Discovering Home Again

Home Again. Success Redefined.

Burundi Episode 8. Final Episode.

”We bless this year for all we learned,

For all we loved and lost,

And for the quiet way it brought us

Nearer in our invisible destination.”

-John O’Donohue

How to bring something to it’s end when it was only just beginning?

To approach finality within an ever evolving story.

But the reality in a way was that there was a bit of finality when those wheels of the plane landed on the tarmac of Chicago O’Hare airport. A finality of completion. US citizenship deemed by an IH3 visa upon body to soil of US land.

It was the ending of our time in Burundi and Kenya for now, yet only the beginning of life together in the US and beyond. We had done it in a way; completed a 4.5 year journey of adoption. (Little did we know the post adoption paperwork journey would become an entire journey of it’s own). But, we had done it. Adventured. Learned. Cried. Overcome. Failed. Tried again. Failed again. Eventually to persevere and end up where we started, HOME. Only this time home looked a bit different by those embodied within it.

Life was ever changing, still is, and always will be. There are so many things I would have changed about the way I handled these 4.5 years. But, as I now have had the gift of over 1.5 years since the day of bringing Theresia into our home, I can also see gratitude and pride in all that we endured within this adoption journey and that we were able to come out on the other side.

Humanity. It’s messy, murky, and quite frankly just a while lot of work. But wow can it also be so beautiful and I never want to forget that. Humbling every single day. Beauty to be discovered every single day. I am learning on this journey post adoption to redefine most things in my life. One of those being success. I am having to learn through quite brutal ways that a healthy soul is a greater definer of success than any outward gain or fame or perfection or image ever is. I am also having to learn that wholeness of heart and soul requires a whole lot of valley. I am working to accept this and beginning to see it as part of the journey. For no adventure is without its fair share of valley and therefore no success is either. Success is not a lack of failure, but rather it’s the willingness to keep trying despite the repetition of failure. The courage to try, again and again, for as long as it takes, new ideas and strengths emerging along the way. The courage to not let hope die with hard circumstance but learning to dig deep to find it in the middle of the darkest days. Anyone can endure a comfortable season and come out the other side. A willingness to endure pain, obstacle and heartache, yet still awake each morning with a willingness to grasp for joy, for love, for forgiveness, for tenderness, for gentleness, for hope despite the inability to feel any of those things at all, this is the miracle of it for me. This is the challenge, the consistent choice set before me each and every day of my life. The choice set before each of us each day of our lives.

And so, we came home. We entered a new season. Ending the chapter of what we thought adoption would look like and stepping into the reality of what it became, what it is today.

But I have not forgotten that I did not quite finish sharing about the final days leading to this new season of home. And so we travel back yet again to our time in Kenya, as we bring this adventure home.

Thursday Dec 16, 2021.

7:45am. After tossing and turning all night, hardly able to sleep, Josh and I arrived at the IOM office. The man on the phone the day before let us know it would be alright for us both to come (for IOM testing only one parent is allowed), considering the circumstances we were walking. However, that plan was shut down at the entrance door. They would only allow Josh with Theresia since he had been with her throughout the appointment 2 days prior. I had to wait along the side of the street until my dear friend Amber was able to return to pick me up. This appointment lasted almost 2 hours, however relief was the end result. Her X-rays came back NEGATIVE!! We would be able to return home and her health was in good standing! We cried such happy tears as we then rushed towards our US Visa appointment which we were now late for. However, as these things go there was much waiting anyways and there was no problem with our tardiness. This appointment ran very smoothly and we were able to relax the rest of the afternoon, releasing such heaviness from the last 24 hours.

Friday December 17, 2021

9:50am- We arrive at the US Embassy for me to be able to pick up our finalized Visa for Theresia. We were told this would be a quick and easy appointment and many others who had gone before us had confirmed that this was typically the case. However for us, that did not end up happening. Somehow our case got combined with my friend Beth’s who was there with me as well and we ended up sitting in those chairs, staring into their glass cubicles for over 2.5 hours wondering if we would actually be able to receive our documentation files to be able to travel stateside. Like most things adoption, everything is a gamble, and we were beginning to think this was a pretty big one. But in their own time, they were able to sort through our files correctly and get us both on our way. We were so grateful.

2:00pm- After fighting some traffic we were able to make our way to a covid testing facility where we would receive hopefully our FINAL covid tests for a while. We certainly were ready to be done having examiners wedge q-tips up our nostrils.

5:00pm- This evening David and Amber treated us to one of their favorite restaurant locations. I got one of the best avocado chicken wraps of my life and the kids enjoyed the play-set that was right next to the table. It was a great way to soak in all the navigations the Lord had brought us through and begin to prepare our hearts to head home.

Saturday December 18, 2021.

