On grace and grafting...

Precious Moments

2010-08-22T21:09:00.004-04:00

Jeremy just woke up. We've had a busy of day of switching off with the kids while we juggled our Sunday responsibilities at church. Marc left the house at 8:00 this morning already to practise in time for the service...I left halfway through supper to make it in time to practise for the evening service only to rush home so that Marc could leave for a youth event that began after the service. We had company after church complete with the dutch Sunday tradition of dessert before lunch -- Rhubarb cake with ice cream, followed by hamburgers, two types of salads and good old ice cream sandwiches. It was a busy day in which we were always hurrying the kids somewhere, or feeding someone or clearing up dishes. I came home from church, Marc had the kids in bed already (bless him), and I sat down with a cup of tea and my book (1000 Awesome Things). I read for an hour and was just getting up to get a drink when I heard Jeremy peeping from his room. I've hardly seen him all day and missed putting him to bed tonight. I quietly dimmed the lights in the living room, sneaked into his room and got him out of bed. His little eyes were still squeezed shut and his little squishy fists were balled up tight as he squirmed slightly and nuzzled my arm. Carrying him into the living room I kissed his little head and nursed him in the dark. Peace and quiet with my little boy sucking softly, sleepily, contentedly. He finished, but I wasn't; I sat in the stillness and held my sweet babe, stroking his impossibly soft skin. Precious.

The end of the sky...

2010-06-13T21:47:00.012-04:00

Our journey home was wonderfully unremarkable. We packed on Thursday morning, and since we had brought an entire suitcase of baby clothes to leave at Jeremy's baby house, we had an huge suitcase to put in all of our souvenirs. Packing went quickly and easily and we had lots of room for all of our belongings.

We arrived at Durban's airport well ahead of time, despite the fact that Geraldine our GPS, failed us completely by trying to make us take an extremely hilly and almost impassable dirt road (poor Geraldine had been so faithful this whole trip, to fail us now...) We opted for the six lane highway instead and followed airport signs.

In the airport we bought a few last minute souvenirs, yes, even a Vuvuzela, those super annoying and loud horn like things blown by thousands of fans at soccer games. Marc thought it might come in handy with his youth group!

The flights were long, but not unbearable. Our plane from Durban to Capetown was not full and so we ended up having three seats together. It was nice to have Jeremy on the seat between us instead of having to hold him. It was on this flight that I started adding up the amount of hours we'd be on the plane and the hours we'd be waiting in different airports. Two hours to Capetown, a three hour stopover, eleven hours to Amsterdam, a two hour stopover, and eight hours to Canada -- 26 hours all together. That's when I realized our mistake. We had told our family to pick us up at the airport on Saturday, but 26 hours would have us arrive in Canada on Friday -- some how something went wrong when we calculated the time change. Excited at arriving home a day earlier than expected, but frantic that we wouldn't be able to get a hold of our family, we called our parents from Capetown with our South African cell phone. No problems.

The flight from Capetown to Amsterdam was long, but fortunately, we had the use of a bassinet for Jeremy. He fell asleep during takeoff, and slept almost the entire time on the plane. He woke up near the end and made friends with a cute little 10 month old from Gronigan. She couldn't keep her hands off him. They made a cute pair!

Another cute pair was made in the Amsterdam airport when we ran into my childhood friend Michelle Kooy. She was on her way from Jakarta, Indonesia and was traveling to her parents who live in London and are good friends with my parents. Her eleven month old, who had just endured a sixteen hour plane ride was headed into the eight hour one and without a bassinet!

Jeremy slept again most of the flight to Toronto and we arrived tired, but grateful, in Canada, Jeremy's new country. Sporting our Bafana Bafana shirts, we met my grinning brother, Eric, and drove with him to our parents' home.

And there were our girls!

They came bounding out of the house to meet us with huge grins. "Mommy, Daddy, Mommy Daddy!" It was a joyful reunion. It felt so good to hold those little girls again. I couldn't hug them enough. But, there was more...they were meeting Jeremy!

We pulled his car seat out of the car and the girls saw their little brother in person for the first time. They couldn't stop touching him. Right then and there, in the driveway of 34 Masefield Cr., Sara sat down. "I want to hold Jeremy", she said, arms ready in a circle the way we'd practised at home. So we spent an extra five minutes right there on the driveway so that Sara, and then Leah could hold their little brother. They'd waited long enough, now it was time!

We stayed the night at my parents, enjoying their hospitality while enduring our jet lag. Oma and Opa and brother Eric got lots of chances to hold Jeremy and talk to him. And hundreds of pictures were snapped, literally.

That night Marc, Jeremy and I all slept well. We awoke early on Saturday, after a good sleep and enjoyed a quiet morning with our parents and children. Then, our new family, all five of us, drove to Sarnia, and finally, brought Jeremy HOME!

A Special Day

2010-06-10T07:01:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was a very special day. We’ve been hanging out here in Umhlanga, a touristy part of the Durban area, enjoying the beach, our very comfortable bed and breakfast, the Kingston House, and have even gone to Gateway, the largest mall in the Southern Hemisphere. Mostly, we’ve been killing time, waiting for the passport, waiting until it’s time to leave South Africa, but also, waiting, a little excited and a little nervous, to meet Jeremy’s birth mother. Yesterday was that day.

I don’t know if I’ve ever prayed so hard and so often in preparation for such a short time. We had heard from others, that the meetings with birth parents are usually very difficult, very emotional. One woman who we’ve met describes it as the hardest thing she has ever done. We tried to picture how it would go, what we’d say, how would she react to seeing Jeremy. Most of all, we prayed. Our prayer was simple. God be with the birth parents. Help it to be a good and meaningful time, an important part of the healing process for the birth parents, and a time when they are reassured that they’ve made the right choice.

We met at the home of our social worker. Upon our arrival we pulled over to the side of the road, just before the driveway to pray one last time, for God’s presence in the meeting, for strength for the birth parents and for us, for the words to say…

God was present, the words came, and we had a good, meaningful time with Jeremy’s biological mother and his grandparents. They were sweet, good people, happy to see us, and happy to see Jeremy for the first time. We hadn’t realized that Jeremy’s birth mom had never seen him before. We have some beautiful photographs of her holding him, talking to him, and playing with him.

It was a difficult time for Jeremy’s mom. Her eyes filled with tears often, but she’d quietly wipe them away. She is not a talkative woman, a little shy with difficulty expressing herself (who can blame her giving the circumstances), but we feel like just that short time with her allowed us to get to know her a little more.

Jeremy’s grandmother is making a book about their family and about South Africa for him. This gift surprised us and delighted us. What an incredible gift to have such a book to look at when he thinks about and wonders about his first family. The book is not quite complete and so we will have to wait until it arrives in the mail. Hopefully it won’t be too long.

One of the neat things about an open adoption, even one that is separated by such a great distance, is that when we parted, when Jeremy’s birth mom so sweetly and so painfully touched his little arm to say goodbye, it wasn’t last contact. In a few weeks we’ll be sending the first pictures of his time in Canada. Jeremy’s birth mom will see him greeted by his Canadian grandparents and his big sisters. She’ll see pictures of his baptism, camping this summer, his first steps, first days at school. And in return, when Jeremy wonders what his birth mother’s favourite colour is, or whether she likes pineapple on her pizza, or any other question little boys wonder about people, he can ask her. What a healthy and positive way to do adoption.

My heart breaks for Jeremy’s birth parents. I know their hearts are breaking in the most painful way. We expect it to be a very difficult journey for them as they deal with grief which we can’t even imagine. So now we continue to pray, not out of fear and nervousness about a difficult meeting, but for strength and comfort and peace for these two important people who have joined our family as part of Jeremy’s family.

On Safari

2010-06-08T07:39:00.011-04:00

Last Friday we decided that since Jeremy was doing so well, we would make one (more) switch to our itinerary. So on Saturday morning we packed up our belongings, threw all of our suitcases into our Honda Jazz, and drove up the coast to St. Lucia, a quiet little vacation town about three hours north of Durban.

The decision to go to St. Lucia was definitely a good one. After settling in at “African Ambiance, our gorgeous B&B, complete with African décor, gorgeous wooden furniture and a grass thatched roof, we took our hosts’ advice and headed to the beach.

Geckos, better than rats I guess!

After a short hike along a boardwalk, on our guard against rogue crocodiles, we found ourselves at the beachfront of the St. Lucia Estuary, a huge wildlife park. The estuary is home to hundreds of different bird life, hippos, crocodiles, sharks, whales, and is the breeding ground of the leather backed turtle. The beach was beautiful and huge, and it took some time to find the shore…

After the beach we went to the local ski and boat club restaurant for drinks and to watch the crocs and hippos play in the river. What a great afternoon! We watched a mamma and baby hippo romping through the water, swimming back and forth across the river. And about five crocodiles were chilling out near the shore. We also saw some beautiful birds who were quite hesitant around the crocs.

The goal of our trip to St. Lucia was simple– safari. On Sunday morning we headed out to Hluhuwe Imfolozi Park and set off on a 6 hour safari drive in search of wildlife. With Jeremy sound asleep in the back, we headed out into the Imfolozi part of the park. We hoped to see animals – lots of them, and we were not disappointed. Around the first turn after entering the park, a giant African Elephant was tramping through the tall grass. We spent the entire day marvelling at creation, worshiping God as we gazed at zebra, warthog, impala, nyala, kudu, and lots of others. We were greeted by a baby giraffe walking with it’s parents and relatives right beside the road. We were road-blocked by a wildebeest, who glared at us as we inched timidly around him. And an enormous rhinoceros sized us up as we passed by him and his mate. Jeremy woke in time for our picnic lunch at the Mpila Camp, and he even rode in the front seat with us for a bit down the road (when in Rome…).

Buffalo

Jeremy and the Giraffes

Momma, Poppa and little baby

White Rhinoceros (or maybe black, who can tell?)

Wildebeest

Drove right beside this one

Impala, they were EVERYWHERE!

Blurry African Elephant (and African grass which stole the focus)

Vervet Monkey (these were all around St. Lucia)

Red Duiker, also in St. Lucia

Nyala

Warthog, she had four babies with her too -- even the babies are ugly!

Beautiful zebra grazing right beside the road

The day was awe inspiring. What an incredible world we live in!

Durban's Waterfront

2010-06-07T14:52:00.003-04:00

This past Thursday was a beach day. We drove down to Durban’s waterfront where they have a 6 km promenade along the Indian Ocean shores. It was a gorgeous day, 25 degrees and sunny. The sand was golden, and the ocean blue with a dramatic white crested playground for surfers.

We had a lovely walk on the paved promenade.

Meanwhile...back on the homefront

2010-06-07T14:46:00.001-04:00

We have now been away from home for three full weeks. In almost exactly one week, to the hour that I’m writing this, we will hopefully be arriving home. We will be back to our two girls, Sara and Leah, from whom we’ve been away for so long.

Being separated from our daughters has been difficult, but much better than I expected. They have been well cared for by our parents, their Opa and Oma and Grandma and Grandpa, and have been doing all sorts of special things. From riding the bus just for fun, to horseback riding, the beach, picnics by the river, and the splash pad, they have been spoiled in the way that only Grandparents can.

There are several things that we have done to make this time apart easier for all of us. We left a “handbook” for our parents on the girls’ routines, friends, contact numbers etc. just so things will be easier for them. We bought and wrapped a little gift for the girls for every three days while we are away. We gave them little things like a Tim Horton’s card to celebrate Jeremy’s adoption day, a movie and microwave popcorn, smarties and hair ties, and things to keep them busy like modelling clay, paints, and craft supplies. Finally, the best thing that we did to prepare for being apart from our 3 and 6 year old is to set up Skype accounts. Both Opa and Oma and Grandma and Grandpa are set up with a webcam, mic and Skype account, as are we. Every other day or so, usually around 10pm our time, 4pm Canadian time, we go on Skype and talk with our girls. It has been wonderful! They show us crafts that they have made, hairstyles that Grandma has been experimenting on them, news of soccer games, and little events of the day. They have heard about our experiences, and most of all, get to see their little baby brother (although he usually is asleep). Skyping has really been what has kept us going. In fact, the times when separation has been the most difficult has been the times when we are unable to get online. The time in Johannesberg was particularly rough since we had a five day stretch without contact.

Since then, though, for the most part we’ve had regular contact and it’s so great to see Sara and Leah’s happy cheerful faces before we go to bed at night.

We’re on the home stretch. One week to go, and three of those days will be spent travelling. The countdown is on!

With Glowing Hearts...

2010-06-04T01:15:00.006-04:00

One of the most stressful things about this South African adoption process is the timing. Leaving our two oldest children in Canada is one of the most difficult things I have ever done. Obviously, this anxious mom doesn't want to be away from them any longer than I absolutely have to. Robyn also has a goal to get us out of this country as soon as possible so that we don't get bogged down with the World Cup. So...under her advice, we booked our flight home for June 10. Exactly three weeks and one day in South Africa. Three weeks to adopt a baby, get his Canadian Citizenship and then his Canadian passport. Robyn warned us...it'll be tight.

Immediately after the adoption, on May 19, we filled out the application for Jeremy's citizenship. Robyn gave us the passport application before we left for the Drakensberg mountains and I had been meaning to get to work on them, but hey...I was on holidays and you can't send them in until you are granted citizenship anyway! Finally, on June 2, when we were back in Durban, I took them out to look at them and began filling them out. There was quite a bit to fill out and a lot that we didn't know the answers too, (Jeremy's weight and length for instance -- they just don't supply hotel rooms with ways to get that information). We decided to go to the mall to take a break and to get some things.

I don't know why I did it. I was not expecting the call at all, but I gathered up all our papers, put them in the laptop bag and took them along with us. At 3:45, just outside the photo shop, our cell phone started ringing. Robyn, our social worker, was calling to tell us the happy news. Jeremy's papers were here. We need to us, our passport paperwork, Jeremy's passport pictures and the required fee to the lawyers office by 4:30!

PANIC!

Remember the timing issue? Remember the anxious mom who doesn't want to stay in South Africa, beautiful as it is, any longer than I absolutely have too? We need to file these papers today! It was great that our citizenship papers were through, that was one step in getting us out of the country, but we still have the passport to go. That takes on average 4-5 days, unless something happens like the printer breaks (which has happened to Robyn in the adoption process two times). If we could get the paperwork together by 4:30, that would give us an extra day.

Providentially, we had brought our paperwork with us. But what about the required fee? Like the obedient tourists we are, we never carried much cash with us, just in case. Almost all of our money stays locked up in our hotel room. We did not have a chance of getting back to our room and then off to the lawyers. It was time to try our BANK CARD.

Getting money is difficult in South Africa. Several Canadians that we had talked to had not had any success in using an ATM, regardless of which bank they tried. We contacted President's Choice Financial before we left and they made it very clear to us that our cards might not work...

They didn't. Not at the first bank. I raced through the mall looking for a second bank...and there it was, NED Bank, and no line up. Hands shaking with sheer adrenaline, my card went in, I selected chequing, 600 Rand and the machine started to whirl...there was my cash...we were ok.

I muttered a quick Hallelujah under my breath and raced back to the car and jumped in. It was now 4:10. But wait...we need petrol...(South African for gas)...no time...we'll chance it. Geraldine, our wonderful GPS, guided us turn by turn through the busy Durban streets, onto highways, off highways, while I did my best to fill in our forms and remind Marc which side of the road to drive on...at every intersection. Finally, we heard those wonderful words, "You have reached your destination" and the clock said 4:30...

We piled out of the car, grabbing the laptop bag, the diaper bag, the papers I was working on, our wallets (OH NO!! WE DON'T HAVE OUR PASSPORTS!) I look at Marc in panic and he is out of breath with the stress of it all. Well, can't do anythingn about it now; we'll see what happens.

Now to find the building. We found a building with the number 225 on it. An Indian restaurant. We decided maybe the lawyer's office was located above the restaurant...We climbed the stairs and rang the bell at the gate at the top. No answer. Now what?

At 4:40, after ten minutes of walking around. Robyn called us again, "Are you guys alright?" she said. Hearing our dilemma, she directed us to the proper building and there we were.

Apologizing for our poor timing, our unfinished paperwork, and our stressed condition, we shook hands with our lawyer and got to work.

"Passport please?" he said. My heart sank. And then, Robyn, bless her heart, said, "I have them here." "What?" I thought, "you have them?" And there she showed the certified photocopies of our passports that we had brought with us from Canada. And that did it.

I have no idea what Robyn wrote down for Jeremy's height and weight. She sized him up and took a guess. I have no idea how long the courier was waiting to bring the Jeremy's passport application to the airport to get on the 6:00 pm flight, but I know it was after 5pm when Robyn put it in his hands.

It wasn't until we had made it through ABSOLUTELY CRAZY Durban rushhour traffic and had sat down in our hotel room that it hit us. Jeremy is a Canadian! I hugged my little guy, placed him on my lap and sang "O Canada" from start to finish, while he stared at me with is amazing Canadian eyes! And my heart was glowing...

