugo touch the envelope.

He called the first group of twenty-or-so people but our names were not included. He spotted us, though, came over to say hello, and moved us to the front of the line. Nice.

Inside, the process was brief and easy. I was sent to window two, received my original documents, Hugo's passport with the ever-important visa inside, and the yellow envelope from the same friendly man. I hope he realizes what a comfort his warm personality is in what would otherwise be a stressful situation. I was thankful for him and I pray that God rewards his kind actions. We left immediately and, since the taxi had waited for us this time, we were on our way.

Boat asked if it was alright with me if we made a "quick" stop at the director's office before we returned to the Home. I know that "quick" rarely means what it implies here in Ghana but since I had the visa in hand and no flight until 10  p.m., I agreed. Little did I know it would lead to an unexpected adventure.

The director is apparently in charge of an agency of attorneys that handle adoption cases. We drove to the office which was tiny and would have been completely missed had it not been for the sign hanging on the wall above the security gate. I knew we were still in Accra but I have no idea what part of the city we were now in. Boat went inside while the taxi driver, Hugo, and I waited in the car. It was the hottest day yet and we soon got tired of sitting in the backseat. We stretched our legs a bit and chased the chickens that were wandering on the street. A man, dressed for business, stopped a short distance away to pee on the wall of someone's house. Right after he walked away from the peeing spot, someone dumped a bucket of waste water over the wall in the very spot he had been standing. He missed getting soaked by about eight seconds. That would have been funny.

When we ran out of things to explore, we got back in the car for a snack. This is when the adventure materialized. A man of about 50 years walked right up to my open taxi window and stuck his face in. He didn't look happy. He demanded to know who Hugo was. I didn't feel comfortable answering personal questions but I also didn't want to arouse suspicion. Here is the conversation we had:

Man - "Who is this boy?"
Me - "He is my son."
Man - "How can he be your son?"
Me - "I adopted him."
Man - "From where?"
Me - "Who are you and why are you asking these questions?"
Man - (agitated) "Because I am concerned about child trafficking!"
Me - "This is not child trafficking. He is my adopted son. You may speak with my lawyer if you like."
Man - "Where is he from? Where are his parents?"

Here I started to get a little bugged. You're looking at his parents, buddy. I answered what I knew he meant, though.

Me - "He lives at a home for children. He has no birth parents."

For whatever reason, this last statement satisfied the man and he softened a bit. He apologized, smiled a bit, and went on his way. I texted Boat and told him to hurry up.

For the sake of clarity, I should remind you, reader, that adoption is completely legal in Ghana. It is relatively new and many of the people there do not understand it. Conversely, child trafficking happens all over the world - certainly in Ghana and other African nations, Europe and Asia, even here in the U.S. While the incident with this man was uncomfortable and could have easily led to an encounter with the police, on further reflection I was thankful that he had the concern and courage to face a stranger who was, as far as he could see, doing something potentially illegal and immoral. Props to you, Confrontation Guy.

Hugo slept on the way back to the Home, exactly according to plan. We played at the guest house, ate some lunch, then went to the Home to play some soccer with the other kids. Our clothes were SOAKED in sweat but it was so fun. It started out with just a few kids but when Hugo couldn't keep up, this happened:

Sometime that afternoon, I had one last conversation with my friend Abigail. She was a teenager for sure but it was impossible to determine just how old she might be. She seemed to really care about Hugo and asked a lot of questions about when we were leaving, where we were going, and how we were getting there. I saw it coming...the question I was hoping she wouldn't ask. But then it was out and it nearly broke my heart.

"Can I come, too?" she asked.

I had to look this sweet girl in the face and tell her the reality that there was absolutely no way that I could take her with me. Hear me when I say this, reader, that if there had been a way to bring that child on the plane, I would not have hesitated one moment. She smiled as I told her but I think she would have jumped at the chance also. Instead, I will likely never see her again and every time I think of her or look through the pictures, I ask the Lord to show her His great mercy as He writes her testimony.

Abigail

We said goodbye to the director of the Home, paid her for the room and board, and found Grace for one last scrubbing. She performed the usual, thorough cleansing, and pout Hugo in his travelling clothes. He was wearing a great shirt that we had purchased months earlier at a garage sale that said, "America Rocks!" on the front.

As predicted, Hugo fell asleep on the way to the airport which was so perfect since the flight was not until after 10 p.m. I was not sure how I was going to handle a sleepy toddler in the airport along with all the baggage, customs, and security. Plus, I figured he would have a better chance of sleeping longer on the flight if he had a nap now. So far, so good.

Getting from the front door of the Accra airport to the plane proved to be the most difficult part of the trip. There were so many levels of security, raised eyebrows, and questions asked. Hugo was scared to death. He had never been in any place like this and he kept pointing back the way we came, asking to leave. I wished there was some way to tell him about the family that was waiting for him at the end of this trek. Instead, I held him close.

Our first step was baggage check-in. The security officer for Delta airlines needed to see my yellow envelope. Before I even took it from my bag, I begged him not to open or damage it in any way. He assured me that he would be careful but I was so hesitant to hand it over. He returned it safely.

At the immigration desk, I was grilled with questions about Hugo, our relationship, and the adoption process. I had to present the yellow envelope again, and again, I begged the man not to open it. Not satisfied with my answers, I was escorted to an office where a man in a uniform with brightly colored epaulets and lots of insignia, examined my documents. Finding nothing wrong, he grudgingly allowed us to proceed..

Next was security where both Hugo and I were frisked. They made me set him down and move away from him while a stranger touched him all over to make sure I had not hidden something on him. He was panic stricken. He screamed and screamed. Part of me pitied him while another part wanted to deck the security guy. It took him a long time to settle.

We finally got to the gate and Hugo was understandably grouchy. A snack helped, as did a water. There were a group of American college kids that had lots of questions. They meant well but I had been answering questions all evening and was ready for a break. At the first opportunity, we found a quieter place to hang out.