4:00am. As was pretty typical this trip, sleep had eluded me most of the night. However at 4am, I saw notifications coming through on my phone. Many emails flooding in all at once. Our covid test results. I nervously opened and began looking through our results. This was truly the last thing we needed to be able to board the plane later this coming evening. Shiloh’s was the first to pull up: Negative. Josh up next, negative. Two down, I was a little relieved. Thomas, also negative. Joy began to slowly swirl. I knew if nothing else I could get the three of them home. Theresia, negative. ALMOST THERE. Hands shaking, me fully sweating with nerves at this point, I opened my own personal result: negative. The tears began pouring out. We had done it. We would be getting on a plane this very evening as a family of 5, beginning our journey HOME.

2:00pm. After much rejoicing all around this morning from everyone that all of our results had come in and we were all in the clear we spent the morning resting and gathering all of our things together for travel. Then we headed out to the mall. The malls in Kenya are filled with everything you need, and so much more of things you don’t. Things you might expect like souveneir shops, intermingled with things you might not expect, like a full grocery store, or a trampoline park, full out with rock climbing walls. We stopped by the parking lot to gather a couple small final souvenirs as well as the grocery store for snacks for our journey home. (We got to venture to the trampoline park earlier in our time in Kenya. It was pretty cool! ) It would be a late departure out and I am so thankful we were able to have some time to rest before jumping into quite a long bit of travel.

7:30pm. We said our goodbyes to Amber and her girls as David would be taking us to the airport. Josh and I truly could not have made it through our time in Kenya without them. They not only hosted us in their home, but they were the emotional support we needed when we were crashing in defeat, despair and utter exhaustion. They gave us respite of food and warm baths and showers. We could not be more grateful for their hand in carrying us through this journey. They, more than most others, understand the complexities and dynamics of choosing a life that is very outside of the American norm. Also, so far beyond anything we have ever done, they choose to sacrifice their lives for our country. They choose to live outside of comfort again and again and again that so many others in America don’t have to. We adore this family and highly respect all expat families who do the same.

8:30pm. Safely at the airport we begin the process of line after line, checkpoint after checkpoint. I remember having to show our passports and covid testing results at at least 4 checkpoints and then again to board the plane. We were already set for I believe an 11pm departure, which after delays was closer to 1am. I do not know how we managed to keep everyone awake, but someone we all rallied and then slept the entire 7 hour flight to Frankfurt, Germany.

Sunday December 19, 2021.

Early morning Frankfurt time we arrived. I remember the feeling rushing over me that this would be the day. This would be the day we would land on US soil, that Theresia would officially become a US Citizen, and that she would see our home, in rural Indiana for the very first time. Also, cold, she would also experience that for the first time as snow was on the ground once we made it through our last long flight and wheels touched the ground. I will never forget this very moment, not ever. I remember looking over at Josh. Waves of relief rushed over me. A few tears trickled down. We were here. We were here.

Late afternoon. Time was so foggy at this point, but once we landed we unfortunately had quite the time being able to pass through US Immigration. Theresia’s additional medical questioning had placed her case on a red flag list and we had to process things through the US Health department and that took some time. Likely over an hour after the rest of our plane had come and gone through baggage claim we were able to go and were received so beautifully by my Mother in Law Mary, Josh’s mom. She came prepared for us with winter coats for all. We walked all together, the doors opening to the chill in the air, Theresia’s eyes widened in complete shock, never having felt anything close to these temperatures and laughter roared out of all of us. A new adventure had begun.

This has truly been quite the journey sharing our experience of our adoption trip with you. Thank you for baring with the time it has taken me to get through writing and posting it. This journey has marked my life in some of the hardest ways and yet ways I would never change for the world. I am a different person than I was before. Eyes opened. I once heard Reward Sibanda say on the Practicing the Way Podcast, “With revelation comes responsibility.” This has stuck with me, This season of our lives has felt like revelation after revelation of new. New relationships, new experiences, new struggles. And with each of these comes the responsibility to respond in a way that is fitting. That has been the reflection of our hearts each day in this time.

In closing I thought I would share something I feel the Lord spoke to me during our time in Kenya. I thought, just maybe someone reading this might need these words as well.

“Laura, I am not offering you ease, I am offering you peace, sanctuary of your heart, body, soul and mind.”

And this is my story. This was our journey. I hope you find your own moment of release, reminding yourself that life is certainly not easy, but I hope you fight and reach, and grasp for peace despite all the odds working against you. I hope you overcome adversity, not necessarily in circumstance change, because we don’t always have control over that. But my hope is that you might feel it too, if even for just a moment: peace. Sanctuary of your heart, body, soul and mind.

Rooting for you always, and deeply, deeply grateful to have you here.

I’ll see you soon then, likely sharing some more poetry and inspiration from life unfolding.

