(Yes, I realize this post is nearly three months late! Life has definitely gotten the best of me lately. We've been working tirelessly to finish our house and have spent five weeks living with my parents while working nights, weekends, and just about every spare moment we could find. We FINALLY moved into our new house two weeks ago, but we're still trying to get everything put together while keeping up with everyday life with four kiddos. Needless to say, things have been a little crazy around here!)
But back to our adventures in Congo...
Friday began much like the previous days. By now, we had settled into a daily routine that helped us pass the time while spending most of our week at the hotel: breakfast, sitting on the balcony, a short nap, a snack, a longer nap, a walk around the hotel, Coke and Diet Coke in the courtyard, another nap, a long dinner with A and Josee, Skyping with the kiddos back home, uploading pictures, and finally, bedtime.
Sounds like a pretty exhausting schedule, doesn't it?!?!
Honestly, I was far too busy staring at Addy in complete disbelief that she was finally ours. I spent most of my time cuddling her, playing with her, and trying to get her to giggle. We had quickly discovered that our girl had the most contagious belly laugh, and I couldn't get enough of it! When I wasn't soaking up every minute with Addy, I was communicating with the moms back home whose children I had been privileged to meet at the transition house.
Although Friday followed our usual routine, there was definitely an added layer of tension. We were still waiting for Addy's exit letter, and we had been told it should be ready that day. If it wasn't, we would likely miss our flight out of Congo on Sunday. After all the waiting we'd already done throughout the adoption process, being this close to bringing our girl home and still not knowing whether we could leave was incredibly frustrating.
So we waited. And waited. And tried to enjoy the time we had together rather than spending every minute worrying about paperwork.
While we waited, we relaxed on the balcony and wandered around the hotel. Addy seemed perfectly content to sit and watch the world around her, and there was certainly plenty to see! No matter what time of day we looked outside, the streets below were filled with people. It seemed as though the city never stopped moving.
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One of the things we had witnessed throughout our stay was how quickly the weather could change. Just after I took one photograph, another enormous rainstorm rolled through. In the picture, you can see a mother standing against a wall with her four tiny children. Within moments, they were surrounded by mud and water as the rain poured down.
Seeing things like that was incredibly difficult. It was a constant reminder that the inconveniences we experienced during our stay were nothing compared with the everyday challenges faced by many of the people living around us.
Every time we ventured away from our room, we passed a long stretch of windows near the elevator that overlooked a police station. We had been warned repeatedly not to take photographs while in Congo, so I was always a little nervous whenever I stopped to look out those windows. Below us, we could see officers carrying whips, clubs, and machine guns.
I honestly don't know how to put everything we witnessed from those windows into words. The photographs tell part of the story, but even they cannot fully capture what it felt like to stand there, watching a world so different from the one we knew.
One woman in particular caught my attention throughout the week. She lived right next to the police station with her daughter, and the two of them spent nearly every day outside. I loved watching her little girl entertain herself, sometimes sitting in a chair for hours, perfectly content to observe the activity around her.
One day, I watched the little girl carefully study a bucket sitting about a hundred yards from where she and her mother were staying. It had filled with rainwater during one of the downpours, and she seemed to be waiting for just the right opportunity to retrieve it. Eventually, she made her way over, carried the water back, and poured it into a basin so she could wash clothes. When she was finished, she returned the bucket to its original spot.
I sat there watching her work, struck by how much effort went into a task that is so simple for us at home. What I could accomplish by turning on a faucet and starting my washing machine required her to collect water, carry it back, and wash the clothes by hand.
Throughout the week, Bobby had also gotten to know Wilson, the hotel's doorman. Nearly every time we went downstairs, Bobby would stop to say hello and chat with him. Wilson became a wonderful resource for us, helping us better understand Congolese culture, the challenges of finding work, and what everyday life was like for him and his family.
As we got to know him, Wilson began sharing more about his own circumstances. He worked EVERY SINGLE DAY. No weekends off. No holidays off. And as though that wasn't enough, he also walked ten kilometers to work!
His salary?
Seventy dollars a month.
Wilson explained that this was actually considered a very good wage for someone in his position in Congo. And that $70 wasn't just supporting him. He was also helping provide for his extended family.
Remember our grocery bill from Day 3? We spent $70 on just five items at the supermarket. The very same amount Wilson earned for an entire MONTH of work!
I simply couldn't wrap my mind around it.
Wilson also explained that Kinshasa was a major destination for people looking for employment. Congolese people traveled to the city from all over the country in hopes of finding work, often because their earnings would support not only themselves but also family members living elsewhere.
Our conversations with Wilson gave us a much deeper understanding of the things we had been witnessing throughout the week. The poverty we saw was no longer simply a collection of images outside our hotel window. We were beginning to learn about the lives, responsibilities, and challenges of individual people.
And then, during one of our afternoon trips downstairs for a Coke and another chat with Wilson, D arrived.
WITH ADDY'S EXIT LETTER IN HAND!!!!!!
PRAISE THE LORD!
We were absolutely overjoyed! After days of uncertainty, one of the biggest hurdles standing between us and our journey home was finally behind us. We could make our flight on Sunday and bring our precious girl home to meet the rest of her family!
Unfortunately, our excitement was mixed with disappointment for our dear friend Amy. Her daughter's exit letter still hadn't been released, which meant she would now miss her flight. The entire process seemed to have no rhyme or reason, and we knew how blessed we were to receive Addy's letter in time.
As much as we had enjoyed our quiet days bonding with Addy, we were definitely ready to go home. Friday had probably been our longest day in Congo, with so much time spent anxiously waiting for that letter and growing increasingly tired of hotel life.
But every time I found myself getting impatient, I looked down at our sweet girl and was reminded of what an incredible blessing this time had been.
Our daughter was finally in our arms. After all those months of waiting, we had been given an entire week to do little more than hold her, love her, and begin getting to know one another.
What a precious gift!
God was reminding us to be still, be grateful, and enjoy the time we had been given.
And now that we FINALLY had Addy's exit letter, we could relax a little and look forward to our final full day in Congo.