In the Accra airport, you wait at the gate fro awhile, then pass through a secondary level of security before being moved to the "real" gate where they actually announce the boarding of the plane. At this checkpoint, I answered more questions, presented all the same documents again, both of us got frisked again, and my bag was thoroughly searched. Again. We found a window and Hugo got to see airplanes up close for the first time. It cracked me up that he had no idea he was getting on one of those or what it was going to do once he was on it.

I was in the middle of changing a very messy diaper when the security lady told me I had to go to the X-ray room because I checked bag had been intercepted. I wanted to succumb to frustration so badly but it would have done absolutely no good. I packed up Hugo and all our things, and started back the way we came. About half-way there, a man tracked me down and said that the bag had cleared and that I was free to return to the gate.

Thank. You. Jesus.

Waiting for the plane

Finally. Finally, we boarded the plane. It was a 767 with 42 rows in a seating configuration of 2-3-2. We were in row 42 where there was only the three seats in the middle since the bathrooms took the place of the two seats typically near the windows (no windows in row 42). I actually said out loud, "Hugo, these are the worst seats in the history of seats."

I was completely wrong. The seats were a gift.

There was a nice lady two rows ahead named Anne. She played peekaboo with Hugo while I got us situated. He seemed happy and wide awake despite our airport ordeal. Kids are so resilient. I asked permission from the flight attendants to hold him during take off and they said yes.

And then a miracle happened. I had been concerned about this moment for months. There were so many possibilities for what Hugo would be like on this flight and most of them were not pleasant. I had decided long ago that I wouldn't know how it was going to go until it was happening and I would just deal with it. It was an 11.5 hour flight and as hard as it could potentially be, I just figured it would eventually be behind us.

As the plane began to taxi, Hugo settled in to my lap just like he did on every car ride I had ever taken with him. The pilot brought the plane to a brief stand still then gunned the engines to roll down the runway fro takeoff. I watched Hugo's eyes go closed before the plane even left the ground.

He slept for 10 hours!

Ten hours, people. Unless you have been in this situation, I'm not sure you can understand what I felt like. Let me try to explain it. Do you know that wonderful feeling when your kids are asleep at night and the house is finally quiet after a long day? You do?

Multiply it by 100, add a complimentary glass of red wine, and a bathroom right around the corner whenever it became necessary.

Row 42, I love you.

Oh, and I forgot to mention...there was no one in the third seat in our row. After a few minutes, I slid Hugo off my lap into the two seats next to me and covered him with a blanket. For the first time in a long time, I could relax. Ghana was behind us (for now), and our family was ahead. I am nearly crying writing this as the emotions of that moment are revisited. I didn't cry then, though. I slept.

I woke up a little before him. When he finally came to, it was time for breakfast and landing. Easiest. Flight. Ever.

It felt so good to be on the ground at JFK. The air temp in Accra had been in the mid 80's at 10 p.m. Getting off the plane, I could feel the sharp sting of 16 degrees despite being inside the jet way. Hugo didn't seem to notice or care. I strapped him to my back in the baby carrier - the first time I had used it the entire trip since it would have been a major cultural shock to see a man wearing a baby in Ghana.

I waited in line at customs before being called to the desk to talk to a pleasant Hispanic lady. She asked for the yellow envelope and, tired from travel despite getting a few hours of sleep on the plane, I handed it over without the usual request to protect it. She immediately tore it open.

I about died.

I launched into this explanation of how the envelope could not be opened or I couldn't bring Hugo into the U.S. and how it had been examined several times, and.....she stopped me.

"Well, I hope I'm the person who's supposed to open it, then," she said with a sly smile. All was well.

I was escorted to a room where I had to wait a long time with a lot of other people to get a stamp on my immigration form and leave. There is so much more to tell about this part of the ordeal but in respect for the United States, I'll not complain about it. Note to PAP's - when you get to this part, have your patience dial turned up to 11. You'll need it.

We spent the next few hours finding our gate, having a snack, and watching planes. I got a coffee! Hugo slept some more on my back. It was great to be in a place where being a mixed-race family wasn't as unusual as it was in Ghana and so people didn't stare at us. I felt like we could be ourselves a bit. Hugo had his first french fries.

The flight to Pittsburgh was mercifully short on an extremely small plane. Hugo was very interested in looking out the windows but I wondered how much his mind could grasp about what he was seeing. Flying still amazes me and have a general understanding about how planes work, U.S. geography, and what things look like from way up high.He must have thought he was dreaming or something.

I texted Rebekah as soon as we touched down in Pittsburgh. We had made it. Our family was minutes away. We worked our way from the gate to the little subway that takes you to the land-side terminal. When I stepped off the train, Hugo sitting on my shoulders, I could see Stella holding a big welcome home sign far down the hallway. I ran the best I could with a nervous toddler on my head.

The meeting was an avalanche of sounds. Calling each others' names, crying, cheering. It was so much to take in. The kids wanted to hold and hug Hugo right away but he wasn't quite ready for that. I was overwhelmed with sudden exhaustion and just wanted to go home with my family.

The whole family.

Day Six - Thursday, January 24

Click Here for Link to Compassion International

Before I recount the events of day six, let me put a plug in for one of our favorite organizations. Fair warning...I'm going to put in another plug for them at the end.

Compassion International is an organization dedicated to relieving poverty around the globe by meeting the educational, spiritual, and health needs of children. As you can see from the graphic above, they do this in the name of Jesus. Compassion operates by establishing "Development Centers" where children can learn about Christ, receive correspondence from their Compassion sponsors, have regular health screenings and treatment, and receive financial support that helps to provide food, clothing, and shelter. Their mission statement reads:

"In response to the Great Commission, Compassion International exists as an advocate for children, to release them from their spiritual, economic, social, and physical poverty and enable them to become responsible and fulfilled Christian adults."

