In Our Stead
While we wait for our children to come home there are men and women who spend day and night caring for them. If the children are lucky they are taken care of in a place where, despite conditions of poverty, they are given ample attention, affection, and affirmation. Long before our son arrived home through the incredible miracle of adoption my husband and I would pray for the caretakers that loved him in our stead. Two years later I sat with these caretakers in a little room full of cooing, crying, and active babies. Older kids walked in and out, to and fro, acting as mini-momma’s and mini-dada’s to the tiny ones. There was constant hussle and bussle in the orphanage as children were fed, rocked and comforted. Beyond those basic needs was the exceptional, the extra mile stuff of loving caretakers who were combing hair, braiding, and back rubbing. There was ball playing, tag, and teaching moments. Children were invited to sit down next to the tired ladies as they tried to steal a moment for a cup of tea and biscuit. The older children shared inside jokes with thier caretakers. They looked to them for guidance and boundaries. In our stead they parent handfuls of children that are not their own, many of them going home then to parent thier own children as well.
Yesterday, we received news that one of my son’s Ethiopian caretakers died in a tragic car accident. I grew particularly close to her during my time in Ethiopia because she loved my son, this was apparent and for this I felt deep gratitude to her. On the Meskel holiday she sat down with me and taught me the inner workings of the Ethiopian coffee ceremony. I took pictures of her hands as they crushed the beans. My son stood next to her and she guided him as if she was passing down to him a tradition that would live on in his own life. I am struggeling today with her death, not only because she has a husband and children who will have a great void in her life, but because she was a women who loved on my son before I was able to. I will always have curiousities about the one who carried my son in her womb and may never know her story in entiritiy. But, I did come to know over coffee and diapers changes a women who stood in the middle and cared for my son while he mourned the loss of his birthmother and waited for my arms. Tonight, in our home we are celebrating Genet’s life and love with a traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony. My son will stand by my side as he did hers and hopefully I will honor that which she taught me and pass this tradition onto my little Habishaw.
I urge you to consider and not forget about those that care for your children while they wait for you. Let us pray for them, show them our gratitute, and provide them with the support that they need to continue meeting the emotional and physical needs of the children.
Talk with your adoption agency and find out if you can help support the staff that make a great difference in the life and health of your children. Many agencies accept donations from thier parents to go towards providing caretakers and staff with Christmas Hams and gifts. Our adoption agencies happily allowed us to throw a small “Thank You” party for our son’s caretakers. These are women and men that, even for the smallest child, are an integral part of thier history.
Thank you, Genet for the love you lavished on my son. Pictures, stories, and lessons you taught will remain a piece of our family. Tonight we roast coffee, grind it slowly and firmly by hand, and brew it over the fire. We serve the coffee and drink together in honor of you and all of the other caretakers who love in our stead.
God be with your family and the children who will miss you greatly.
