Back Home Again & Another Letter

Well, I made it back home. I missed my babies every step of the journey back. I sat in the bathroom stall in Miami for a very long time just because the cleaning lady was Haitian, and she was talking to someone on the phone in Creole, and I missed hearing Creole so terribly much, so I just sat there until she eventually left. When I was sitting at Gate D48 waiting for my flight to Detroit, somehow a Haitian lady coming from Petion-ville (where GLA is!) and going to Lansing Michigan, managed to decide to sit right next to me, and I chatted with her in French/Creole for a good hour or so. She clearly understood French, but didn't exactly speak it, and I understood most of her Fran-yol (aka Français mixed with Kreyol). I showed her all of my Haiti pictures. Which took quite a long time considering the fact that I have over 3,000 pictures.

I fought sleepiness all the way back to Detroit – I hadn't slept much at all the night before, and traveling can take a lot out of you. Finally at 11:00 PM, we touched down in Detroit and I made my way back past the same restaurants I had seen and down the same moving sidewalks that I had traversed ten weeks ago. I was enthusiastically met by a very festive welcoming committee – Thank you to the many wonderful people who showed up at the airport to welcome me home despite the late hour!!! You all are amazing and I was honestly surprised and so happy to see your familiar faces!

Assembled and waiting! And with an AWESOME sign from Andrew!

And there goes Andrew, running right past the Do No Enter sign :)

So much happiness!

And it's back to normal with the boys unzipping my backpack (unbeknownst to me) and pick pocketing it....

Down we go to baggage claim!

It's been good to be back, but I miss my children every minute...Here is my letter to today's special boy:

Dearest little boy,

You are so special to me. Thank you for all the hugs, all the times you came running into my arms full of excitement to go and play. Thank you for giving me so much joy Sunday night, that last night in Haiti. I had taken you out for about an hour, and you were laughing and running and laughing up on the balcony with so much joy and so much freedom – more so than any other time I had seen you throughout the entirety of my ten weeks in Haiti. We went downstairs together to get you one of your favorite treats: a cinnamon roll. You probably didn't need any sugar – you were so full of energy and enthusiasm that night! I marveled at the way you laughed, the way you looked at me with so much trust. The contrast from when I first met you, when you did not know me well, when you clung to me and would not play, when you cried for no apparent reason and would not let me put you down; the contrast astounds me.

And then finally it was getting late and time for me to bring you back. I might have cried that night if it hadn't been for your joy. Because when I brought you back to the nursery, the joy didn't end, it intensified, if that could be possible. I put you in your crib and you began to laugh and jump and look at me. I grabbed you, tickled you, and you laughed and laughed and laughed. We played a game where you came creeping up towards me, I shouted your name and grabbed you and tickled you, and you jumped violently, energetically, all the way to the back of your crib, almost screaming with joy! Soon the other children picked up on the game, and I was surrounded by about six cribs of your little friends all playing the same game with me! I could have stayed there for hours, laughing with the lot of you until you finally stopped, exhausted, and fell asleep, happy and still full of laughter. I did stay as long as I could, and when it came time to leave, you continued to laugh, watching me walk out the door, and smiling. Smiling with the hope and the joyful anticipation of my return on the morrow.

You are an incredible child. I thank God and praise Him for you. May the joy of the Lord always be your strength – that is my prayer for you. I'm sorry I can't physically be there for you anymore - may the joy of the Lord be your strength in these days with my absence. May the joy of the Lord be your strength when your family comes back to Haiti to bring you home forever. May Hi joy overflow within you throughout all the transitions with new faces and new foods and new buildings and new landscapes and new weather and new everything.

You have an amazing family. I can't wait for you to go home to them. I'm praying that the day when you go home is very, very soon. They love you, buddy. They love you so much. And their love will transform your life. I can't wait for you to have your own room, to spend hours running and laughing and playing with your big sister, to go to the park, to splash in the pool during the summer and to cuddle up with hot chocolate and cookies in the winter. To celebrate Christmas and to rejoice at Easter. To have a home and to know you are loved and that you belong. To grow and thrive and learn and understand that Jesus loves you and died to save you. And as you grow, may God give you grace to understand who you are as an adopted son, and may He fill you with compassion for all those who still do not have families. Compassion that overflows into action. And all the while, may God's joy be your strength. This is my prayer and my vision for you.

I love you so much. I am so proud of you. I am full of the greatest kind of hope for your future. May the day come soon, very very soon, when you can go home.

Love,

Kathryn