We have been involved with Compassion for about five years. Our first sponsored child was Wincey. He was Henry's age and lived in Ghana. After about a year, Wincey's family moved to a different area where Compassion did not have a project so we were unable to continue sponsoring him. Since Wincey was from Ghana, we decided to choose another sponsor child from the same country. We chose a little boy named William, also Henry's age.

The credit for our family's involvement in Compassion belongs completely to Rebekah. She researched and introduced the rest of us to Compassion's work and it is she that writes all the letters to William. Sure, the rest of us have written at some point, but Rebekah is really the one who has a relationship with William. They are pen pals, at least.

When Rebekah and I made the first trip to Ghana, we hoped to get a chance to meet William. Sponsors are not told exactly where children live, so to have any hope of arranging a meeting, we had to communicate with Compassion agents who would attempt to work with the field office to schedule a meeting. The first attempt was a failure and it was really our fault. 

Our schedule during the first trip was anything but predictable. When we finally knew that we would not be needed at the embassy on a moment's notice, we only had one day left in Ghana and had not been able to contact the field office due to lack of internet access. Instead, we changed our flight schedule and came home a day early. Only then did we learn that the field office staff was expecting us and had already planned a visit that we would now have to miss. 

We felt awful.

We dropped off a gift for William and returned to the States without meeting him. From that moment, we decided that on the next trip, seeing William would be a high priority.

When Hugo and I got up Thursday morning, we had no idea what was going on. Boat had talked with the Compassion officials the previous day and learned that the visit was on. He told me where we were going but it meant nothing to me and I just figured I'd get in the car and get out when it stopped. The car arrived at eight (an hour late) and we were off to visit William.

We headed north on roads that I hadn't yet seen. The main road quickly deteriorated and became extremely bumpy. I have looked at this area of the world on Google Earth so many times and it was very interesting to be finally traveling in it. I saw so many interesting sights including a guy wearing a Steelers jersey (Kordell Stewart!) and the funniest (and scariest) business name ever:

"With Jesus Circumcision"

I just crossed my legs and cringed at that one.

Sammy

When we finally turned off that road, we traveled on one that was so pitted with holes that the driver was swerving all over and rarely drove more than 20 miles per hour. Eventually, the concrete disappeared altogether and then he just had to avoid the occasional chunk that now served as an obstacle. Boat had to make an occasional phone call to make sure we weren't lost and we eventually stopped to pick up Sammy, a representative of Compassion, who guided us the rest of the way.

Leaving this road, we turned onto a dirt road that was, at times, flooded. Cars had to take turns driving around small ponds or places where a nearby stream had invaded the path. We were passing forested areas on both sides but I noticed after awhile that if you looked closely, the trees seemed to be planted in reasonably organized rows. I guessed that these were cocoa farms.

The final turn, after nearly two hours of driving, was onto the road to William's village. Here's a little video to give you an idea of what it looked like:

Progressive Life Child Development Center

We drove on this road for miles, seeing only one car, a few people walking, and cocoa farms as far as the eye could see. When we finally arrived at Towoboase (pronounced toe-BWAH-see), the very first building was the Progressive Life Child Development Center. Sammy introduced us to the director and the rest of the staff. They showed us inside and spent the next 30 minutes telling us about the project, showing us demographic and financial statistics, and allowing us to examine William's file.

The file was amazing. There were records of medical exams and proof that the Compassion staff members regularly check on William and his family. But the most amazing thing - indeed, it brought tears to my eyes when I saw it - was that everything my wife had ever sent was in that file. Well, copies anyway since the originals were with William. There in this tiny office, half way around the world, I was looking at Rebekah's handwriting. It made me miss her intensely. 

Compassion keeps impeccable records. From time to time, Rebekah sends stickers, or photos, or a magazine along with the usual letter. On these occasions, William's mother (Ama) would have to "sign" for them to show that she received them. On a sheet in the back of the file, all the gifts Rebekah has ever sent were listed, and Ama's thumbprint was inked next to each item on the list.

Drying cocoa beans

We left the office to go find William in school. The plan was to walk to the school, find William, and take him home to meet his parents. I wasn't sure how William felt about my visit, but I figured that at least he'd be happy to get an early dismissal from school. As we walked through the town of about 1,000 people, nearly everyone who saw us came out to line the road and watch us pass by. The director (I don't remember his name now) told me that since it was Thursday, nearly everyone in town was home since this was the one day that the community did not go out to the cocoa farms to work. We saw tables of cocoa beans drying in the sun and a group of people roasting cassava. The resulting powdery substance was called garri and was used to make all manner of edible things. I told the man roasting the garri that I had an Uncle Gary and he thought that was hilarious.

This nice lady carried Hugo during the visit

The school was a collection of about five buildings with glassless windows and gathered around a central play yard. There was plenty of room for soccer and they even had a volleyball net. Many of the kids were outside playing but stopped what they were doing to watch us pass by. William’s school room was on the far side of the complex and as we approached, the numerous kids at recess began following us. By the time we got to his room, there were about 200 kids crowded outside the windows.

William and me

The Compassion folks had rushed ahead of me to try and play a bit of a trick. When I walked into the classroom, there were five kids lined up at the chalkboard and I was told that I had to identify which one was William. I knew him right away but decided to play with them a bit. I hesitated, acting like I wasn't sure, then began approaching the wrong boy. As I reached out to select the false William, I turned at the last moment and grabbed the real William's hand. The classroom, and 200 kids outside the windows, erupted into cheers. 

We spent some time talking there at the school but it became clear right away that William couldn't understand much of what I was saying. After a few minutes of difficult exchanges, the Compassion staff, William, and I left the school to visit William's parents.

We walked back along the same road and made a left about halfway through the village. We passed these ladies who were working outside and were thrilled that I took their picture. You can see the pleasure written all over their faces.

These ladies laughed and laughed.

William's home

William's house was modest and looked like most of the houses in Towoboase. I noticed that there was an electrical line running to the corner near the door which was simply a cloth hanging over an opening in the wall. This house was one of several that was situated around a central area under a grass canopy. We gathered here to meet his family and most of the neighbors joined us.

