Back to the Beginning

Where do we even begin? Where do we start to explain the completion of a journey that took nearly half a decade? I think it must begin where all stories begin. With a quiet stirring, a gentle whisper, the feeling that harvest is on the horizon, yet you know that before the harvest the work shall be long and wearisome, the turmoils shall advance like a typhoon, there will be hills to hurdle. And yet, that still small whisper remains, lighting soul aglow with a flame that cannot be extinguished. Launching you into wild courage, not of yourself, yet of the curiosity to follow this deep longing of the soul. This is where it all began 4.5 years ago.

There are many here who I feel do not know the roots of how our adoption story began, and to be able to understand the miracle this journey has truly been, let me begin here. But first, also let me state that a journey of adoption, is simply choosing to say “yes, I am available”. It is not to say “I want this, I have always dreamed of adopting.'“ For how can we long for the trauma, destruction and immense hardship of a child? May it not be so. I wish adoption were not a needed avenue. I wish it never existed, because I wish the harsh reality of death, poverty, mental illness, cultural curses and more did not exist. However, in the world we live, there are all of these things. And occasionally that means there are children left in need. Children without another option, children who need a home through adoption. Let it also be said of me as we begin, that for us, we believe adoption to be the last option. We desire first for a child in this type of need to experience family reunification. If this is not an option our prayer is that the child be placed in the home of another family member willing. If that is not an option, then our hope is for someone in their local community to welcome them in. If this is not an option, then our hope is for them to remain at least within their country of origin. If this is not an option, then we believe in International Adoption with parents who teach , love and come alongside the child’s country of origin. This is where our story lands.

So, back to the beginning. Our adoption journey began shortly after I returned from my second trip to Rwanda in 2016. I began having dreams. Intense, vivid dreams. Each dream was the same. I was walking the streets of Eastern Africa, the red clay rich and wide. Walking upon a hillside, smelling the tea leaves, sweet and fresh, walking with a child holding each hadn't gently and another skipping joyfully ahead. Each time there was a peace like no other. Everything was alive, present, comforting. Until I would awake, at the same place each time, right as we began approaching the top of the hillside. Each time I awoke in a dripping sweat, and for a few moments, groggy and confused I literally would not know where I was. Confused between my location in Eastern Africa or Northwest Indiana. As I came to my senses, there was a feeling of loss. A feeling of missing being within the dream, within this space that felt like my soul was alive, awakened to a courage I so deeply lack in reality. Yet, nervous to let anyone in on these recurring dreams, I let them be just this. A recurring dream. For 5 months they continued at least once a week, many times 2-3 times a week. Eventually I could take it no more. I told Josh (my husband) of my dreams. I let him in on this other world I was experiencing in the darkness of night. I expressed my concern that maybe the Lord was asking us to step into the world of adoption? Whatever it was, I was desperate to confide, desperate to find some reasoning and for a friend to tell me I wasn’t crazy. Josh and I began to pray over what the dreams meant, over if we were indeed to start an adoption journey or not.

For you see, there is a bit more backstory to this. For the 6 months prior to my travels to Rwanda, our dear Shiloh girl had developed a severe infection. An infection that had required 2 surgeries, 6 months of antibiotics with weekly appointments with a speciality doctor and a season that wiped us financially. Praise the Lord for her healing after surgery number two and for God’s grace and mercy within that. But tangibly speaking, financially speaking, we were in no place to begin an international adoption journey. A journey that on paper, as you begin you commit to the fees of a potential $60,000. And yet, that still small whisper, the gentle stirring of my soul would not release me. And in time, Josh felt the same. After 13 days of prayer he returned with the words “Well, I cannot say no, and my only response is that if this is supposed to be something we enter, if it does happen and come to fruition we shall have to declare Only God”.

And so, in October of 2017 we began our journey. Signing the papers, having no clue the journey that lay before us. And so, as we purchased plane tickets in October of 2021 for our trip to Burundi for November of 2021 we could only declare before us “Only God”.

Wednesday November 24, 2021

5:00am. Today was the day, the day we had awaited for so long, over 4 years to be exact. We awoke before the sun, getting ready with palms sweaty, heart racing, stomach churning. How do you adequately prepare to meet a child who has lived 7 years in another world, and begin to tell her you are now united to her? How do you begin to explain to a child that your heart has been shattered into a million pieces for her, that somehow in the stillness of the night the Lord tethered your heart to hers and that you have felt a connection that is not of this world, and yet you do not speak the same language or live in the same climate? How do you prepare to see the place your child has welcomed as home for the beginning of their life without you knowing a single piece of it? The honor of that sacred place? How do you prepare? For me, it was with sweaty palms, a racing heart, a churning stomach and a reminder to BREATHE.

