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Disney’s new 3D animated kid’s movie Meet The Robinsons is about older child adoption! Who knew? This kids’ flick is full of the fast moving adventure and action Disney is known for but does so without the all too common sexual innuendo and language kids’ movies these days so often slip in to attempt to lure the older teen/adult audience. It even secured a rare G rating! The story line is good and the animation is even better. The kids will have tremendous fun watching the 3D action and trying to alternately catch or avoid the items that seem to come right out into the audience.
I had no idea it was about adoption and when it began with a young mother leaving her infant on the steps of an orphanage, I was terrified we had made a mistake in going to see it. (I am dismayed how often television shows and movies portray adoption in a negative light.) I was pleasantly surprised to find that Meet The Robinsons was different.
It faced some issues older children adoptees encounter with surprising honesty and compassion. In one scene, I leaned down to ask my daughter who is an older child adoptee if she was okay with what she was seeing and she seemed to not understand why on earth I would be anxious. The best part of all, is that the movie ends with incredibly redeeming themes about the beauty of the creation of a family through adoption.
My only warnings are related to the movie being 3D. Some of the action sequences frightened my three year old. After all, they were leaping off the screen! Also, because the movie is 3D and they give you the glasses to take home, the theatre did not allow matinee pricing of the tickets. If you have a large family like ours, it makes a difference.
Oh, one more thing….just before the main feature there is a 3D Chip and Dale cartoon originally created in the 1950′s that we all enjoyed.
So, save your pennies and take your family to see Meet The Robinsons before it leaves theatres. It is a movie with positive things to say about adoptive families and it is a lot of fun for everyone.
We were on our way to Haiti and barring any unforeseen circumstances, we would be bringing Roseline home at last. We still had heard nothing on whether or not the orphanage had settled the issue of Claudine’s birth certificate, nor did we have a passport for her. Our visa appointment was scheduled for the following day and as I looked out of the small airplane window into the still dark winter sky, I knew the day before us needed to be a day of miracles.
The morning had begun with a direct attack at our most vulnerable point – childcare for the children we were leaving behind. My in-laws had come the night before to stay with us to care for the children while we were away. My father-in-law was supposed to take us to the airport but when I went to awaken him at 3:45 am I found them already up and immediately I sensed something was amiss.
“Sherri,” my mother-in-law said “We have a problem.”
She went on to tell me that she did not feel well when she awoke and took her blood pressure and found it was high. I asked her what we needed to do, because frankly I had no idea. I did not know if the reading was in the range of being immediately dangerous or not, nor was I realistically in a position to cancel the trip considering we had already lost money once on airline tickets, our girls had been told we were on our way, and the U.S. government was expecting us at the embassy in Haiti the next morning.
It was eventually decided that we would drive ourselves to the airport in our huge 9 passenger conversion van and leave it in long term parking so my father-in-law could stay at the house with my mother-in-law and get the older children off to school. I had already prepared a list of friends and neighbors in case of an emergency and told my mother-in-law she would need to call someone as soon as it was daylight and get some help with Jeremiah while she was at the doctor’s office. It was the best I could do.
Michael and I began our drive to the airport in somber silence. Then, as we merged onto the interstate, I looked at my husband, my voice strained with threatening tears and said, “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to go out of the country not knowing who will care for my children.”
And so, we began to pray. We just poured it all out to God, seeking his guidance and provision. Then, we began to sing praises to our God.
By the time we settled down for a bite of breakfast at the airport, I found myself strangely free of anxiety. I looked across the table at Michael and said, “I don’t know why but I am peaceful. What about you?” He said his heart and mind were at peace as well. We then began to form a strategy to ensure our children would be cared for in our absence.
First of all, we determined I should call my sister and let her know about the situation. She lived out of state and would not be able to be there to care for the children personally but we wanted her to know what was happening so that she could find someone to watch over them if the situation merited it. Also, as a nurse practitioner, she would be able to help us understand how immediate the danger was for my mother-in-law. We also decided we would call our church’s office when we reached Miami. We knew that someone from our church body would do whatever it took to meet our need. Lastly, I told Michael I wanted to call my friend Jodi because I knew I could count on her to check on the situation.
Just as we finished making these plans, Michael looked up at the cash register of the food bar and said, “Hey, Tom!” Then to me, “Look! There’s Tom.”
Tom…..was Jodi’s husband.
