One Year Later

One year ago today, at about 6pm, Tiza walked through the doors of her forever home for the first time.  I went before her in order to catch it on film and to attempt to read her facial expressions.  As was true of Tiza during her first several months with us, her face revealed little, other then the fact she loved the balloons bought for celebrating her arrival at the airport.  Nothing of our home impressed her, she simply took it in.

From what I remember of those first months, Tiza used little of our home.  The rooms seemed too big for her.  She was accustomed to many people in one small space.  Her proximity to each of us was very close and I remember spending most of our time in the kitchen, on the floor.  I'm not sure when she began to expand her territory, but I do remember it came as her confidence and security expanded.  Her physical followed so closely to her emotional state during those early months.  It was the one way we could read her.

 I also remember prior to Tiza's arrival, wondering why people brought in meals for families that had recently adopted children.  I didn't feel judgemental, just curious.  Why would they need a meal, they weren't recovering from childbirth?  Um, yeah.....for those of you with the foresight to bring us meals, THANK YOU!!  It was the only way the big kids were fed during those early days!!  I'm not sure if I even bought groceries!  Tiza consumed all of me; my time, my attention, everything, it might have been harder then childbirth, I can't remember!  If I haven't thanked you before, please know what a gift and encouragement you were to us through your profound act of feeding us!

Around Christmas, Tiza seemed to take all the information she had processed and stored since her arrival and begin to speak out.  Her sentences were clear and complete.  When it started, we'd all just stare at her, wondering who was doing this talking and where was it coming from.  I think she was telling us she was home, both physically and emotionally.  It was so good to have her home!  It was so sweet to see Tiza begin to be born into our family.

When I reflect back over the past year and consider all Tiza has taught me, many things come to mind, but what stands out most is how Tiza showed me we are all capable of much more then we give ourselves credit for.  I've shared before,  the nannies at her orphanage referred to her as their "miracle baby."  In thinking on this, there were many "miracle babies" they were loving on, in fact, they were all miracles.  Aren't all children?  Because of Tiza's early weeks in the hospital, I wonder if she reminded them of the importance of their work?  Maybe she encouraged them as her body began to respond and grow and heal.  Whatever the case, Tiza taught them to never rule out life to death.

Recently, I read a report that stated one of eight children born in Ethiopia will not make it to their fifth birthday.  After spending time there, I understand this statistic.  I've shared in earlier blogs of the bravery of the birth mom's who put their baby's needs before their own heart.  Each time I look at pictures of the family of babies Tiza was surrounded with in her orphanage, I see two things.  I see "miracle babies" in each of their faces and I see deep, unselfish Mother's love.  A love that breaks deeply within each heart and a love that realizes the hearts of their children.

Before Tiza arrived, I knew of a Mother's love.  Since she has allowed me to be a part of her heart, she has reminded me that I'm capable of more then I've believed in the past.  Prior to Tiza, I was a big picture thinker, with that, comes much defeat.  I saw the hurts and troubles around me, but felt there was little I could do to make a difference.  Life's problems were much bigger then my solutions.  Tiza breaks down the equation.  She's taught me that I am able to make a difference, daily.  Often our world applauds the spectacular, the Mother Teresa's of our age, as we should.  Seldom do we take the time to notice the whispers in our day, and that's the very core of Tiza's life lesson to me.  I can be a whisper.  I can love on the one baby for the one day that God has given me.  We can all make a difference in the day before us, with the people and the path we are living.

Tiza's days hold little fear.  The one thing she says she's afraid of is dragons and I have no idea where that comes from.  She's faced lifes' biggest losses; family, security and home and came out of it with love in her heart and smiles to share.  I don't know how she did it.  I'm not sure when the reality of her life will set in, but for today, we celebrate.  We celebrate a big and brave heart.  We celebrate a belly giggle which causes each of us to laugh and finally, we celebrate her life's lesson in striving to believe bigger and act accordingly.  As Tiza marches past some of life's greatest pains, she has boldly challenged each of us to live bravely, so today, one year later, thank you Tiza for making me to set aside my fear and instead, act out, believing life will be different because I am different.  Thanks Tiza,  Year One has left it's mark on my soul.  You Tiza, have left a mark in my heart.  I like my heart better today, one year later.