From left: Ama, William, Kwabena, and Sarah

His parents were very kind. Their names were Kwabena and Ama and they appeared to be in their late twenties. Kwabena smiled almost constantly but Ama seemed to be a little bit frightened of me. Every time I spoke to her, she would stand and bow a little bit. It made me really feel awkward to be treated with so much deference so I gave most of my attention to Kwabena. Pictured here is also one of William's sisters, Sarah. His other sister was not at home. We exchanged gifts - I only had some money to give them but they gave me this sculpture which now resides in one of the kids' rooms. 

A gift from William's family

We stayed for awhile and the highlight of the visit was when Kwabena went into his house and returned with all the things that Rebekah had sent to William. In the Compassion office, I had seen copies of letters and gifts, but here were the real things. Standing side by side, we looked through pictures of my children, other members of my family, and places near my home. It was a surreal moment of two very different worlds coming together. I was awestruck by the goodness of God and the amazing work that Compassion International has accomplished in nearly impossible circumstances. 

The Compassion staff

When the visit was over, we walked back to the office, said some final goodbyes, and left to return to the Home. As we rode back along the bumpy roads of rural Ghana, it struck me that Compassion International was a big reason that I was here in the first place. William had become a part of our lives years before Hugo had entered the picture. Without William, perhaps we wouldn't have been drawn to Ghana as we were at the beginning of the process. Without Compassion International, perhaps we would have pursued an adoption from China, or Russia, or domestically. Without William, Hugo could very well have been someone else.

But God has a plan for this little boy and it is amazing to see how He has been piecing it together for years. 

And now for the final plug for Compassion that I warned you was coming.

Reader, if you do not sponsor a child, please consider doing so. I won't bore you with the financial details - you can click on the link below and see how the program works. It is easy and we have so much to give to people who have so little. Don't put it off until later...now, while it is fresh in your mind, is the best time to start.

If you do decide to sponsor a child, or if you already do, please please please write your child letters on a regular basis. I have heard that request so many times from Compassion representatives but seeing William demonstrated how much those letters mean to these children. Receiving the gift of communication from a sponsor who cares about them is like gold for these children. They treasure it. It has value to them beyond what we can understand because we live in a culture of instant communication. There, receiving a letter is a miracle, and you can be part of it for a child. It will change that child's life.

I have this crazy idea. I'd love to have several people sponsor children from Towoboase. Then, in a few years, we could organize a group trip to Ghana and visit the town together. We could meet the children, visit their homes, eat together, and help with anything they or the community may need. It would be some adventure!

If you are interested in joining the adventure, call this number:

(800) 336-7676

That's the contact number to speak to a Compassion representative. Tell him or her that you are interested in sponsoring a child from the Progressive Life Child Development Center in Towoboase, Central Region, Ghana. Let's sponsor every kid in town.

And in case you missed it at the top, below is the link to Compassion International. Please check them out. I won't be offended if you don't want to take my word for it. Investigate them yourself and I think you will find an organization that is financially transparent, honest, committed to doing the most good that they possibly can, and most of all, being the hands of Jesus to the needy children of this world.

You will not regret it. Be Compassionate.

Click Here for Link to Compassion International

Student Teachers

If you don't already know, I am a band director. I teach sixth, seventh, and eighth graders at the local junior high school. I've only been there for a little over a year but before that, I taught music at the elementary level for 15 years. My job is not my life, but it's a pretty good job to have.

One of the most rewarding parts of teaching is the opportunity to work with college students preparing to become teachers themselves. Over the years, I have had about 45 student teachers. I lost count at some point but I made a quick mental count then rounded up a bit since I probably missed a few. These young people have been as diverse as the students I teach in my classroom. Some of them have needed help in their development as educators and others came to me ready for employment.

My very first student teacher was one of those people that never got a B in his entire life. He was the most type A person I have ever met. He hated shopping so he figured out exactly how much ham and cheese he needed to get him through one loaf of bread in order to cut down on superfluous trips to the grocery store. And he ate the same thing for lunch every day - ham and cheese on white bread.

When he graduated, he went to mortuary school. Not a great track record as a cooperating teacher to have my very first student teacher decide to become a mortician.

There was the girl who needed light therapy to be able to get through a day. The young man who was a non-traditional student and was older than me when he student taught. The young woman who graduated, got married, and stayed in the area. She is still looking for something permanent and so she substitute teaches for me occasionally and does an excellent job. There were those who went on to get performance degrees at grad school and others that couldn't wait to get into the classroom.

But I'd like to focus on one particular student teacher. Amy Bensinger was student teaching with me a few years ago. She actually shared her time with another student teacher named Greg and the three of us had a really fun time together. Besides being excellent teachers with a great rapport with kids, they both had a great sense of humor and our days were filled with fun. That was when I was at the elementary schools and the little ones called her Miss B and were very sorry to see her go. This is Amy:

Like most of my student teachers, Miss B went on to other things and we didn't stay in touch on a regular basis. Thanks to facebook, I've been vaguely aware of the goings-on in Amy's life. But a few days ago, she posted something that surprised me. She asked her facebook friends to send her photos so that she could practice sketching portraits. I had no idea that she had visual art talent. She posted a picture she had drawn and it was pretty good.

Then she messaged me. She said that she has been reading the blog and would like to draw Hugo if we would give her permission. I sent her a few pictures and waited to see what would come of her offer.

That was just a few days ago and she has it finished already. Now Amy, if you are reading this, please don't be offended by what I'm going to say next. I've seen lots of portraits of people who look nothing like themselves. It is particularly disturbing when these not-quite-right likenesses are tattooed on someone's arm. I never knew you to be a visual artist (or perhaps I just forgot) and so I had no idea what to expect and I was a little worried about what to say when I saw the final product.

But then I saw the final product.

Holy cow! It's totally him. We love it and you are an amazing artist! You captured his eyes perfectly and even the little bit of fuzz on his head.