A Tour Through Soweto

2010-06-02T13:19:00.007-04:00

Yesterday we toured the township of Soweto, a huge city with a population of 2 million officially, but more probably 4 million. We were picked up from our apartment by “Jacques” our Afrikaans tour guide and with his constant and informative chatter descended into Soweto.

Both Marc and I were a little nervous about going to Soweto. We had been advised not to go there unaccompanied, and never to go there at night (actually, never to go anywhere at night). We also had heard so many stories of the poverty of the slums we were not sure how we would handle seeing such miserable living conditions.

What surprised us is that Soweto is a city. It has stoplights, curbs, and street signs just like any city. Major roads are paved and stores and gas stations and schools and hospitals rise up along them. This was not what we expected.

What is strange is that beautiful brick houses and affluent areas exist right across the road from the most awful slums. These slum houses are made completely of corrugated steel, wood, cardboard, blankets, any thing that could be used as a form of shelter. And in these areas you see men, women, teenagers and babies living. Somehow they are living in that filth, and dilapidated conditions. And then you turn a corner and you see beautiful housing complexes. It is shocking.

Some neat things we saw were outdoor barbershops, shebeens, and little stores at the side of the road, something we discovered was typical of Soweto.

Our guide took us to various sights in Soweto. We went to the square in Kliptown where the Freedom Charter was signed. A document signed by blacks, coloureds, and Indians stating clearly what the aims of their resistance were. The square traditionally was a place where people traded goods, sold trinkets and food and gathered socially. And still today it is used for that purpose, but it also holds a huge monument and plaques telling the story of the Freedom charter.

From there we went to the Regina Mundi Catholic Church. This was the meeting place of the ANC during the uprisings. The government had banned the political groups and made it illegal to meet. They had not, however, banned church. So the resistance leaders would meet in the church, have a brief service and then hold their meetings. The police, however, got wind of this and they raided the church during their meetings. Their gunshots are still in the bricks and windows of the church, and a corner of the alter table is broken where a police officer struck it with his rifle butt. In the stain glass windows of the church, the story of the resistance is told. Including stain glass depictions of Nelson Mandela and Hector Peterson who, with other children was shot by police during a peaceful school children’s demonstration.

The balcony of the Regina Mundi church was transformed into an art gallery displaying photographs of the story of Soweto, life under apartheid, the resistance movement, and Sowetan life in general. Throughout the years, visitors have signed their names and other messages all over the walls of the gallery, it was interesting to read what people had written.

We also went to the Hector Peterson Memorial and museum. This was a moving experience as we were presented the story of school children who were demonstrating about having to be educated in Afrikaans instead of their first language. While peacefully walking to present their case to the government, the police told them to disperse and when they refused the police opened fire, killing and injuring many children. Hector Peterson was an 13 year old boy who was killed and then photographed being carried by a man with his sister following. This picture was shared throughout the world and Hector became the face of the anti-apartheid movement. In fact, the boy who was carrying Hector had to go into hiding and eventually had to flee South Africa because he was hunted by the police.

Finally, we visited Nelson and Winnie Mandela’s house in Soweto which has been converted into a museum. It is a very simple house – a living area and kitchen attached, a bedroom, washroom and a den which was converted into the children’s bedroom. It was neat to stand in the room where Nelson and Winnie had lived. The house had been firebombed several times and there were bullet holes in the brickwork from the times that the police had come to arrest them.

After Mandela’s house, we had a quick glimpse at Desmond Tutu’s house (he still lives in Soweto, as does Winnie Mandela), a sneak peak at Soccer City despite its tight security and then we headed back home to our apartment in Sandton.

The Road to Equality

2010-06-02T08:38:00.001-04:00

On Saturday, we spent three and a half hours learning about apartheid in the Apartheid Museum. The building is quite impressive, designed to be symbolic of the struggle of the blacks in Africa, and the long road to equality. When you purchase tickets, you are given passes saying “European” or “non-European” and then you must enter through separate gates depending on your card. As you walk through the gate there are huge replications of passbooks, a necessary document blacks had to carry on them when in white areas or fear imprisonment. After a long uphill journey, symbolizing the long uphill road to justice, you enter the museum.

We were treated to an historical overview of the entire history of apartheid, beginning with the discovery of gold in Johannesburg which led to migrant black miners, through the development of the city slums, the relocation of black people into townships, and the 1948 ruling which made apartheid law. The museum did a good job contrasting the lives of blacks and whites in South Africa during apartheid and also showing the propaganda perpetrated by the government to strengthen their position. It then showed the incredible fight of black resistance to fight for their right for equality under the law.

One jaw dropping moment was when we watched a video of the architect of apartheid, President Verwoerd defend apartheid. He called it “good neighbourliness”, the whites and blacks living separate lives as good neighbours. It was almost disgusting to hear him speak, and all the people applaud.

The museum also had a temporary exhibit on Nelson Mandela which was interesting. I never realized how traditionally Xhosa Mandela had been raised. It’s amazing to see the story of his life told so completely.

The museum was a sobering experience. We left it with our emotions raw, our heads reeling and our minds puzzled as to how this could ever have happened. We also left with a prickling mind about Jeremy. This is part of his story, both sides of it. Jeremy is bi-racial, his parents experienced apartheid on different sides of the fence, one as the privileged, the other as the sufferer. How do these two sides of him come together when faced with this history? Where does Jeremy fit into this story? This baby, who slept the entire time tied to my chest, has no idea about this part of his identity. It will be our job to help him come to terms with this two-sided history, and indeed the two-sided identity which he holds.

Jeremy Goes to Johannesburg

2010-06-01T13:15:00.007-04:00

This past weekend we spent in Johannesburg, We piled all our suitcases, diaper bag, computer, cosmetic bag, all our luggage back in our little hatchback and made it into Johannesburg just before rush hour. Jeremy, bless his little heart, slept the whole way, which was a real answer to prayer as we were very nervous about driving in the big city traffic.

We stayed at Sandton Suites, an apartment complex that rents out some of its apartments as a hotel. So…we had a kitchen, eating area, living room, two large bedrooms with two ensuite bathrooms and a large outdoor patio. The place seemed huge! After being cooped up in hotel rooms for the last 2 weeks it felt very strange. We realized that since we had picked up Jeremy from the baby house, we had not been further than two metres away from him. It was a strange thing to put him down for a nap and then leave the room to cook supper in the kitchen or watch TV in the living room. He seemed so far away from us!Jeremy is doing wonderfully! He is such a smiley happy baby. He is nursing well, sleeping well, travelling well and he is so sweet. One advantage of having an apartment we realized, is that there are more options for Jeremy. Until now, he was either in his carseat, on the bed, or in our arms. We missed things like baby swings, exersaucers, and bouncy seats. But in Johannesberg, suddenly there was a couch! Wow! We soon got used to sitting him in the corner of the couch with a big pillow across his lap for support. That allowed him to sit up and look around, and look at the books and toys we propped up in front of him.

Jeremy is getting stronger daily too. He holds his head up like a pro, and has now begun to “stand” a little on his legs. Until now, when we held him up, he did not put any weight whatsoever on his legs. It’s neat to see him change.

First impressions of Johannesburg are it's hectic and busy, and it is made up of walls. There are high walls around everything. Every house, store, school, office building, shopping plaza, everything has at least a six foot high wall, most topped with barbed wire or electric fencing. As a result, it doesn't feel like an inviting city. You don't see houses or store fronts, instead it's like driving down a hallway. It takes a little getting used to.

We only had a short time in Johannesburg, but we feel like we’ve done all the important things that we had hoped to do. We went to the apartheide museum on Saturday, Church and the Bruma Market on Sunday, and toured Soweto on Monday. (More to come of those experiences.)

Right now we are leaving Johannesberg (yes, I’m typing in the car), and are on our way back to Durban. Hopefully, cross your fingers, Jeremy’s citizenship papers are ready and we can move on to his passport application.

How Now Shall We Live?

2010-05-31T11:24:00.009-04:00

On the winding mountain road to Cathedral Peak, there is a rural African community. In our time in the mountains we drove through this community several times on our way into town and to various sites in the area. Each time, we were glued to the windows, watching this completely foreign, completely other-world life that we were passing through.

The first thing that strikes the traveller is the people. The people are walking up and down the mountain road, to school, to work, to the river for water, to neighbours. This narrow, windy, dangerous road is covered with people regardless of what time you drive it. The women all have children tied to their backs by heavy blankets or cloths, they hold the hands of older children or sit with them at the side of the road. They carry tremendous loads of branches on their heads, bringing them home for their cooking fires. Huge containers of water are transported on the their heads for drinking. Groceries, laundry, boxes, all sorts of things are placed on their heads with their children on their backs as they walk slowly up the mountains to their huts.

For huts are what their homes are, round little huts with grass roofs. Their yards are dirt with laundry drying in the sun on the fences and rocks. Some huts have concrete block buildings with them and rocks keep the corrugated steel roofs from blowing away.
We passed women and girls washing their clothes by hand in the river, boys herding goats and cattle along the road way, and uniformed school children playing on their way home from school.

Our first encounter with this community was total shock. How could such poverty, such misery exist in our world? How can it be the neighbouring community to the four star luxury of Cathedral Peak Hotel? How do we look these people in the eye as we pass through them, or return their enthusiastic waves and thumbs up signs in our direction?

Each time we passed through the community, we saw a little more, a little deeper into their lives. First of all, they seemed happy. Tired perhaps from their long walks and hard work days, but smiling and joking, and even singing as they worked. We noticed that they were well clothed, women in dresses, men in pants and sweaters, all without rips or tears. We noticed the hydro wires connected to their grass roofed huts, and we even saw some satellite dishes.

These people live simply, without running water or flush toilets, but they have access to phones, a local hospital, and several schools. These people are poor, but they are ok.

The juxtaposition of the rural African community and the luxury hotel creates a stark, hash view of the reality of South Africa. Traditional, simple, poor living for many, and extreme luxury for a few. It is difficult to handle, and difficult to digest.

When my brother Paul was in South Africa last year, he asked his host, how they could live with such disparity in their country. Their host responded, "Well, how do you?".

That is a question with which we are struggling during this time in South Africa. I hope it will be one which we continue to struggle with the rest of our lives.

Drakensberg Boys Choir

2010-05-31T09:56:00.001-04:00

While in the Drakensberg mountains, as a very special treat, we went to hear to Drakensberg Boys Choir. When they are not on tour, the boys choir holds concerts every Wednesday afternoon. Fortunately for us, they had just returned from Korea on the Tuesday and were holding their first concert back in South Africa.

As we drove from our mountain valley to the valley adjacent, we were excited about what we were about to hear. We’d heard a CD of the boys choir from a friend and knew of their reputation. We were, in fact, blown away by their performance.

The concert was amazing. The discipline, focus and energy of the boys is incredible. And the versatility of their musical gifts is astounding.

The concert began with a Sanctus that seemed to be a mix of classical and African folk. And the concert continued in similar ways. The first half of the concert the boys were dressed in their formal wear, grey pants, white shirt, blue vest and a frilly bib of sorts. They sang some beautiful pieces with crystal clear voices and had simple movements accompanying the pieces. They then moved into some more pop songs: Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Man in the Mirror and a few others. These were not our favourite; we tend to be a little purist.

During intermission some of the boys ‘busked” for our enjoyment while we had coffee, tea, and a muffin. Money from the busking goes towards new instruments. Since you can’t take pictures during the concerts, we took the opportunity during the intermission to snap a few.

The second half of the concert was a focus on African folk songs. This is when we were blown away. The boys were dressed in different African clothes, some in furs and leather, traditional tribal wear, some in mining clothes, and the rest in African style clothing. All except for the boys in tribal wear also wore white gum boots. The boys performed gumboot dancing, drummed all sorts of instruments, and even did a tribute to the Fifa World Cup using soccer balls as their percussion. Their energy was amazing, and all of it was carried by the boys. The conductor, I presume was sitting in the front row, but we saw no sign that he was leading the boys. They moved from song to song quickly and with such focus!

After the concert, souvenir CD in hand, we drove, in the dark, home to our valley. It was a stressful drive home, winding mountain roads without street lights, through a mountain village with people walking along it, and maybe a cow or two, and Jeremy, who had somehow managed to sleep through the entire concert, crying his little heart out most of the way home. Trying to sooth him, I sat in the backseat; it was my turn to sing, this time lullabyes for my little boy.

The People of the Eland

2010-05-27T08:55:00.009-04:00

Everytime we drive anywhere in this area, we see baboons. A whole troop seems to reside just outside the hotel. I'm usually not quick enough with my camera. On our excursion yesterday, I managed to snap a few shots of them.

Yesterday we learned a little history about the Drakensberg area, specifically about the San people, or the people of the Eland. We went to the Didima Centre, a museum about the San.
The San were the first people to live in this area and were here thousands of years ago. They were called the bushmen. They did not build structures, but lived in caves or under trees. They ate plants and roots and hunted game for food. The Eland was a main source of food for them, but was also a big part of their lives in other ways. Clothing, spiritualism and tools all derived from the eland.

This sculpture of a San hunter is in the lobby of our hotel.

Sculpture of an eland outside the centre

In those flowers by the sculpture was the most beautiful little bird. No idea what it is called, but we got a few pictures.

Inside the Didima Centre a history of the San people was outlined using their rock paintings. There were also a few items like weapons and cooking utensils on display. Finally, there was an excellent multimedia presentation about the people of the Eland. It was very well done.

San hunters used poison tipped arrows. This set of weapons was found in cave by a farmer about 100 years ago.

The San people are no longer in South Africa. Their culture was wiped out by the introduction of other African peoples as well as white people. Some migrated north to other African countries, some intermixed with other Africans. However, they have left behind thousands of rock paintings in the Drakensberg mountains. We hiked to one rock painting site yesterday.

Our guide, Moses

The site of the paintings. It was a steep climb.

The paintings were very faint and difficult to see. Unfortunately our pictures are not too clear either. This one is of a pregnant San woman, however, she is partly cut off in the picture.

Looking at the paintings, and imagining a San person thousands of years being in this very spot, mixing ochre, blood and plant juices to make a paint, brings to mind the whole timelessness of this space. Imagining San families, men, women, children roaming these very same mountains, perhaps eating trout from the same river as we are makes one seem small. We're a part of the same long long story that started millions of years ago in a garden and is moving towards the great moment when this earth shall be made new again. We're just a speck in time compared to the timelessness of these mountains, and they are just a speck in the eternity of our God. It's a humbling experience.

View from the rock painting site.

The Drakensberg Mountains

2010-05-27T05:07:00.014-04:00

The last few days we have been in the Drakensberg Mountains at Cathedral Peak Resort, and it has been a wonderful experience. We have taken this week to be a relaxing, peaceful time to bond with Jeremy. We have no obligations but to take care of him. Someone else prepares breakfast and supper and tea twice a day, leaving us with all the time in the world to get to know our little guy. This has been a special time, an absolute blessing.

Cathedral Peak Resort is almost an hour’s drive off of the nearest town, Winterton, and is situated on the Northern tip of the Drakensberg Mountains. The resort is located right in the mountains, with many hiking trails up and around them. Although it is getting close to winter, and so the mountains are more brown than green and the flowers are nearing the end of their blooming season, the view is nonetheless breathtaking.

Cathedral Peak.

Over this week we have hiked over six hours, walking across fields, climbing up mountains, wading through cold mountain fresh rivers, and inched along cliff edges. We have seen exotic wild plants, many different species of birds (not to mention the baboons and their babies that like to play on the road up to the resort).

Baboon Rock

Trout Farm (Trout served daily at the Hotel)

Feeding the Hungry Fish

Pokes

Lake Jarod

The Fern Forest

Waking up to Feed in the Fern Forest

The Hungry Dog River

(Hungry because it is winter and there is no rain.

In the summer, the rainy season, it is no longer hungry.)

African Eagle

African Goose and White Brested Cormorant

The resort itself is amazing. Located on a mountain side, its many levels and stairways make it a bit challenging for the stroller, but most of our destinations within the resort are a short distance, so carrying Jeremy either in hand, bundled in the wrap, or in the car seat has not been an issue. The hotel is mostly indoors, beautifully decorated with sculptures and local artwork, while the hallways from the main reception to the dining room to our suite are outdoors, but well covered, and draped with greenery. We have enjoyed trying new foods, having afternoon tea on the terrace, and siesta time with Jeremy in our room.

The Chapel

We have thoroughly enjoyed our stay here at Cathedral Peak. It has been relaxing, peaceful, awe-inspiring, and even physically exhausting, which also cn be a good thing. Our stay in the Drakensbergs will undoubtedly be one of the highlights of our trip.

Our Little Jeremy

2010-05-24T07:22:00.007-04:00

We’ve known Jeremy for 6 days now, and are beginning to get to know his personality. He is such a little sweetheart! His favourite activity by far, is sleeping. We have not yet had him awake for long periods overnight, and he sleeps for great stretches during the day. His favourite place to sleep is in the car or in the baby wrap, but really, anywhere will do.