Black and White

I was getting groceries the other night when I received a text beep. I took the time to check it because home base will often text me while I'm at the grocery store and add to my shopping list.  This text, left me unprepared, it read, "Tiz just said, I am black.  You are white."  I simply put my phone on the shopping cart and stared at the Wheat Thins.  Who knew there are so many varieties of a single cracker?

I continued to reread Marc's words.  As much as I hated my response, my stomach dropping and  focused breathing, it was the response within me. Often, I've heard stories of blended families that describe their children as not even realizing they are of different skin color then other family members, for years, it's like the issue doesn't even exist.  It comes as no surprise that Tiza has noticed and commented on our family's different skin color shortly after her third birthday.  Truth be told, I'm sure this difference has been running through her insightful little brain for months now, it's just that she has decided to take the time to voice her findings.

Tiza, I'm not sure what place or time in your life you will be at upon reading this entry, but I know it's important enough to record.  From the moment God landed you into our home, we have marveled at the beauty that is you.  Your eyes, your skin, your hair, your coloring....each are so uniquely different from our own that we cannot get enough of them.  We talk and touch and love and kiss on your differences all day long.

I think the stomach drop feeling came because I don't want any differences to cause you hurt or pain or anger or fear.  Truth be told, I should be thankful that you, frankly, honestly and accurately claimed the very differences that make up our family.  How is it, at three years old, you are teaching me to be bold?  There is no need to hide behind what is.  It needs no apology.

Josie, Tiza and I were taking part in the Tulip Time parade last week.  It's a local event that celebrates our city's Dutch heritage.  Tiza was dressed in full Dutch attire when a woman walks up to us, bends to Tiz's level and says, "you don't look very Dutch." then kindly walks away.  Josie and I stared, open-mouths, at each other.  Did she really say what we thought she said?  All the effort, energy, and reading we've done as a family in an attempt to prevent Tiza from feeling singled out, feeling like she doesn't belong and in one brief moment, stranger walks up and WHAM, takes our breath away!  It's in that very action Tiza, I celebrate your knowledge and your voice and your confidence!

You see, we are different, really different and that's okay.  For some reason, our world sometimes acts like it's better to look and act and be the same, all exactly the same. However, we are created by a unique Artist, a God who clearly sees things differently. Clearly, He must think sameness is pretty boring.  You Tiza, spoke truth.  You were spot on.  You are black and we are white.  We pray that in future years, this doesn't cause you pain, but if it does, we'll figure it out together, as a family.  A family with different looks, different ideas, different coloring and different emotions.  It's probably all of these differences combined that will help us solve and heal and grow through what life throws us.  How thankful I am that we have each other to help figure life out!  How thankful I am that in your sweet, squeaky, three year old voice, you claimed truth, fully.  How much I love the fact that you celebrate what is different!

 I'm truly thankful for God's reminder that it's often best to think before I speak.  I struggle with that myself and often regret the words I say that can no longer come back.   Hopefully, the woman in our encounter enjoyed watching the parade on that sunny afternoon.   Perhaps she enjoyed it  while seated by the woman that asked me if Tiza was my Granddaughter.  I think there is a chance they may be friends.  I am black, you are white.
 

Introductions

Our family has recently returned from our first Spring Break with Tiza.  Much thought went into our trip as it's been awhile since we've traveled with a three year old.  I attempted to calculate all possible scenarios that may throw our trip; where would it work best for Tiza to sleep, how were we going to juggle her nap time, what if she couldn't sit through all of the large group dinners we are a part of, how would she keep up with the big kids.....and the list went on.

Upon arrival, Tiza again reminded me how I waste valuable hours, time I will never get back, by focusing on trivial details that mean nothing.  Tiza just takes on the day.  She slept when she slept, some dinners worked, and some didn't. She had really high moments and some nasty meltdowns, but at the end of the day, she fell into bed and one knew that she had just lived the best day of her life.