~Laura

Want to read our entire adoption finalization story? You can find all the episodes from beginning to closing here below.

Episode 1: Back to the Beginning:

https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/2/26/back-to-the-beginning

Episode 2: Heartbeats from Heaven:

https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/3/9/heartbeats-from-heaven

Episode 3: Harvest Days:

https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/3/16/harvest-days

Episode 4: Moon Miracles:

https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/3/29/first-signs-of-struggle

Episode 5: The Journey East to Waterfalls:

https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/4/6/the-journey-south-to-waterfalls

Episode 6: Stillness is Your Strength:

https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/4/22/the-breath-of-our-body

Episode 7: Rising Into Dawn:

https://lauraduggleby.com/blog/2023/1/4/rise-into-dawn

Rise Into Dawn.

Rise Into Dawn.

Burundi Journey Episode 7.

Well, here we are, 8 months since my last post.  If you read it or scroll to return you shall see that my opening paragraphs speak of how I was learning the way of stillness, the importance of it and the importance of sacrifice within this adoption journey.  And this must have been the beginning of what only the Lord could know would need to be a very season of still.  I finished my opening paragraphs with these words:

“Stillness is our strength, Learning to still is how we change the world.”

And honestly, I would still stand by those words today.  I needed to read and remember those words today.  But something I might add after 8 long months of stillness and waging waters so deep we weren’t sure we would make it to the other side?  I might add that “Stillness is our strength, and learning to still is how we change the world, but the stillness must eventually lead us into action.  For stillness alone, with no after movement remains stagnant and frail. It is the living, breathing power of a moving current that cleans, restores and refreshes and no change can exist without the movement to get it there. For stillness has the ability to bring courageous strength.  But stay there too long?  It whittles into deep discouragement where we lose our way.”

For you see, I did spend MUCH time in stillness, in reflection, in prayer, in trying to learn how to navigate the ins and outs of having an adopted child in our home, in our family.  But somewhere along the way, I forgot what I was getting still for.  I lost sight of ever moving again.  I became comfortable with such stillness that the life inside of me began to slowly die.  The valley began growing within in, the stagnant water murky and my reflection lost beneath the surface.  Somewhere I forgot that stillness without movement that follows is not stillness, but rather death.  I had moved from restoration to hiding.  And I have found there is a profound difference.  I have also found that getting the flow moving again may only happen by shear force of will to change.  There is no magic formula.  It never becomes easy to actually DO the very thing to which we have been called.  The work before us, the movement set to fill our souls take every bit of pushing back the darkness that looms over us to step into that in which our souls might sing again.  To that space where freedom rushes in and through.  I am finding that the space of freedom lies not in the before, but the after; making the choice to rise again and committing to making it happen, whatever the cost, and however much energy it takes.

So, here I am, clawing my way out from beneath the shadows to find the life within me once more.  Finding this page as an awakening of my soul I had lost there for a while.  Reminding myself that language, and the written word matters.  For language is in itself much of how we interpret the world.  The names of those we love mean something to us.  The way we speak over others and they way they speak over us mean something to us.  Words have the power to hold our stories and keep their presence alive.  And that is a great power indeed.  For our stories, our experiences mark our lives, change us and make us.  Language is a powerful vessel of memory, and therefore I am coming back to this space I hold so very dear.

I don’t know what these past 8 months have held for you?  Maybe they have held radiant brilliance, days of deep joy and delight.  And if this is you, would you please share? The world needs more stories of the good, the beautiful, the profound.  Maybe you have had pretty mundane days, nothing too gut wrenching or life altering bad, but nothing to make your soul sing either.  If this is you, might we just take a moment to embrace the mundane middle of our lives.  It is okay that nothing profound has happened, and if you look close enough, the mundane is actually some of the most beautiful crevices of our lives.  I hope you might take a moment to hold that close and smile at the gift.  And maybe you have been like me these past few months, in a state of utter overwhelm, emotional collapse and heartache.  Dear friend, there is space for the sadness, there is space for the hard, there is space for the grief and you are not alone.  But, might I also encourage you as I recently needed to hear the words, “This is not the end for you.  This season too shall pass.” And I hope that you might have the courage to fight like hell to crawl out of the dark and lonely spaces and remember that life indeed one day will get better.  It may not happen today, and it may not happen tomorrow, but I do believe it WILL happen.  I believe the sun shall rise again.  And I welcome you to keep these following words close this year.  After a lot of prayer and seeking what 2023 shall be for me, this is the mantra I am choosing to cling to:

“Lord, I integrate this day with You.

I choose to rise into the glory of this coming dawn.

May Your favor anoint me with oil all the day long.”

These are my fighting words.  My words of remembrance of who I am, whose I am, and the fact that the night will soon be over.  The dawn is rising and there is so much glory up ahead.  Thank you so much for being here.

