twenty minutes to five

this is the way it goes for me when i am in this place. i begin to write over and over again but can't finish anything, then i usually end up posting a poem- because at least it's something- i've somehow entered back in- kind of.  i haven't exactly figured out what "this place" means.  it can be busy-ness, lack of time, lack of reflection, an inability to sit still. and antsy-ness begets antsy-ness. so.

today i decided that it was where i was that was the problem.  that i couldn't be and sit and write at home with kids running in and out, dogs barking at swinging monkeys, and zoe just being around.  so i escaped to a roadside cafe.  here is a visual.

this week was intense- and sometimes the more intense the less i have to say about it- or maybe like curry - it needs to sit for a while to get good.  this week, we finally went to court to become rose's legal guardians.  after two years of waiting, of not knowing what our family would look like, if we'd ever be able to travel together, if we'd ever share a last name, after the roller coaster of decision making and trying to communicate through way more than language barriers- finally we ended up all sitting in front of the judge for him to hear rose's story and decide what her future might begin to look like.

intense.

it was intense because we sat there like a giant group of difference- as in, you couldn't maybe get any more different.  yet here we were, brought together from literally opposites side of the world and most other categories, by this one small child.  i kept looking at magdalene her birthmom, who sat beside me, holding zoe's hand, her other hand resting on her again pregnant belly.  she sat there mostly asleep, in the same clothes i see her in every time i see her.  she sat there with her tired filthy old looking feet and alcohol on her breath- this woman- about to hand me her beautiful smart, healthy child.

i sat next to her, holding onto rose who looks nothing like me, yet feels now as much a part of me as my own elbow.  my boys sat, when they actually sat and were not running in and out of the court room, at a table with rose's birthdad and uncles and two translators. half the time they sat in a chair with one of the translators or uncles, in a very african -personal space isn't needed- sort of way. mike was strategically sitting on the other side of zoe.  we sat in that room for 4 hours- which is a very long time.

what felt most strange was how unstrange it felt.  we know these people now. we have sat with them for hours. we have been to their village. we have eaten food together and hugged and laughed and waited and discussed what is best for rose.  and even in that room with the judge who looked very surprised by us - by our differences and our sameness- we kind of knew what was going to happen.  we are all going to be a part of rose's life, in some way, always.

we had presented the case to the judge as an 'open' adoption.  we had written in our commitment to maintain relationships with her birth family. but the judge refused.  he said that it was crazy for us to care for their child completely and be expected to return annually to the village, to fly back to uganda if we move back to the USA.  he said he wouldn't grant it.

magdelene was asleep- but she doesn't speak luganda anyway so i woke her up and it was translated into karamojong. and then we waited because this could be a deal breaker.  she didn't say anything.  then she stood and took the bible in her right hand and began to swear in for her statement.  the judge motioned for rose to go to her and magdelene picked her up and kept talking.

it was twenty minutes to five exactly on january 21st, when i heard her say my name.  when i turned and saw her point to me and when the judge asked me to go and stand beside her. it was twenty minutes to five when i knew that she was handing rose over to me- when i got up and went to pick up our baby who was going to become my fourth child.

after two years of struggling to explain the need for legal guardianship-and trying to build trust that we really are committed to rose knowing her biological family- in that moment- magdelene who could have said no- let her go.

wow.

after two years of my own internal conflict about rose being with us when she has a biological family, i felt 100% that this was right.  that she is already my daughter. that while our outsides look nothing alike, we are connected.  we have been with her now almost as long as magdelene had been with her.  it was hard and beautiful.  it was achey and splendid.  it was all the toughness of love and all the sacrifice and the hope and the promise.  it was poignant. unforgettable. full and good.

when i took rose into my arms, she looked relieved- 'can we go home now?'  the judge laughed,  'she is already a muzungu' he said in luganda. which ironically i understood but rose didn't.  and she is- she is both.  she is a muzungu karamojong. she will always be from two worlds, but so will i, so will we.

i put her down and watched her run to her brothers. she climbed on judes lap and they started smooshing each others faces- so clearly brother and sister- so blind to their contrast.

after another hour we were told that the final verdict would be given in two weeks- but i think it went well.  i think after all this time and process- the people that matter in that room- have agreed what is best for rose- best for someone who left 'ideal' when she was left on the street.

but who who am i say what her story is? what her story will be? it's perfect in it's orchestration.  her history, with all its blemishes, like mine, will be her story.  lost, found, found again, reconnected, loved by many, raised with an american family, born on the street, able to reach people that i never could, to cross barriers that i can't cross.

her story, her life, a gift - already.  and who knows what will come- but it is a such beautiful beginning.