Make Mine Doro Wat, Please

Throughout this adoption I have witnessed many awesome things.  We have seen friends sacrifice for us, people pray for us, and God talk to us, but I have to say that this past week I witnessed the greatest miracle so far.  You might be tempted to scoff when I share with you what it is, especially if your are familiar with God’s Miracles Greatest Hits—ones like parting a sea to defeat a great army, knocking down a fortified wall with a band number, or fire-proofing three Hebrew boys.  These may seem pretty awesome, but hold onto your seat because changing the eating habits of a finicky nine-year-old female… I would rather take the Egyptian army. This past week we had to eat Ethiopian style.

Part of our Education/Home Study requirements includes becoming intimately familiar with Ethiopian culture.  This is important because we need to be able to normalize Ubang and Chad’s environment any way we can.  When they arrive in their new home, it will be like landing on another planet.  Nothing will be familiar.  The climate will be different.  As I write this it is 45 degrees outside, in Addis Ababa where Chad and Ubang are it is 86.  The environment will be different.  Trees, grass, smells and animals will all be different.  We have been told Ethiopian children are afraid of dogs because over the dogs they are familiar with are wild and dangerous and not household pets.  The time is different.  Now, I know what you are thinking, “of course there is a time difference”, and yes in hours, but also in days as they follow a completely different calendar with 13 months instead of 12 (and I used to complain about Indiana not changing time!). 

Most importantly, the mealtime is different—not just the food—but the mealtime.  You might say, “Why is that such a big deal?”  It is a very big deal.  Most of our memorable and cherished times are spent around the table.  Think about it, when you went out on a date with your spouse, probably included a meal.  When is important news often shared— around a dinner table.  Holiday dinners, birthday cakes, first dates, and fiftieth anniversaries all include a mealtime and all become a part of our memories.

That is why it is sacred time, and for our Ethiopian kids, it is totally different.  There is no silverware; you eat with your hands, actually your right hand.  Injara bread (a kind of flat, sour dough bread) is pealed off and used to grab the food, which is served platter style, everyone shares with everyone.  There is little refrigeration so the food is packed with spices to preserve and flavor it.  And there is little to no sugar.  Talk about a culture shock; try to find a food in the States where there is no sugar!

This is where the Frederick family comes to a crossroads.  Let me just say, when it comes to food, we are about as plain as you can get.  We are “meat and potatoes”, “peanut butter and jelly”, “hot dogs and apple pie” kind of people.  An adventurous night out for us is to actually look at the menu at O’ Charley’s before ordering the hamburger and fries.  And ethnic food?  Well, we eat tacos and spaghetti does that count?  But we had to experience our kids culture so we went online and found an authentic Ethiopian restaurant in Louisville—The Queen of Sheba.  And this was my “pre-Sunday-lunch-out” speech: “Ok kids, this is gonna be awful, but you have to try everything, and no whining.  If I have to do this, so do you.”  I know, I have a way with words.

Well out it came, we ordered a little of everything: Doro Wat, Sega Wat, Doro Tips, Sega Tips, salad and Injera bread.  When it arrived we gritted out teeth and were ready to try some gross, spicy, and fork-less food.

Before

After

So, like everything else we have experienced so far, we worry and God provides.  We loved it.  The Fredericks tore it up.  All I can say is those people at the Queen of Sheba better not ever open a buffet because we will shut them down!  It was great, even Lizzie thought so.  She actually ate vegetables (although she did not know till afterwards). 

Before our meals we usually pray a simple prayer that the kids have been saying since they were very little.  We all hold hands and Liz or Zach will say, “Thank you Jesus for our food, Amen”.  Maybe we should say something more like, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart (and tummy), and lean not on your own understanding (or follow your own tradition), but in all your ways acknowledge Him (and follow Him) and we will make your paths straight (and lead you to good food!), Amen.”  

Brian

It's Offical, We Are Pregnant... With Siblings

Well, it’s official.  We are pregnant, and its gonna be siblings!  That’s what the agency told us when they called.  I know what you might be thinking, “Hasn’t it always been siblings?”  Yes, and no.  Let me explain the process as best I can as to how it normally goes:

First, you and your spouse decide that you want to internationally adopt, and you may have even picked the country that you want to adopt from and the agency with which you want to work.  You then contact that agency and fill out an application and pay an application fee. 

After your approval,  you get your initial paperwork and fee schedule where they share with you what you will pay, who the money goes to, and at what point in the process that payment is due.  You agree and then get your first packet of documents to fill out for your home study which will take about 4 months.  Then comes the referral where you get some kids sent to you to say yes or no to, and then you begin your dossier to be sent to the country.  We are now about 6 to 8 months into the process.

God’s plan for us was a little different.  We got our home study, dossier, and referral packet all in one box, all at one time, and the clock has now started.  It is now official… real… and scary.  I was ready for the official and real part, but the scary, the real and deep feeling of scary, that I was not so ready for.  Its like waiting in line for a new roller coaster thinking you’ve got an hour or more to wait, prepare, and psyche yourself up for all the fast twists, turns, ups and downs.  But you don’t get that hour because someone comes to get you, moves you to the front of the line, puts you in the front car, and you hear as the bar goes down,  “please remember to keep your hands and feet in the car at all times”.  You think to yourself, “But I’m not ready”, “I don’t know if I can do this”, “Was I in the right line to begin with?”  The merry-go-round is looking really good now.

The fear comes at different times, it’s really unfair how it sneaks up on you when you least expect it.  When I get up late at night and go to the fridge for a glass of water and see Chad and Ubang’s picture and think, “What am I doing?”.  It comes when we are studying through our workbook and they tell us about night terrors and we think about Zach and Liz and ask, “Are we doing the right thing?”. 

But then I think of that picture, about the drawings Ubang did that they sent us, the video we saw of them playing at the orphanage. I remember seeing Chad, swinging on a swing being pushed by her brother, laughing and giggling so that if I close my eyes it might be Lizzie that I am hearing.  Or watching her chase balloons through the courtyard of the orphanage laughing and giggling, pulling at her jacket that is falling off her and now being stretched out because it’s hanging at her elbows, just like Liz when she is excited and playing. 

 I think of Ubang and the face he made when, though I didn’t understand the language, they were trying to get him to kiss his sister on the cheek for the camera.  He had the same face Zach would make, and I remember saying, “Buddy we will never make you do that for the camera”, and Zach beside me saying, “No we won’t!”.  I remember him kicking a soccer ball, racing his sister on a hopping ball, bouncing balloons.  He looks just like any other kid, because he is.  He could be Zach, she could be Liz.

And not only are the kids familiar, the fear is too.  It just took me longer to remember because it has been a while, almost 13 years now.  When one February morning we put Zach into a car seat for the first time and pulled out of the parking lot at Clark Memorial Hospital.  Karie and I both looked at each other in amazement, saying, “I can’t believe those people are going to let us take him home!  If they knew what a couple of goofballs we were (were, because we are totally not goofballs now), they would never let us take him home”.   But they did, and we were okay.  And Liz came, and we were okay.  And now Ubang and Chad are coming.  Its official.  And we are okay.  The same God that watched over us then is watching over us now.  He didn’t let us mess up our kids then, and He won’t now.  He is the same, yesterday, today, and forever more (Hebrews 13:8).  He is good (Psalm 73:1) and He can be trusted (Psalm 9:10).  Especially when it is scary.

Brian