He sat down beside us to have his breakfast and we filled him in on the situation and my plan to call Jodi from Miami. Immediately he said, “We will call her right now.“
“Oh, it is so early,” I said. “I don’t want to wake her.”
“I don’t mind waking her,” he said as he dialed the number from his cell phone. He spoke to his wife for just a moment and then handed the phone to me.
As soon as Jodi heard my voice, she said “Oh, Sherri. I was just lying here in bed thinking of you and praying for you and I could see you with daughters in your arms!”
I filled her in on the situation and she promised to check on everyone.
Why, I wondered, do I ever doubt God’s loving care of me or his ability to provide for my needs? He is not only in control but cares enough to minister to the anxieties of his children. Oh, what a Savior.
I then called my sister and she assured me that although my mother-in-law would not need to go long term with blood pressure that high, she was in no immediate danger.
So, as I sat there on the plane, staring out of the window, my heart was overwhelmed with gratitude. I picked up my scripture reading for the day and found that these were the verses for the day:
“The Lord is in your midst.” Zeph. 3:15
“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10
“Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are fearful-hearted, ‘Be strong, do not fear! Behold, your God will come with a vengeance, with the recompense of God; He will come to save you.” Isaiah 35: 3 -4
“The Lord your God in your midst, the Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness. He will quiet you with his love. He will rejoice over you with singing.” Zeph. 3:17
And finally….
“Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart.” Psalm 27:14
My anxiety was gone. As a matter of fact, after I read those scriptures I became excited, because I knew God’s hand was upon us and he was in our midst.
“Please, Aslan,” said Jill, “may we go home now?” “Yes, I have come to bring you Home,” said Aslan The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis
Once we realized Roseline’s passport was complete and both girls’ orphan petitions were signed, we made the decision to notify the orphanage that we would be coming to Haiti to finalize the visa and bring our baby home. We told them we would also bring Claudine home if her passport was complete in time but if it was not, one of us would return for her when she was free to go.
It was not an easy decision on our part but one we felt we had to make. During my visit to Haiti the month before, I became very concerned that Roseline was not gaining weight and seemed to be suffering from chronic diarrhea. We were anxious to get her home and to our pediatrician to find out what was wrong. Haiti was not particularly stable at the time and the presidential elections were looming. We were concerned that if we did not go get her when we had the chance, the political situation could deteriorate and we would be unable to do so. Also, the girls had been in separate facilities since their arrival at the orphanage almost two years before so we knew we would not be putting them through the trauma of separating them.
A few days before we were scheduled to depart, we received an e-mail from the orphanage that encouraged us to delay our travel with the hope that Claudine’s passport would be completed if they were given more time. It was a short e-mail, but a powerful weapon of discouragement to my already battle worn heart. I simply fell apart.
We had already rescheduled flights once due to a similar e-mail and now, we were being told to wait some more. I was sitting at the end of my kitchen table sobbing when my husband found me. He knelt beside me and asked why the e-mail was so upsetting to me.
“Because,” I cried. “It is happening again! I just can’t bear another open ended wait. It is never going to end. It is never going to end.”
With a striking strength and absolute calm he said, “We are going to Haiti. We are going just like we planned and we are bringing Roseline home. We are not waiting any longer. We decided that if Claudine’s passport is not finished one of us would return for her, and that is what we will do.”
Immediately, my soul was at peace.
A couple of mornings later, in the last moments of sleep, I again began to dream. This dream, was simply one verse of scripture playing over and over in my head. “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1
But as the verse played over and over in my dream, the word “essence” began to take the place of the word “substance”. Later that morning, I picked up my Bible and looked up the verse. When I saw that the word “essence” was not there, I thought at first I had been mistaken but as I studied the verse, I felt prompted to go to the dictionary and find the definition of the word “substance”. Random House’s dictionary defines the word substance as this: “the essential part of a thing: essence.”
So, it was made clear to me that only one thing was lacking to bring Claudine home. It was not political stability in Haiti, a birth certificate, or a passport; it was faith.
Faith. It is the essential part of all things we hope for. It is more important than all else whether it be circumstances, strength, weakness, resources, or oppression. Faith, is the central thing, the real thing. Faith, is all that really matters.
The day before we left for Haiti was a Sunday. My pastor called Michael and me up to the front of the church and asked the elders to come and lay their hands on us in prayer. My dear pastor, is a mighty man of faith, and when he prayed he asked God with confidence to let Michael and I return with two daughters in our arms, not just one. He prayed for our protection and the provision of the children we would leave behind to make the dangerous trip.