This is such a fantastic gift and it's made even better by the fact that it was completely unexpected.

Thank you. God bless you.

Day Five - Wednesday, January 23

There is a house just on the other side of the wall from the guest house. As far as I can tell, there is a family of four living there plus one other lady who I think is a relative. The kids go to school at the Home and dad leaves each morning for some sort of work. The ladies work at home all day and generally ignored my existence.

But they also had a rooster.

The power was out when we went to bed the night before and, while the rain had caused the temperature to drop, the room was still sweltering and the fan was not working. I had laid Hugo down in his bed then opened the window right next to my bunk. The breeze was very refreshing and after making sure the fan was switched to the on position in case the power was restored, I drifted off to sleep. (Side note: one time the power was out and I forgot that the light switch was in the on position. In the middle of the night, the power returned and the overhead light woke us up.)

At 1 a.m., Hugo tapped my arm. He frequently woke up in the middle of the night and came looking for me. One of the caretakers at the Home said he often fell asleep in his own bed and woke up in one of the big kids' beds so this was no surprise. I carried him back to his bed.

At 3 a.m., the neighbors' rooster started crowing. Another rooster, about 100 yards away, made a decent effort at keeping up. Since the window was open and the fan was not on to create any white noise, Hugo and I were both awake listening to the bird shout for all he was worth.

I tried for awhile to get him back to sleep and just when he was starting to look sleepy, the thunder started. The last of the rain storm rolled through with lots of commotion. Hugo was not afraid of the thunder but it must have interested him because every time it would boom, he would sit up, say something I didn't understand, and lay his head back down. He was finally back to sleep at four and I climbed back into the bunk.

At 6 a.m., he was tapping on my arm again.

I found that if I moved over and made room for him to climb in with me, then basically ignored him, he would play on or around me and I could snooze for a little longer. I could hear him playing with his ball, flipping the switches on the outlet covers, and talking to inanimate objects.

When we finally got up and around, Jacob told me it was time for morning bath. Morning AND evening bath? I decided right then and there this kid was NOT getting this many baths at home. I mean, sheesh, he practically squeaks.

This time the bather was a lady named Grace who has been Hugo's primary caregiver while he has been at the Home. We met Grace during the last visit and she was very sweet. On the day we had to leave Hugo behind and return home, Grace noticed our emotional departure and made a point to comfort Rebekah. Watching her thoroughly clean Hugo reminded me that Grace appeared in one of the very first pictures we received when we first got his referral. Kelsey had traveled to Ghana just after we got Hugo's file and she took a picture of him at bath time. Sure enough, it was Grace in that picture too. Even then, and especially now in the flesh, it was easy to see that Grace was kind and loving but didn't take any tomfoolery from the kids. Hugo followed her instructions perfectly and already knew when to stand, when to squat, when to turn around, etc. It was fun to watch.

I wanted to get a picture of Grace since she was the closest thing to a mother that Hugo has had while he lived at the Home. I hurried back to the guest house for the camera then found Grace again. She consented to a picture but insisted that I wait until she covered her hair and made herself presentable. She asked a few questions about what I was doing with Hugo. When I explained that I was taking him home in a few days, she smiled but I think she was a little sad.

I stuck around for assembly and saw that Linda was still wearing her necklace. I also saw the director's daughter for the first time on this trip. We met her last time and it was nice to see her again. Hugo and I went back to the house for breakfast then tried to go for a walk. About 100 yards into our attempted walk, Hugo was fast asleep.

We really had nothing to do today except play and that's what we did. Exploring, playing with the ball, scooter fun. I even tried for a long time to get him a little closer to the goat but was ultimately unsuccessful. There was one very exciting moment though.

Jacob was doing some chores outside the house with a friend when suddenly both boys screamed and grabbed for any weapon they could find. Jacob held a stick and his friend was wielding a shovel. I went to see what the target of their sudden concern was and found out that they had seen a snake. Not knowing what kind of snakes reside in Ghana, I picked up Hugo right away. The boys kicked at stones and weeds until the snake was finally flushed out of its hiding place. It was about two feet long, striped the length of its body, and it was fast. The boys tried in vain to kill it but were hindered by the fact that they were terrified of it. It slipped under a stone that covered the drainage pipes from the house. When we moved the stone, the snake was gone and the only place it could be hiding was in the drainage pipes that led to the guest house. I sent Rebekah a text asking about Ghanaian snakes. She responded that there were plenty of life-threatening ones. I decided to shake the sheets before climbing into bed that night.

The only other thing to report for day five is related to the band. Spott's music center donated a bag of instrument repair and maintenance supplies. I took them over to the Home after dinner and started showing some of the kids how to use them. Pretty soon, every instrument was out and dismantled. With the help of about seven band members, I cleaned and did basic maintenance on seven trumpets, four trombones, and two baritones. We got things operating much better but the entire process made something very clear - these kids need new instruments. There are broken braces, stuck slides, missing corks, and tons of dents. A conservative guess is that the instruments' average age is about 40.

If you are reading this and have about $10,000 to spare, contact me. I'd love to work with an interested donor to get new instruments for those kids. It would change their lives. Music is a powerful part of life in Ghana and the children at the Home are in need of some updated things.

I went to bed that night excited about Thursday. That was when Hugo and I would be traveling to see William, our Compassion child.

How Did We Get Here?

"How did we get here?" This was the question my wife asked as she held our son today and softly kissed his cheeks - cheeks that are nowhere near the same shade as ours. We've been married for fifteen years and I can say with utmost confidence that we would never have guessed we'd be the parents of five children in a multiracial family. In fact, for the first six years of our marriage, we planned on never having kids. Ha!

Yet here we are. These first two weeks of having Hugo home have gone far better than we ever dreamed possible. He understands most of what we are saying even though he speaks only a few English words. We can see that he is beginning to understand that there will be a constant food supply. He doesn't always love to share, but he is playing with his siblings and seems to really like them. Some of them, anyway. And he gave Oma a kiss today!

