GOTCHA DAY

I woke in the night and glanced at the clock.  3:11am.  I quickly in a sleepy stupor did the math.  10:11am in Ethiopia.  It was official.  Asnake Haile has been Tyson Asnake McKeehan for 365 days and one hour. And, all over again, I am drawn to ceaseless praise.  Reminiscing back over that remarkable morning and day through pictures and blog posts takes me straight back to the third floor of the Ordinary Hero Guesthouse. This was the day Jesus ordained, when He laid the foundations of the earth, to complete what He started in our adoption of Tyson.  Tangible faithfulness. I can instantly go back to waking that morning before the alarm, snapping a quick picture out our window (you can see on my Instagram feed from that morning).  The caption with the picture were the words I couldn't shake: This is the day the Lord has made.  Let us rejoice and be glad in it.  The morning was fairly overcast, but quite clear for Addis.  The smog over the city sits like a think blanket over the busy streets nearly all the time.  The stillness of those early hours took my breath away.  The same One who created the landscape stretched out so beautifully before me was the same One who had heard our prayers and petitions.  The mountains in the foreground were particularly stunning that Tuesday morning as I pondered over how many mountains the Mountain Mover had, indeed, moved.  I couldn't take a step without batting away tears.  I still can't get over how Jesus met us right there in that linoleum-floored room of the guesthouse.  He wasn't just completing our adoption, He was building our faith and doing supernatural miracles for His glory's sake.
 As we walked out of courtroom 106 and bound down the old wooden staircase of the courthouse with every emotion from joy, relief, disbelief, to overwhelming gratitude.  It was as if we could literally feel the enemy's anger and disgust at the whole situation.  Nothing could've prepared me for the instant tears out of sheer relief.  Jesus, You do all things well.  If you care to read about our day on October 25, 2016, you can do so here.  On this side of the moved mountains it is fascinating to sit down, be still, and recall His presence in every detail.  It's far easier in the shadow of the Mountain to look back and see Him even in the uncertain, hard, painful days.  One year ago yesterday (you can read about it here) we received and humbly tearfully watched Tyson's Lifebook.  Since that day, Tyson has watched some of it on his own.  We haven't introduced him to the one with all the details of his past just yet, but he loves watching him play at the orphanage with his friends brothers I don't know which word to use friends who were like brothers.  About 4 months ago he was watching the video and when his nannie started speaking (in Amharic, obviously), Tyson looked up at me and said, "What is she talking about?  Is she speaking Spanish?"  Sweet boy.  He literally only remembers a few words.  On that same day in Ethiopia that we received those priceless videos, we were walking through so many lasts.  Tyson was living out his last days and night behind that green gate.  Staring down the barrel of last hugs and words with beloved friends and nannies, last night sleeping in an orphanage, last night wondering what it would feel like to have a family, and his last night to dream about what it would be like to drive outta that same green gate for the very last time.  Just Saturday as we sat at the Ethiopian restaurant Tyson told Regan about a stack of blue plastic chairs that stay stacked in a corner of his orphanage.  There is one random red chair stacked amongst them.  That red one was his favorite and he "sometimes shared it with other people."  The memories he has of his life before us are real and important and valuable.  We love learning and listening to everything he recollects.  Even if it is as simple as that special red chair. 
Back to court day last year... I am not sure I have ever quite literally felt the prayers of other people.  However, sitting there waiting to enter that courtroom and walking out as an official family of 7, I knew we were being carried and held by our gentle Father who was hearing the cries of our friends and families on our behalf.  The black ink of the judges signature, indicating he approved our adoption, has long since dried.  What hasn't faded, however, is the authority of that signature across the page.  It's still final.  It might've taken a long time to press in, stretch, grow, question, doubt, cry, pray, believe, and trust in order to get to that room, but once there, it was the judges name over the documents that made an orphan, a son.   In the end, that is all that mattered.  Makes me humbled all over again to consider the roads and paths we take questioning, doubting, crying to finally get to the place where the Judge sits.  His door is open and He is waiting.  Once we walk in and acknowledge Him, His signature signed in the blood of His Son across our lives is really all that matters in the end. We enter as orphans, we leave as son and daughter. We walked out of that dingy-walled, purple-carpeted room different than we had entered: complete. 