I can still hear the power in his voice as it joined with the voices of the elders all around us and the voices of our church family that filled the auditorium. I can still feel the weight of their hands on my back, shoulders, head and arms as they sought God on our behalf. They had all walked with us through the dark valley of wait. They had cried with us and held us when we were so close to falling apart, and now they were sending us forth with power and blessing to bring these daughters that not only belonged to us, but to them as well, home at last.
And so, we turned our eyes and hearts towards Haiti.
“Ain’t that America, home of the free. Little pink houses for you and me.” John Mellencamp
I do not miss the heartbreak of the adoption process, but one thing I do miss is the way God spoke to me during that time. Psalm 34:18 tells us that “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.” This scripture was certainly true for me. I do not think God withdrew himself from me after he healed my broken heart. I am quite sure the difference is that I moved. My fallen flesh is prone to stray from his side when the crisis lessens, and the pain subsides.
But when my heart was broken,I drew near to God with desperate fervency and he responded in kind. His Spirit was ever present, and his Word was vibrant and alive. He sent people into my path who were filled with his truth for me.
And a few times, he even sent me dreams.
Now, I was raised a very conservative Baptist. My parents boasted that my mother had me in church six days after my birth even though she had a C-section! We went to Sunday school and worship on Sunday morning; returned for evening worship on Sunday night and “prayer meeting” on Wednesday. Never in all my years, and countless services, did I ever, even once, hear anyone say God had sent them a message in a dream. I am no longer a Baptist, but I wasn’t exactly “looking” for a dream from God. In fact, it never entered my mind that would happen.
But in this, my wilderness, the rules were changed.
Early one morning in the last moments of sleep during the interlude between learning Roseline’s passport was complete, and departing for Haiti, I had a very vivid, and unusual dream.
In this dream, there was suddenly a house before me. It was very simple, and nondescript to the point of almost resembling an illustration. There was no “setting” around it. There was only the house, set against a white background. The little house was pink with white trim. As I gazed at the house, the two side walls were suddenly blown off so that the house could be made larger. Then the image faded.
A second scene appeared in the dream. In this scene, I was in Haiti and walking down a corridor where I met the Haitian daughter of a friend of mine who was also in the adoption process. She was sitting on a bench that ran along the wall, and as I approached her, she rose and came to me and asked me for a cup of water. I gave her the water and the scene faded.
Then, the third and final image appeared. It was my daughter Claudine. I saw her for only a moment and then the dream was over as suddenly as it began. As soon as the image faded, my alarm clock sounded to awaken me for the day. Simultaneously, the following verse came into my mind:
“The children born during your bereavement will yet say in your hearing, ‘This place is too small for us; give us more space to live in. Then you will say in your heart, ‘Who bore me these?’ I was bereaved and barren; I was exiled and rejected. Who brought these up? I was left all alone, but these- where have they come from?” Isaiah 49:20- 21
I bolted upright and ran downstairs for my journal and pen to record the details before I forgot them. As I sat pondering the dream, I was unsure what all of it meant, but felt it was a prompt to pray for my friend’s daughter, and a clear indication that God would complete what he had started and bring Claudine home.
In the days that followed, I would need all of the confirmation I could get.
A few days later, we bought airline tickets for Haiti and in faith, purchased a return ticket for not only Roseline, but Claudine as well. We still had heard nothing at all about the status of the birth certificate issue for Claudine and I was frustrated with myself that in my weakness of faith, I once again had a knot of worry in the pit of my stomach.
I turned to God in repentance, which quickly flowed into thanksgiving and praise. My journal for December 6, 2005 contained the following prayer:
“I give thanks to you O Lord, because your love and mercy endure forever. I praise you because you never change. You remain today, in my life, the same God who spoke the world into being and sustains it by your will. You remain in this moment the same God who spoke to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. You are today the God who preserved your people through the tragedy of Joseph’s journey into slavery. You then showed the world you are God by delivering your people out of Egypt by your mighty hand.
In this hour, you are the same God who will one day judge the Earth and make her new.
The same arms that hold me when I am afraid, are the arms that stretched in death on the cross and then seized the keys of sin, Hell, and death when you rose again.
My God, I am weak but you are strong. Deliver me and glorify yourself in me today.
