Riding Out The Storm

I spent the night tossing and turning. Not without sleep, but without deep rest. My dreams were riddled with catastrophe, fear, and danger. I had hoped to wake up and find it was all just a dream. But, to my dismay, it is anything but. It is a nightmare...one that I have to patiently depend on my God to see me through, see our family through.

So this is what it’s like to be a mom, huh? I have nannied MANY children and helped parent in MANY families. But this is different. I haven’t actually met them. I have only fallen in love with pictures and short video clips of their sweet laughter and nervous cries. Perhaps you can compare this stage of our adoption to a pregnant mother, waiting to meet her child. She’s seen their face, heard their heartbeat and felt their existence. I can’t physically feel them in my womb, but my heart and soul love them no-less. The expectant mother...ever waiting, ever wondering until delivery day finally arrives. Our process won’t be as straightforward as a physical birth and we will have to wait several months to bring them home, but we long for it with every fiber of our being, like any parents do, as they await the arrival of their child(ren).

So far, we have paid for some of their medical expenses with Dr. visits to their creche, and their need for vaccines and medicine. We have slowly begun prepping their rooms and getting their spaces ready and waiting for their arrival. The anticipation is great, not only in our hearts and minds but among our family and friends as well.

And yet, today, my heart is heavy. Today, I feel more like a mom than ever. Hurricane Matthew is headed straight for Haiti. It is said to make landfall by this evening and the 20+ inches of rain, alone, will be catastrophic. Add the 100+ mph winds and...you get the picture.  I have read article upon article about the potential effects, and, now, all we can do is pray. Pray for protection, pray that the storm loses power and alters course, pray that preparations have been made.

Oddly enough, it is not only the danger to our children that unsettles my soul. It is the impact of such a powerful storm on the entire island. Our trip in April with (my work) the Colorado Haiti Project blessed us with many friends, scattered throughout the country. We have a program manager on the ground in Port au Prince, hundreds of families in the very rural Petit Trou de Nippes area, which will, no doubt, be hit very hard, being on the southern peninsula. There’s Respire Haiti, Taina, The Apparent Project and Papillon, On a Hill Guesthouse, Vertile House, Mario and his school and families in Momance, the creche where our kiddos are, and dozens of others that I can’t even wrap my head around. What will they do? Can they be reached after the storm? Do they have what they need? Flooding, alone will be detrimental, but the mud and landslides will certainly take lives and homes. And then there are the other countries in it's path...

I carry this heavy heart with tear-filled eyes...and I wait. Wait for answered prayers. Wait for what’s next. Wait for an opportunity to help. If that’s even possible, though. Who knows what travel will look like, particularly out to the rural stretches of Petit Trou. On a good, clear day, it’s nearly an 8 hour drive from the airport. Roads will wash out. Internet and phone service will be down. People stranded. And what about our kids? I wish more than anything that I could hold them and calm them and keep them safe. But I can’t. Not now...not yet. Not even after the storm. Adoption laws don't allow it. Simply going to help provide relief to any areas in the vicinity of the creche may bring our adoption into question because no prior-contact is allowed. So what do we do?

This week was supposed to be a celebration. Despite being miles apart and practically strangers, our little girl turns THREE on Thursday. We have been watching her grow up in photos for over a year now. If that isn’t a hard enough pill to swallow, we now are left to wonder if her Birthday will even be noticed. It will likely pass her by in the blink of an eye as the wreckage from the storm is uncovered. It isn’t the end of the world, by any means, so please hear that! But I do pray that she has a full belly on her Birthday, if nothing else, and that she is safe, happy and healthy with her big-brother at her side.

One day, my dears, we will celebrate both of your sweet lives with our family and friends who love and adore you already. Until then, be safe and don’t be afraid. HE is watching over you both...my precious little ones.