19 Blinks and a Bunny

Esmée and Elita Marguerite in their Christmas princess costumes.

Nineteen days. That’s how long our girls were home with us this time. Eighteen days felt like a long time just yesterday. But today the girls went back to their orphanage. Today, it feels like each of those nineteen days was just a blink. I suppose that is how all of life is. Just these little blinks that remind us of what life was meant to be. Little blinks that make you feel whole and home. We are thankful for these little blinks…for these moments that bring us joy and beauty out of this painful brokenness. These moments that make us remember what our God went through to adopt us, and that He is making all things beautiful in His time. One day we will blink and our girls will be home for good. One day they will need to be reminded what it was like to be an orphan…what we went through to adopt them. One day we will blink and there will be no more tearful partings, no more longing, no more orphans. One day, in the blink of an eye, we will leave this broken world. Until then, we welcome these blinks that make us long to be forever whole, eternally home.  

Our nineteen days was a beautiful blink…except for day eighteen. January 9^th was the day the girls and their Haitian kin were scheduled to interview at the U.S. Embassy. We were not so much concerned about the interview as getting everyone to the interview. Eric and I were not required to be at this appointment, but several circumstances led up to us (all 6 of us) standing in line before 7am in front of the U.S. Embassy in Haiti yesterday. Our orphanage director showed up around 7:45 with his assistant and Esmée’s Haitian father, then went looking for Elita Marguerite’s aunt who was standing in the wrong line. He brought them to us in our line, then He left. The Embassy had apparently scheduled too many appointments on this particular day making the wait time both outside and inside the building too long for two little boys who had too sugary pop-tarts for breakfast. Because of this, too many people saw a not so nice mama (who had stayed up too late doing the defiant hair of a defiant daughter who had undone half of it right at bedtime after she had been asked to please leave it be for just one more day). I digress, but should note that this day did feel longer (much, much, longer) than a blink. Needless to say, no one was particularly happy to have to wait at the Embassy for so long. But it would all be worth it when we got the expected good report back from the interviewers. Right? 

Wrong. We did not get a good report. Marguerite’s aunt said the interviewer asked her when Marguerite was born and when Marguerite’s mother died. Half of Haiti doesn’t even know their own birthday. So I seriously doubt auntie (who relinquished Marguerite to an orphanage over 8 years ago) remembers the birthday of her sister’s 8th child out of wedlock! At least this is my take on why the U.S. Embassy now wants a “baptismal certificate” dug up from the archives in Haiti in addition to Marguerite’s birth certificate. Our orphanage director had gone over the date on the death certificate with aunt. But she told us later that she just couldn’t remember what that date was and told the interviewer just that along with, “can’t you look it up on the death certificate?” Apparently Interviewer did not want to look it up or maybe was just having a headache of a day too and took it out on us. So now we also need “further evidence” (other than a death certificate?) of mother’s death. But that’s not all. Oh if only we could have blinked the day away yesterday! I’m going to admit right now and prepare you for the fact that I don’t like Interviewer one tiny bit. There have been a few nagging fears that have plagued me in this adoption process. One is the fact that Esmée comes from a rural part of Haiti (you may think everywhere in Haiti is “rural” and you wouldn’t know until you had seen the difference). Her background story has been somewhat sketchy and we have been left wondering with very few details to piece together. Our fears began to subside after we met Haitian dad when we went to Haitian court in October. He filled in a few of the details we had wondered about at that time, and the fact that Esmée looks a lot like him made things a little less nerve racking for us. The reason we were worried in the first place is because there is a high chance that if the father is the only living parent that DNA evidence could be requested. This was the case in Esmée’s case and because we had so few details to go on from the beginning we had often wondered if this really was her father. But we didn’t question it after we met him in October. He had a picture ID with name that matched the name on Esmée’s birth certificate and more importantly the marriage certificate to her mom (whom Esmée had talked about some). Furthermore she did acknowledge that he was her Haitian father (though she didn’t seem to have a relationship with him other than sharing his last name), and then there is the look alike thing. So since October we were not worried about the possibility of a DNA test request. And we were not worried about it yesterday aftter talking to Haitian dad some more about his life and Esmée's former family, epecially when he seemed to think the interview went really well. He would think twice about saying that later. Reason # 3 not to like Interviewer. She demanded a DNA test! We honestly have no idea why she did this. I mean why in the world would a man who looks just like his said daughter make 4 different trips across the country in a hot and sweaty tap-tap to stay at an orphanage and endure several court proceedings if she was not in fact his daughter? Well, Interviewer asked that very same question (she knows what all we and all those involved in our adoptions have had to go through so far), but instead of thinking, "surely he must be the father", she asked, "how much compensation have you received from the people that brought you here?". He answered, "nothing". She should have belived him. There really was no reason not to believe him. She could have decided to believe him, but she didn't...just to complicate our lives a little bit more. So we could decide to believe that there must be some easy money making conspiracy with the U.S. Embassy and the U.S. lab that processes the DNA test. I know some people just think the problem with our adoptions is the Haitian side. But almost nothing we have had to do to process our adoptions according to U.S. stipulations has been exactly easy either. There was definitely nothing easy about yesterday.