Jeremy only cries when it’s time to eat, and then is very quickly satisfied with the bottle. Once he’s fed and burped, he’s a happy, smiley little guy again. Jeremy has a great sense of humour, and he thinks both his parents are spectacularly funny.

Already since we’ve met him, we’ve noticed changes in Jeremy. When we first picked him up at the orphanage, he could not hold up his head because his core muscles were underdeveloped. Taking his passport and citizenship photos was quite difficult because of this. But just after a few days of playing with his Mom and Dad, Jeremy can hold his head up for long periods of time. He’s also learned to click his tongue, and today he mastered the game of peek-a-boo.

Jeremy has big bright eyes that watch everything carefully. His favourite things to look at are the ceiling fan and the lights. Have to admit, they are pretty mezmerizing! He loves to talk when our faces are close to his and he is really enjoying the books we brought.

Jeremy has a bit of a cold right now and his sneezes are extremly cute! He has a slight cough and has difficulty breathing through his nose. It doesn't seem to bother him; in fact, he laughs after he sneezes (which makes them even cuter!) Jeremy also has quite a bit eczema and very dry skin. But thanks to Jeremy’s Aunt Bonnie, a pharmacists’ assistant, we came prepared with great skin creams.

Jeremy loves his bath, and kicks his feet and flails his arms because he’s so excited. He tires himself out completely. After his bath time he’s ready for some snuggle time and a nap.

Not only is Jeremy becoming tri-lingual (the baby house was staffed by Zulu and Africaans speakers, and we find he understands our English perfectly!) Jeremy is already showing his brilliance through his ability to multitask. Today Jeremy discovered that he can bond, snuggle and nap all at the same time while lying peacefully on his mom’s tummy. So lovely!

It is wonderful to have this long period of time where we can enjoy South Africa and bond with our son, and he with us. This is a time of great joy and delight for us and for our little Jeremy.

On the Move...

2010-05-22T10:51:00.010-04:00

Yesterday was an adventure; our first day of driving in South Africa. I need to preface this, however, with the important note about the topography of Durban. Durban, and its surrounding area, is the hilliest place I have ever seen. There is literally no place that's flat for more than three metres. The hills are huge -- too huge in the Westville area to use a stroller even. We've walked everywhere the last few days, but have carried Jeremy in the baby wrap; the stroller is just too difficult. We have huffed and puffed up hills to buy diapers, a cell phone, and just to get dinner, and we have the shin splints to prove it.
Now...I do drive standard. I swear I learned to drive in a standard car, and a terrible one too -- Chevy Malibu with a stick shift so stiff I had to use two hands to put it in third. Everyone in South Africa drives standard and so, when we were told that to rent an automatic is $500.00 more, we opted for the standard. Marc would learn in a parking lot somewhere. We`ll save the money.

We "hired" the car and the Avis guy picked us up at the bed and breakfast. When he heard we had no GPS, he actually drove us to the mall and brought us to "Game" a Wal-Mart-ish store so that we could buy one. You can`t do without this, he said.

GPS in hand, we signed the paperwork and were given a sporty little Toyota Corolla. That's when the problems started. To leave Avis Rent-a-car, one must first drive up a very steep driveway. Using the left-handed stick shift, on the left side of the road, with the steering wheel definitely on the wrong side of the car, I placed the car in 1st and promptly stalled it. Six times. This did not aspire confidence in the Avis guy. I got out of the car and he placed it in first for me, (which is where the reverse is supposed to be, by the way, I swear it). Properly in gear, we hobbled up the driveway, and crossed traffic to the left side of the road into a busy intersection.

Now, I'm normally very good at lane positioning, I distinctly remember getting an A+ in lane positioning in driver's education, 16 years ago, and in my defense, the curb was on the wrong side of the road (who knows why) and I was on the wrong side of the car (crazy South African cars), and I hardly left a mark. Well actually, we didn't check. We didn't dare stop the car; who knows if we'd find first again.

Geraldine (as we refer to our GPS) politely guided us, turn by turn, back to the bed and breakfast. She did not, however, remind me which side of the road to drive on. That became Marc's job. Every intersection, before I turned, he would calmly state, "remember, you`re going into that lane", pointing patiently to the left side of the road. I would have gotten annoyed by his left-seat comments, but I was so stressed I forgot. I didn't even mind when he reminded me to look the opposite direction when crossing traffic. When he tried to help me find first, however, I admit, I did tell him off -- he can't even drive stupid standard cars.

The final hill into our bed & breakfast is, in fact, one degree short of an 90 degree angle, really it is! And I think first gear ran away in fear. I'm not sure what gear the car actually was in while we roared up to that height, but it sure was smokey. The car lurched to a stop, almost in the driveway, and I turned the car off. Without missing a beat, the phone rang. The Avis man, offering to personally bring us an automatic car, for only $100 extra. (I think he had been wringing his hands the entire time we drove home). Marc and I looked at each other's white, stressed faces, and quickly agreed that it might be a good idea to have an automatic after all.

Half an hour later, our little automatic hatch-back filled to the brim with our giant suitcases (and we left two in storage at the B&B), we were on our way again. I was still driving, Geraldine and Marc both switching off with giving directions. This was another adventure; we were going on the highway -- lots of highways.

In case anyone is wondering, in South Africa the slow lane and the fast lane are backwards. The left lane is the slow lane, and the right lane, the fast one. So...while I was so courteously moving over into the right lane to let people pass, I actually was cutting them off as I ambled over at a mere 100 kms an hour in a 120km per hour zone, into their fast lane. And who could blame me when the police car, sirens blaring and red lights flashing came right up behind me, who could blame me, really, for pulling over on the shoulder-less fast lane on the right side of the road instead of moving over to the slow lane and coming to a halt on the wide shoulder?

Apparently, a police officer can.

Actually, I only got a dirty look and a wagging finger, he wasn't after me after all. Still shaking, and a little humbled, we continued on our way. This time in the slow lane, Geraldine still pointing us where to go, Marc growing quieter and quieter.

Things you see while driving in South Africa: Cow-crossing signs on the highway, people walking around on the highway, pick up trucks loaded with people sitting on the sides and tailgate, going 130 kms on the highway, Renée's little Avis rent-a-car hatchback driving in the fast lane slowly, on the highway.

Once we recovered a little from our initial frightful driving experiences, we began to look around. Geraldine got quieter and quieter as the highways got simpler and simpler. Soon we were just coasting up and down and around the steep hills of the greater Durban area. South Africa is a beautiful country! Absolutely gorgeous. It was a beautiful drive.

And what of little Jeremy through this all? Jeremy slept soundly through it all!

Congratulations are in Order

2010-05-19T16:38:00.005-04:00

We are now officially the proud parents of Jeremy Arthur Phumlani Hoogstad!

Today, at about 12:30 pm we met our son for the first time. We got to hold him, and kiss him, and then we got to take him home! Glorify the Lord with us! Let us exalt His name together (Ps. 34:3 -- our family verse.)

I didn’t know how I’d feel, the first time seeing Jeremy. It’s something you picture over and over while you’re waiting. Today I felt a little nervous, and excited, and actually a little numb. But when Daphne, the woman at the baby house, handed him to me, a wave a emotion swept over me. My heart jumped to my throat and she placed him in my arms. It was incredible. Our eyes brimmed with tears and we held him tight, taking turns to hold our little guy. Marc and I spent an emotional time on the couch just looking at him, talking to him. He has the brightest eyes and the most adorable hairstyle. And HE SMILES! How incredible it is when you make your child smile! How even more incredible when you are meeting him for the first time and he breaks into a big wide grin; it’s makes you rejoice with all your heart. Unfortunately it was not possible for us to go into the baby house to see where Jeremy had lived the last three months. We would have liked to see his room and his crib and to meet his caregivers, but Daphne has promised to email us some pictures of those things so that when Jeremy is older he’ll be able to see where that part of his life took place.

After picking up Jeremy, we drove straight to the court. I was very nervous about the court, having never been to one before. But it was so relaxed. We met the magistrate in his office and basically watched him read our paperwork. He was very personable and very happy for us. Then he signed a lot of documents, looked up, and said, “Well, Congratulations are in order!” And that was that. We took a few pictures and brought our baby home. This afternoon has been wonderful. It was a relaxed, quiet afternoon just playing and talking and feeding and rocking Jeremy. He didn’t sleep much, but was content the whole time. Now, he’s sleeping peacefully in his “cot” as they call it here in S.A.

We are filled with gratitude to the Lord for what he has done for us. Jeremy's name means "Exalt the Lord!" And that is exactly what we are doing.

A Labour of Love

2010-05-19T02:35:00.004-04:00

We’ve arrived! I write this from a cozy little room in the Westville Bed in Breakfast in Durban, South Africa. It’s 6:30 am here, 12:30pm in Sarnia. I have just slept for 9 hours and can sleep no more.

Once in this blog I referred to the plane ride to South Africa as our own kind of labour, the airport terminal as our delivery room, and the flight attendants our nurses. Well, I can honestly say that this journey was the longest labour of my life.

We left our home at 9:00 am on the 16th. Almost exactly 48 hours later, we finally arrived at our “home” here. Although I had managed to sleep for an hour our two in the airport and a few hours on the plane, Marc had pretty much stayed awake the entire time. He had caught 20 mins of sleep here and there, but people who suffer from insomnia, rarely can sleep in a plane of hundreds of strangers. As a result, Marc, who has been sleeping since 6:30 pm yesterday, is still sleeping, almost 12 hours later.

Our journey was going incredibly smooth. My parents arrived at our house on the 15th just in time for supper. On the 16th, my dad drove us to Woodstock where we met my brother and sister-in-law, Eric and Bonnie, who drove us to the airport. All the little worries of travel, (Are our suitcases over the weight limit? Did we remember the passport? Is our carry-on the right size?) All these little questions were answered without a glitch. Everything went perfectly.

We made it through security, found our gate, and passed the time until boarding with a few friendly rounds of 2 person Euchre. I embarrassed Marc by taking our picture as we waited, and then it was time to board the plane. (will be posted soon!) After watching an in flight movie (Invictus, just to get in the South African mood), we noticed that our destination had changed. The flight monitor no longer read Amsterdam, but had changed to Paris. We didn’t worry until a few hours later when the Captain announced that Amsterdam was covered in a giant cloud of ash from our friendly volcano, and we were forced to land in France.

Marc and I looked at each other, our stress level multiplying as we wondered how we’d make our 10:30am connecting flight to South Africa in Amsterdam when we were stuck in Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris.

It was a tremendous disaster. Our flight attendants assured everyone on board that when we landed, Air France would take care of everything and provide instructions as to how to continue on our journey, that everything would be ok.

We were transported to the terminal by bus and then waited in line with the passengers from 6 OTHER REROUTED PLANES. We each had, literally about 1.5 square feet in this line and TWO HOURS LATER, we still had not moved one inch. People were frantically calling family, hotels, airlines using cell phones and laptops, babies were crying, people were yelling and we still had not seen one person from Air France to give directions.

I decided to be assertive.

Leaving Marc to hold our place in line, I wormed my way past hundreds of people trying to find the front of the line and this is what I saw: Two Air France people trying to facilitate the rebooking of six planes of passengers, one passenger at a time. It took about 15 -20 minutes per person. There was no way we’d get to the front of the line for at least about 8 hours.

I decided to continue being assertive.

I walked around the terminal until I found someone in a uniform. I stopped her and remained calm and polite. I explained that we needed help, that our baby was waiting for us in S.A. and was there any other place we could get a flight to South Africa. She said, not without going through customs and getting our baggage. I said that’s fine, and she pointed me towards the customs. Not wanting to worm my way back through the crowd, I went to the front of the line and used my God given, much practised, very very loud voice and yelled, “MARC HOOGSTAD, PLEASE COME TO THE FRONT OF THE LINE”, everyone stared, one person said, well that’s one way of doing it. I said, “well, I’ve got nothing to lose, have I”.

And there came Marc. We quickly moved through customs, found a new line and waited, 45 mins later we were asked by a uniformed man if Amsterdam was our final destination or if we needed a connecting flight. WE WERE IN THE WRONG LINE! Bless his heart, this man personally escorted us, and about 50 people who were also in the wrong line, up the stairs and to the new line that we needed to be in. Continuing in my new calm but assertive manner, I sped walked, leaving Marc behind, and managed to find a place in the front of this new line. 20 mins later, we had two tickets to Johannesburg leaving that evening at 11:20. We went through security, arrived at gate E62, only 14 hours early and began our long and sleepy relationship with the international departures terminal of Charles de Gaulle airport in France.

We payed 25 Euros (50 dollars) for a scrambled egg, two sausages and a salad each for breakfast (who eats salad for breakfast?) and 20 Euros for two sandwiches, an apple, diet coke and a Heineken for lunch. Played more Euchre, blogged, Skyped with family members, and read nearly an entire book and FINALLY, found ourselves aboard an Air France flight to Johannesburg.

13 hours later we boarded our third plane to Durban. Once we landed, Paul, our shuttle driver with the coolest accent, who insisted on driving a van with a steering wheel on the wrong side of the car, drove, on the wrong side of the road, to Westville and here we are.

We each took the best shower of our lives, quickly dressed, and met our social worker for paperwork. Then we walked to the “Westville mall” found supper and went to bed.

We made it! We are here, and, in 5 hours, we will hold our son for the first time. And like all mothers who hold their baby for the first time, those long hours of labour, our airport terminal delivery room, and our flight attendant nurses, will fade away until they are forgotten forever.

Mama's Takin' Us to the Zoo!

2010-05-17T07:52:00.009-04:00

Mama's taking us to the zoo tomorrow! That's what our girls were singing the weekend we got the call. We had planned a weekend with the girls in Toronto and so...heads still reeling from our joyful news, basement a mess with renovations, we packed up our stuff and headed to the Toronto Zoo on perhaps the most beautiful day of the year.

We had such a beautiful day with the girls, weather wise, and other wise. We explored a new aspect of creation, and celebrated family. It was wonderful to spend time together.

We stayed in a hotel with a pool and swam at least twice a day, enjoyed meals out, and picnic lunches and watched tv in the hotel room. The girls LOVE hotel rooms and were so excited.

The other highlight, and the initial reason for the Toronto trip, was to celebrate South Africa Freedom Day with other families adopting from South Africa. The yahoo support group of families adopting from S.A. plans different events throughout the year, and one of them is Mahata Mmoho, a festival to celebrate the anniversary of the black vote in South Africa. It was a terrific day, very loud and busy, but a great celebration of black South African culture.

They had Lindiwe, a Zulu South African singer who led us in South Africa's national anthem, taught us a Zulu lullabye and sang one of her own songs. Three incredible South African dancers who study at the Creole ballet school in Toronto. They demonstrated the Gumboot dance (a dance developed as a means of communication by black miners in the gold and diamond mines), traditional stick fighting with knackberries, and other dances. They also got us dancing. The children all brought rainboots and the dancers taught them how to dance the gumboot dance. They also taught us the famous diski dance for the World Cup. Finally, the day ended with a drumming workshop for the children.

The place was packed, and the children all had an incredible time. Sara and Leah are still dancing the gumboot style dance at home!

We also caught up with former schoolmates of ours, from Marc's highschool and our university. They are also planning to adopt from South Africa. Their son Nathan and Leah hit it off and became fast friends. After the festival, we enjoyed dinner with them at a local Indian restaurant.

The weekend was fun, exciting, family oriented, and a great way to celebrate our family and the culture of our little Jeremy. We had a great time!

The Call

2010-05-13T20:22:00.000-04:00

So we have been busy! Booking flights, bed & breakfasts, completing paperwork, updating medications, finishing our basement renovation, sorting baby clothes, assembling a crib, buying diapers, packing, and all the while trying to have quality (if not quantity) time with our girls. In all this time, I have had very little time for sleeping, and even less for blogging. But I thought I need to post about receiving that amazing phone call. I had imagined the "call" for months already, and felt that I was prepared to hear. But nothing is like the real thing. Nothing.

My good friend Jen and her kids were over. Marc was at work, Sara at school, and Leah was having a blast playing with Ryan and Caleb. We had given up expecting the phone call and so when the phone rang at 10:30am it didn't cross my mind that it could be what it was.

I did see "Mission of Tears" in our caller ID, and felt a little flicker of hope which I quickly suppressed...don't get your hopes up Renée, it's probably nothing. I walked to the kitchen with the phone, swatting at the butterflies taking flight inside me.

Elaine, the adoption administrator at Mission of Tears, was on the phone. She asked how I was and I said quite good. Then, I knew. Elaine sounded a little nervous, and then asked me again "How are you?" I think this is it! My hands began to shake and my voice developed the nervous quiver that Elaine had.

"We have a little baby boy ready for you" Elaine said. I was a little stunned so my response was a little muted. Also, Jenn was in the other room so I was a little self-conscious about my reaction. With a pad of paper from VanGoosens's music, and a pen that barely worked, I jotted down the information that Elaine was reading to me. My hands were shaking so badly I could hardly write!
Boy, born Feb. 16, 2010 (he's only 10 weeks!)
Birth mother chose us! Mom is English, Dad is African, looks Caucasian so far.
May 19 or May 25 court date!