She does that to you, redirects your attention when you least expect it.  It happened on a Sunday morning when we were driving home from church.  Traffic was slow and often stopped, so we had the windows down and Tiz was in the back seat looking out her window with her hands cupped around the top of the car door.  We were creeping forward and approaching a car with its music blaring.  The driver was heavily pierced and tattoed and the three passengers, looked the same.  We were stopped exactly parralel to them and watched them pass around a bottle of whiskey while enjoying their cigarrettes.  The story they were sharing was laden with non-kid friendly words, all of this happening before noon.

It was one of those situations where I would have told the big kids not to stare and just look forward as I would have prided myself in being non-judgmental.  I would have told the kids that, but Tiza had other ideas and clearly saw a different version of the car occupants then I did.  I happened to look back at her and watched as she slowly lifted her cupped fingers and keeping all of them clinched together she gave them one of her baby waves that melts hearts.  The driver of the car, the one receiving this "wave gift" said, "hey, guys, look at that cute kid!"  And like that, we were all in.  No looking forward, no pretending they didn't exist, no judging in my own non-judgemental way....we were engaged.

As I watched Tiza communicate, I saw four guys lean forward, reach out their windows and make baby waves back with our baby.  In watching them entertain Tiza, I wondered who took the time to wave to them.  The driver and I made eye contact and I smiled at him.  He responded with a slight turn of the lips, not a real smile, but it was something.  What I  saw were his eyes.  In that brief moment, his eyes softened.  It's the same look that I get from Levi and Jake on the occasions when we can't use words, but speak through our eyes.  His eyes looked sweet and kind with a little bit of goofy left in them.  They held youth and laughter and what looked like a lot of tired.  His eyes held nothing but a willingness to take the time and make a baby laugh.  His eyes held within them a person I would want to get to know.

Tiza said, "Mommy, my friends."  I think they heard her words as they all laughed.  The cars began moving again and that was the end.  I felt a regret, a wanting to go back to that moment.  Mostly, because I wanted to apologize for looking at their shell and not taking the time to see their soul.  I wanted to thank them for not judging my stuffy, high-nosed self, like I had judged them.  I wanted to make sure someone loved them and reminded them of their importance.  What I really wanted was to tell them the next time I come across someone with a different shell then mine, I will be the one to make introductions, not leave that social skill up to my three year old daughter.

One year ago today, our family was introduced to Tiza in person.  It was a life-changing introduction. A walk through an orphanage gate that has never allowed us to look back.  Tiza has introduced our family to more people in the past year than I can count.  God has gifted her with eyes that see hearts and potential.   She wants to hold your hand, whoever you are.  In gripping your hand with her precious chubby fingers, she will steal your heart.  Tiza see in others value and worth and possibility.

It's clear from our Florida experience that I have much to learn about Tiza and introductions and people themselves.  I was scared when they introduced me to Tiza, mostly, because they called me Mama and I was afraid Tiza would reject that idea.  Clearly, I'm scared to introduce myself to others for much of the same reasons, rejection.  Little did I know in our introduction to Tiza, she would teach us that rejection, most often comes from within oneself and introductions, well, introductions come from the heart.  Tiza, I hope someday, my heart is half as big as yours.  Thank you for introducing me to all of your friends.

Referral Day

It was a Monday morning and I had been in Bible Study.  Jake was home from school, sick and mentioned that the adoption agency had called but I thought nothing of it because nothing big happens when you are ninth on a referral wait list.  Marc called shortly after I arrived home and I could tell something was either very wrong with his voice or with our connection.  At the time, I hadn't figured out he was crying and wasn't prepared for the words that followed, words that changed our lives.  He asked, "do you like the name Tizibt?"  I was making something for Jake to eat, was in a hurry and simply said, "no, why?" and through tears, he said, "that's the name of our daughter."  With those words, my world froze, I froze.