~Amen”
“This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast…” Hebrews 6:19
*All writing and photography on this site are the property of Sherri Gragg unless otherwise noted.
One of the things I learned from our two year adoption journey was that there are times when the needs of the soul outweigh all else, and in those moments it is imperative to stop and meet with God. So many of those moments in our adoption journey were borne out of sorrow but December 2, 2005 was different. That afternoon, as I took time out for my soul, it was because I was overwhelmed by God’s goodness and grace.
As I sat in the quiet of my living room thinking over the abrupt turn of events that day, it occurred to me how many times I used that word “overwhelmed”. Almost without exception, I had used the word in a negative context but only rarely to describe something God had done for me.
How often had I genuinely been “overwhelmed”? What did it mean to be overwhelmed? It was the literal word image of a tsunami. Just as the giant wave of a tsunami completely surpasses and covers people and even some buildings, the word overwhelmed means to be completely covered.
And that afternoon, I was truly overwhelmed by God’s goodness, tender love and compassion. I litterally was unable to absorb it.
That morning, I had called Haiti and found that both of our orphan petitions were approved. I was just shocked because I knew we had never been to Haiti to sign them. I protested to the officer at the U.S. office there and she told me she was looking at my signature right before her. She told me to call the consulate on Monday morning and scheduled our visa appointment.
Then, I received a call on my cell phone that Roseline’s passport was done. The word was that the orphanage director was holding it in her hand. I could not wrap my mind around the truth that my baby was finally, finally free to come home.
The news concerning Claudine however, was still shaky. The word was that the orphanage staff “hoped” to have the issue with her birth certificate settled that day and obtain the passport the following week. It was this great unknown, coupled with the many times we had hoped in vain that contributed to the numbness that seemed to envelope my heart and mind. I wondered if I would be able to let down my guard until the officer put the visas in my hand and said, “Have a nice trip.” I could not help but wonder if when that finally happened if I would need a few moments alone to have a breakdown. What would it be like to finally lay down the burden of our long wait?
As hard as I tried, I could not even imagine it.
But for that moment, that day, it was so sweet to just be thankful for God’s tsunami of grace.
Isaiah 49:22 – 23 22 This is what the Sovereign LORD says:
“See, I will beckon to the Gentiles,
I will lift up my banner to the peoples;
they will bring your sons in their arms
and carry your daughters on their shoulders. 23 Kings will be your foster fathers,
and their queens your nursing mothers.
They will bow down before you with their faces to the ground;
they will lick the dust at your feet.
Then you will know that I am the LORD;
those who hope in me will not be disappointed.”
I wanted to take a short trip for Spring Break and Mammoth Cave located in Cave City, KY seemed a perfect choice. Mammoth Cave is the longest known cave system in the world; 365 miles of it have been explored! We took the 2 hour historic tour and it was definitely the maximum length of tour our family was capable of completing. Ironically enough, everyone made it just fine in the most physically rigorous parts of the journey but there was a fair amount of whining during the informative lectures. All in all, it was a lot of fun.
We drove to KY Wednesday morning and arrived around lunchtime. After we grabbed a bite to eat, we headed over to Dinosaur World. Dinosaur World boasts over 100 life-size dinosaur models on their walking tour. The kids had a blast here. Michael and I thought it was a bit goofy. We had seen about 10 of them when Michael remarked he had never heard of a single one of them. We began to be suspicious as to their “authenticity” and laughed out loud at some of the names. 
Pretty soon, we had fun making up names of our own for them such as “Diva-saurus” (see pic. to the right)
or this one below which I like to call “Ortho-saurus” because his teeth are so nice and straight.
One fun activity was the free fossil dig for the kids. They were able to dig for fossils in a sand pit and take home their three favorites. There was a dino themed playground, a museum, and a “cave” theatre that continually showed an educational dinosaur documentary. I did not stay in there long because it smelled like an outhouse to me. (Yes, I have been in an outhouse. Many times. Another story…)
Here are the kids feigning terror at the feet of a carnivorous dino ~
Below and to the right is a picture of the kids and me sitting on the feet of the “photo-saurus”.