In the past two weeks, I have talked to many, many people about what is happening in our family. Everyone one of them has had questions and encouraging words but the one comment that I have heard the most is this, "Wow, it's really great what you guys are doing."

I've heard it so many times, I need to take a break from detailing the trip to address it.

So....

Is adoption great? You betcha. Is it a great thing to do? Sure is. Do we get the credit for doing something great? Nope.

Jesus gets the credit. 

In the last post, day four, I mentioned that the kids of the Home were conducting their own worship service. Let me share a spoiler for what is coming as I detail the rest of the story - They had a worship gathering every night. Every night. A group of children without parents, with no "home" as we would define the word, and very little hope for a comfortable future. These children gathered every night to thank the Lord for the blessings they see in their lives and to praise His name. They prayed for others to be richly blessed and sang to God of His goodness.

Jesus did this. He taught their hearts to sing.

There is no other explanation that I can see. Having lived my entire life in America, I look at the situation of those kids at the Home and think they have every reason to be bitter about their circumstances. But they're not. They are happy. Despite having very little, they recognize that they have the one thing that really matters - Jesus.

Jesus met them in Ghana. And it didn't require comfort for them to see that He was present with them.

If you've been reading this blog from the beginning, you will recognize what I am about to say. We didn't rescue our son. I knew that before this last trip but being present at those worship gatherings really drove it home. If we had never adopted him, there would still have been a pretty good chance that he would have learned about Jesus at the Home. He might not have had a dresser full of clothes and the likelihood of a college education, but he still would have met his Redeemer. Of course, I don't know for sure that would have been the case, but coming to live with us is not the only way he would have ever heard about the Lord.

If anyone was rescued in this process, it was us.

We were rescued from the idea that the Lord's manifest goodness in our lives was determined by comfort, or safety, or the amount of money in my wallet (which is always $0 anyway). We were rescued from planning our own way and not submitting those plans to the Lord. We were rescued from the expectation that the Lord existed to serve us rather than the other way around.

Just this past Sunday, a friend spoke to the congregation and said that the greatest miracle she has ever witnessed was the Lord causing someone's heart to say YES to Him. When the idea of adoption exploded into our hearts, it was the farthest thing from our plans. But it was the Lord that caused us to say yes.

He taught OUR hearts to sing and the song had only one lyric....YES!

So how did we get here?

God brought us here. 

In the same way that He rescued the hearts of those children who have very few comforts, he rescued our lives when we were caught up in way too many comforts. Don't get me wrong, I like comfort and I don't mean to sound like being comfortable is bad. Please don't feel like I am being condemning. That is not my heart in this post at all. If you hear anything as you read this, I hope you hear this encouragement:

Say YES!

Say yes if you fall into any of these categories:

1. If you are reading this blog from anywhere in the world and you sense something is telling you that there is more to Jesus than you've ever realized. If the idea of asking Him for the salvation of your soul is gnawing at your insides and you've never acted on it because you think it's crazy....say YES. You don't have to understand it all first. Just say, "Yes, Lord" and the see what happens. In fact, if you want to know more and have questions, I'd be glad to help. Email me: tlknfan@gmail.com

2. If you are cynical about religion and perhaps Christianity in particular. If you think all this talk about Jesus is stupid. If you think I'm crazy and the idea of needing salvation for your soul is insane...say, "Yes, Lord." Now, the difference here is that the miracle of the heart that says YES is a heart that is humble and recognizes that it needs help. That might not be your heart right now. Perhaps start by asking the Lord to help your heart to see. Pray that the "eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling."

3. If you know the Lord and feel that He is calling you to do something that is FAR outside your comfort zone. Say YES. Do it now. Lives may be hanging in the balance. What He is calling to you may not be easy and it will almost certainly not be comfortable. But I can assure you that He has your best interest in mind. You will be equipped for the road. You will receive grace and mercy. You will meet Jesus. It will be worth it.

Say YES! 

Sing it. Shout it. Scream it as loud as you can.

Then get moving. And prepare for life to change.

Day Four - Tuesday, January 22

Tuesday was a very important day. The point of this trip was to bring our boy home, but that couldn't happen until the visa interview was completed and that was scheduled for early Tuesday morning.

I had originally planned on staying at the Susannah Lodge, just a few blocks from the embassy. On Boat's recommendation, I decided instead to stay at the guest house for the whole week. There were several benefits to staying there - close to the Home, inexpensive (the reasonable rate included meals), and we'd be staying in an area where the residents were accustomed to seeing volunteers with the children. You may remember from the details of our first trip that Ghanaians are still getting used to the idea of adoption, and seeing a light skinned person (especially a man) with a little Ghanaian boy would have drawn unwanted attention. Even though this adoption process was 100% legal and appropriate, locals might still think there was something inappropriate going on and alert authorities. I wasn't concerned about explaining myself, but rather about the delay that would be caused by having to explain myself.

The only bummer about staying at the guest house was its distance form the embassy. Boat recommended that we leave at 4:30 a.m. since traffic was unpredictable. Hugo was a trooper and popped out of bed when I woke him up at 4:00. The driver was a bit late and we were on the road a little before 5:00. Traffic was not nearly as bad as we expected and we were parked in front of the US embassy at 6:15. Hugo was a champ and slept the whole way.

The meeting was scheduled for 7:30 which just means that they allow the large number of people waiting outside to queue up at that time. We waited on some folding chairs across the road and Boat had to pay a lady two cedis to sit in them. To pass the time, Hugo played in the dirt and collected rocks while I gave up all hope of keeping him clean until the interview.

We got in line at 7:15 and waited our turn. Hugo started to get nervous for some reason and would fuss and cry every time we passed through a doorway. He cried when we navigated the security checkpoint, when we entered the courtyard outside the consular office, and again when we entered the building. I made sure he had a snack before we went in since food was not allowed inside.