How did we get a referral when we were number nine on the wait list?  I drilled him with dozens of questions.  How old is she? Where is she from? What is her story?  Oddly, he didn't have one answer.  Within seconds I had hung up from him and was calling our case worker.  She had been expecting my call and explained , after she told Marc of our referral, he had heard nothing.  So patiently, she filled me in on every detail she had about this baby Tizibt.  A 22 1/2 month old baby girl that had just arrived at the orphanage after spending almost five weeks in the hospital due to severe malnutrition.  I was told that medical records and a referral picture would be emailed over to us shortly.

It was the photo that changed our lives.  These referral pictures remind me of baby mug shots.  With limited camera know-how, someone dresses up orphans, clips their name on their shirt and with shaky hands, snaps a picture that the recepient comes to treasure like a precious, priceless gift.  I remember looking at our photo of Tiza and feeling overwhelmed with emotions.  The realization that this baby would become my daughter, a part of our family and yet I knew nothing about her settled in.  I remember studying Tiza's picture with such intensity that it almost became 3-Dimensional to me.

Never had a picture held so much information, so much meaning.  In it, was all that we knew of our Tiza.  She smiled on her picture and I wondered, after learning what she had recently been through, how did they even get her to smile?  She had a sweet bald head, which we learned was a result of her malnutrition.  Her nose was a button and her eyes showed signs of life, I took that as a good thing.  In summary, we knew she looked sweet and bald and beautiful and we knew she was ours.

Along with the referral picture, there came all of the medical records they had on Tiza.  Because she had been hospitalized for so long, we were given a decent amount of information on her.  Our case worker told us to read through the information, seek medical advise, pray and let them know if we would take this referral.  As we sat in the doctor's office the next day with all of the paperwork we had on Tiza, our doctor began discussing the possibilities of Tiza's future.  As he listed potential concerns regarding Tiza's medical and developmental delays, I looked at Tiza's picture and knew that regardless of what he told us, she was ours.  It wasn't a valiant, brave move on my part that I felt this way and I was really hoping most of what he was saying would not come to be, but as I looked at that baby face and fell more and more in love with her, I knew that as with Levi, Jake and Josie, whatever they faced, we faced.  So too, was true with Tiza.  She had claimed our hearts through just one picture, there was no turning back.

The days that followed our referral, I would find Tiza's picture stuck in the kids' school binders, I found one copy in the visor of Marc's car and I kept mine in the side pocket of the bag I carried.  Each of us needed to keep Tiza with us at all times. In part, to become familiar with the idea that we were family, but in part, to try to learn the details of Tiza.  That priceless baby mug shot began opening up our hearts, it was working it's way into places we didn't even know existed.

Today, one year later, I've tried to duplicate this photo for Tiza.  Today, Tiza has hair, springy curls that we constantly touch and kiss.  Her smile we've learned, does come very easily and it lights our home and her eyes, well her eyes, are full of life.  A past life that was filled with struggles, but also filled with rich and deep love.  Her eyes hold within them, pieces of life that we still do not know from our Tiza.

It's difficult to believe that it's been a year since we've learned of Tiza because it seems she's always been.  I forget sometimes that she didn't come to us at birth.  When I reflect on last year and remember what "Referral Day" felt like and the months that followed until we were able to meet Tiza, I'm thankful we are on this side and we no longer need to create stories of Tiza from her photo.  That being said, when I look at this original, worn, referral photo, I'm overwhelmed that we were given this face to fall in love with.  This baby girl to learn life from.  This chance to set fear aside and allow ourselves to fall in love with a baby in a picture from a country far away.  Tiza has allowed me to see referral pictures through different lenses then I did hers.  She has taught me that within each picture is a heart and a spirit and a life that cannot be captured by any photographer.  She's shown me that leaps of faith come from all parties involved.  Mostly, she's allowed me to realize that as much as I studied and created and tried to prepare my heart for who she was, there really was little preparing at all.  Tiza's picture was the shell of who she is, it got the ball rolling, but in the end, the love that started with a photo took wings when our worlds met.  I'm so glad I met you Tiza.  I'm so glad you took our family as your own.  I'm so glad for Referral Days!