extra complicated but still beautiful

the range of emotions i've felt today has been impressive, but i bet it doesn't compare with the range of emotions our little rosie felt.

today was the day to visit with her birth mom.  it was the day when we were supposed to get her 'birth card' and find out her full name and birthday so we can proceed with getting her passport.  it was the day to discuss our trip to the village where we will meet with the clan, to make decisions about who will be who in rose's life.

today her birth mom put down her infant and scooped rose up in her arms and rose complied.  she sat on her lap, mother and child.  they look alike, same beautiful mouth, same little nose, different eyes, very different eyes. eyes that have seen very different things even just in these weeks.  different feet, little painted toenails and feet that have walked bare for miles, feet worn by a life lived on them, feet aged by that life.

rose watched us with her searching brown eyes, as she sat engulfed in those arms that bore her. there was love there- we could see it.  confusion and bewilderment, but some love and connection too.

for a moment, i wanted to just walk away. to leave the scene.  to not interrupt the natural born order of things.  to let my heart break a little bit so that they can be together.

the translator began the meeting.
no one could find the birth card. 
when could we go to the village.

wait.

i looked over again at my little girl.  who is really not mine.  ownership didn't matter.  what does 'mine' mean anyway?

i had to ask, so i did.
does she want her child back?
because how could she not? because it looked like she might.  as she examined her childs teeth and felt her scars, the same scars she had, two dashes on the hands and arms and feet and chest.  i could feel my paleness- my lack of scar-ness- my blue eyes.  i could feel the difference.

but my question fell into the air and returned unanswered because we don't just speak with different tongues, we live different paradigms.

'what is in her heart?' i begged the translator to inquire, to tell me.  but how can she answer that if her heart is just one part of a heart that beats as a community, if her heart doesn't stand alone.  if her heart doesn't have a voice.

'she will be with you, and we need to go to the village.' was the answer. what part of this are they not understanding? she must have thought. we are a clan.  we work as a group.  rose is the child of my people, not me. why do they keep asking me what i want?

for a moment i had fear.  fear that was real and confusing- fear that this woman didn't have a voice and we were taking her child, and fear that we might lose rose who we love dearly too. fear that the village might want to keep her, take off her second hand H+M outfit, hand her a large yellow jerry can, and send her for water and firewood.  and my mind wandered to strange places with fears that were ridiculous. that we would be killed and cooked over that firewood and eaten with the rice and beans that we'd brought for the village. because it all felt so weird and surreal anyway.

the infant cried.  my mind returned. rose was handed to mike.  the birth mom nursed the baby.
rose was happy to be with him again. she watched that new baby suckle at her mom's breast. it was confusing.  it was a lot to take in.  she was so brave- so big on the inside as she sat with so many people who have loved her, betrayed her, returned to her,  and i think love her still, beside the people who feed her and hug her and tell her how much they love her and tuck her into a warm bed each night with a belly full of food.  there was trust and distrust and love and anger and guilt and fear swimming around in that room and in the hearts and minds of everyone.  but the greatest of these was love.

we come from other worlds really- their clan, our nuclear family. we speak legal language, about citizenship and health insurance and college education - they know tribal law, cattle raiding, witch doctors and maybe finding a primary school under a mango tree. we want the same thing- what is best for rose- to be loved, known, educated, fed well, cared for- but the 'hows' and 'where's' of this, the 'when's' and 'what's' of this- are sort of unknown- and spoken of differently-understood differently-with very different cultural meaning attached.

so i settled on hope.  that somehow this crazy, potential mess of a situation would be okay- would even be blessed- would be full of life and become life giving. because things that are exquisitely beautiful are complex- the inside of an orchid- the sounds of a symphony- the miracle of how the ear works.  complicated doesn't have to be bad.  complicated can be extraordinary. and God loves to clean up messes- to make pure gold with dirty bricks - to bring forth spectacular from disaster.  

rose looked scared as her birth mom took her from my arms and carried her up the stairs to our car.  we said good bye in swahili and buckled her into the seat.  relief washed over her face- her smile re-appeared.

"rosies seat!" she confirmed pointing to her carseat.

'yes rosie's seat. lets go home!'

"mama, tata- i yuve eww!"

'we love you too rosie! you are so so loved by so many!'

this beautiful story will continue. next month we will travel to a far away place and we will sit and listen and experience something that most people never will.  we will become joined in some way with this clan who shares the marks and skin of our little rosie.  and we will embark on this complicated, messy, shared journey together.