And with that, I believe I sadly left each of you hanging a bit in the story of our journey in Burundi, and for that I am deeply sorry.  But now, we shall continue on.  We had finished our final days in Burundi as our dear Shiloh was finally on the slow mend once more.  We continue on with our departure from Burundi and our days moving forward into Kenya.

Saturday December 11, 2021.

What a day it was today.  Likely the hottest day we had experienced yet in Burundi, and today was travel day.  Today is the day Theresia would fly out of the only country she has ever known, the only place she has ever called home.  Bags were packed early in the day and the remainder was a lot of shuffling bags to different places and spaces, all without air conditioning, and the struggle of finding papers we needed and documents to prove the adoption while making sure we had all of our children still with us and finding the correct location for our flight to Nairobi.  You know, the normal ins and outs of travel, only we were walking the journey with a daughter who was still recovering from being very ill, and another daughter who spoke next to no English and a son who was happy to help wherever he could.  But eventually we did indeed “make it”.  As Theresia sat next to me on the plane I could feel her nerves, her curiosity, her wonder all gathered together in a complex jumble of change.  Yet, she did remarkably well for her first ever flight.  No tears, just looks of wonder as she rose into the sky for the first time in her life. As we ventured further into this sky marvel, she began waving goodbye to her country, goodbye to her people, goodbye to her home.  I will never forget that moment in all my life.  Her extraordinary courage, her calm demeanor, her hope in her body of all the journey before her to come.

Arrival into Nairobi was maybe one of the smoothest transitions we encountered the entire trip and we were beyond grateful.  Customs and covid control was very easy and our dear friend from college, who was both our host and our ride was there to pick us up and make the 45 minute journey to their home.  This moment was a deep exhale for us.  A moment that we felt supported and carried in a way we did not know we deeply needed until we had arrived.  Shilloh’s illness had taken a large emotional toll on us all, and to be here, in a space with remarkable healthcare in the arms of friends we have known since college was a gift we will never forget.  They welcomed us into their home as family and this is how the entire week felt.  A hug from family through the good and the bad.

Sunday, December 12, and Monday December 13, 2021.

Thankfully Sunday and Monday passed as days of rest and recovery, as well as some American dishes like pizza!  Shiloh napped a lot as her body continued to recover from the illness she endured. Theresia played with our friends’ two girls and we were able to chat about all the things Burundi from the last 3 weeks. It was a relief to have clean water at our disposal, a playroom for the children and friends to take us to all their favorite places!  What a gift indeed!

Tuesday December 14, 2021.

Today was a big day for Theresia.  She was required to go for medical testing that included bloodwork.  This testing is required by the US government to prove a bill of clean health before entry into the US.  It is a big deal and a very lengthy process.  Considering all that went down with Shiloh, we had decided it would be best for Josh to take this day on with Theresia, and thankfully all went well.  Theresia took on yet another challenge in remarkable fashion.  That evening to celebrate we took the kids to the mall, which let me tell you, this is not an American mall.  Their mall was 10 stories, yes 10 and included a rock climbing wall and a trampoline park.  The kids were in heaven! We concluded the day with meals there at the mall and baths and to bed.

Wednesday December 15, 2021.

5:30am.  Today was an early start, because today was safari day!! Getting to check off a bucket list item for my life this day and it certainly did not disappoint!

6:30am. We arrive at the park in time to begin the drive as the sun rose over the horizon.  The views were absolutely breathtaking. The sky was a mix of fog and sun over this wide expanse of land.  There was nothing quite like it I had ever seen before. Throughout the day we witnessed it all: impalas, giraffes, black and white rhinos, a baby rhino, male and female lions. Thomas said it was the best day of his life, and I could see why.  It was truly exhilarating to see animals in the wild as we did!

5:00pm. Unfortunately after the incredible day we had, a sharp turn was to be included in our evening. For you see, I received a call from the IOM office.  Theresia’s bloodwork had not come back clear.  The red flag? Tuberculosis.  A person suffering from active tuberculosis, understandably is not allowed to enter onto US territory.  We would have to return to the IOM office the following morning to further investigate her case with an X-ray to declare her tuberculosis active or inactive.  At this point, worry and anxiety raged within my system.  So many unknowns stood before us.  Theresia had been acting fine, no cause for worry with her health, but what if she was silently dealing with something very serious?  What if her health was in question now too?  And the implications could mean an extended stay for close to 3 months, if all went well.  Or, well, or she could test in the clear with inactive tuberculosis meaning she had had it in the past and survived and therefore was now no longer contagious and our travel plans could move forwards.  We would have to wait to know what the future held in our cards. And this Christmas?  We weren’t sure what that was going to look like as well.  Crazy to think the weight one X-ray could hold.  And there we stood with it in our palms, trying to extend them to the heavens and trust whichever direction Yahweh was taking us.  My knees were so weary at this point, my heart so heavy from the health scares.  I could hardly speak the words to Josh, getting them out of my lungs and into the air space, which felt so far between us.  But eventually they came, and with them a flood of tears to approach this large unknown.  Our dearest friends cradling us once more, praying over us, comforting us, and extending the welcome of their home for as long as we would need.  Yahweh was holding us too, though the weight felt too heavy to bare, moment by moment we were given just what we needed to survive.  And moment by moment we were making it through.