I could barely speak as Elaine talked about our child. Our son, our little guy for whom we've prayed and prayed and prayed. Finally in a moment of clarity at the end of the call, just as we were hanging up I said, "His name, what's his name!".

Elaine laughed, looked through her notes and told us "Arthur".

And there it is. I thanked her, and abandoning Jenn who was waiting in the living room, ran to the bedroom and called Marc at work. With trembling voice and a lump in my throat I read through my faint notes. "Wow!" was his response. Then silence. (This was repeated about 10 times.) It's amazing how you can be waiting for something for over a year and then when it finally comes be completely unprepared.

We were both stunned. Agreeing that I pick him up for a celebrative lunch, I hung up and told Jenn. She shared our excitement and we talked and talked about our new baby, when we will travel, how we will get ready in time and all sorts of joyous baby talk. Jenn agreed to take Leah for lunch and I drove to Marc's work. Sitting at Boston Pizza, we stared at each other. How our lives had changed! Nothing seemed important anymore but getting to Africa. (Marc had sat in his office, staring at his computer screen for 1/2 an hour and completed nothing.) How do you write bulletin announcements when you just heard you have a baby boy?!? We laughed, and planned, and wondered what he looked like, how big he was, and what in the world we were going to name him.

That afternoon after school we told the girls. They were excited but had difficulty grasping that it was finally happening. Even two weeks of waiting is a long time for them. It was fun talking with them about names (our Boston Pizza discussion had settled nothing). Sara wanted to name him after boys she new at school -- Matthew after her reading buddy, Samuel after her friend. Leah wanted to name him "Grawp". Both are now satisfied that Jeremy is a good name too!

The following two days were emotional, overwhelming, and wonderful. Every few hours it seemed we received new information about our son. A special moment was when we received an email with pictures of the baby. How amazing to have pictures from the moment he was born! - He is beautiful!

Thursday afternoon, while the carpet was being installed in our basement, we received all his medical information, pictures of his birth parents, and the legal paper. Then we met with our Canadian social worker, Ann Felsky. With tremendous smiles we signed the documents accepting the proposal. What a gift! Our little boy!

Our Beautiful Baby Boy

2010-04-30T21:49:00.000-04:00

How is it that a name and a picture can stir in us such incredible love? How can one phone call change our lives forever! We got the call; our son, our beautiful baby boy is ready to come home! We are emotional, excited, overjoyed, nervous, and so blessed. God is so good!

And here he is!

Jeremy Arthur Phumlani Hoogstad

born Feb 16, 2010

referred to us April 28,2010

Here in the Hoogstad household we are reeling! We had given up hope that we'd receive a call this spring and were so wonderfully surprised. We are dazed, walking in a dream. We sit and stare at the pictures of our son and memorize every detail of his precious face. We are overwhelmed with joy, and with preparations!

Baby Jeremy, a name we are trying out as much as possible, came with the name Arthur. His birth mother, of English South African background, named him after his great grandfather; they share a birthday. We have given him his other names.

Jeremy, Marc's middle name, means "Exalt the Lord", and it completely reflects our feelings. Exalt the Lord! Praise His name! Glorify the Lord with us!

Phumlani, Jeremy's third name, is the name of his birth father, a Zulu South African. Phumlani means "rest" and we pray that Jeremy's birth parents can rest in the Lord and be at peace with their decision to relinquish their child and give him to us to raise. We want to honour them and so have used names from both of them so that they will forever be a part of Jeremy and his identity.

These last few days have been emotional, overwhelming, and wonderful. Every few hours it seems, we receive new information about our son. We've met with our Canadian social worker, signed papers, looked into flights, called family members, and have wandered around in a daze, unable to even think straight. It's an incredible experience.

So now, our dreams, our thoughts, our hopes for the last year and a half are becoming real. In just two and a half weeks our lives will be changed forever. Our family will be complete and our son will be home. Our family tree will grow in the most beautiful way as Jeremy Arthur Phumlani is grafted in. We covet the prayers of family and friends over the next few weeks as we prepare to travel and unite with our son, and also in the months and years to come.

On Dandilion Fluff and Eagle's wings...

2010-04-24T06:10:00.008-04:00

It's been almost six months since our file left for South Africa in early November. And I'm not sure if half a year has ever taken this long in recorded history! The first few months were a pretty easy wait, actually. Since our South African social worker took the month of December off for Christmas, we knew that when she got back in January she would have a lot to catch up on; we didn't really start anticipating a call until February. Since February, we've been on pins and needles!

The average wait for a referral is eight months. Some people wait two months, some people have been waiting over a year. We hoped to be in the first category. Having been reassured that our family, made of a Christian pastor and teacher, would be a relatively quick pick for birth moms, we kind of hoped for a six month wait at the longest.

Even in February, in a conversation with our agency, we were encouraged to "get ready" because they were optimistic that we'd have our baby before summer. So our real time of anticipation began in March. On weekdays we'd glance eagerly at the caller id looking for that "Mission of Tears" name or the name of our Canadian social worker "Ann Felsky". By the end of March we'd check our phone messages immediately after arriving home, sometimes not even taking off our shoes. Although we tried not to, each ring of the phone made our minds race as we went to answer it, "could this be the call?".

Due to the Fifa World Cup taking place in South Africa, the overseas adoption program is shutting down for June and the first part of July. Our social worker is coming to Canada to meet with families, and no families will travel during that time to meet their child.

So...the wait for a referral will take a break for a while, and likely, we won't be meeting our little baby until the end of the summer...but now I wonder, will it be winter? Or will I, next spring, be still wondering, still waiting by the phone?

It is unbelievable how our third child affects our life DAILY. This little guy impacts our life in crazy ways. Booking camping reservations...will we be going camping or will we be in S.A.? Baby Tylenol is on sale, should I buy it so we're ready for the call? They said to 'get ready'. The girls ask how things will be with a baby. Leah proudly states how her baby brother will sit in the front of the 'Sit 'n Stand' stroller and she will get to stand in the back. Last night, while in the car, they asked how the seating arrangements will be when we have the baby (Sara will be in the back of the van).

But it wasn't until Sara said her next comment that I realized how the wait is affecting my two precious little girls. While we were driving in the van, Leah said, once again, "Our baby takes a long time". And then Sara shared excitedly that while waiting for the bus, she blew on a dandelion fluff and wished that we'd get the call about the baby next week! Sweet Sara believes with her whole heart in dandelion fluff wishes. Then, in my rear view mirror, I saw her eyes grow big and her hand cover her mouth. She had told us her wish...now it won't come true.

And that is pretty much the moment when my heart broke. The wait is hard on Marc and I, but to think of our six year old daughter using her dandelion's wish on a baby brother instead of on a pony or a dog or whatever toy or dream that usually fill the heads of little girls and then to think that she could, by mistake, do ANYTHING to ruin the chances of her baby brother... I just about cried then and there.

Instead I cried later. That night we went to a Sean and Aimee Dayton concert, a beautiful, intimate time of worship led by two gifted musicians and singers. Once again, in the usual way that God works, every song they sang was, of course, geared to me, my heart, and my troubles. The song that broke me, was based on the text, "Those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up on wings like eagles. They shall run and not grow weary. They shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 40:31.

We have definitely been waiting, but the question of waiting on the Lord is debatable. How is it that just a few weeks ago, when we received the incredible news of our $10,000 grant we could be so definite about God's plan for us and his providence, and also of his timing. "For I know the plans I have for you", and now we are filled with such anxiety and stress at another day of waiting. Are we really trusting God's timing if we are so desperate for our call? So...we're trying to switch our thinking, trust in God's plan and God's timing, wait upon the Lord, and hang out with the birds for a bit.

I'm very disappointed that our chances of a spring baby are almost over. I've given up on the phone call for the time being. I don't wonder each time the phone rings if this is the moment. It's not going to happen right now. But I'm drawing on the message from Sean and Aimee, and from the Lord, that if I place my wait instead in the hands of the Lord, my strength in this long long journey of adoption will be renewed and my weariness will subside.

A little Treat...

2010-04-06T15:30:00.009-04:00

Our "dog days" of waiting were interrupted recently with a wonderful treat! Our friends Pieter and Elsebé treated us to an evening rich with the flavours of South Africa. They immigrated here from South Africa five years ago and so are well qualified for presenting a South African feast! And wow did they ever present! Pieter and Elsebé are from Afrikaaner stock and were careful to point out that the dishes they created for us were representative of only one of the cultures of the rainbow nation. But... the food was incredible!

We were invited with the Senior Pastor of our church and his wife, as a Pastor Appreciation dinner (Marc is the Youth Pastor in our church). And were entertained with high cuisine, and South African traditions.

Pieter and Elsebé's home is beautiful and everywhere is decorated with items from South Africa. They have carved animal statues, South African paintings, and wall hangings all from South Africa. The centrepiece of their coffee table included ostrich eggs.

Our hosts were gracious enough to tolerate me taking pictures of objects in their house and of every course of the meal. They were excited to share their culture, so I don't think they minded too much!

We started with an appetizer called Biltong. Biltong is a meat that is flavoured with spices and vinegar and then dried. Our hosts prepared it using beef, but normally in South Africa they use game like spring bok or eland. Biltong was perfected by Voortrekkers, the dutch descendants who migrated north into the interior of South Africa to get away from British rule. The Voortrekkers needed a way to preserve game quickly in a hot climate while on the road. Biltong developed as a result. Here is Elsebé holding a stokkie (stick) of Biltong before it has been sliced. Pieter is holding the slicer to demonstrate how the Biltong is sliced into thin strips.

Biltong tasted good. It is a salty dry meat and reminded us a lot of Beef Jerky.

Once we sat at the table, we were presented with a cream soup. Usually it is made out of white pumpkin which is very common in South Africa. In Canada, Elsebé had to resort to butternut squash. The soup was excellent. The picture is nice too with the yellow against the blue tablecloth.

After the soup, our hosts brought the main course to the table: Lamb, potatoes, green beans, and broccoli. It was only the second time in my life that I had lamb and it was so good! Elsebé, having grown up on a sheep farm, knew how to prepare it in the most succulent way. It was a wonderful meal! During the meal Pieter and Elsebé's children entertained us with stories of South Africa. They return annually to their home country and so had pictures and experiences to share. Hendrik enthusiastically told all about Jack Rabbit Hunting. Basically all the kids jump in the back of a bakkie (pick up truck) and the adults drive the bakkie at top speeds bouncing through fields. One person in the back of the bakkie has a spot light. As soon as he picks up a jack rabbit in the spot, the truck screeches to a halt, the kids get out and chase the jackrabbit all over the field. Once they get close, they hit it with sticks (knobkerries really, but Hendrik assures me that any stick will do) until it is dead. Anneri and Hendrik had us all in stitches as they described chasing after the jack rabbits, stumbling in the pitch dark through the field and tripping over holes in the ground. It is a party, a part of childhood in South Africa. For many, especially the workers on the farm, it is also a source of food.

It wasn't until after the stories that we finally realized that a South African Jack Rabbit is not the same as a North American Jack Rabbit. While we were picturing cute little bunnies, they were describing animals with long tails. South African Jack Rabbits are more like wallabys then rabbits.

After we had finished our delicious meal, Pieter and Elsebé brought out the dessert -- Brandy tart otherwise known as Tipsie tart and ice cream. It was great.

Perhaps one of the best things about this great time with friends was the break it was for us in our wait. We looked forward to the meal and learning about a different part of South Africa, and enjoyed connecting in yet another way to the country that has become such an important place in our lives. An evening like this creates fellowship and builds friendships and encourages us in our journey. Thanks Pastor Jim and Linda, and thank you Pieter, Elsebé, Anneri, and Hendrik for a wonderful evening.

Out of the Mouths of Babes...

2010-03-14T13:58:00.001-04:00

This morning Sara and Leah were playing "adoption". While Marc and I pretended not to eavesdrop, they carried their dolls around and talked of their baby's birth mothers who "couldn't take care of their babies anymore". They leaned over their doll stroller to adjust their babies' blankets and spoke of how sad it was for the birth mommies who were sick, but that they are happy to have the babies to take care of and they love them very much. It was a lovely moment, a treasured moment for Marc and I, who have been trying to help them to understand this long, stressful process and are never really sure how much they comprehend.

It amazes me how Sara and Leah are handling the journey of adoption. They speak of "our baby" daily. We'll be talking about eye colours. Daddy and Leah have brown eyes and Sara and Mommy have blue eyes, and Leah will ask "What colour will the baby's eyes be?" Or we'll be sitting at the table for supper. Everyone has their spot. And Sara will ask, "where will the baby sit?". Today when Leah and I were painting at the kitchen table, she decided to make a picture for everyone in her family. Daddy, Mommy, Sara, Leah, and Eowyn (our cat). Then she grinned and said "...and this one is for our little baby!" She let out a beautiful giggle.

Last week the girls and I went on an adventure. We took the city bus, a first for the girls, and went to the Stones and Bones museum downtown. We had a great time; there was so much there to see. Afterwards we decided to get a family membership. When they asked us the number of people in our family...I said five! Likely for most of the year, we WILL have five people in our family. Sara realized what I had done and we had a moment of excitement together.

Leah is happy because she will no longer be the littlest in the family. She walks carefully up to the dresser and puts her sippy cup up as high as she can. Then she looks at me very wisely and says, "so that my baby brother can't get it".

Once in Walmart, Leah told a stranger very solemnly that she was going to have a baby brother soon. The woman looked at my belly and raised her eyebrows questioningly at me and said, "are you sure?"...Leah said. "Yep, he's in Africa. Mommy and Daddy are going to get him and bring him home." The woman smiled and told Leah she'd make a great big sister. I agreed.

Sara has a friend who was adopted from Haiti a few years ago. This concrete introduction to adoption has definitely helped with her understanding. In fact, when Sara kept bugging us to "grow a baby brother in Mommy's tummy", we replied, well remember, that's not the only way to have a baby. Remember Samuel. Sara's eyes lit up and she said "yes let's do that!" I'll never forget how wonderful it was to hear our dream of adoption affirmed so emphatically by our child.

We hear from Sara's teacher that Sara talks about her baby brother at school sometimes. Especially whenever anything international comes up. And when we watched the opening ceremonies of the Olympics, we cheered for Canada, Holland and South Africa when they entered the arena. Sara loves our children's CD of South African music, Gift of the Tortoise and just this week was singing the Zulu confidently (Why do kids pick up languages so much easier than adults?)

The only struggle with adoption that Sara has shown came after her interview with our social worker. During our homestudy, our social worker wanted to talk with Sara about being a trans-racial family. How would it feel to have a brother who had brown skin instead of white. Sara had several friends with brown skin in her class at school and I don't think she'd ever really noticed. She definitely had not thought of it as an obstacle. Our social worker asked her how she would draw her family if one of them had brown skin. What colour crayon would she use? She asked Sara to draw a picture of our family with our baby for their next meeting. Sara freaked out. We had a week before the next meeting and Sara refused to draw the picture. She was worried that she'd do it wrong, that it wouldn't be good enough. In the end, I drew the picture instead while Sara watched and she coloured the background. She talked about the picture with our social worker and all was well.

It took a long time for Sara to feel comfortable again with colouring pictures. I coloured with her quite often and we chose all sorts of colours for people, green, purple, peach, brown, red, indigo just to take the pressure off a little. Then, when she started SK she began bringing pictures home with kids with all different skin tones again (no longer greens, purples). She seemed comfortable again. This past Christmas she made a beautiful card for us. A nativity scene with Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus coloured midnight black. It's absolutely beautiful!

Sara has also shown some hesitation to the adoption because she knows that Marc and I will be gone for a whole month to pick up our baby. She is excited by all the sleepovers she will have, but she has a better understanding than Leah does about time and she knows a month is a long time to not see her Mommy and Daddy. I must admit, I share Sara's feelings. My heart aches just thinking about it. We are both reassured, however, by things like postcards and Skype.

With our children, we wait for our third child. Leah hopes that he'll come soon, before we run out of our chocolate chip cookies. "Can we save one for him?" she asks. Denying all of our explanations that babies can't have cookies, she says, "Well I'll feed one to him!" It's so great to see our kids already falling in love with their little brother. They already look out for him, already protect him, already include him in their play.

But as Leah said at two in the morning the other night. "Mommy is our baby still in Africa?" "Yes", I replied. "It takes a long time Mommy."

Yes it does.

Confessions of a Mother Bear

2010-03-10T19:54:00.005-05:00

One of the many camping trips enjoyed with my family while growing up was a week long trip to Algonquin Park. My sister and I were in the later years of elementary school and were excited at the prospect of seeing lots of animals. We were hoping to see moose and bear (our normal trips to the Pinery allowed us only small animals like raccoons and deer).

Imagine our excitement when in the middle of breakfast a baby black bear wandered through our campsite. Karen and I, missing the concern on our parents faces got up and tried to get the bear to come to us, holding a breakfast sausage out as bait. We were almost as startled as the bear when my father began clanging pot lids together behind us, and my mom started shooing the cub away. My parents ignored our request to "just take a picture first". They knew that the only thing more dangerous than meeting a bear face to face, was meeting a baby bear face to face with the Momma bear looking on. After the bear had fled, presumably back to it's watching mother, my parents explained about the mother bear instinct. Mother bears will do ANYTHING to protect her cubs.