There were about 200 people inside waiting to be called to a window for various services. I stuck out like a sore thumb and everyone's eyes were on the two of us. Guards who were working the room kept asking us to move to a different location and Hugo was getting increasingly agitated. The problem was solved when he eventually fell asleep.

The visa interview process has three steps. I was called to window one for step one (there were thirteen windows but, like cash registers at Walmart, only two or three were in use). There, a kind man collected all the vital documents and gave us instructions for step two. That step involved paying the cashier the $230 fee for processing a visa. We sat down to wait some more. Step three was the actual interview and that took place at window six.

This was the only scary part of the whole process. Our case worker, Kelsey Melvin, had prepared me so well for this day. She saw to it that I had every document that I could possibly need and all of it was organized in a folder that she had mailed to us from Washington. I was confident that I would have no problem with the interview. The man at window six, however, asked if I had proof that Rebekah had traveled to Ghana and met Hugo on the first trip. I swallowed hard. I didn't think I had anything to show she had been here.

I should have brought along her passport which would have shown the entry and exit stamps with dates, but I left it at home. I did have a document that gave me power of attorney privileges to act on Rebekah's behalf but he told me that was not good enough. I dug through the folder and found what I needed when I got to the very last document. It was a flight itinerary I had printed before the first trip and had forgotten to remove when I was reorganizing the folder for this trip. It had both our names on it and was sufficient to satisfy window six guy.

Rescued again. Thank you, Lord.

I received an appointment for Friday to pick up the visa and Boat, Hugo, and I left the embassy. Back on the chairs across the street, Boat called the driver who had used the time to pick up a few fares instead of just waiting for us. He told Boat he was coming. Forty-five minutes later, Boat called again and he said he was on his way. After another thirty minutes, and another call, the driver assured us that he was almost there. Hugo had a messy diaper and I decided that it needed to be dealt with now rather than wait for the driver. Just when I found a place to change him, the driver arrived and we piled in, messy diaper and all.

Now, if you are reading this and you've been to Ghana before, you are about to be really proud of me. As all parents know, diapers changing is no party. After a time, it just becomes normal and you don't really think about it but every once in awhile you get a messy diaper that is EPIC. The kind that you need to throw away the diaper and the kid's clothes. Now imagine, reader, dealing with that scenario in the back of a taxi that has no shocks, riding on a road that closely resembles the surface of the moon. Thankfully, I had thought to bring along a change of clothes, just in case, and so I cleaned him up, managed to keep the taxi poo-free, and did all that under the watchful eye of two guys who clearly thought this was woman's work.

We stopped at a ForEx Bureau to change some money, then drove to the Compassion field office to see if I could schedule a meeting with William, the child we sponsor through Compassion International. We had hoped to meet him last time but - long story short - were not able to. I was hoping it could work out this time but the man I had spoken to on the phone was not optimistic.

I met with two men named Daniel and George. Both were very kind and did everything they could to make me feel welcome and try to work out the visit. There were phone calls made and records checked. It took awhile but I was in no hurry. Hugo was asleep again (he sleeps so easily in a car) and the Compassion office was air conditioned! We left after they agreed to attempt a visit on Thursday. They said they would call Boat tomorrow and let him know if it could be arranged and give him directions for the driver. Hugo and I both slept, piled in a heap in the back seat, on the way back to the guest house.

We spent some time riding the scooter and I thought you might appreciate this video:

 And this one:

Jacob found us and said it was time for Hugo's bath. I had been giving him baths and told Jacob that I could handle it. He replied, "You are a man. You can not give proper baths." Instead of arguing, I figured it would fun to see how this went down.

It turned out to be fun. Hugo totally knew the routine and was scrubbed hard from head to toe. They poured water over his head, covered him in a thick lather including scrubbing his face thoroughly, and then dumped more water over his head to rinse. I kept thinking of Beatrix at home who begs me to keep the tiniest drop of water from getting anywhere near her eyes. They dried him off with the clothes he was wearing, rubbed him down with some sort of lotion that made his skin shine, and dressed him in something different.

When they took him to get the clothes, I followed and got a look at his room at the Home. The power was out so it was dark in there, but I saw at least five cribs, a bunk bed, two single beds, and a sleeping mat. I imagined Hugo going to sleep in one of the cribs only to end up in one of the beds by morning. It was still very hot but the girls dressed him in long pants, a sleeveless shirt, and a button down shirt with Winnie the Pooh on it. They were careful to button every button, even the ones on the ends of the sleeves.

It was dusk outside and when we emerged from the dormitory, I heard singing. In the courtyard, about five dozen kids from the Home had gathered in a big circle and were singing their hearts out. Upon closer examination, I realized that what I was seeing/hearing was a time of worship. There was a leader in the center and the rest of the kids formed a constantly-moving circle around him. He would alternately pray and sing. The smallest kids were in the front so they could see and the older kids were in the back, many of them encouraging the young ones to participate. Children as young as five and six years old were kneeling and worshiping the Lord. Many were raising their hands and literally shouting to the Lord. It was outstanding. I didn't know if I'd be welcome to join them so Hugo and I watched from outside the circle and joined in singing when we figured out the songs.

When we visited the Home in September, we met a little girl named Linda. She is absolutely beautiful and a bit shy. We took her picture, along with many others, and showed them to our kids at home. My daughter Stella made a colorful bead necklace for me that I had been wearing everyday on this trip. I had asked her permission to give it away to one of the children here and she said I could. I decided to give it to Linda.

During the worship service, I caught Linda's eye and motioned for her to come see me. She didn't at first but after a few attempts, I managed to get a visit. I explained to her about the necklace and asked if she would like to have it. She gave me a huge smile and allowed me to hang it around her neck. While it fit me just fine, it hung low on her chest. Every time I saw her over the next few days, she was wearing that necklace.

