Courage

I have dreaded the idea of meeting Tizi's birth mom since the day I learned it was a part of this process.  Everything about it terrified me.  A friend who has gone through the process before, continued to encourage this meeting and reminded me often,  it wasn't about my feelings but about another piece of Tizabit that we could share with her.  It was about her beginning, it was about her life.

With that as our foundation, we set out on Friday for a two day trip to Awash.  The place of Tizi's birth, the place where our story begins.  It was a rough, long and sometimes dangerous trip.  The roads were often one lane and often, not even roads at all.  Everywhere, there was new highway construction.  When I asked Alemu how long before it would be completed, he replied, "no one really knows, it take very long time.  No one really knows." (I've come to understand, that phase is common here.  I also understand that as I become consumed with "WHY doesn't anyone know? why don't they demand answers?  They already have it figured out.  They continue to live out each day, fully.  What will be, will be.  There is no need to waste days on what you cannot change.)

Awash is a dry, desert, brown land.  It looks like a difficult place to live and we were told that it is.  There is fighting over the land and it is considered to be dangerous.  This dangerous place is Tizi's birthplace.  Already, it's hard to connect the pieces.  How is it some are born into instant difficulty and some are born into privilege?

Emmebt was to take a bus and meet us at the Bus Stop.  She wasn't there when we arrived and she wasn't answering her phone.  We went to lunch and waited.  Privately, I was feeling relief thinking we may not need to go through this part of it....PLEASE!  Alemu then received the call from Emmebt that she was coming, she had not disappeared.  I could no longer eat.  I was overcome with the challenge of how to tell someone, "I'm so sorry!" and "Thank you" all in the same breath.

One of the kids said, "Here she comes Mom. Tizi looks just like her! She's so pretty!" and with that we met her.  She is beautiful, quiet, shy.  She is 22 years old and looks like she could be one of our children.  She is tiny.

Alemu leads us to an area to sit and talk.  No one has spoken, and already, I can't stop crying.  With Alemu to translate, I introduced our family and told her we had met Tizibt and we think she is beautiful, just like her.  We already love Tizibt.  Emmebt smiles, a smile that starts out slow and shy with her head downward and then it became full and her entire face changed!  It just lit up.  I wanted her to smile for the rest of our time together, but also realize she has little to smile about.

We learned of Emmebt's past.  It is horrid by all counts.  Without going into complete detail, we learned that her mother had died when she was very young while giving birth to her sister.  Her sister also died.  She is Muslim.  When I asked if she went to school, she said, "never, not one day."

After Emmebt gave birth to Tizi she worked in labor/construction for long days and needed to leave Tizi with neighbors for care.  The neighbors were very poor and could not feed Tizi.  Tizi became very sick and Emmebt took her to the orphanage in Awash looking for help.  The orphanage took her to the hospital where she stayed for a month.

During our time in Ethiopia, Tizi has been described to us as "near death" or "came back from the dead."  We thank Emmebt for that.  In her Mother's heart she knew.  She knew Tizi's breaking point.  She knew she needed to do something and she did.  We tried to thank her for that, but our words fell short, they felt flat.

Tizi has bad burns on her left arm.  When I moved her sleeve the other day, I saw them and gasped because it wasn't something I expected to see.  When asking Emmebt about them, we learned she was making dinner, (I'm imaging that she was exhausted, maybe Tizi was crying, maybe she was in a hurry) and boiling water fell off the counter and onto precious Tizi.  Now I imagine tears.  Tears from Tizi and tears from Emmebt.  Ugly, jagged scars.  I wish Tizi didn't need to carry this reminder with her for the rest of her life.  I wish Emmebt didn't need to remember what must have been a nightmare experience.  Josie asked me if we would have adopted Tizi if we knew about the scars.  I told her that of course we would have adopted her and we all carry scars, it's just hard knowing that someday, Tizi will need a complete account of her scars.  Already I pray that God grows her soul and her self-worth to realize, whether scars are visible or hidden they all need to be recognized.  I pray that Tizi grows to be a person that wears her scars and that her scars don't wear her.

In asking Emmebt what she would like Tizi to know about her, she gave the most beautiful reply I've ever heard.  At the time, I couldn't write, I couldn't even see, all I could do was stare at this beautiful,  courageous woman sitting beside me.  Emmebt said, "I not give her to adopt because I don't love her.  I give her to adopt because I love her.  I saw that she was sick and could not live.  I give her because I very poor and she cannot live.  I give her because I love."  With all of my heart, I wanted Emmebt to be the mother given the chance to raise this beautiful baby!  I wanted God to swoop down that instant and fix everything wrong in this story!  I wanted to hold Emmebt and cry with her and for her.  Emmebt watched me cry with a peaceful calm.  It was quiet for a long time.  When a reply finally came, I tried to assure her that our family would love Tizi with the love Emmebt wished for her.  We would weave Emmebt into Tizi's heart in a way that Emmebt would be as real in our family as the five of us.  We would do all we can to teach Tizi about her birth Mother's unselfish heart, her couageous love and as a family, we would humbly try to live out the same

.

I held Emmebt's hand as we drove her back to the bus stop.  I hope I didn't freak her out with my touchy feely invasion of her space.  Her hand felt small and sweaty and hot.  I wondered if anyone had held her hand in a tender way before.  I wish I didn't need to let go, ever.   Emmebt may never have had the privilege of an education nor a proper home by our standards, but she taught me invaluable lessons.  She taught me that love outside of yourself, hurts deeply.  She taught me that courage comes in all shapes and sizes.  She taught me that once you are a Mother, you will forever be a Mother.

God bless you Emmebt Kedir.