It is strangely disorienting to be so completely out of touch with my typical world. I have not spoken to anyone in my family since Friday morning. I have not emailed anyone on my staff. I couldn’t tell you anything about world news—except for the fact that Spain won the World Cup. That I heard.
Some of the reasons for my lack of connection are related to distance and time zones; Addis Ababa is nine hours ahead of Phoenix, so I am experiencing most of my day as everyone there is sleeping. Some of the reasons are technological; there is access to the Internet in the tidy guest house in which we are staying but only one USB modem; my need for it is far less urgent than that of a mother and father trying to stay in touch with young children back home or a husband and children trying to stay connected with a wife and mother in a village five hours south of here. And sometimes, because we experience daily power outages for no predictable or apparent reason, I find myself unable to use my laptop because the battery has run out and I simply have no way to recharge it.
Mostly, however, I have been too busy, too exhausted and simply too reluctant to open myself to the unnecessary distractions I know will crowd into this pristine bubble of human experience if I decide to download my email.
It has been an extraordinary few days. And though I’ve been recording and snapping photographs and scribbling notes like crazy, my greatest fear is that I will forget even one exquisite moment of it.
On Saturday, I witnessed the miraculous moment when two parents from Paradise Valley held two Ethiopian-born children for the first time and sealed the bond of family with laughter, tears, kisses and caresses.
On Sunday, I visited a village school where 1,600 children—some of whom walk from up to seven kilometers away—crowd into classrooms of 75 students each to learn.
Yesterday, I saw Brian and Keri deGuzman sign the paperwork that is required by the U.S. Embassy so they can get the visas they need to bring their children home. I saw two other families from the U.S. meet their adopted children for the first time and shared celebratory coffee prepared from beans roasted over hot coals inside the administrative offices of Christian World Adoption.
Later, I watched as Brian and Keri toured the construction site for Acacia Village, the bright, spacious children’s home that Christian World Foundation will soon open in Addis, thanks in no small part to this family’s generous donations and continuing determination to raise funds to support it.
The deGuzmans have slipped seamlessly into the routines and responsibilities of caring for two babies—juggling feedings and diaper changes and sleepless nights amid days packed with meetings and tours and visits with friends old and new. I’m not sure where they find the energy.
But this place has become an important focus in their in their marriage and their family. Not just because their children—including two waiting with grandparents in Washington, D.C.—were born here, but because it touched their hearts and gave them a sense of purpose that will guide the rest of their lives.
