Almost seven months passed
since meeting our children. We hit many bumps in the road, completed more
paperwork and cleared ourselves through more background checks than we ever
imagined. Nothing went as planned or according to the timeline I originally assumed
based on others’ stories.
Some
days I felt a sudden burst of inspiration and pressed on confidently. God led
us this far already. He wouldn’t let us or those precious children down.
Then other days I ran head
on into a wall of anxiety, wondering if, after all of this, something could go
wrong. When would we finally reach the end so we could travel to Colombia to
get them? If we couldn’t go in the summer time, a whole other dimension of
details needed to work out because of school.
My
pretty little picture didn’t look so pretty anymore. I envisioned a beautiful
puzzle where nearly every piece fit perfectly, but the remaining missing pieces
left a gaping hole in the picture. What did our final masterpiece look like?
What parts of our journey to our children had we not yet seen?
My heart ached for what
Juan David and Viviana might be experiencing on their end. Did they think we
changed our minds? Did they wonder if a family might not ever come for them?
Did they even still remember us, after having only spent two afternoons with
us, now seven months ago? I assumed a multitude of questions consumed them
after these seven months of complete silence on our end.
Through a random
conversation with the kids’ host family, I soon found out I could make phone
calls to the kids during the process! The hosting program strives to keep them
connected to a family or a caring adult after they leave. The continued
communication helps solidify a bond, especially for an older child, before they
ever join a family.
I contacted the program
coordinator as soon as I found out! She couldn’t believe I didn’t know earlier
or that these kids lost all contact with us when they returned home. She
immediately made connections for me to find out what days and times the
orphanage gave permission for the kids to receive phone calls. It thrilled me
to know I could soon talk with them, hear their voices, and learn more about
them while I continued to wait.
Their defender and their
social worker both suggested I ask the kids questions about their daily life,
their likes and dislikes, etc. I could let them know we were in the process of
trying to adopt them, but I should not discuss the process with them in any
way. Children in these circumstances struggle to handle the anxiety of waiting
for such a possibility, wondering daily how much longer it might take.
I
felt anxious and nervous as I dialed the number to the orphanage. I didn’t even
know what I would say, other than to ask if they still remembered me.
“Yes,
I remember you. You’re David’s mom.” That first phone call with Juan David felt
so awkward, but I loved how he remembered David. Once I knew he remembered us,
I asked question after question about his daily life. We talked comfortably
with one another.
“I’m
doing homework right now. . . I still need school supplies . . . I am in fourth grade . . . I like Math, and I
love P.E. because I get to play soccer . . . Yes, I would like for you to call
me more.” We only talked for a short while before I ran out of things to say.
“Hola, Tía!” Viviana could
barely contain her excitement over getting a phone call! She called me Tía (Auntie), which sounded so
sweet to me. She told me all about a doll she left in Texas and a suitcase the
orphanage kept after she returned home. I heard a ton of noise in the
background, and she definitely struggled with phone etiquette. I don’t think
she held the phone correctly because everything sounded muffled. I struggled to
understand her words. I still cherished every moment of the conversation,
taking in every single sound. I learned about her by listening to her
environment. Priceless.
What
a privilege to finally hear their voices again so much earlier than I thought.
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