Tonight I put Levi to bed and gave him a big hug. The next time I hug his neck, he will be 9 yrs old. Yes, it will be his first birthday since being home here in America.
I was sitting here trying to figure out why I feel so emotional tonight, and it hit me. Normally, as I think of my children's birthdays, I automatically go to the day of their birth as I recall the details of labor, delivery, and later-those early morning feedings and times of getting to know their little personalities. Obviously, I don't have the privilege of those memories with Levi, but I thought of his first mommy. Levi was the firstborn to his mother who passed away just a few short years later. I wonder what that day or night was like for her? Was she scared? Did she have lots of family around her? Did she have a difficult labor or was it easy? Levi comes from an extremely remote area of southern Ethiopia. It was a two days' journey from the capital city of Addis to his village. He's shown me what kind of "home" he lived in as we sat and looked at various pictures I found on the internet. It was a hut made of sticks. If something happens in labor in those types of living conditions, there's no chance of medical care or saving a life there. Oh, how we take so much for granted. When she delivered that sweet baby boy, what were her first words to him? As she nursed him, probably up until around the time she passed away two years later, did she have dreams for him like I did for my biological children? Did she pray over him? Did she know she was dying? Did she have any final wishes?
The tears just overwhelm me for Etenesh. That's her name. Isn't it beautiful? I'm so thankful for her. I hope that one day I might get to see her in heaven to talk to her, mom to mom, about our sweet little boy. That I could tell her stories of how God's plan for her life connected to mine through a little boy we both called "son." That God's story for Levi did not end when her life did, nor when his biological dad had to leave, or when his teenage uncle could not afford to care for him, but that God's delicate and intimate care took Levi from a poor village in Ethiopia and through many detours--difficult detours-- brought him into my arms. A child I had prayed for, as I had prayed for my other three. Etanesh, God heard both of our cries, and in His great mercy, somehow orchestrated the tiniest most amazing details to join our lives together.
Levi continues to walk through difficult detours. Despite what many see on the outside as a happy-go-lucky, very active little boy, he has many present fears and future challenges. Schooling is tough right now. Very tough. It's hard to try to start at the beginning of a language, reading, and writing when you're 9. Also, as his verbal language has grown, he's been able to better communicate the things he is thinking to us. This week has for some reason brought his homeland to his mind. Maybe, like me, he's reminiscing, and thinking back. He's homesick. He remembers enough of his biological family to miss them. He misses his culture. He shared some stories with us this week that brought tears-for him and for me. He still battles abandonment issues...especially with his biological father. He has questions, and he doesn't understand. All we could do is hug him, listen to him, comfort him, and pray. Only God can heal this little one's heart. Only the Holy Spirit can bring true comfort to him. There are things we do not know the answers to, and we may never know. But there are things that we do know. There is nothing too great or tragic that God's love and grace cannot redeem. I will tell him this sweet gospel story as long as I have breath. I would imagine that if Etenesh knew Him (and there are a few details that we do have that make me think she did), she would say the same thing.
Etenesh, our boy is growing fast. In just seven months that he has been here in his new home, he has grown 3 inches and gained 4 lbs. From the time we first met Levi Yishak face to face last November, his health has dramatically improved, and he is physically thriving. Most importantly, I promise you that we will constantly seek the Father as we care for our little boy. We will point him to Jesus for the rest of our days, so that one day he might trust Him as his own. Then, we will all be reunited in a place where there is no more sickness, no more poverty, no more orphans, and no more separation. One day we will not be in this prison of earth, but will be free together in the presence of our Father for eternity.
Tonight, I honor you, Etenesh. Levi will always know about you and the love I know that you held for your firstborn son from the time you first held him in your arms until you had to let him go.
Thank You, Father that you set the lonely in families, set the prisoners free, and give them joy." (Psa. 68:6) We count on your promises and know You are faithful to every one.