So there we were. Eric, and myself (physically and emotionally drained from the days/past 2 years events and pretty frustrated with Interviewers report), two very naughty boys who had received about 101 threats as to what was happening to them when we finally left the Embassy (which now could not be carried out because the task at hand was no where near accomplished), two confused and scared little girls who were only thinking of what might come next in the day for them, one very shy, and now questionable bio dad, one sweet but a little sassy aunt who was ready to get on home, and one assistant who was trying to translate for the lot of us and who seemed to know less of what was happening than we did. The predicament now was that Haitian dad could not be allowed to leave (he lives far away) before the DNA test could be done. Now we know at least one reason why the Lord worked the circumstances out for us to be there (when we didn't need to be...or so we were told) with a vehicle for such a time as this. The nine of us piled in the Quisqueya 12 passenger van. We don't know how to explain DNA test in Creole yet. But we do know how to promise food to hungry people. This felt a little deceitful since we knew the first thing on the agenda was finding the BioMed lab while we tried to ignore the whines of our children and the fact that auntie was really only coming for the food (and wouldn't have come if she knew about BioMed lab). We called orphanage director and told him we were going to try and take care of this today while said dad was in custody, which he labeled "our responsibility" anyways (since the cost of the DNA test is not in our adoption fee agreement). Assistant seemed to know every backroad in Haiti and not one of them was paved, but we certainly could not have done better with the directions. Finally we found what is apparently the only place in Haiti that will do a DNA test. But the phone # and the opening-closing hours the Embassy had given us were invalid. The upstairs that does the DNA test closed at 2:00. We arrived at 2:00. They refused to help us and a little medium sized dispute ensued in the lobby. Our hungry noisy children joined in the unhappy discussion. Aunt did not look happy (she had already tried to jump out of the van when she realized we were not going directly to the promised food). Haitian dad was not happy either. He had not planned on staying one second longer than he had to. Now he was stuck until at least the next day. And he knew we were going out of our way to make sure he stayed stuck. 

What to do next...food. We needed food. We only know of about two decently priced restaurants in Haiti, and neither of those were in the vicinity. We had heard of another called Mucheez and breathed a sigh of relief when Assistant pointed it out just around the corner. We all got our fill of some tasty, unhealthy, food then had another medium sized dispute with the waitress about the exchange rate and how much more money she owed us in change. But the one good thing (other than full bellies)...the reason we wanted to go to the Embassy in the first place was for these. 

Marguerite, Mom, Aunt Marie Jean

Esmée, Dad, and Haitian Dad Jean Claude

We took a few pictures with the Haitian kin in October but the girls were not with us. And the phone we took the posed pics on was stolen the next day before we could download. We figure that someday our girls will have questions. Someday they may want something that connects them to their past...to their story. Sadly, Haitian dad and aunt are all we have at this point. We asked each of them if they happened to have a baby picture of the girls or any pictures of other siblings (both our girls do have other half siblings out there... somewhere). We were sad their answer was "no", but aunt did tell me she has a picture of Marguerite's mother. I plan to track her down (which shouldn't be too hard since she lives near us), get that picture and make a copy for Marguerite if it's the last thing I do in Haiti. The girls didn't seem too interested in hanging out with their Haitian kinfolk. They acted like acquaintences that were at one time vaguely bonded as if it had been a dream, but only felt like strangers now. Haitian dad told us that Interviewer asked him, "Why do you want to give your child to these people?". He said he told her, "I could not take care of her". He told of circumstances of her mother's death, his remarriage, and children by two other women who do not want Esmée. He said, "She is not my child anymore. It is very clear that she is their child. They are her family now." Esmée said basically the same thing when Eric asked her that morning if she was excited to see her Haitian dad again. She answered, "Not my dad. You my dad. I see my family every day now." 