For you see, the circumstances of our lives are many times out of our control.  There are so many experiences and difficulties that rise that are of no cause of our own.  And in these moments I have learned to embrace the grief, embrace the sadness, embrace the fear as it comes.  Our body is trying to protect us, that is all, stand guard against whatever is coming our way.  And in these seasons I am learning to let it be the hard that it is in the moment.  To turn towards the fear and really acknowledge it, see it, and lean in to that which is the source of the deepest fear indeed.  Many times it brings me back and back again to the fear of death, whether that be myself or one I love so dear.  And once I have acknowledged it, only then am I able to release it.  To release the control and embrace the vulnerability and suffering that is life some days.  And only then can I look upon myself with tenderness and grace and let the healing begin.

And so I pray that this day stillness is your strength.  That you have a moment for reflection and care over the soul to which you carry.  But I also pray that you might not remain there. That you might rise into the glory of the coming dawn. That the favor of the Lord might anoint you all this day long. I don’t know what you are battling, I don’t know where your heart leads you this day, but I hope you never forget the touch of dawn upon your face, as you turn and fight like hell to crawl out of the darkness.

I’ll see you soon then as we journey towards the end of this journey we made.  Thank you so much for being here. May you always know you are deeply loved, your life matters, your calling is important, and living waters are awaiting your return, just on the other side of hope.  Dawn is calling, can you feel her rising?

~Laura

Miss any of the previous Episodes of our time in Burundi?  Here is some easy access for you!

Episode 1: Back to the Beginning:

https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/2/26/back-to-the-beginning

Episode 2: Heartbeats from Heaven:

https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/3/9/heartbeats-from-heaven

Episode 3: Harvest Days:

https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/3/16/harvest-days

Episode 4: Moon Miracles:

https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/3/29/first-signs-of-struggle

Episode 5: The Journey East to Waterfalls:

https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/4/6/the-journey-south-to-waterfalls

Episode 6: Stillness is Your Strength:

https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/4/22/the-breath-of-our-body

Stillness is your Strength.

Stillness is your Strength.

Burundi Journey Episode 6.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

We breathe as a daily, moment by moment rhythm. We first exit the mother’s womb and life itself is accredited by it; our first breath. It is involuntary, sustainer of life, breath of life. Anxiety? Panic? State of Overwhelm? We forsake our breath in exchange for mind and in doing so, we forsake the wholeness of ourselves. Breath as prayer, as recognition of life, as appreciation for each moment in time, as significance in time. There is not human life without it. Breath, to be human.

Breath, to be holy. The Jewish Rabbis teaching that YHWH (or Yaweh) as it has been translated to many of us today is reflective of breath. YH, our inhale. WH our exhale. As we breathe, every breath we take, silently or labored, we are saying YHWH. Can you hear it?

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

In Hebrew YHWH means “I AM”. Reflective of God speaking to Moses at the burning bush, “I AM”.

Breath, a substantial need for life. Breath, a tool to deep healing. We think we need to be doing things all the time to be fulfilled, to be satisfied, living to the fullest as we say. But the longer I live I am convinced this is not true. Yes, sometimes we must take action, we must go farther than words, yet many times, that action is stillness. Stillness becomes our strength. For in stillness we take the deep breaths, the long inhales and exhales. The reminders of who we are and what we are made for, the strength of our remembrance, of our remembrance of beloved, our remembrance that we have nothing to prove and nothing to lose. For if God is our everything, than nothing can shatter our souls. The remembrance that light shall always have it’s way and triumph over the darkness. It is not to say that things shall go our way, or that catastrophic circumstances will end as we think they should. However, it is to say that goodness shall come running after us, even in the darkest areas of our lives. That even when we feel weak in every way, our stillness shall become our strength. Our breath our worship, our laying down and slowing down our gift of remembering this life we have graciously lived thus far. Our act of gratitude, our act of love. Our way to embrace and hold dear the reverence of YHWH.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

We worship. We remember. We learn to love.

And this is what this adoption season has been teaching me. That all the accomplishments in the world mean nothing if I have not learned that love requires sacrifice and within sacrifice I must learn to still. And within stillness I have the honor of breath, of YHWH. And within this time of breath I am whole. And out of wholeness can we courageous and boldly shine our light in ways far beyond that in which we might ever ask or imagine of ourselves. And this too is love. Learning that we have been created to love ourselves and love this world. But it starts with YHWH. It starts in stillness.