I am a high school English and History teacher. I'm not sure if it is due to my subject areas or just because it happens, but the subject of race is a topic often raised in my classroom. Teaching novels like To Kill a Mockingbird, and Of Mice and Men provide important avenues for discussing race issues with students. Teaching about residential schools, the holocaust, and the Japanese internment during World War II also serve as excellent springboards to honest discussions about racist attitudes. Since my first semester of teaching, I have been appalled, dismayed, and finally resigned to the fact that even today people carry racist baggage around. For some reason, in my classroom, this baggage seems to get unpacked, it's contents spewed on the floor around me.

I've taught the novel Night, by Elie Wiesel, a first hand account of a concentration camp in a classroom where one student's grandfather had been imprisoned in the camp while another student's grandfather had been a guard. I had a Korean-Canadian student ask for a seating plan change pointing out that in my history class he was seated between a Japanese student on the right and a German student on the left. I've cringed while one student ignorantly asked my guest speaker, an Ojibwe, what "Indian tribe" he was from, and then apologized on his behalf to the offended speaker. I've struggled with students who openly admit "I just don't like Indians" and then seeing my shock correct themselves saying "Sorry, I just don't like First Nations people" (because that's so much better!).

Over the years I have developed better strategies for dealing with race in the classroom. Outrage does not work. Calling an opinion racist upfront only leads to defensiveness. Patiently demonstrating how their word choice can cause pain to others, creating lessons that present the flip side of the situation helps students to think about people of colour differently.

One strategy that seems to work well is to talk about race showing three different positions. I write the words "Racist" and "Non-Racist" on the board and discuss those terms. Someone who is racist is someone who discriminates according to race, makes racial slurs, or tell racist jokes. They are engaging in racist behaviour. Someone who is Non-Racist does not discriminate according to race or make slurs. When racist jokes are told they feel uncomfortable and may even want to leave the room. Many of my students share that they are in this second category. They feel uncomfortable when they hear a joke and don't really know where to look when someone says something negative about someone because of their race.

I challenge them, however, demonstrating that unless they actually say something in response to the jokes, their silence is interpreted as approval. By not challenging the person telling the jokes, they are sending a message that they too, agree that the joke is funny. Simply being a non-racist is not enough. Non-racists contribute to racism without even meaning too.

We are called, instead, to be anti-racist. That means speaking out whenever and wherever racism is met. When a joke is told, or a comment made, we must ask the speaker to please refrain from making them. We must stop racism and fight against it.

I have tried to live as an anti-racist. I have asked our doctor to remove some ancient children's books from his office that had inappropriate illustrations of people of colour (they had been donated by an elderly person after her grandchildren were too old for them. He quickly apologized admitting that he hadn't even looked at them) . When older people from my church or community use language that is no longer politically correct, words like "coloured" or "negro", (which they use, not as put downs, but because they think it is nicer than saying "black"), I patiently correct them and explain the reason why those words are no longer appropriate. I have even spoken to a well-meaning pastor after a church sermon who, in his effort to illustrate a Bible text used inappropriate language about Canada's Aboriginal people. I have always found myself able to confront racism in a patient, loving way that while correcting the person, still maintains their dignity and shows my respect for them as people.

Until now.

Recently, in the exact same types of situations described above, I find I can not seem to remain composed. Where I was once able to remain professional and calm, I now become passionate, to the point of tears. Comments hurt me deeply, and personally. Even when people are speaking broadly about race labels and debate, simply because they enjoy the discussion, I take it personally. For me, it is no longer an academic discussion, or a case of political correctness. I'm not advocating on behalf of "people of colour everywhere", I am speaking for my son.

Although I have not even met him, my mother bear instincts rise up in my heart and soul and pour out passionately and even angrily on the unsuspecting victim who simply out of ignorance, is holding out a breakfast sausage or two in my direction. I can no longer deflect comments with humour or with patience. Instead, I'm ready to pounce and fight and do anything to protect my son from words and ideas which could hurt him.

I've come away from these encounters amazed at myself. What is happening to me? Why such an emotional response? How come I can't remain composed?

And then, I had an epiphany.

I have changed. My son whom I've never met has changed me. I have already attached in the most primal and instinctual way to the son I've never met. This boy who is not born from me, but is a most remarkable gift, is already my own little bear cub who my mother bear instincts will do anything to protect.

And that fills me with joy. A painful joy as I think of the uphill and constant battle that is before us as a trans-racial family, but a joy all the same.

"For I know the plans I have for you..."

2010-03-07T13:28:00.002-05:00

Marc and I prepared this testimony for church this morning...

Just over two years ago, Renée and I heard the voice of God, calling us to adopt. It was a very clear, very surprising call, to both of us. We had talked about adoption before, but not until then did it seem obvious; for our third child, we were to adopt.

It took some time to sink in. We did a lot of praying and a lot of researching. We took our time with the decision, were overwhelmed often and took breaks. It took two months to get the courage to call Children’s Aid for a three minute phone call about adoption, and then took another two months to recover from it. Then we started looking into international adoption which was also overwhelming. What country? What agency? Where do we even start?

And so, we started checking it out. And the more we searched, the more we realized that South Africa was where we were to go. And the country of South Africa has become very important to us, and to our extended family in surprising ways.

Early on in our adoption journey, we began praying for our baby and for his birth parents. We created a painting, a portrait of an African woman pregnant with a baby. And we chose a verse for our son. From Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

We chose this passage with the faith that God holds our baby in his hands; that although we don’t know who he is or where he is, God knows and God has plans for him. God has plans to give him hope and a future. We also chose it for his birth parents. They are in the dreadful position of having to decide to relinquish their child. They are also in God’s hand and he has a plan for them too. We pray that God will be very present in their lives, a source of strength, and comfort for them.

We didn’t choose this passage for us. It never even really crossed our minds really. But it seems that God also has plans for us and it has become so evident to us in the last few weeks.

When we were deciding to adopt, there was one major hurdle that stood in our way; one problem that we could not see a way through. This problem was money. If you’re not aware, adopting internationally costs a lot of money. Not only are there travel costs, there is the cost of lawyer’s fees (in both countries), social workers fees (in both countries), agency fees, court fees and home study fees… and it all adds up! We were once again overwhelmed. How in the world would we manage the costs? We looked into taking the money out of our mortgage and began looking into bank loans. We recognized that if this was God’s calling, he would provide, but (to borrow the words of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego), even if he didn’t, we would be willing to take the financial hit, and follow through with God’s call.

So we started. And each financial deadline we have met. With support from family and friends, with a few months of a crazy two-income family lifestyle, with EI, and with the blessing of God, we have so far managed. We are now waiting for the phone call from our social worker with a proposal of our child. We are waiting. And waiting. And it has been amazing to see how, with a bit of extra work and the care and support of our family and friends, we have seen God’s hand of blessing in this adoption. Until recently.

We’ve started to look at travel and hotel costs. It turns out that what we were originally told will be a three week stay will now likely be four (perhaps more), and it seems that hotels are starting to inflate their prices in anticipation of the Soccer World Cup games. What we had originally budgeted for our trip is now looking to be double. After all this, how are we going to get past this one? We had a few hours of panic. Crazy panic.

And that’s when God did far more than just show his hand of blessing. God directly intervened, and showed us that this is his plan, and he is taking care of it. We received a call, just a few hours after doing the number crunching, that we had received a $10,000 grant. $10,000! We won a draw held by a charitable organization that assists families who are adopting internationally!

While we were panicking, God was making our name get pulled from the hat. For $10,000 towards our adoption fees. It’s like God said, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this one.”

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”.

Can you ask for better affirmation to a call than your one hurdle being removed, and in such a dramatic way.

We’ve been frustrated that the wait has been so long. We were expecting to have our baby right now. Here’s the thing. If we had our baby already, we would not have qualified for the grant. They won’t award it retroactively. Had we actually received a proposed child earlier, we would have lost the opportunity for the grant. It’s like God said, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this one. Remember though that things work on my clock, not yours.” “for I know the plans I have for you…”

We are overflowing with rejoicing in God’s providence, and God’s guidance, and even in God’s timeline. And we are incredibly grateful to all of you, our church community for your support and prayers so far. We covet them as we continue to wait for our son and then travel to South Africa to meet him. And we ask you to pray us all the way through, our return, the first few days at home, the first few weeks, and then months. We believe in the power of prayer.

We give God all the praise and glory for taking us through this journey so far. In many ways, it already feels like it’s been a huge journey, but we know that it’s barely started. Most importantly, we are again aware that we rest in God and we wait on him and in his plan.

For this Child I prayed.

2010-02-17T19:59:00.008-05:00

We have a tile in our bedroom on a little stand. It was a gift from a friend when we were expecting Leah. For nine months it sat on my bedside table as I prayed, each night, for the baby growing inside me. It's a picture of a baby sleeping, cradled in gentle hands. The text along the side comes from 1 Samuel 1:27 "For this child I prayed".

I think, because both my pregnancies were "precious pregnancies", in that they were finally achieved through fertility treatments and then were complicated, we really felt the reliance on God for the preservation and growth and development of our children. We can't make miracles, only God can. We covered each growing child in prayer every minute of the pregnancy. And we still cover our children with prayer, knowing full well that God holds them in His hands.

The anticipation for this new baby is the same. Especially because with this child there is absolutely nothing that we can do to ensure this child's safety and positive development. I can't avoid unpasteurized milk products. I can't eat lots of fish to improve his brain development. I can't avoid alcohol or caffeine to help his growth. There is literally nothing I can do except pray to God that he will receive the care he needs and will be protected from everything that could hurt him. And so we pray.

For much of my married life I have felt akin to the Hannah from 1 Samuel. Like me, Hannah was unable to have children. She, with her loving husband Elkanah, longed for a child together, but "the Lord had closed her womb". Like Elkanah and Hannah, Marc and I prayed and prayed and prayed for a child, and like them, finally, the Lord granted us what we asked...twice.

But Hannah is also akin to a birth mother. Despite her desperate longing for a child, her bitter weeping for years on end, when God finally granted her her desire, she brought her child to the temple to live there and to serve the Lord "I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord" (1 Samuel 1:28). She sacrificed her dream for a son so that he could live and serve the Lord.

Right now, a birth mother may be looking at our profile. She is faced with the terrible decision of who to give her child to, the child for whom she prays. She is making the same sacrifice that Hannah did. She is sacrificing herself for the sake of her child. The child that she loves, carried, birthed and prayed for is being given over to another.

Our son is covered doubly over in prayer. He has two Hannah mothers, his birth mother, and me, his adoptive mother. Together, we want what is good for him. Together, we give him over to the Lord.

For this child, we pray.

Something has happened...

2010-02-16T07:07:00.006-05:00

Something has happened...I'm getting excited. I've always been excited about the baby part, and have been preparing for that for a long time: Picturing the baby, our first meeting, the orphanage, meeting his birth mom. I've spent a lot of time imagining all that. But now I'm getting excited about the travel. Maybe it's because we've booked our appointments to begin our immunizations for Africa, maybe it's because I've spent more time reading South Africa the Beautiful, but I'm getting really excited about travelling in South Africa.

When Marc and I were in Grand Rapids we spent time in Barnes and Noble and purchased a South African travel book. It gives a little information about the history and the cultures of South Africa and then goes through each region in detail, describing attractions, museums, and tours of each area. I'm reading through the book cover to cover making note of places we'd like to visit. So far, I think we'll have to move there to see all the things I'd like to see.

We're not sure how easy it will be to travel, especially with a baby. We don't know if our baby will be three months or 12 months and the baby's age will definitely impact our ability to travel. But for now, even deciding which region to set as our "base" and some "must sees" is worthwhile.

The problem is, each morning when Leah wakes us up (this morning it was 5:45 a.m.) instead of going back to sleep, I lie awake thinking about international driver's licenses, the feasibility of an in-country flight from Johannesburg to Capetown and whether or not to stay at Kruger National Park. Not because I'm worried, just because I'm excited.

I'm not complaining, about the lack of sleep I mean. I'd say I'll sleep afterwards, once we're home, but then, it'll be something else (or someone else) keeping me awake.

Somehow, I don't think I'll mind that either!

...in his hands

2010-02-11T19:15:00.014-05:00

Recently Marc and I had the opportunity to attend the Calvin Symposium for Worship at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was a weekend away...cherished since we know that once our adoption is completed and we have the baby, we won't be able to get away just the two of us for quite a while, but it was also much more than that. Both of us are heavily involved in worship planning and leading at church and it was a time to be led in worship, to learn about worship, and to participate in worship without having to think about chord changes, choreography, words of welcome or announcements. It was good to be there.

1500 people attend this event from all aspects of worship: Pastors, paid worship coordinators, organists, musicians, dancers, actors, worship leaders, singers. People also attend from all over the world. We were excited to eat one dinner with a pastor from Mozambique and a pastor from South Africa. Of course we discussed, a little nervously, our approaching adoption from South Africa. We had heard that adoption is not very popular in South Africa, and that international adoptions are even less popular. No country wants to lose its children to another country, and we imagine that a black society who has suffered so much from the hands of white people in the past would be wary of white people adopting their children. We shared our story and the pastor encouraged us. I did ask him how well received international adoption was in South Africa and he agreed that there were definitely some negative emotions surrounding it. However, he also explained that despite the heavy heart with which South Africans see their children leave, they are also glad for the opportunities those children will have in life. Opportunities that they never would have if they remained in South Africa.

The multi-cultural aspect of the symposium was very evident in the worship services. We worshiped in French, English, Zulu, Portuguese, Japanese, Korean, Spanish, Lugandan, Swahili, Zulu, Urdu, Ngala, Dutch, Latin. Often the worship leaders who led these languages had those languages as their first language. The symposium also gave all registrants the CD "Global Songs for Worship" by the Choral Scholars. It includes songs from 25 different countries and is beautiful. Interestingly enough, Henry Kingma, a friend from high school with whom I acted and sang many years ago is one of the eight singers in the group. (For more information, contact http://www.thechoralscholars.com/)

There was also an abundance of resource material for worship, for music, and just for life. Of course, in our constant thinking about our future son, we were drawn to some beautiful portraits by Steve Prince of an African mother and her son. We purchased both prints and plan to frame them to hang in our home. For more on Steve Prince and his art, please visit http://www.1fishstudio.com/.

There were also dozens of gorgeous children's books with beautiful illustrations and wonderful stories. We purchased one book for each of our children. For Leah, often described as delightful, or a joy, we bought Karma Wilson's I Will Rejoice, illustrated by Amy June Bates.

It celebrates Psalm 118 "This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it!". For Sara, who is beautifully loud and who takes such pleasure in noise, we bought Let's Make a Joyful Noise based on Psalm 100:1 "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands." by the same author and illustrator.

And for our son, who we still have to meet, we bought He's Got the Whole World in His Hands by Kadir Nelson. A beautiful book with a black protagonist, a picture of a trans-racial family, and an incredible message.

He's got the sun, the rain, the moon, the stars, the wind, the clouds, the rivers and mountains, the oceans and seas, you and me, everybody here, everybody there, the WHOLE world, in His hands.

He even has the tiny little baby, our little baby, in his hands, and we are saving this book for that little one, our son, who waits on the other side of this huge world, far from our hands, but always in God's. We are so thankful for God's strong, loving hands.

Zulu cooking!

2010-01-31T18:21:00.013-05:00

I have cooked my first traditional Zulu dish! Last week we had a couple of Sarnian families who are also adopting internationally over to share cuisine, and adoption stories. We have gathered informally and formally several times, for coffee, for a barbeque this past summer, and last week at our house.

Last week, the catch was that everyone had to bring an appetizer from the country from which they were adopting. We ate well! We had fried plantains and sausage from St. Vincent, spring rolls from the Philippines, a "football" cake in celebration of the World Cup in South Africa, (someone had a hard time finding a good recipe), and the Pumpkin Fritters which I prepared. Although I forgot to take pictures of the food, I pulled this picture from the net.

Here is the recipe (carrots can be substituted for pumpkins)

2 cups canned pumpkin 1 cup flour
1 large egg 1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt 1 tbsp. sugar
1/4 cup cooking oil for frying
1/4 cup mix of cinnamon and sugar (1/4 cup white sugar with 2 tbsp. cinnamon)

Mix first 6 ingredients in a bowl. Heat half the oil in frying pan. Drop heaping tablespoons of batter into oil once hot. You can flatten them slightly with a spoon.

Fry one side (approx. 4 minutes) and turn over to fry other side. Add fresh oil as needed. Immediately after removing from fry pan, roll in cinnamon and sugar mixture. Makes approximately 12 fritters.

We had a good evening together. It was really great to hear about other people's adoption journeys. To hear about their process, their reactions to the different courses we've all taken, to hear about ideas for becoming more of a trans-racial family, and to simply share with each other the joys and struggles of adoption. We've begun trading books on adoption and are hoping that over the next little while we can grow to be a good support for each other during and after our adoption.