And now, the info you have all been waiting for: We slept at Wigwam Village a 1930′s era theme motel where all of the rooms are concrete “wigwams”. Most of the rooms have one double bed and a bathroom. There are a few, however, that have two double beds. We had two of these right next door to each other. We slept in wigwams #9 and 
#10. All of the furnishings are from the 1930′s and are in surprisingly good shape. All wigwams have air-conditioning, cable t.v. (poor reception) and either space heaters or radiators. The baths have the original fixtures, tiles, etc.. I saw some great art deco detailing here and there. Our rooms were reasonably clean. The towels and sheets were not high quality but smelled of bleach which I found very comforting. My husband said it was just a step above camping, so if you go, be realistic.
Part of the playground equipment was very old, albeit in good shape. It did not neccesarily meet with today’s safety 
standards and we found ourselves more than once saying, “Hmmm. That looks dangerous.” To which the other would reply, “Yep. He or she is gonna get killed.” To which we would in unison shout, “Get DOWN from there!”
I had wanted to do this forever. I had a blast. It was my goal to create a memory my kids would never forget and I am pretty sure we succeeded.
Oh, places to eat: There were several fast food places nearby. I like to eat healthy meals so it was a bit of a challenge for me. The first day, we ate at Wendy’s where a girl can find something reasonably healthy if she sets her mind to it. For dinner that night we ate at Cracker Barrel and we returned to Cracker Barrel for breakfast the next morning where I had oatmeal with sugar free maple syrup (how do they do that anyway?) and pecans. On the side I had one egg beater and a turkey sausage.
Oh, and coffee. Lots of coffee.
Well, that’s the scoop. So, if you live anywhere near Cave City, KY give it a try! 
“But the Voice of Truth tells me a different story, the Voice of Truth says
“Do not be afraid.” ~ Casting Crowns
A few days later, I again sat watching the dawn. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting pale pink bands across the horizon and turning the sky above a deep, midnight blue. The moon was still out, a bright crescent, but I could also see its remainder in the shadows. I sat quietly and then whispered, breaking the silence:
“What will today bring?”
I felt as if I were preparing to march out to battle and on the other side of the conflict would be either joy and victory or despair and sorrow.
So much had happened the day before; so many disturbing e-mails from our agency. Driven to the brink of desperation, I had spent most of the day fasting and praying and as I sat there in the pre-dawn stillness, I was so glad I had done so. I did not know how I would have managed to hold together if I had not.
I thought about how we had been burned over and over again in the adoption. Even the day before, a new hinderance had arisen. It seemed that was how it had continually been; as soon as we fought our way through to the next door and began to step through, we would repeatedly find it cruelly slammed in our faces. I reached the point where I began to plead with God to just close the door earlier the next time rather than wait until we stood on the threshold.
As I sat there, pondering these things, it occurred to me that it is ingrained in the nature of a human being to learn caution from pain. When one experiences pain, it sends a message to the brain, “Don’t do that again!”
And so it had been with us. We would hope and find ourselves bitterly disappointed time and again. There were times I feared I had reached the point of such trauma that I would be unable to hope again, and yet, despite all logic or reason, hope again I did.
That morning, as the sun rose, I stood once again on the precipice and faced the same question. “Do I jump off and hope again?”
Then, God stepped into my contemplations and reminded me of the truth.
First of all, every time I jumped, I leapt to a sure hope because underneath me were The Everlasting Arms. Secondly, as the author of all natural law, God was able to supersede it at any time. There was a name for this phenomenon: A miracle.
So, each time God enabled me to hope again, it was a moment in which I was privileged to experience his Divine movement in my life.
The thought made me wish I could, for a moment, see the physical realm through the eyes of God. “How many times, day after day,” I wondered, “does the child of God face the choice of yielding to God or the flesh? How many battles in the spiritual realm are fought moment by moment?”
And as the moon begrudgingly yielded his place to the sun, I sighed and turned my heart fully towards Christ. Abandoning myself to His will and care, I dared hope for his faithful deliverance once again.
The house was quiet and dark. I was the only one awake and I sat in front of an open window, waiting for the sun to rise. A journal rested on my lap and I wrote in it by the light of one small lamp.
“How can I make it through this day….” I wrote.
It was Thanksgiving Day. Thanksgiving has always been a big deal in our house. Early on in our marriage, it became “our” holiday when we stayed home and family came to us. I loved to cook and my family grew to love the Thanksgiving dishes I prepared so much that I was met with a chorus of outrage if I even considered altering the menu. I always began preparation weeks in advance in order to be ready for the big day.