Stillness is our strength. Learning to still is how we change the world.

What Have We Done?

December 7, 2021

4:00pm. We continue our journey back towards Bujumbura, the place we currently call ‘home’, our resting place, our nesting place, our place of learning to come together as a family while in Burundi. We are watching Shiloh closely. I can tell she still does not feel great, but she is trying to be “strong” and pretend like nothing is wrong. I want to just cradle her and tell her its ok to cry and not feel ok and let whatever emotions come that need to come. Its okay to not be okay. But I hold her close and let her sleep on my lap and take selfies on my phone as we try to pass the time, longing to just get out of the car, get to the hotel where we can better care for her, have a bed for her to rest, truly rest, away from the people she feels bad inconveniencing who are with us as we journey back towards Bujumbura.

4:15pm. We should be getting close now, making our way into the outskirts of Bujumbura, but instead we come to a stop. No traffic is moving. We are at a standstill. At first, there is no thought of it. There must be something up ahead and soon we will continue to be on our way. You know these slow down points happen in America too. This is no big deal.

5:00pm. We still sit. At this point the heat of the van has risen to a miserable temperature. Yet we cannot get out. It would not be safe here and would cause quite the scene. They are telling us there is some sort of contruction happening and unlike America, there are no “detour” routes. We must wait out their working hours. My heart is wrestless. My patience slowly losing its grip. Can’t everyone see that my girl is trying to hang on in here, but she is not ok?! At this point Shiloh is sitting on Josh’s lap. I can see the discomfort in her eyes. She sips water and goes in and out of trying to sleep, but we all can feel that it is too hot to be able to stay asleep for long. We watch others walking around and talking with other vehicles. Children coming up, selling roasted corn, trying to make some money from the grumbling stomachs of all those perched upon this road, with nowhere to go. We cannot have this though, Modeste, our lawyer says the way it is cooked can make us as Americans sick. So the Burundian children enjoy, and we are happy to get something into them and we sweat and try to stretch the thinning patience we bear.

6:00pm We are moving again. We discovered a large glass bottle truck had toppled over and blocked the roadway completely. It took much effort to get it out of the way enough to begin allowing alternating traffic to navigate around it and be able to cross over a bridge. Now traffic to get into Bujumbura is in full on rush hour mode. It does not let up. We weave in and our of cars, try different routes, all in effort to get to the area we need to get to, to get back to our temporary home. But the lines seem to never end. What took us 20 min to get out of the city now takes close to an hour and a half to reach our destination.

7:30pm We arrive back to the hotel! I don’t think any of us had exited that vehicle so quickly on this trip thus far. Although the sights and excursions were amazing, nothing makes it feel worth it when your child is not well. We get back to the room, and Shiloh crashes on the bed. We want to give her body time to cool off from the heat of the van, the heat of being all clustered together for the majority of the day, because she is BURNING up. I keep telling myself, she just needs time to rest, to cool off from the journey of the day. Josh stays with the kids in the room while I head to the hotel restaurant for food. We have decided to just order sambosas and white rice for the evening, a sprite for me to settle the nerves and we are hopeful that getting something mild into Shiloh’s stomach will help. We have not eaten well all day and she must be hungry.

8:30pm Food takes a while to come here. And although I have ordered one of the simplest and fastest orders we know, I am still actually surprised to be returning to the room within an hour. Thomas and Theresia scarf down some food, both rightfully so, hungry after the day we have encountered. Shiloh won’t touch a bite. Now I KNOW something is not right. If you know Shiloh than you know food is her favorite thing! Last year for her birthday she told me all she wanted was to be able to go to a restaurant and eat “fancy food”. :) Food is such a savory space of goodness for her. And don’t I know, because she is so much like me. We won’t necessarily eat a large meal, but we shall snack all day long! But not today. She had not touched anything since our simple bread lunch, which for her was still to be lacking. Her forehead, burning hot. I brought an entire first aide kit, I knew I had to find our thermometer and see where her temperature was at.

9:00pm. I searched our room high and low and there is NO thermometer to be found. How could I bring our entire first aide kit, complete with stomach medicines and fever reducers and gauze and hydrogen peroxide and alcohol pads and Neosporin. You know, all the goods, EXCEPT the thermometer?! I was beginning to internally panic. We had already given her children’s Tylenol at this point. There was no denying she had a fever, the problem was how warm was she? We got on our knees to pray, not knowing what else to do. Our girl is sick in a country where we do not speak the language. In the poorest country in the world. We brought her here. What have we done?

10:00pm. Everyone is asleep now. Everyone but me. Maybe Josh too. For how can one sleep when their child is burning up beside them? I toss and I turn and I feel her forehead. She is not cooling down. She is still burning up. What are we going to do? What are we going to do?