Our gathering this summer was with children at one of the families houses. It was a gorgeous day and everyone had a great time. Our hosts were, Steve and Daphne, with the great backyard!

Leah, practising to be a big sister! She's not sure she's up for it.

Pastor Steve entertained the kids with a bird and lots of games!

Time for a rest!

Christmas gifts

2010-01-24T14:38:00.019-05:00

One of the purposes of this blog is to communicate with our family and friends about our adoption process. It is a long and complicated process and we wanted to help our family be a part of it so that they too can already be thinking and dreaming about our baby.

This has had some degree of success I think, however my brother Paul did comment after a long chat about our baby that he is amazed about how real the baby is in our minds. To him, so far, the baby seems very theoretical. He knows we're engaged in the process, but he is so far removed from the whole thing that the idea that any day we might receive our call is hard to imagine. This is understandable. Even for Marc and I, who are steeped in adoption preparations, adoption support groups, and read books on adoption and South Africa, there is still a great deal of "imagining" that has to occur. We realize that our baby and our adoption won't quite hit home for our family until he actually arrives.

That is why the support and encouragement that was expressed by siblings and parents this Christmas was a wonderful surprise. Every time we met with family over Christmas there was another expression of love for our baby and for us.

My sister, Karen, gave me a beautiful shell and beaded necklace from Africa, and her daughter Kendra gave Leah African animals: an elephant, a zebra, and a giraffe. Leah loves them and keeps them on her special shelf above her bed where she puts things only she may touch. Eric and Bonnie gave us a cute little sleeper for our baby adorned with jungle animals.

Paul and Jenn gave us three beaded star Christmas ornaments, made in Durban, South Africa, one for each of our children.

The family even started to name the baby. The Boston Brinks and Opa are rooting for "Nelson", after Nelson Mandela, and have even begun using it to refer to our baby.

Marc's parents give each of their grandchildren their first pair of shoes and then, after the children have out grown them, they take them back. The shoes come out every year again to adorn their Christmas tree. Every Christmas, while we are at Mom and Dad Hoogstad's, the children find their shoes, their special place on the tree. This year, Mom and Dad had extra tree decorations. Mom had made homemade boxes to decorate the tree, each with a gift inside for her children and grandchildren. Inside our box were tiny little shoes, the first for our little boy. We keep them on the baby shelf in his soon to be nursery, waiting till we can put them on his little feet, knowing that they too will eventually find their way on Grandma and Grandpa's tree, their own special place.

Even when we visited Marc's Opa, on our way home from the Hoogstad Christmas we were surpised to see evidence of preparations for our baby. Marc's Opa has a 5x8" portrait of each of his great grandchildren hanging in his living room. There are a lot of them so the pictures take up the entire livingroom wall. The pictures are organized according to family so that Opa can remember who belongs to which parents. In our "row" Sara has the top spot and Leah is below her. At the bottom, beneath Leah's picture, is a screw, the place where our baby's picture will hang as soon as it arrives. Even Opa is getting ready for our little boy.

We feel so blessed to have a family that already loves our baby and is preparing room in their homes, their lives, and in their hearts for our little boy. We love you guys! Thank you.

Christmas Letter 2009

2010-01-15T10:29:00.008-05:00

Once again, here is the Christmas letter we sent out this year.

December 16, 2009
Dear Family and Friends,

Six pounds of raisins and currents, ten pounds of flour, and a giant package of yeast are waiting on our kitchen table. Today is the day to bake krentebrood, a Christmas tradition in our house and in the house of my childhood, and in fact, a Christmas tradition from my dad’s childhood when he helped my Opa bake it for the town of De Krim in his Dutch bakery every Christmas. It’s very early in the morning, and Marc and the kids are still sleeping (or finally sleeping in the case of my insomniac of a husband), but in a few hours, the girls will be sitting around the kitchen table sneaking raisins and bits of dough while Marc and I pound and kneed a giant bread mound wondering how to fit all these raisins in. I can taste it already.

Christmas is coming, snow is here, the decorations are up (except for the outside lights, over which Marc and I are in a stalemate about whose turn it is to brave the cold and string them up). My cat sits on the table at my left, sitting on a calendar, a cup of tea is on my right, and a gorgeous orchid beams in front of me, a gift from my mother-in-law which I mostly killed and then gave to my mom to bring back to life. (Thanks Moms). I am typing on my early Christmas present, a brand new laptop, purchased for our much anticipated trip to South Africa.

This is a time of anticipation. Two advent candles are lit each night this week; we sing “Soon and Very Soon” and wait for each Sunday when we get to begin a new candle. Sara begs to cheat and light the Christ Candle now already. She can’t wait for Christmas, “It’ll look so pretty”. Presents are slowly being discovered under the Christmas tree and Sara is buying a goat.

This year our waiting is not confined to the usual “Come Lord Jesus” type of advent. We have two advents at the same time. We are waiting for the referral of our son. Our paperwork is with our South African social worker and the call, theoretically, could come any time. Then three weeks later, Marc and I will be on our way to pick up our baby boy, who at this time may be already born, but is real to us only in our imaginations. Our kids are excited. Leah can’t wait to finally be a big sister. “My baby is in Africa and we have to wait and wait and wait and when he comes, we’ll name him “Baby Jesus’”. (She’s still a little confused about the whole thing, but she’s pretty sure he won’t be born in a manger.) Our journey through adoption has been exactly a year now, and we’re ready for this promised child to finally come.

But life goes on and we try to be patient. Sara is dancing her way through Senior Kindergarten which “is way better than Junior kindergarten because Mrs. Rekman makes them do real work”. She asks great questions! This week, while watching a very old man in the baking aisle of No Frills, she asked “So…how old is God turning this Christmas?” The man grabbed his can of evaporated milk, winked at her and turned the corner. A clever exit for him, but I was left floundering with concepts like the Trinity, time, and everlasting eternity.

We’re loving it that Leah is now able to really play make believe games with Sara. They amuse themselves for long periods of time playing “Mom and Dad”, “Princess” and “Veterinarian”. This year Leah made two very good friends, imaginary frog and imaginary chinchilla who mostly reside in the pocket of her fleecy sweater. It’s very cute, except when she begins to cry because you smushed them with your coffee cup. And when she “lost” them in Walmart…

We’ve been in Sarnia now for five and a half years. Marc’s job as youth pastor here has gone quite well but is a little uncertain right now. One of the three churches in the combined ministry has opted out, leaving the other two churches wondering how to continue with a full time youth pastor. We are definitely assured of a position for the next year, but what happens after that remains to be seen. So once again, we wait, resting in the Lord in good Psalm 33 fashion, uncertain of the future, but confident in His blessings.

Since the school where I was teaching closed this summer, I am happily “stay-at-home-moming it”, collecting EI and supply teaching occasionally. I keep busy with playing a lot of playdough, Little People and other activities which are good for development and generally good for the heart and soul too.

The heart and soul do well in the Christmas season. Our pastor is preaching on the universe of promise, how we all, people, animals, trees, stars, the whole creation wait in expectation for our Saviour, whose first coming we celebrate and second coming we long for. May you all view this present Christmas through the promise of the second and be filled with hope, cheer, and expectation.

Glory to

God

in the

Highest

and on

earth,

peace!

Love,

Marc and Renée,

Sara and Leah

Invictus

2010-01-07T19:42:00.016-05:00

Just before Christmas, Marc and I went to see Invictus, a newly released movie about the 1995 Rugby World Cup final in South Africa. The movie stars Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon and is directed by Clint Eastwood. It was excellent. We loved it. Telling the story of a very significant event in South African history, Invictus was a tribute to Nelson Mandela, and a celebration of South Africa. It was a great story.

It was very significant that South Africa hosted the Rugby World Cup in 1995. Nelson Mandela had just become president in 1994 and the country of South Africa was very fragile. Tension was high between the whites and the blacks and people were afraid of violence and terrorism. Also, 1995 was the first time South Africa was allowed to participate in the World Cup in many years; other countries had banned South Africa from World Cup due to its apartheid in sports policy. Since Rugby was a "white" sport and had for so long symbolized dominance and discrimination against blacks, blacks were not at all supportive of South Africa's team, the "springbok" its logo, or its colours, green and gold. In fact, they mostly cheered for the opposing team at games.

Mandela used the Rugby World Cup as an opportunity to unite South Africa. He met with the team captain, Francois Pienaar and encouraged Pienaar to lead the team to win the World Cup. Definitely the underdog team, Pienaar and his managers worked the team hard and used the team as a means to unify the country. They learned the ANC Freedom Song which became the National Anthem of South Africa, participated in Rugby camps in the townships, and became a rally point for the nation. Finally, when the team had, against all odds, made it to the final game, Nelson Mandela greeted the players on the field pre-game, wearing the Green and Gold SpringBok uniform. The stunned crowd stood in silence for several seconds and then began to cheer "Nel-son Nel-son Nel-son!" The white spectators cheered for the black president. The South African team won the game and when Mandela once again entered the field to present the World Cup to Francois Pienaar, they erupted again, "Nel-son, Nel-son, Nel-son!".

Mandela said to Pienaar on the field, "Francois, Thank you for what you have done for our country." Pienaar responded "No, Mr. President, thank you for what you have done."

www.scrub.com/PICTURES/CMS/00/42.jpg

The movie was a tribute to Neslon Mandela. It showed his dedication, his wisdom, his leadership and his unbelievable gift for reconciliation. It also was a celebration of Rugby and of South Africa. For me it was interesting to see people and places that I had read about on the screen and I kept on making comments to Marc about the significance of a particular building or event.

The 1995 Rugby World Cup effectively united the nation -- all people regardless of race or social status celebrated the event, and celebrated South Africa. The movie ends on that high note. In the stadium, the streets, the bars, everywhere, whites and blacks are hugging and celebrating their country. It presents a utopic, perfect picture of South Africa. A "they all lived happily ever after" feel. We know that this is not true, there is still incredible suffering, poverty and injustices in South Africa, the movie did not hint at any of this. Perhaps it should have. But it is true that the prediction of violence after the 1994 elections did not come true and a white counter-revolution did not occur. Mandela achieved his number one goal of reconciling whites to black majority. That is something to celebrate.

Maranatha, Christ Come Quickly!

2009-12-20T04:47:00.004-05:00

It's almost as if our anxiety about waiting hit a plateau once we received our approval from the ministry. Our file has been in South Africa for over a month and although it occasionally "flits" across our minds -- sometimes with an unexpected phone call (could that be our Social worker with our referral), most of the time we are relaxed about waiting. We know Robyn, our South African social worker, is on Christmas holidays and that she will have a backlog once she resumes her work in January so we know we won't hear anytime soon. It has been good to be busy with other activities.

We have been busy preparing for Christmas celebrations -- we've baked krentebrood, a family tradition passed down from my Opa who was a baker in Holland, we've also baked speculaas and made chocolate bark with a friend. We've bought and wrapped presents, and each night we light an advent candle with our girls and read a different Bible passage leading up to Christ's birth. Our anticipation for the arrival of our new baby is mirrored in the wait for Christ's birthday and indeed Christ's return.

When I read and reflect on all the suffering of this world, the groaning of creation, this week amplified by the climate change summit in Copenhagen, Denmark, the suffering in Afghanistan, Iraq, most of Africa, Honduras, and even the total depravity that I see in my children, so young and "innocent" until they are screaming at each other over who gets which coloured cup at snack time. We need a Saviour. I need a Saviour.

Yesterday I finally finished reading "The New History of South Africa". It was a challenging read, especially since I knew very little about South Africa when I began (I even drew a map of the different provinces and major cities to help me out). It was also challenging in other ways. So much suffering was endured throughout the centuries by so many people. "Some of the cruellest episodes in South African history -- the extermination of the San, the subjugation of the Xhosa and their national suicide, the suffering of migrant workers on the mines and the deaths of women and children in concentration camps during the South African War. During the 1930s the slums in the South African cities were among the worst in the world. Apartheid destroyed many tight communities and closed off career chances." And although the peoples of South Africa are "joining forces to attempt, against considerable odds, to forge a new nation from the bottom up...and are beginning to sing new songs and tell different stories in a fresh identification with their land, people and culture" there is still incredible suffering and inequality and progress is painfully slow (p, 437). What South Africa really needs, and Canada too, and the whole of creation, is the return of Christ. When all things will be made new and there will be no more crying or pain...Maranatha, Christ come quickly.

We're Approved!

2009-11-11T13:19:00.004-05:00

Yesterday was a good day! We received notice at we have been approved to adopt a baby boy from South Africa! And here it is; the paper we've all been waiting for:
This piece of paper is the end of a long six month wait to be approved to adopt a baby. It is the result of the home-study, police checks, PRIDE training process that we were busy with at the beginning of this year. We are so happy that it is finally here. Although it is only one step closer, it is a pretty big step. Mission of Tears, our agency, mailed our dossier to South Africa yesterday as well which was also great news. Sometimes they don't send the dossiers right away because the South African social worker has enough waiting families already. We were hoping that our file could go immediately but were preparing for the worst. So...once our file is in South Africa, we could get a referral anytime.

We do know, however, that our social worker is taking time off around Christmas so we aren't expecting anything until February at the earliest, but it could be a long wait yet. Some people with Mission of Tears have been waiting for a year. Still, it's nice to be waiting on the right side of the ocean. At least our file is (or will be very soon) in Africa.

Since we heard three weeks ago that the ministry was working on our file, the wait has been excruciating. Every time we checked email or phone messages we were anticipating the news. Finally, after reading discouraging posts in our "Families adopting from South Africa" chat group about the long wait times, we decided to do something to make our adoption seem more real. We began searching for crib bedding. And then we bought some!

We purchased it online from the U.S. through ebay, so we had it shipped to my brother Paul's family in Boston. They will bring it to us at Christmas -- it'll be a nice Christmas present.

Once we are matched with a child, we will only have three weeks before we travel to South Africa. Our agency recommends that once our dossier is in South Africa we begin to prepare for the baby. We are not planning to set up the baby room until we receive the referral, but it is exciting to start planning and preparing.

Our kids are started to get excited about the baby. Leah speaks often about her baby brother in South Africa who is "littler" than her. When Sara heard that we were approved she announced that we needed to go out for supper to celebrate. And so we did. Praise God for small steps to Africa!

Making Friends...

2009-10-26T05:49:00.007-04:00

We belong to an online group of families who have or are adoption from South Africa. It includes people from all over Ontario, and more recently from the Maritimes and Saskatchewan who have or are adoptiong from South Africa through Mission of Tears, our adoption agency. The South African program is only a few years old, so all families adoptions have been recent and all the children are about five and under.

Everyday when we check our email there are six or seven (often more) messages from families undergoing the same process as us. There are book clubs relating to adoption or South Africa, birthday reminders, information about South African films or news events, discussions about citizenship processes, school issues, medical information, as well as pictures of united families and children who have recently been adopted. It is an excellent resource and although we don't post often, we follow the discussions regularly.

The group also gathers socially throughout the year. Sometimes as a whole, but usually according to regions. We have been getting to know some of the families in the London area and attended a gathering last month.

The gathering was relaxed and casual with lots of good food. My parents came along which was nice because Marc had to work. It was good to meet some other waiting families and to meet people who had already adopted. Some of the families knew each other quite well and their children were friends -- it was neat to see chidren who were together in the baby house in South Africa continue a relationship here in Canada.

The organizers brought some activities for children, a parachute, bubbles, colouring and toys. Sara and Leah quickly made friends and enjoyed the event.

One of the highlights of the day was the performance of an African storyteller. Originally from Ghana, she now lives in Guelph and has made a career of performing traditional stories and songs from many different African countries. Her daughter accompanied her on the djembe and together they entertained all of us (event the babies were riveted).

Sara and Leah were entranced. They loved the repetition throughout the stories and the story teller was excellent at including her audience in the story telling. Sara even now remembers the songs and sings them easily.

Afterwards she stayed for refreshments and conversation.

Another neat part of the day was a Zulu class. A Zulu speaking family from Zimbabwe treated us to a mini lesson. They helped adoptive parents say their children's South African names properly and gave the meanings of the names. They also attempted to teach us how to click. The Zulu language has many different clicking sounds. It is amazing to hear. They tried to teach us how to do the "X" click as in the word "Xhosa". But I must admit we were hopeless.

It was great to finally put some faces to the friends we were making online and to glean advice about our trip to South Africa. It was encouraging to meet families who had already adopted and it made our adoption plan seem more real.

And now for something a little different...

2009-09-29T11:13:00.015-04:00

My brother Paul is a professor of Political Theory and Political Science at Gordon College in Boston. His main interest in political theory is the relationship between faith and politics. At the same time that we were choosing South Africa as the country from which to adopt our child, Paul was, coincidentally, choosing South Africa as his focus for studying the relationship between faith and politics. In the past year, South Africa has become a special place in the lives of both our families and has taken on special meaning and significance.

This June, Paul traveled to South Africa with a group of academics from Canada and the United States to meet with African Colleagues. They learned from each other and from prominent South Africans for several weeks and are currently working on publishing projects together.