Not this time. As a weak, pale, dawn feebly made its way into the room I took inventory of my surroundings. The place was a wreck and I had not even begun to prepare the meal. I just did not want to do it. I did not want to cook a turkey or put the cloth on the table. I did not want to polish, dust, vaccum or sweep. Over and over I kept telling myself “Just put one foot in front of the other…”
My spirits sank further as I realized Thanksgiving was only the beginning because it ushered in the Christmas season. I could not bring myself to think of shopping for gifts. “Keep moving” I told myself, “Just keep moving…”
Increasingly, I was finding that my heart was in Haiti. I wanted to be with my girls. I found myself daydreaming about packing up all of us and just going to Haiti so we could all be together at last. Somewhere, deep in my soul, I told myself that if a family trip to Haiti is what it took for us to avoid spending another Christmas apart, that is what I would do.
I knew the reason I could not bring myself to prepare for Thanksgiving and Christmas was that my heart was fighting like crazy against the idea of heading into another holiday season without my daughters.
I turned my heart towards the Comforter once more and in my journal penned this prayer:
“My God,
This is the day you have ordained for me and I will rejoice and be glad in it. Forgive me for my complaining, unthankful spirit. I will count my blessings, sing praises to your name, love my family well, and do good work.
Thank you for your mercy, compassion and grace towards me. I am so thankful for the fellowship and comfort of your Spirit.
Sweet Jesus, without you where would I be?”
~Amen
“You, O Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.”
Psalm 18:28
*The photo above is of a sunrise baptism in Destin, FL.
Unless otherwise noted, all photos and writing on this site are the property of Sherri Gragg.
“You have listened to fears, child,” said Aslan. “Come, let me breathe on you. Forget them. Are you brave again?” ~ C.S. Lewis “Prince Caspian”.
I sighed with contentment as I poured myself a second cup of tea. It was a luxury for which I had been longing for more than a week. It was Monday morning and my older two children had just boarded the bus for school and Jeremiah was playing quietly.
As I poured the cup of tea, I felt profoundly thankful. I was thankful to be home. I was thankful for my family. I was simply thankful for the comfort of a cup of tea, and yet…..the night before, I had cried myself to sleep because I missed my daughters in Haiti.
This duality of heart and mind marked my first few days at home. Thankfulness and longing. Joy and sorrow. Peace and fear. Throughout each day I whispered prayer upon prayer for my Haitian daughters. I prayed for their safety and provision. I fervently asked God to keep alive the fragile bond I had labored to forge.
As the days after my return home passed, I began to be haunted by anxious thoughts, both for my daughter’s safety as well as the status of the passports. When I last saw the orphanage director we smiled and said, “See you in two weeks!” but after arriving home, I began to doubt that hope would come to fruition. I had been disappointed too many times to believe anything would go according to plan.
And of course, it did not.
Even now, it is still difficult for me to believe there was only a month between the time I came home from Haiti and the time we returned to bring the girls home. It seemed infinitely longer. Perhaps it was the uncertainty of those weeks. Each message we received, it seemed, was fraught with delay and doom. One persistent issue had to do with the way the girls birth certificates were filed.
My understanding (which very well might have been flawed) was that when a child is born outside of Port-Au-Prince, as my girls were, the birth certificate must be filed in Port-Au-Prince, a process which is done by hand. Somehow, when their birth certificates were filed, the person hand copying it made a spelling error. It was this type-o that stood between us and the passports. We were told they would need to request a copy of the registry from the village where the girls were born. The e-mails following this revelation were frightening. One stated that when the orphanage requested the registry, the village would not send it because they only did so only once a year. Another e-mail indicated that when they finally received the registry from the village where the girls were born, they were only able to retrieve the registry listing Claudine’s birth because the registry listing Roseline’s was missing. The e-mail went on to say that the orphanage staff submitted this registry to the archive office where it would be recorded and then pulled again for possibly the third time but they “did not know what they were going to do about Roseline.”
Fear paralyzed me as I envisioned another open ended wait for my baby girl to come home.
During those tumultuous days, I clung desperately to Christ. He was an ever present friend. He was a resting place and a refuge throughout the week, but on Sundays, I drug my battle weary soul into church and there, I lay my burden down. Worship led me into the Throne Room and I found rest for my soul. Time and again as my Pastor began deliver the Word of God, it seemed to me as if everyone else faded away and he was God’s instrument of sustenance and comfort to me alone.
The way was dark, but my Shepherd remained close.
And time marched on. Thanksgiving was only a few days away.