The rest of the evening was lovely. The power never came back on before bedtime so the fans didn't work back in the room. Thankfully, it rained a bit and the outside temperature dropped about 15 degrees. Hugo and I sat outside under a shelter and enjoyed the cooler air until he fell asleep in my arms. Jacob came by and Boat joined us and we all had a nice conversation. Boat and I tried unsuccessfully to explain to Jacob the concept of time zones. He just couldn't believe that there were places in the world where it was morning while we sat here under the night sky. I decided that I would give Jacob the watch I had brought along.

Day Three - Monday, January 21

Today was a very full day. I tried to start it at 6:30 but I heard the alarm, then woke up again at 7:30. I bolted out of bed when I realized the time because I wanted to make it over to the orphanage before morning assembly.

At this point, I want to clarify something. I have been using the word "orphanage" to refer to the place Hugo lived before coming home with us, but it is much more than that. I think I need a new word. To be sure, there are plenty of orphaned children that live there, so "orphanage" is not completely inappropriate. The problem with the word is this: before we got involved in this process, I thought of an orphanage as a dirty, smelly place where the kids never get any attention or care and they are standing on death's door due to poor health care and inadequate nourishment. Unfortunately, there are plenty of orphanages worldwide that accurately fit that description. But this place is not like that.

I haven't used the real name of the place to protect their privacy and to make sure that I'm not crossing some line of confidentiality. But I will say that they don't call themselves an orphanage. They refer to themselves as a home. That's what I'll call them from now on.

The Home, which also doubles as a school, has undergone a lot of changes since we had visited in September. In the morning light, I could see that the guest house had some more work done on the second floor and had added a set of outside stairs.

While there is still no roof on the upper floor, I could see that it was taking shape and would likely be ready for visitors soon. Hugo and I were staying on the first floor and, since there was a set of stairs right next to our room, we would get up there and do some exploring later in the day. The doghouse remains but there are no dogs living in it and in their place is the resident goat. More about him later.

At the Home, the changes were extensive. The ENTIRE courtyard, from the front gate to the offices and around to the dormitories, has been paved with a light gray concrete. I remembered how muddy the old version of the courtyard became in a heavy rain and thought this new arrangement must be much better.

There is a colorful swing set and slide and a little white shed behind it that houses some sort of water purification system. The floors of the classrooms have been tiled - a major improvement over the mud floors that were there last time. The wooden classrooms have been torn down and are being replaced with new concrete structures. In the meantime, the older kids are having class under the portable awnings which have been moved from the courtyard to the roof of the classroom building. There are three flag poles in a prominent place in the courtyard.

Jacob escorted me to the director's office. I was dying to see Hugo but I didn't want to offend anyone by not following protocol, so I waited as patiently as I could. While I waited, the kids gathered for assembly and I started spotting some familiar faces. Emmanuel, Linda, Coby, a boy we called Charlotte because he was wearing a Charlotte Hornets jersey when we met him, Abigail, and several others. One of the musicians recognized me from last time and came over for a big hug. Assembly was excellent. The band had more members now and Emmanuel had a significant leadership role.

The director arrived and was very pleasant. She welcomed me warmly and gave me permission to take some pictures since, in her words, I was now part of their family. She knew I was eager to see Hugo so she sent someone to get him.

When he walked into the office, the very first thing I thought was that he shrunk. I had expected him to be bigger than last time and we actually spent a lot of thought on what size clothes we should pack. Now, he seemed smaller than I remembered him. Just like last time, he came right to me but seemed confused and just stared into the distance. We left the Home right away and on the way to the guest house, he snapped out of his trance. Perhaps the walk triggered some memories but he began to smile and respond to me. He even laughed a few times.

Back in the room, we played soccer, had snacks, and generally tried to get reacquainted. I had brought along an antibiotic in case his ears were still leaking and, since he still had cotton balls shoved in his ears, I gave him his first dose. We spent most of the rest of the day just playing together. Since I can't remember the exact order of things, here are some of the highlights:

• He didn't seem to be as protective of his food and even offered to share some with me. This was a very good sign.
• He loved the ball I brought from home that Beatrix won at Chuck E Cheese. 
• His ears were still sick, but not as bad as last time.
• We went for a few short walks and Hugo was content to walk rather than be carried. This was a huge blessing because 1) carrying him would have been tough in the 90 degree heat and 2) I brought a carrier to wear him on my back but I was hesitant to use it in a culture where women are the primary  caregivers for children and the sight of a man wearing a baby would have raised some eyebrows.
• On our walks, he collected things to bring back to the house. Typical boy. I thought of Henry's nature collection at home and thought that Hugo would fit right in.
• There was a scooter at the guest house. It was the kind they made in the 80's with the huge tires and plenty of room for both of us to stand on the foot deck. We rode it all over the place. 
• He was terrified of the goat. Check out the video and watch how concerned he is when I finally talk him into getting closer to it. For anyone who is new here, you will hear me referring to Hugo as Kwabi, his African name.

It was a big day at the Home. There were representatives from Samsung there when Hugo and I went back to visit. They were making some sort of presentation, probably a donation of some sort, and there were plenty of photo ops and posed pictures. After the presentations, the kids put on a performance that included the band, dancing, and a really cool drumming demonstration. There was a film crew to document the whole thing which I'm pretty sure was for Samsung's benefit. It went on for hours.

At one point, a teen girl came and asked Hugo if he wanted something to eat. He went willingly and came back wearing different clothes. Also, Boat had recommended Hugo have a haircut before the visit to the embassy the next day, so a young man at the Home shaved his head. He used a basic pocket comb and held a razor blade against the side with his thumb. Then, as he combed Hugo's head all over, the hair came off in little fuzzy clumps. 

That evening, Hugo fell asleep easily. I'll never know what was going through his little head that day, but I'm sure it was enough to be mentally exhausting. Our alarm was set for 4 a.m. to make sure we had time to make it to the embassy in Accra. I asked Boat why we needed to get up so early and he replied, "Sunday traffic is not like Tuesday traffic." And then, in the profound way that only Boat can manage, he added, "On Tuesday, it will not be Sunday."