The Brink family camped together in July and Paul shared pictures and told stories of his experience in South Africa. It was great to hear about his experiences and to catch a glimpse of the incredible scenery in South Africa.

Some of the places Paul visited were historically significant. I had brought along the New History of South Africa that I was reading and it was interesting to see the context of the pictures in a historical light.

Paul also gave this gorgeous piece of cloth to Marc and I as a gift from South Africa. We use it as a table cloth over our dining room table. The colours look beautiful with our dark piano and orange curtains.

The table that it covers is a significant one. It is the one piece of furniture that my Opa and Oma DeRaaf brought with them when they immigrated from the Netherlands in 1953. When my Oma died, I inherited the table. Slowly our Dutch Canadian culture is beginning to blend with a new South African one. We look forward to many happy memories in our transracial dining room!

One of the most moving experiences in South Africa that Paul shared with us was when he and his colleagues attended a church service in Gaguletu, a poor township outside CapeTown. That Sunday they witnessed the baptism of 32 infants, a joyful day (Thankfully, many in Paul's group were ordained pastors and could participate in the baptism ceremonies). The sad part of the experience was that only two of the 32 babies still had their birth parents. All the other babies were being raised by grandparents, aunts and uncles and others in the Gaguletu community. Paul wrote an article about the church in Gaguletu for The Christian Courier and Stillpoint which he has given permission for me to include in our blog as well.

This Church Has AIDS

Our morning began as most of our other mornings had begun on this extraordinary trip. Up at 6:30, murmurs of greeting to my roommate, Chris Byaruhanga, and then a quick inventory of what we might need for the day: water, cameras and notebooks. We dressed perhaps a little more formally than other days—we were going to church after all—though little could be done to disguise the fact that we were visitors. Somehow professors always look like professors, even if they hail from more than half a dozen different countries in North America and Africa.

Breakfast, as always, was a lively and friendly affair; shared meals are generally good for community. A brief outline of the day was provided by Bob Evans, our team leader from Plowshares International, and in very short order, we were headed for church. This Sunday it would be the J. L. Zwane Memorial Presbyterian Church located in Guguletu, a poor township outside Cape Town.

This was our second week in South Africa, and by now, we were prepared to expect the unexpected. After all, post-apartheid South Africa is a country that confounds predictions and upsets expectations—often tragically, but occasionally wonderfully. But none of us were quite prepared for the particular unexpected that is J. L. Zwane Memorial Presbyterian Church. Partly this was due to the tremendous welcome we received from the congregation. Partly this was due to the remarkable beauty of the church building, especially given the poverty of the community. But this was true especially because J. L. Zwane Church has AIDS.

I knew this, first, because of the big sign that said so. Even in a country where nearly 20% of the adult population is HIV-positive, and where infection rates are far higher for women than men, the stigma surrounding HIV and AIDS remains pervasive. Accordingly, as is true for so many other uncomfortable realities the church must confront, the first great challenge has been to create space for ministry. Very deliberately, J. L. Zwane church has confronted head-on the prejudices and the judgments inflicted upon the victims of this global crisis. Announcing to all who enter the building and proclaiming to the Guguletu community at large that the church identifies and shares in the suffering of those with AIDS was crucial to the church’s ministry and to their identity as members of Christ’s church.

Besides, the church really does have AIDS. No church member can remain unaffected: family members fall to the disease, or family sizes increase as new orphans arrive. Rev. Spiwo Xapile, pastor of the congregation, himself has lost five family members to AIDS. The pandemic forces congregations to deal with the reality of human suffering in ways that the North American church only dimly appreciates. Rev. Xapile’s words stopped us short: “we are dying.” His weekend activities support his statement: Sundays are for worship; Saturdays are for funerals.

But Rev. Xapile also made clear that the church suffers in hope. Indeed, conditioned as it is by hope, perhaps it is the suffering of the church that supports both its warm welcome to strangers and its concern for beauty. Hope amid suffering also is what sustains the church’s HIV/AIDS programs: support groups, counseling services, hospice care, education programs, medical care (in the church lobby after Sunday services!), and care for orphans. The work of the church in the larger Guguletu community is particularly inspiring—and challenging.

We met Priscilla, an elderly grandmother who has accepted AIDS orphans, one by one, into her small home, and now is “grandmother” to twelve. J. L. Zwane church has become a crucial lifeline to Priscilla and other similar de facto social service organizations.

But perhaps the greatest sign of the solidarity of the church with the suffering has been the integration of HIV/AIDS into the very liturgy of the Sunday morning service. Corporate worship—the time when God and his people engage one another most directly—surely is at the very heart of church life. And at J. L. Zwane, the topic of HIV/AIDS is very much part of that conversation. Each Sunday, as the choir and congregation sing “Bambelela—Never Give Up,” someone who is HIV-positive rises to tell his or her story of what it is to live with HIV/AIDS. Prayers are offered, difficult questions are asked, and the scarcity of answers is confronted. In the very heart of church life, the good news of the Gospel is brought against the bad news of disease.

After the service and a generous lunch, our group reboarded the bus, but much more quietly than when we had entered—some sobered by the extent of the disease, others encouraged by the church’s response to it, but none unchanged. For me, the implications of what I had experienced were extremely challenging. These Guguletu Christians are my brothers and sisters. And if J. L. Zwane Memorial Presbyterian Church has AIDS, then surely the body of Christ—of which I am also a member—has AIDS. Does my own church reflect this reality? Does yours?

Our Adoption Profile

2009-09-25T06:13:00.005-04:00

We're back!

2009-08-22T00:29:00.005-04:00

Our blog has been silent for over a month. We have been busy in summer and are just coming down from a busy vacation to Boston and camping with the Hoogstad family in Sandbanks. Life is starting to get a little more routine. We’re getting ready for school starting for Sara, planning activities for the year and gearing up for the busy schedule of September.

The summer has flown by, which has been nice. We’ve been waiting and waiting for our documents to be returned from the Ontario ministry. What was at first expected to be a six week process has been dragging on into its fourteenth week. We’ve heard that some have taken as long as eighteen weeks but that soon the process should speed up again.

The distractions of summer have been good. We’ve been packing, unpacking, repacking, wet packing, and back yard unpacking and packing. We’ve been beaching, sight seeing, splash padding, hiking, biking, wonderfully summering.

In all this, although the adoption process is always present, it has been further in the back of our mind. And that has been good. Now that we’re returning to normal though, it’s right back there at the front and particularly now I’m feeling the pain of separation from our baby.

What sparked this feeling? We just got an email from a couple who, after waiting for over a year have received a referral. Their new baby, Benjamin, whom they will meet in just 3 short weeks was born June 1^st. He weighed 7 lbs. On Sept. 9, he will officially be their little baby boy. Our hearts rejoice with this couple, whom we’ve met but hardly know, and yet our hearts also feel a little tender; when will we hear about our little boy. When will it be our turn?

It’s twenty after midnight as I type this, and I can’t sleep because I’m longing for contact. I miss feeling the kicks of expectation. I miss having to get up to pee three times in the night. Although these pregnancy inconveniences are frustrating, uncomfortable and irritating, they are contact. They are life inside you. I think of our son lying in his crib in the baby house, or even yet in the womb, and I long to feel his existence. His presence. His life. I want to touch his skin. I want to kiss his little forehead. I want to hold him tight against me.

We wait in hope and expectation and think of a time when dreams will become real and longing will become relationship.

Our South African Social Worker

2009-07-18T06:08:00.007-04:00

Earlier this month we had an opportunity to meet with Robyn Shepstone, our South African social worker. Robyn came to Canada, accompanied by a woman who runs a South African baby house, to meet with families in the process of adopting, as well as to be reunited with families who have already adopted from South Africa and with the children in who's lives she played such an important role. The first part of the day was allotted for families who were in the process of adopting. It was good to meet some people whom we had met at earlier seminars, one couple even from the very first seminar before we had officially decided to adopt.

It was really wonderful to meet Robyn and hear her speak about the process of adoption from her end. She begins already with the birth mother, discussing options about her pregnancy and her child, and then leads that child all the way through to his adoptive parents. Over the years she has carefully built and maintained relationships with all areas of bureaucracy which sounds like a very difficult task.

Robyn patiently answered all of our questions (we came armed with a list of them) and it was very reassuring to see how competent and efficient she is.

The second half of the day was geared towards families who have already adopted. This reunion was wonderful to witness. Robyn showed clear joy at seeing each family that she had united, and couldn't take her eyes of the children. Impressed with the personal investment that she had made in the lives of each child, I commented to her that it must be very exciting to see the children again. She responded in clear agreement, picking up a child and saying, I watched this little girl get born!

We are so grateful for Robyn, that she will be there, loving our son from the very start. May the Lord bless her!

Happy 91st Birthday Madiba!

2009-07-18T05:48:00.004-04:00

Today is Nelson Mandela's 91st birthday. In honour of him, I've posted this picture and article sent to me by a yahoo group made up of families adopting from South Africa with which we're connected (sorry no source) . Sometime today, raise a glass to this man who led the way to a new South Africa.

Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela (born 18 July 1918) is a former President of South Africa, the first to be elected in fully representative democratic elections. Before his presidency, Mandela was an anti-apartheid activist and leader of the African National Congress and its armed wing Umkhonto we Sizwe. He spent 27 years in prison, much of it on Robben Island, on convictions for crimes that included sabotage committed while he spearheaded the struggle against apartheid.

Among opponents of apartheid in South Africa and internationally, he became a symbol of freedom and equality, while the apartheid government and nations sympathetic to it condemned him and the ANC as communists and terrorists.

Following his release from prison on 11 February 1990, his switch to a policy of reconciliation and negotiation helped lead the transition to multi-racial democracy in South Africa. Since the end of apartheid, he has been widely praised, even by former opponents.

Mandela has received more than one hundred awards over four decades, most notably the Nobel Peace Prize in 1993. He is currently a celebrated elder statesman who continues to voice his opinion on topical issues. In South Africa he is often known as Madiba, an honorary title adopted by elders of Mandela's clan. The title has come to be synonymous with Nelson Mandela.

Our South African Education

2009-07-12T19:59:00.008-04:00

Recently I have begun learning about South Africa. Through university studies and through South African friends, I have had a casual acquaintance with South Africa. I read a few novels by Nadine Gordimer and J.M. Coetzee (both South African authors) during a Post-Colonial Literature course that I took in university. And when we lived in Toronto, we had good friends who immigrated to Canada from South Africa, and introduced us to bits of South African culture, some of the highlights including banana on pizza, and the South African love for a briar, or a barbeque. A few months ago I began to ease a little deeper into South Africa with the aid of Zakes Mda's novel The Heart of Redness. I chose it as a novel for my book club. It proved to be a challenging read but led to great discussion. I also began to familiarize myself with South Africa with a map, and general statistics, (thank you Wikipedia).

A few weeks ago I visited another South African friend, Elsebé and had a wonderful afternoon with her. We drank Rooibos tea and she spoke tenderly of the country where she grew up and from which she emigrated three or four years ago. She showed me beautiful books on South Africa, some in English, some in Afrikaans. And lent me South Africa The Beautiful as well as two children's books Looking at the Xhosa and Looking at the Zulu. The country and the people truly are beautiful and it was great to familiarize myself with them a little more.

Elsebé also lent me a huge book The New History of South Africa which I have begun to read ambitiously from cover to cover. The book starts pretty much at the beginning of time and I'm already at mid 1700s! I'm only on page 67 of 437. I'm enjoying reading it. I find it interesting to compare to Canadian history, the African people there and the First nations here as well as the process of colonization.

One of the most striking things in my reading is the attitudes of the Dutch colonizers towards the Khoikhoi and the Xhosa people, the first African people that they encountered in South Africa. In many ways it is similar to the treatment of the First nations people here in Canada by the French and the British. However, I somehow feel less at ease in reading about the actions of the Dutch colonists (later the Afrikaaners) in South Africa. The reason for my ill ease is my own ethnic background. My parents and my husband's parents are immigrants from the Netherlands. When reading Canadian history, I can "tut tut" at the treatment of the British and French towards our aboriginal people, but when I read about the actions of the Dutch in South Africa, I identify more with them. Dutch Protestant Christians, just like me, committed these atrocities.

I'm sure this struggle will continue as we learn more about South Africa, its history, and the inequalities that still exist there. I imagine it will be a struggle we deal with as we travel around South Africa with our new African son. And I wouldn't be surprised if it becomes a continual prick in our hearts the rest of our lives.

I was very impressed with the manner in which Elsebé spoke of the process of colonization and of apartheid. I admired her humility and honesty in talking about the evils of apartheid, and her refusal to gloss over the horrible treatment that occurred at the hands of her own people. She spoke of good good people who fought hard against apartheid, but was clear that still today there are many people who broach the subject of race with hatred and hard hearts.

Elsebé also lent me some South African movies and CDs. We are familiarizing ourselves with The Drakensberg Boys Choir, Randall Wicomb and Helmut Lotti to name a few. It is neat to hear some traditional South African songs like Shosholoza, Tula Tula (a lullabye) and Nkosi Sikelele Afrika, the South African National Anthem. Nkosi Sikelele Afrika is beautiful song, an interesting national anthem. Its lyrics read more like a contemporary praise song or a prayer than a National Anthem.

It is an easy anthem for me, a Canadian learning about South Africa, to sing (and pray) with my whole heart.

Nkosi Sikelel'i Afrika (Lord God bless Africa)

Maluphankanyisw'uphondo Iwayo (Let its fame be lifted up)

Yizwa imithandazo yethu (Listen and hear our prayers)

Nkosi sikeleli, Nkosi sikelela (O Lord God bless)

Nkosi Sikelel'i Afrika (Lord God bless Africa)
Maluphankanyisw'uphondo Iwayo (Let its fame be lifted up)
Yizwa imithandazo yethu (Listen and hear our prayers)
Nkosi sikeleli, Thina lusapho Iwayo (Oh Lord God bless us, we children of Africa)

Woza moyo (Come Spirit)

Woza moya woza (Come Spirit come)

Woza moya (Come Spirit)

Woza moya woza (Come Spirit come)

Woza moya oyingewele (Come Spirit, Holy Spirit)

Nkosi sikelela (Oh Lord God bless)

Morena boloka setjhaba sa heso (God bless our nation)

Ofedise dintwa le matshwenyeho (and stop all wars and sufferings)

O se boloke (And bless it)

O se boloke morena (And bless it Lord, Oh God)

Setjahaba sa heso (Bless our nation)

Setjhaba sa Afrika (Our nation, Africa)

Nkosi sikelel'i Afrika (Lord God bless Africa)

Maluphankanyisw'uphondo iway (Let its fame be lifted up)

Yizwa imithandoazo yethu (Listen and hear our prayers)

Nkosi sikelela, (Lord God bless us, we children of Africa)

Nkosi Sikelel'i afrika (God bless Africa)

Family Pictures

2009-07-06T08:30:00.014-04:00

One of the projects that we need to do for adoption is to create a profile of our family to send to South Africa. It needs to include pictures of our family, our house, our pets and little write ups about us. We send nine copies to our South African Social Worker and she distributes them to babyhouses there as well as shows them to potential birth mothers. Birth mothers are shown several different profiles and selects one family to adopt her baby. So...the family profile is a pretty important document. We are creating our profile this week.

Our friend Sonja is a photographer and she offered us her services for a morning to photograph our family. We went to Canatara Park, a favourite of our family. We often come for picnics on the beach and enjoy the playground, walking trails, and especially the animal farm. We had a great morning and Sonja took some gorgeous pictures.

We ask that you please do not print these pictures as they are under copyright. If you would like to have copies, email us and we'll put in an order with Sonja. Thanks Sonja, for all your hard work!

Birth Mothers

2009-06-25T06:30:00.003-04:00

Beginning already the first day we officially decided to adopt, Marc and I began to pray for our child and his birth parents. These people who we don't know and likely will never meet live a life completely different from ours. But the impact they will have on our life and are having on the life of our baby is so immense. We are filled with conflicting emotions. Sadness at the situation where they need to give their baby away and joy that we will receive a child.

We created this portrait of our baby's birth mother and chose this text for her and for our baby.

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future".

Jeremiah 29:11

Our Father...

2009-06-21T07:07:00.000-04:00

Today is Father’s Day and the wonderful father of my children is still sleeping soundly. He’s not sleeping in, I’m just up early. Sara and Leah too, are still sleeping. Sara on the top bunk, even though she’s still not sure it’s completely safe. Both of them slept through the night for the first time since we’ve put them up. The bunk beds are taking a little to get used to.

I’m not sure where my future son is right now. Following our potential timeline from Mission of Tears and the average age of adoption, it is possible that he is already born, in the first few weeks of oxygen-breathing life. He is perhaps tasting warm milk for one of the first times, sucking on his bottle every three hours, smelling of baby and milk, and sweetness. He is learning new smells himself and is being cuddled in cozy blankets by his caregiver. Or it is possible that his birth mom is still his home, his source of food, protection, warmth, that she is plagued right now with backaches, sore ribs from his relentless kicking and frequent trips to the bathroom depending on how hard he is pressing on her bladder.

