I’m ready to go back. I miss GhanaGirl (and all the other kids in Ghana). So, I’m ready to go now. And, like eternal optimists, we live in a constant state of readiness. Well, maybe it’s semi-readiness. I have all the rest of the donations I’ve collected for the First Aid Station and Hospital stacked neatly by my front door. There is a little alcove there where they have all sat since the UPS man brought them. I refuse to move them. Because the second I haul them all to our storage room, we will get a call (hey, maybe that would be the best way to move things along).
I need to tell work about GhanaGirl. I’m waiting for an adoption decree to do that. We’ve been through failed adoptions before. The absolute WORST part is having to tell everyone else, when you feel like you just want to crawl in a hole and die. So, pray for that decree. It could be here very soon. Or it could come “very soon” according to what Shelley and I have affectionately labeled “African time”. African time means that “very soon” could mean three weeks. See why I don’t want to tell work?
After the adoption decree, we need a passport. I guess, technically, that could happen WHILE we’re working on the decree. But, I won’t travel without it. Because if I don’t wait, it will be one more thing that could get us “stuck” in Ghana. While I would love it, it would mean losing my job if I got “stuck” over there. I would have to leave and come back. So, since GhanaGirl has no idea that I’m anything more than “WABOONI” we’ll just wait a little longer to rock her entire universe. It’s only painful to us, she has no idea we’re waiting for her.
What to do with our kids at home is another good question. My parents can feel that request coming, but it hasn’t been officially asked yet. I would love it if my kids had the kind of grandmas and grandpas that took care of them without question on a moment’s notice. They don’t, that’s ok, we love them anyway. They’ve just never understood the sheer volume of children we’ve brought into our home. It boggles their mind and leaves them with anxiety about caring for them (you would have LOVED the conversation about how FPD and I should fly to Ghana separately. What if our plane went down? Who would care for our children? Comforting? Not so much).
So, maybe we live in a constant state of unreadiness, because this post just gave me acid reflux about all the things that need to fall into place so that both FPD and I can go to Ghana. FPD NOT going is no longer an option. A huge wall has come up between us because he doesn’t understand what I have seen. He needs to see it. This is an experience we need to share. So, I’ll send it up and know that He will make all things ok, just like He did for the last trip. I need to go to deliver some more supplies, and to pin certain people down about where and when the hospital at the orphanage will go in. Talking to them on the phone just isn’t as effective. I suppose FPD and I could go separately and I could go for the second half of the trip, or I could go a few weeks later, after I have appropriately requested time off from work. Oh my gosh, I need to go and take a Tums. This post is coming VERY close to being labeled Panic Attack #3.