Esmée sporting her "I Love Daddy" P.J.'s  which she loves along with her Daddy.

But even though this is the felt reality, and even though we are somewhat relieved and thankful for that, we believe that these people from our girls past are important. And we believe they care.  They wouldn't have spent the day at the Embassy if they didn't care. They wouldn't have stayed in a car on a wild goose chase for a DNA test if they didn't care. They wouldn't be taking pictures with us at Mucheez if they didn't care. And we believe they want to be remembered. And we want to remember them...even if the part they play in our girls story is painful. We don't want to forget that while adoption is a beautiful picture of what Christ did for us, it is also a picture of pain. The reason there is the need for an adoption is because there was something that was broken...something that couldn't be fixed...something very painful that happened along the way. While we celebrate the fact that our girls (and their Haitian relatives) have embraced a new family and a new life, we don't want to forget how they got here. Because that is part of them too. And we know that where God has broken us the most He often uses us the most. We pray that the painful parts of their past will point many to their Savior and bring hope and healing for others too.

We felt a bit restored after our time at Mucheez, but still had a long trip home in Haiti traffic and still needed to figure out where the rest of our crew was going before we could go home. Several conversations had been happening behind the scenes as to the plan for the rest of the evening in regards with where everyone should go and how DNA test would be accomplished the next day. Quisqueya work/school started up again Tues. morning and there was no way for Eric to be the one to accomplish this unfortunate task. There was discussion about how much the DNA test would cost and what form of payment would be acceptable. Then there were our girls who had dreaded going back to the orphanage after the Embassy, and who had been getting their hopes up all day when circumstances had detained their departure from us. The circumstance of traffic, the need for Esmée to get to the DNA test in the morn (our house being on the way to the lab), and the lateness of the day sealed the deal on their hopes. And so we headed home. As we drove through streets filled with trash and naked children (and a full grown naked man wandering by), I asked myself why I can never get used to these sights? Then next to a pile of trash, something else caught my eye. There were these caged animals. Turtledoves, chickens, and a soft brown bunny with floppy ears. For those of you who don't know, I am a complete sucker for bunnies. Everyone has some sort of compelling and comforting vice right? My vices are coffee with a lot of cream and strangely enough...bunnies. There was something in the contrast of this soft and delicate creature in that harsh cage. I wanted to tell Eric to stop the van and allow me to go rescue it (but knew that would certainly have put him over the edge in our ridiculous day that I'm still not sure how he manuvered). I just wanted to scoop that bunny up and save it from its certain demise. Then I looked at my girls on either side of me, scooped under each arm, and knew that for now, I had scooped enough. But the thought of the bunny still lingered in my mind. I imagined stroking its soft fur (which would have caused me to have an allergy attack...but I didn't imagine that part), and tried not to think too much about the other things I saw on the way home or all that needed to be done when we got there. I was thankful that at least everyone had been fed and would come home to a clean house. 


But the house was not clean. In fact, it was the epidome of not clean. I had spent the night before spending time with defiant daughter and defiant hair. So not even the things I usually do before our househelp comes on Monday morning got done. Then there was also the aftermath of six people leaving house in a hurry at 6am. I was relishing the thought of coming home to a clean house. Eric didn't know about this relishing. He had diligently locked the door behind him when we left that morning and househelp could not get in to filthy house. Lucky for her. Not for me. The night loomed before us as if this nightmare of a day would never end. After picking up the strewnings of several rooms, doing two sets of dishes (Eric felt bad about locked door and commenced the first set), laying out uniforms, yelling at kids who were way to rowdy for way tired parents, appologizing to kids, reading to kids, putting kids to bed a few times, repacking bags for girls and the next days adventure and deciding not to mop the dirt stained kitchen floor...I was beyond tired. And the unsmart (but usual) thing to do when you are beyond tired is to check the Facebook. I fought with myself about it because I really wanted to just go to bed. But also wanted to send Audrey a message telling her that I wouldn't be home in the morn if she popped her head in because I would be at BioMed lab paying who knows how much for dumb DNA test (thinking how once again we were wrong about thinking we had raised the rest of the money needed for our adoptions). I would have only been a minute on Facebook. That's always the intention isn't it? Stupid intentions. But this time God pardoned my stupidity. 