I don’t know where our son’s birth mother is. I wonder how she is. How is she dealing with her decision to relinquish her son. Is she feeling the comfort and peace of Christ that we keep praying her way as we pray for our children, each night and even under our breath at random moments throughout our daily activities? Days like today, Father’s Day, and last month Mother’s Day must be very difficult for birth parents. They are mothers and fathers, but the day is not a celebrated one for them.

I don’t know where our son’s birth father is. Does he place his hands on the swollen belly of his partner and feel our sons (his and ours) kicks while his heart aches at his decision to say goodbye to the baby he won’t bring up? Or, does he know that his son exists? Is he carrying on with life, oblivious to the miracle of our child, an incredible gift of life from a loving and gracious God?
I pray on this Father’s Day, that our son’s other parents may be comforted with the love of our Father and theirs; that the Heavenly Father will lavish them with grace and peace, comfort and even joy in their sadness today and always.

We're Expecting!

2009-06-12T21:25:00.014-04:00

We’re expecting a baby! It’s sometimes hard to keep that in mind. I don’t have an expanding belly and I don’t have morning sickness. No little creature is kicking me in the ribs and my belly button is firmly established as an “inny” with no real plan to protrude out in the near future. As much as I enjoy not throwing up every morning and relishing the smell of meat cooking, and being free from stretched ligaments, swollen ankles and getting pummeled from the inside out, we miss the excitement and anticipation and even the attention that comes with all that’s involved in pregnancy.

Instead of doctor’s appointments, we have meetings with our lawyer about immigration and citizenship, instead of prenatal class, we have PRIDE training, instead of aching feet at the end of a long pregnant day, we have aching brains from reading and researching. Ours is a different sort of pregnancy.

But it is exciting! We are preparing for a new little life in our family and these preparations make the arrival of our little guy seem possible and even probable!

Yesterday was an exciting day of preparations. We’ve been working on renovating Sara’s room, ripping out carpet, prepping, priming, and painting the walls, and finally, the big job of yesterday, installing the flooring and trim. Marc’s dad came down yesterday morning to help Marc install the floor. Amazing what a floor and trim do to finish a room.

With much joy and excitement on the part of Leah and Sara, Marc and “Grandpa” set up the bunk beds. The girls were actually excited to go to bed. New bunk beds in their new shared room!

Leah slept the entire night in her big girl bed, with no soother even! She feels very proud!

Now that Leah is mostly moved out of the baby room, our thoughts move to preparing it for our new baby. I’ve chosen stencils and stamps to decorate the walls, and am thinking of what to hang in the place of the baby quilt I made for Leah. We’re creating space in our house, and in turn in our lives, for our newest child, and this, in some way, is like its own kind of pregnancy.

Marc’s parents gave us a gift, not just a gift of time and tools and skills in the renovations, they actually brought a “gift” gift, a present, wrapped and everything. It was a cute little orange shirt decorated with crocodiles and little shorts – unmistakably, absolutely and 100%ly boys clothes. What joy! To open a present for our son, to imagine him chasing his big sisters in the back yard, crocodile patched orange shirt flying past us as he giggles and scrambles into the sandbox, and then turns to us with a big wide grin!

Nothing makes the adoption process seem more real than receiving a gift for the baby.

We’re expecting, and it’s really kind of cool. Although the wait is long, and the paperwork is endless, although we keep thinking we’re almost done, only to find out there’s a whole other process we hadn’t realized, we anticipate its completion. We look forward to that 20ish hour plane trip (our own sort of labour) which will end when Marc and I finally see the beautiful face of our child, our son. We’re expecting a baby, and I can’t wait!

"I know all about adoption; I was adopted" a little girl said. "What does adoption mean?" asked another child. "It means", said the girl, "that you grew in your Mommy's heart instead of her tummy."

Transracial Adoptions

2009-06-07T20:08:00.005-04:00

This weekend we attended a seminar entitled "Visibly Distinct". It was about adopting transracially. We left Sara and Leah with our friends and theirs (Thanks Len, Lisa and Martin) and drove to Toronto (although we stopped in Milton to purchase a SUPER bunk bed, and cheap!) We visited with Opa Steenwyk and Aunt Jennie for the evening, spending the night at Aunt Jennie's. The following morning we were off to our seminar.

The seminar was led by Leila Junaid, a social worker in Toronto. It was wonderfully optimistic and encouraging. The most encouraging thing was to hear, from a black social worker especially, that we are doing the right thing. Transracial adoptions are for the most part very positive and wonderful things. In fact, Leila said that people who are adopted transracially actually demonstrate a better sense of identity, racially and otherwise, than people who are adopted by the same race. Wow! That was a surprise! The research is clear and substantial that this is true. The reason is that children who have been adopted transracially are forced to ask identity questions their whole life. It is obvious to them, and to everyone, that they are adopted. Although this makes the journey long and perhaps tiring, the end result is people who have come to terms with who they are and have developed pride in themselves and in their cultural and ethnic heritage. How great to hear this!

We also heard from Paulette, a social worker specializing in bereavement (also African-Canadian), and Sarah, an adoptive mother who has a wonderful 13 year old boy adopted from Jamaica 11 years ago. It was great to hear first hand the joys and struggles of transracial families.

All the attending couples were also adopting from South Africa and all in similar stages of the journey. One of the people attending we'd met at a previous seminar about South African adoptions. It was good to make some new contacts, and share experiences with others on similar journeys. We look forward to seeing some of them later this month at another event.

It was good for Marc and I to get away together and focus intensely, once again, on our adoption plans as well as to enjoy 6 hours of quiet time in the car together to think and talk and plan and dream. We had a great weekend.

Mother's Day

2009-05-28T19:07:00.011-04:00

There is a song that I always sing with my girls as I cut their fingernails -- "Tommy Thumb, Tommy Thumb where are you..." and it goes through all the different fingers as you cut each nail "Here I am! Here I am! How do you do?". Songs like these are silly and on the whole largely unimportant, but they become habit, and overtime they shape a childhood, and even a culture. They become strangely significant to childhood and to childhood memories.

One challenge in adopting internationally is that a child is removed from his country of birth. He has to adopt not only a new family, but a new language and culture. His childhood memories will be Canadian, not what they would have been had he remained in South Africa. As a child grows, this can be difficult in developing a sense of identity and a sense of self.

We hope to become a trans-racial family. That is different than being a Canadian family with an adopted South African child. We plan to become a South African-Canadian family. That means all of us, not just our son, but Sara and Leah, and Marc and I, will all be South African-Canadian as well. That is why the gift that Marc and the girls gave me for Mother's Day is so important to me.

Marc and the kids gave me presents on a South African theme. First, they gave me a South African cookbook Recipes from the Hearth: At home with South African icons. It has the favourite recipes of famous South Africans. So...I now have Desmond Tutu's famous "Tutu Chicken" recipe as well as F.W. de Klerk's "Lakhano Domades (Stuffed Cabbage Leaves)". The book also has beautiful pictures and write-ups on each person. This way we can learn a little bit about South Africa. Food is significant in shaping a culture.

My family also gave me two South African CDs, both by a South African group called Ladysmith Black Mambazo -- they're pretty well known and have won many awards throughout the years. The first CD is self titled. It's pretty neat. What I especially like is that it also includes worship songs in Zulu and English.

The second CD is called "Gift of the Tortoise: A Musical Journey through Southern Africa". It is a children's CD and is narrated by Geina Mhlophe who is a famous South African story teller. I listened to this one on Mother’s day with Sara and Leah while Marc was at work. We read the lyrics of the songs and sang along. The songs are very simple; even Leah could sing some of them on the first time. It was quite an incredible moment for me. The girls were entranced with the music and the narration. We talked about each song and danced together during the action songs, and then danced to the slow ones too. We talked about our little baby and how we could sing to him these songs some day.

The gift, for me, and for our whole family, was more than a cool CD. It was a gift of knowledge and of relationship with South Africa, and actually with our South African baby. I will be able to sing our baby traditional South African children’s songs, in his first language and in his second.

The CD even has a “fingernail cutting song”:

Uthikithani, the teeniest of them all
Utembeseya, friend of the wedding ring
Umudeynana, tallest of them all
Umkombabantu, the one who likes to point
Uthupazana, the fat, fat thumb

I look forward to trimming the nails on my son’s beautiful black fingers and singing with him the traditional South African “Finger Dance”. (And I look forward to dancing with him too)

I end this entry with a Zulu blessing. One that I plan to sing while I rock my South African-Canadian boy to sleep:

Hambani kahle
Ukthula makube

Go well
Peace be with you.

Mind-blowing peace...

2009-05-25T20:29:00.003-04:00

Just to continue our story chronologically, this is a reflection that I wrote and shared at a Coffee Break meeting during our homestudy process. It's from a little while back, but it gives some insight into our thoughts and feelings at the time.

January 8, 2009

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus ~ Phil 4:6-7

It’s amazing how a scripture passage can do two opposite things at the same time. This passage to me right now both comforts me, filling me with gratitude and joy, and convicts me, filling me with regret and eye-rolling frustration…

What you don’t know is that Marc and I have decided to adopt a child. It’s very exciting and we’re overjoyed at the opportunity. We hope to adopt a baby from South Africa. The baby will be orphaned due to the AIDS crisis there. Once all the information gathering and processing is done, we will travel to South Africa for three weeks where the adoption will be finalized and then will come back home with an infant boy or girl.

We’ve been very quiet about the whole thing because it has been a long and prayerful journey to this point. We’ve been talking about it since May and have been praying and researching and attending workshops and talking with some important people in our lives and are just now beginning the actual process of adoption. The passage that I just read is a wonderful account of how the process to get to this point has been for us. Both Marc and I felt the call to consider adoption at the same time, individually. We began to pray about it together and alone. When things became overwhelming, as we began to research it, which it did many times, we just stepped back from the whole process to pray and wait on God. Finally, in November, we both, at the same time, felt at peace with the decision. It blows my mind (or transcends my understanding) how that happens. We feel wonderful about the decision and are filled with joy and anticipation. “Present your requests to God and the peace of God will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus”…

However…These past two weeks, I have been stressed out of my tree. We have begun the homestudy process and have an incredible list of things that need to be done. Time is of an essence in all of them, because the longer it takes me to complete them, the longer it is before we can adopt. Since Marc is working full time and I am not, I am really the one responsible for completing all of them. Also, I begin work in February so the plan is that all the work for the homestudy be done before then. I am frustrated with bureaucracy, did you know it takes over 100 days minimum to get your fingerprints checked by the RCMP – that’s almost 1/3 of a year! I’m frustrated with people who don’t return phone calls, frustrated with forms that aren’t self-explanatory and even, I was frustrated with Christmas holidays because people weren’t in their office to answer my calls. I feel like I can’t get this stuff done because I’m waiting on other people. Monday night I didn’t sleep because I was stressed about how we will pay for the adoption. Yesterday I burst into tears because the police department doesn’t do fingerprinting in the morning, only in the afternoon, --but I had planned to go in the morning. I have been stressed and definitely lacking peace.

Last night, I had an epiphany. I am a very good big picture Christian. Major decisions like adopting a child, I take time to pray and read and reflect, and I don’t make a decision until I feel peace. Major decisions, I wait on God.

But the passage says: do not be anxious about ANYTHING, but in EVERYTHING present your requests to God.

Last night I closed my file with all the documents that need completing and spent time praying about the documents. I prayed about the RCMP fingerprinting, I prayed about the loans, I prayed about the medical forms and the personality profiles. And then, I put it away, for just a short bit. I’m waiting for a peace that will blow my mind and guard it with my heart so that I don’t go crazy or emotionally breakdown – that’s the kind of peace that’s promised.

If we pray about everything…

How it all began...

2009-05-20T21:31:00.006-04:00

Our second post is going to be something many of you have read before, but it is part of our first steps into adoption. We'd like to "tell it from the start". This is a letter that we sent out to some family and friends in our Christmas card in December 2008. It shares a little bit about our family as well as some of the thought processes that brought us to this point in our lives.

December, 2008
Dear Family and Friends,

Each evening after supper we light advent candles as a family. Although much of the moment is tense and even a little nerve-wracking (Sara and Leah like to light the candles themselves --“Leah do it!”), it is a special time nonetheless. Each night we read a different part of the creation-fall-redemption story and then sing “Come, Lord Jesus”. This moment is immediately followed by Leah demanding, “Blow out candles; Leah do it!”. Clearly the fire is the main attraction for our 1 and 4 year olds, but yet it is a time when we all anticipate something – the lighting of that last candle in the middle of the advent wreath. Leah calls it “Happy Birthday to you candles”, which shows her general confusion about the whole event, but at the same time makes a great deal of sense. As a good friend (Scott Post for those who know him) said over a beer the other night – when we celebrate someone’s birthday, we don’t celebrate who that person was on the day they were born, we celebrate who that person is now. We shift, then, from celebrating baby Jesus, to celebrating Jesus, King of Kings! We hope you have a great Happy Birthday party as you celebrate the risen Lord!

Speaking of Happy Birthday parties, our kids are getting older. Leah will soon be two years old and is already there behaviourally. That was a joke by the way – the terrible twos aren’t so terrible really. Leah is hilarious. She is exasperatingly independent (as is clear by the anecdote above) and not at all quiet or shy. She copies everything Sara does and they are a great team. Sara, who just started JK, feels very grown up about the whole big sister thing and plays a great game of hide and seek with Leah. Today, at lunch, Sara announced that she was going to be a ballerina and travel the world. I said that would be a great idea.

Sara has been challenging us philosophically and theologically. Who’d have known from a four year old! Just recently she asked us whether we were all dolls and our house was a doll house. She pictured giant creatures moving us around and manipulating what we do and say, “a plaything for the gods” to quote our friend Shakespeare. On the way home from church today she asked us “if I was holding something when I died would it go to heaven with me?” So, now she’s planning what kind of treasures she can store up in heaven. I love it.

Although the plaything of the gods idea isn’t maybe where we want to be going theologically, Marc and I have spent a good part of this year trying to figure out what God’s plan is for our family. Earlier this spring we were trying to decide if we should go ahead with IVF again in the hope of having another child. The financial, emotional and physical stress of IVF and pregnancy were daunting, yet we really would love to have another child. And our children would love to have another sibling: “Mom, everyone in my class has a brother except me. Can you grow a boy in your belly?” There you go, babies by peer pressure!

Last May, we attended a Starfield and Shane & Shane concert (if you don’t know these musicians, you should check them out because they are oh so great!) in Cambridge which had a social justice theme throughout. One of the statistics that came out of that evening was that there are 40,000,000 orphans in the world. If 8% of the church adopted one orphan, they would all have homes. Since May then, Marc and I have been exploring adoption. We are hoping to adopt from South Africa and have just begun the home-study part of the process. Most of the babies adopted from South Africa are orphaned because of the AIDS epidemic and it is expected that the number of orphans there will more then double in the next 7 years. As a result, by 2015, more than 10% of the South African population will be orphaned children. South Africa does not have the resources to care for all of these children and so have opened the doors to overseas adoption.

We think that God’s plan for us is to expand our family by using our financial, emotional and physical energy to adopt one of those orphans instead of undergoing IVF. It’s been a long process of prayer, discussion, and research, but we feel excited at this opportunity. We ask for your prayers as the process of adoption is just beginning and is a long journey.

Last weekend, Marc and I attended the Canadian National Youth Workers Convention in Toronto for four days. The theme of the conference was “Seriously Ridiculous” which is a conference title that only youth pastors would come up with. We were treated to incredible speakers (Shane Claiborne and Tony Campolo to name a few) and great artists (once again Starfield and friends). The first half of the convention completely wrecked me: the idea that to truly follow Christ requires us to be seriously ridiculous in our lifestyle. The decisions we must make with our money, our skills, our possessions are seriously ridiculous in light of our culture today. I was completely disarmed to the point of asking “How now shall we live?” all over again. Of course, the whole conference was focused for me on our adoption decision (which had only been made days before) and is a seriously ridiculous decision for us in many ways as well. But the second half of the conference explored the seriously ridiculous nature of God’s grace -- the ridiculousness of God coming as a completely powerless, naked baby -- The seriously ridiculousness of God as a human criminal, executed -- And the seriously ridiculous truth of his love for us.

May your Christmas celebrations this year be seriously ridiculous!

We love you all,

Marc and Renée, Sara and Leah

A Brother for Sara...

2009-05-19T21:30:00.008-04:00

One evening, while Renée was putting Sara to bed, she said, "Mommy, all my friends at school have baby brothers. Can you grow one for me?" Renée explained to her that there are many ways to have a baby brother or sister, and reminded her of her friend from Haiti who was adopted and moved a few months earlier. Sara's eyes widened, and she yelled out, "Let's do that, Mommy!"And with that, our considerations about international adoption were confirmed.

Welcome to our blog, our journal, and our story. We hope you will read, enjoy and walk alongside us as we graft our family tree with a beautiful new shoot.