Mike Rusch

the fourth part of our Adoption story is up…

Ethiopia (Being… part 4)

…so many thoughts, so many much to share.

For now, here is a little bit about one of the best days of my life…

Whrrl Story:  Ethiopia (Being… part 3)

I’m pretty much at a loss for words right now as 24 hours from now our plane will be lifting off to carry Corrie and I to bring Elle home

For so very long, I knew this moment would come, but I never really let it enter into my day to day life, thoughts or prayers. Why? Well, partly because emotionally I’m not sure I could, and partly because I knew God has been walking both in front and behind me and my family.

It’s been a conflicting week as we have great joy for what is ahead, but we also weep with the families who are adopting children from Haiti that will not know this moment for a very long time, if ever.

For us, like so many before us, life will change forever once that plane lifts off the ground, and for that I am excited beyond measure. However, there is still that small voice inside me say “you really think you’re ready for this?” and “you realize this is the easy part, right?”

Thoughts that cause me do one thing alone…

…turn and trust that the God who has brought us this far has already written the story that we are about to explore.

…turn and trust that the people surrounding us would do anything should we only let the words slip from our mouths.

…turn and trust that the purpose of my life is to be the foreshadowing of a coming kingdom where every right is made wrong, every heart is filled and peace reigns. A kingdom where Elle will someday be in the arms of her birth mother again.

…turn and trust that regardless of any difficultly that is ahead, my God will be there.

…turn and trust that there is healing for a child, my child, who needs the arms of her father and mother.

…and that’s pretty much all I can do.

…next stop, Ethiopia

lots of packing to do & Will is helping to make sure he knows where everything is

…just 8 more days & we will be with her

…a few days ago we received some new photos of our little baby girl who is across the ocean in seemingly another time and another place.

These were especially difficult pictures to see, and maybe not for the reasons you may think. They were difficult because in a country that in 2008 had an estimated 5.4 million other orphans, our little girl is number 26.

We know this because the number “26” was written on the small white band that is wrapped around her tiny left ankle, and it somehow seems to carry with it her identity.

I could spend hours sitting her writing how dehumanizing this is or how she means so much more to us that just a number, but I’m not sure that will accomplish very much. It won’t change things because tomorrow another child will enter the orphanage and their little white band will be number “56”, “76” or something equally as insufficient.

The only thing that will remove this number from her ankle will be our presence. Our anxiety grows because we have a lifetime ahead of us of removing any trace that she was ever just a number to someone, and we are ready to get started because in her eyes there is life and love awaiting to be discovered. There are sounds of laughter that will ring in our ears for decades to come and there are tears that will fall as she asks the hard questions of “why me?” and “what happened?” and “where do I go from here?”

Our comfort is that someday soon this will be over and the white band will fall away. However, we will leave that place knowing that “104” and “223” are there waiting and we will never know their names. But, our hope is that maybe their names aren’t ours to know. Maybe, just maybe, their names are quickly approaching as their families sit anxiously just we do here today.