December 8, 2021

3:00am. Shiloh is moaning now. She feels so uncomfortable . We have given the medicine more than enough time to take effect and it has not done anything for her. She is ravaging, rolling in discomfort. I head to the front desk, desperate to see if we might be able to borrow their thermometer, because the good thing about Covid is that everyone now has a thermometer. Everyone except us that is… We had regularly experienced temperature checks upon arrival. But the front desk is closed. No one is there. Lights are out. It is pitch dark everywhere. We are out of luck. I weep my way back to our room and tell Josh the news. We try calling our lawyer, our connection in the city, because at this point we think we need to go to the hospital. I reach out to a dear friend of mine, because the good thing about Burundi being 8 hours ahead and it being the middle of the night is that America is still awake. Her husband is a Dr and I am desperate to know what to do, anything to DO. For how can I sit and do nothing and watch my girl suffer so? She agrees we need to try and get to a hospital. But we can get no one on the phone. We text and we call, but all of our local connections are fast asleep, as would be expected for 3am. I know the front desk is open at 6am. Lord please get us through the next 3 hours. Please get us help. Please help us. Its all I can mutter as I pace our room. Please help us.

6:00am. I arrive at the front desk on the dot. Upon arriving I cannot even speak. The tears well over and I am sobbing. Concerned, the front desk staff member leans in. In an act of comfort rests his hand gently upon my forearm resting on the counter. “My daughter,” I squeak out. “So sick. May need ambulance. Thermometer. Hot. She is so hot. We need thermometer.” I am doing hand motions because some staff have minimal English and I don’t know how anyone might understand me through all these tears anyways. But Vianney understands. He has been our Bellhop. We met him with Modeste at the airport and he helped us first settle in. We see him daily and we know he is compassion. We know he embodies love. I turn, not recognizing until that moment in time he had approached, but thankful to have a familiar face at my side now. I simply weep “Shiloh. So sick. Thermometer.” He takes off running, I know he understands. I know he feels the gravity of it all. And even in that moment where I feel as if time could not be moving more slowly, I still feel as if he had to have been back in less than 3 minutes. We run together to our room. He knows exactly where to go since he has so graciously helped us so many times thus far on our trip. We have been in Burundi for 2.5 weeks now. We are only a few days shy of our travel to Kenya. Yet here we are, in a terror of health spiraling down.

6:15am. Vianney stays with us as we take Shiloh’s temperature. She is 39.4 degrees Celsius. That is a 103.03 Degree fever. My body shakes. She has never had a fever this high. Vianney confirms this is not good. He tells me he will immediately call for a doctor. They have a doctor who works with the hotel. They will get him on the phone and get him to come now. I am grateful. Grateful for this care. Grateful we do not have to succumb her to another car ride in her current state. Grateful selfishly not to expose her to the hospital as cover cases are currently rising in country and we have to test in 36 hours for our own ability to leave the county in just 3 days.

9:30am. The doctor arrives with a couple of nurses too. They draw blood, take her temperature again, which has remained high. They tell us to keep offering water and Tylenol and say they will get lab results to us soon, within a few hours. I am so grateful for their kindness. For genuinely they are with us for over an hour. They agree her fever is much too high. We all fear it is malaria. Shiloh’s misery remains.

3pm. As most medical things go, we hear no answer quickly and my hope is deteriorating . Shiloh is too miserable to get anything down. I am fearing her dehydration at this point more than anything else. The fever still pressing in with all its got. I have never seen her like this. Never seen her this sick before. And I can feel myself on the verge of my own mental breakdown. Anxiety knocking on my door. Shame tearing away at me. How could we risk her life for this? And yet, my dear friend, knowing what is happening as we stay in touch knowns my mind before I speak it or type it: “And Laura, don’t you dare begin to question bringing your kids on this trip. Do you hear me? You were supposed to bring Shiloh and Thomas. That was confirmed before you left the states. It is important that you were there TOGETHER as a FAMILY to get Theresia. Shiloh is supposed to be in Burundi with you. You made the right decision to bring them. Don’t you question that. God has got her. And though the fire is raging He sees you and He sees her and He will carry you through this storm. He will carry you through and I will not stop praying.” More weeping spilled over as she spoke to the exact shame all over my heart. For as mothers we long to comfort and take care of our children. To watch them suffer is immensely painful. And to be genuinely concerned for her life…. Well it makes you question everything. I will myself to continually quote Psalm 34:7: “The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him; and He delivers them”. This has been the verse, the chapter really that I feel the Lord has used to carry us through the wilderness season of the adoption journey. And here we were yet again, crying our for deliverance, for life, for healing and for tender mercies to overcome the illness.

