“God sets the solitary in families.”
-Psalm 68:6 (AKJV)
As whispers of our Adoption Decree (the document that finalizes our adoption in Haiti and officially makes our son a Palmer) slowly (but surely!) roll in, I find myself overflowing with more expectant hope than ever. Once we round this next bend, we’ll have the ability to get necessary paperwork legalized so that we can apply for his passport and visa; two things he’ll need to enter this country.
(photo: Bright Green Door)
Until we get our Decree, I’m not allowed to share photos of our son on the internet or via social media. But I was thinking this morning…why can’t I gush about him here a little in the meantime?
I don’t think I’ve ever told you how gutsy and outgoing he is. How vibrant and animated he is. How quickly he can make people laugh and how he is almost always full of joy. How he makes fast friends because he trusts quickly and seems happiest when spending time with others.
I don’t think I’ve ever told you that he is charming, or that he introduces himself to “madams” (ladies) with a kiss on the cheek, or that he bids every “mesye” (man) he sees with a hearty “bonswa!“. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that his little voice is raspy (think: Boo from Monsters, Inc), or that he sings with so. much. passion. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that he loves to dance and play, or that he always has energy to spare.
I don’t think I’ve ever told you that, even at only four years old, he is a caretaker. The nannies giggle when he points at himself and proclaims, “ti parent“. (little parent)
I don’t think I’ve ever told you how curious he is about the world and people around him…about how he nearly drove a local carpenter nuts with his endless questioning at the orphanage one day. 
The man was hired to build a bed for Three Angels. He set up shop near an electrical outlet underneath the concrete carport at the top of the driveway. It was level ground, and provided shade while he worked.
We were playing clear on the other side of the Angel House when Sweet P heard him fire up his circular saw. At the very sound of it, I could literally see my son’s curiosity sky-rocket straight up. He shot off my lap and begged, “Vini, mama! Vini!“. (Come mama, come!) As he ran in the direction of the sound coming from the carport, he looked back to make sure his papa was “vini-ing” too. I forgot to mention earlier, that I don’t think I’ve ever told you how he likes for us to always travel in a group, too. 
He came to a quick stop when he got within viewing range of the woodworker. He half-turned toward me, his eyes glued to the Skill-saw, and lifted his little arms up; sending an unspoken message that said, “I’m completely fascinated, but a little scared, too.” I hoisted him onto my hip. His eyes never strayed from the saw.
When there was a break in the noise, Sweet P yelled, “Mesye! Mesye! Kabann pou Imma?” (Sir! Sir! Bed for Imma?) The man didn’t hear, so he yelled it again.
This time, the man turned our way, looked at my babe, and shook his head “no” with a smile. He went back to work; his saw blade chewing it’s way through another piece of heavy wood.
We stood there for several minutes before I motioned and mouthed the word ‘chairs’ to Kevin. He nodded yes, and dragged two colorful kids chairs out from the foyer. Oh what that man must have been thinking as the three of us sat there, like an audience, front row, in our little chairs- just watching him work! 
Sweet P continued to take advantage of every sliver of silence between saw cuts: “Mesye! Ou fe yon kabann?” (Sir! You making a bed?) The man answered yes, and went back to cutting. The next few breaks Sweet P went back to asking about who the bed was for: “Kabann pou Ysmerline?” (Bed for Ysmerline?), “Kabann pou Nicodette?” (Bed for Nicodette?) “Kabann pou Gregory?” (Bed for Gregory?) The answer was always no, no, no.
Sweet P switched gears around this time (He does that a lot- ha!), and Kevin pulled the tiny chairs back inside the foyer while I ran after our son again.
Later that day, we were chasing him back through the carport area, and once again, he came to an abrupt stop when he realized the woodworker was still working there. The man, who had an assistant helping him now, was using a hammer and some kind of a chisel to create a paneled effect on the headboard . The hard-carved detailing they created left me jaw-dropped. It was perfect, it looked like it had been done by a machine. It was at least 90 degrees that afternoon. Both men looked like that had just stepped in and out of a shower, fully clothed.
It wasn’t long before Sweet P found an opportunity to ask another question about the bed. “Mesye! Kabann pou mwen?” (Sir! Bed for me?)
I guess the man’s assistant could see where this was going, because he jumped in and answered: “Kabann pou Madam Christine“.
Ohhhhhhh! The bed was for Christine! Sweet P was positively giddy with excitement to know the answer. He celebrated by squirming up and down in my arms; beaming from ear to cute little ear. And I have to say, it was pretty fun for me, as his mama, to see him so excited that it was for someone else.
Anywho, just thought I’d brag on our babe a bit today. I can’t wait for you to meet him. It won’t be long now.
(Side note: Christine, originally from California, now lives in Haiti and is in charge of making sure everything is running smoothly at the Angel House. Our son loves her dearly, and we are so grateful for her hard work and dedication to Three Angels.)
For today’s Thought-Full Thursday, I chose a verse I just discovered for the first time today. Other translations word it this way:
God makes homes for the homeless. (MSG)
God sets the only child in a house. (NIV)
God provides homes for those who are deserted. (HCSB)
What a vivid description of what He’s doing for our son. What a humbling privilege to experience God on the march. What a glimpse of heaven to see Sweet P become family.
The post Thought-Full Thursday: Our Son appeared first on The Lettered Cottage.
No comments:
Post a Comment