As the hands of time have spun at break-neck speed, Tyson has changed in so many ways since then.  It almost feels impossible he's only been here a year, while simultaneously feeling so new because we are still learning so much about him.  He still loves a good, long, warm, bath or shower and he still loves motorcycles and fast cars, as noted in previous posts.  His favorite songs continue to be "Good, Good Father" and "In the Eye of the Storm," both ones he learned in the early days at the guesthouse wearing those super cute Spiderman headphones.
In way of the other children that Tyson loved and lived with in Ethiopia, I am happy to report three of his closest friends have come to loving families in America.  There are, still, however, many who are still there with little chance of getting a forever family simply due to the current state of Ethiopian adoptions.  I don't know if those two toddlers, heard wailing "Asnake," as we walked out of the orphanage that day, have families or not.  Regardless, I pray for them often and desire so much for them to live and believe that God has a plan of abundance and goodness planned for each of them. 
As a matter of further updating, our first night in our room with Tyson he couldn't get over the fact that he had shoes, underwear, shirts, and pajamas that were just his.  He kept saying, "For Asnake?" stroking the sides of clean, new shoes or feeling the soft cotton of a pile of shirts.  He hasn't gotten over his shoe fascination much like his mom. He loves shoes, clothes, and putting his things away exactly where they belong.  His nannie was so right, he is organized and very responsible.  Most of the time if you tell him something once, you need not repeat yourself.
I will leave this special post with the one thing that continues to flood my heart and mind.  As we sat in the Ethiopian restaurant Saturday discussing Gotcha Day, we were telling Tyson that we call it that because it's the day we "got" him.  Without hesitating, he looked up at us and said, "No, I got you."  good grief. Tears again. Only Jesus does these things.  This very morning we started our day at Waffle House to celebrate (we love you, Mrs. June).  As we were standing to leave, Mark scooped Tyson up and said, "On Gotcha Day I got you."  Tyson, again, without so much as a second passing, put his hands on Mark's face and said, "And, I got you."  There's no way with finite human minds we will ever be able to wrap our heads or hearts around all that God has done.  I feel certain there are parts of this story He alone holds the meanings, details, and logistics of. There are things He has done to make us a family we will never know until we are with Him.  I am glad we can spend the rest of our days "arguing" about who got who because no matter how you slice it, I think we all walked away better together.  Psalm 23 has been on our radar in recent months for various reasons, but the one quote Mark has often reminded me of in the familiar passage is "even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil."  The key word here is through. God doesn't lead us to deep valleys to abandon us, let us die, or destroy us.  He is walking with us THROUGH it.  He didn't say, "Even though I walk to the valley of the shadow of death."  Walking through the darkest valleys is painful and can produce fear like we have never known.  It also gives us a perspective we could've never known if we stayed on the top of the mountain or even at eye-level.  Often, it isn't until we have walked through the valley to the other side that we look back and see just how deep the valley really was and how God delivered us to the other side stronger, more compassionate, more humble, more graceful, and more grateful.  That is the current position and posture for me today.  Still just undone and full to overflowing with who He is, capable of doing everything He promised He could do, and longing to not only do what is good for us, but most of all, doing what brings Him most glory.  It's all for Him anyway! 
On this first Gotcha Day, I want to say to Jesus, " I got you." There's no arguing or back-and-forth with that one. 
And despite there being back-and-forth with Tyson on the matter in regards to who got who, my heart is really clear on the matter:

We got you, Tyson Asnake McKeehan.  And nothing in the world could've prepared us for all the joy and love you have brought to us.  You belong here.  Welcome home forever.

Until tomorrow,
carrie