4pm. We receive her blood results. No Malaria. We are relieved. But, it does confirm some sort of serious infection in her body. They are not sure what it is, but the doctor is on his way back to the hotel. They are bringing medication now and a shot. A shot that is a fever reducer. They know her fever needs to come down and we need to get it down quickly. It has been over 24 hours now of it sucking all the life out of Shiloh.

5pm. Our doctor arrives. Praise the Lord. And even further, her fever has actually dropped to 102.7, almost 103, but to such it has dropped just low enough that they cannot give the shot. Shiloh is relieved and I am relieved that we at least have movement in the right direction even though the fever is still high. It takes us maybe a full 10 min to get Shiloh’s first dose of medication in. We have to continually beg to get her to take in the tiniest amounts, but the first dose has been given. And now we try to rest and pray that we have taken the right course.

8pm. Shiloh is sleeping soundly now, I am encouraged and slightly hopeful. What a wild day and a half it has been and my fears are still wild in my mind. But at least we have confirmed no malaria and we pray this medication is right for her. She has kept it down and for that I am so thankful. I continue to pray for deliverance. And in my exhaustion I too, finally fall asleep for a bit.

December 9, 2021

12am. My alarm awakes me. It is time for Shiloh’s next dose of medicine. We have a thermometer of our own now, praise the Lord!! Her temp is still well over 100 deg farenheight, but Shiloh too slept soundly for a bit. It again takes quite a while to get the medicine in, but we get it down, and she falls back asleep, her body working so hard to fight this thing within her.

4am. Shiloh is awake, but she slightly smiles. It is the first smile I have seen in almost 2 days. I don’t feel good mama, but I do think I feel better than I did. Her fever closer to 100 now. We are declining, praise God!

11am. Unfortunately even after the last couple of days we have had, today is Covid testing day. We have to get out and get tested to be able to be within the window to board our flight to Kenya in two short days. I could tell the entire way Shiloh wasn’t feeling great, but she made it through. Never had we been so thankful for a simple throat swab test instead of the nasal one that hurts.

8pm. We pass the rest of the day with iPads and quiet play with the other two. We survive another day. We are getting a few more fluids in her now. And, her fever has now BROKEN!!! Within 24 hours of this antibiotic her fever has come down. It’s working!!

December 10, 2021

Today was a day for packing and gathering the final things, for tomorrow we fly out to Kenya. All of our Covid results come in, and we are all negative. And that final evening, that final night in Burundi, God brought us just the gift we needed; wild hippos in the waters just outside of our dining room. Josh had been waiting the entire trip to see hippos, outside of the guided tours we had been on to experience them. But this time, it was just us, with our friends who we got to enjoy dinner with each evening, and there they were, the most beautiful hippos I had ever seen, one even yawning for us. And, as I stood there, Shiloh close beside me, lighting up and smiling with the rest of us at the amazement before our eyes, I smiled deep in my soul. Our girl was returning to us. She was returning to the wonder she sees in the world wherever she goes, returning to her love of animals and love of life. She still would need several more days to really recover, but what a testimony to the quickness of recovery she was experiencing verses the state she was in. From darkness to light.

And in the stillness I found the strength I would need to face the next battle up ahead. For Kenya was coming, and we had yet to know all that was about to go down in Kenya. But, here we stood, in beautiful stillness. The tenderness of God to draw us back to nature, to creation, to life before our next challenge.
The reminder that YHWH was with us, within us, within each breath, within each echo of our cries. For within the stillness of our days and the misery of the unknown, we found the strength to believe that this too was to be a part of our story. For in the stillness we found the strength, the audacity to hope. Oh what a gift!

Praying that you are met with the stillness of your own heartbeat this evening. Stillness of your own YHWH breath. Stillness of your own:

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale Exhale.

Moment this evening.

Life is surely too short to miss the extraordinary gift of presence. Thank you for being present with me and my family here in this space.

I will see you soon then as we prepare to make our way onwards into Kenya!

With all the love I have, pretending you are right here in the room with me as we have just had this heart to heart moment, tears in eyes, tea in hands, moments held in presence. You are deeply loved and deeply beloved. Never forget the power and impact of deeply listening. It matters more than you know. So thank you for listening to this story we have walked. I do not take your presence lightly.

~Laura

Have you missed any of the journey thus far? You can catch up here:

Episode 1. Back to the Beginning: https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/2/26/back-to-the-beginning

Episode 2. Heartbeats from Heaven: https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/3/9/heartbeats-from-heaven

Episode 3. Harvest Days: https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/3/16/harvest-days

Episode 4. Moon Miracles: https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/3/29/first-signs-of-struggle

Episode 5. The Journey East to Waterfalls. https://www.lauradugglebyphotography.com/blog/2022/4/6/the-journey-south-to-waterfalls