I had just started to type my message to Audrey when a dear childhood friend's name popped up on chat. She is one of those friends that is never on Facebook chat and that I never regret talking to in the rare times we do. Kindred spirts we are. So I just had to chat with her and after a few minutes of catching up we had the following conversation...


Friend: So, I HAVE to tell you something. My husband just ran into the office and said that I had to get up really quick. He said throw on some shoes and come outside. I said, "okay, but it is pouring rain out here". So I run out there and he is holding a flashlight and he is all "Where did it go?" and I'm like "WHAT?? "A bunny rabbit. A big brown bunny rabbit was in our front yard."


Me: Oh! I love bunnies!


Friend: You may think that is the story. I KNOW (you love bunnies). That is what I am getting at. God has been speaking to me in weird ways. I'm not all metaphysical or anything, but God uses nature sometimes, I think. And, lo and behold, every time I see a bunny, I think of you. Always have. Well, since college and your pet rabbit with the litter box. It is pouring rain and a bunny rabbit is in our front yard. First time ever.


(Earlier in our conversation my friend told me that her father had recently passed away. Her precious mother passed away just a few years ago.) Refering to these losses she said, "I guess that is why you have been on my heart. In a weird way, I'm an orphan - a 33 year old orphan, but I have an empathy for orphans I never had until now. God uses these bumps in our lives. And, I was blessed with incredible parents who died very young. But, I can relate to others so much better than I could before - I help other women who are grieving and now children, specifically orphans, have been on my heart. So, my husband and I want to help. I need you to tell me what you need."


I had vented a little about the DNA test before she shared about her father dying and the bunny story. I wasn't thinking about the DNA test anymore, but about my friend and what she had been through. I thanked her for wanting to help, and she said, "Did you get it? Wow, that was fast!" I was like, "Your last message?" She said, "No, my donation". 


DNA test covered! Thank you Lord! You allowed these events today in Port au Prince, Haiti...DNA test and all. Then you sent a bunny in the rain to the yard of an old friend in TX to remind her of Your prompting. She said, "This isn't my money, it's God's and He is being very adament about this in my heart." I thought about the caged bunny I had seen on the way home. Really God? A bunny! 


Instead of falling asleep feeling guilty for wasting time on Facebook, I fell asleep dwelling on God's faithfullness. I knew that He had orchestrated all of the events that day, and I knew that He would do so again tomorrow.


And He did. DNA test was accomplished early this morning. There were several complications and several trips here and there to collect forgotten items (like a lot of U.S. cash that was the only payment method accepted and a birth certificate for Esmée that had been forgotten...and then the copy we retrieved back at our house was unacceptable too, so off to Archives...and on and on the saga goes). But the point is to say that God issued the grace to get through it. He always does. And we know He always will. 


I know this is a long, long post. But it was a long, long blink of a day. And sometimes I just have to write this stuff down to process it all. I know God works in our lives everyday. I wish I had time to record it everyday. Today I just had to. Never forget His faithfullness. Even when all you see in front of you is rotting trash, naked babies, dying parents, and little orphaned girls, God is there. He cares. He thinks your past is important too. And He wants to use all these things to point many to the Savior and bring hope and healing for others too. Our suffering in this world will be over in the blink of an eye. Until then, think about the bunny stories in your own life. Think about how He knows you so well too.

"O LORD, You have searched me and known me.

You know my sitting down and my rising up;

You understand my thought afar off.

You comprehend my path and my lying down,

And are acquainted with all my ways.

For there is not a word on my tongue,

But behold, O LORD, You know it altogether."

Psalm 139:1-4