6:00am. We met the other families at the front of the hotel. There was a shush about us all. You could hear a pen drop. We were all thinking the same thing. Are we ready for this? Really ready? We have read all the books, listened to all the podcasts, been through classes and training, learned little bits of the language, and been invested into the country of Burundi for years now. And yet here we were, standing on Burundian soil, preparing to drive 6 plus hours into the mountains of Burundi and approach the place our children have called home. Are we ready for this?

6:30am. Bags of donation items for the orphanage are loaded into the back of our 15 passenger van, overflowing into the additional little tan Toyota behind us. Each family neatly piled into a row in the van. The wheels began to turn and we were off. Thankfully that morning the weather was cool for Burundi. Lord knew the air was helpful to usher a simple relief to my relentless heat of anxiety. Minutes became hours. And quietly we took in the beauty of Burundi. Rolling hills, steep climb on the side of mountains, dangerously passing semis filled with glass soda bottles, or trucks with bellies full of sugar cane. Passing valleys with flowing streams and burning plants to sell as fire starters. Through villages with mothers with children tied beautifully around their waste in fabrics of every color imaginable. Goods and foods balanced on their heads and they walked the narrow roads back towards home. Young children playing with sticks, rocks or tires. Laughing as delightful as a honey to lips. And speaking of honey, Burundi has much honey too. Passing stands with fresh honey, milk, or fruit or vegetables. Avocados, bananas, pineapple, tomato, passion fruit, papaya, roasted corn and more. These moments felt like a lifetime and a moment all the same.

11:30am. It’s time for a bathroom break. And no, this does not mean we pull into a gas station or a fast food place. It means we pull our car to the side of the road alongside a hill. We climb the hill, find enough brush to hide ourselves from the children walking just down below and count to ourselves for what feels like eternity before the urge to go outweighs the stage freight and relief comes. Or maybe this was just my experience. :) The rest of the van seemed to have no problems relieving themselves out there, but for me? The image of that sweet boy’s eyes watching me as I walked up the hill, they kept showing up right as I tried to go, and well, it took a while…. But relief did finally come, and with a bit of hand sanitizer and a prayer of gratitude to the Lord for choosing a long skirt to wear that day, we were back on the road to our child. The one they call ours legally though we have never met face to face. The one we have loved by photo for over a year, yet never had the ability to communicate with. The one we have been praying over, the one we have chosen to walk alongside and welcome into our family, a merging of stories. The one we feel so honored to get to meet in a few short hours time.

1:00pm. We are told we are 10 minutes away from the Orphanage. And suddenly, the tears begin welling up in my eyes. Tears I knew would come this day. Tears similar to the first day we received a photo of her. The day when all my fears of not feeling connected or bonded washed away and I instantly felt love through a photo. Tears that no amount of willpower could stop. Each mother we saw in the village as we drove up the bumpy, clay road made me so grateful to get to be here. Right here in this moment in time. In this place in the world, around such a feeling of love. We slowly pulled in, the gates opening for us, and children welcoming us in song. I will never forget Thomas shouting “I see her! I see her! There is Theresia”! And then, I saw her too. She was brushed up against one of the nuns, standing with a shyness and boldness together about her. By this point in time I was full blown sobbing and shaking all over. I could not stop the wave of emotions, rushing as a roaring river before me. Handing my camera off to a friend, I stepped out of the van and walked directly towards her. I knelt to meet her at eye level, and she approached with a hug. It was a stiff hug and I almost felt bad, felt as if they had told her she had to hug me. I would have been ok without one in that moment. I understood all the emotions whirling, the bit of awkwardness it felt, the feeling of not knowing the right way to act, the feeling of knowing nothing, being a stranger and yet a close friend all in one. From there everything spun into a whirlwind, hugging nuns, children running and laughing everywhere. Slowly we were shuffled through the buildings, learning their routines of the day, getting to see how well loved they have been, how well taken care of. Then, we sat as they performed dance and song for us, next feeding us an African meal. We were treated like royalty, when truly it needed to be the other way around. But we would never dishonor the service, the kindness, the compassion they were offering to us. These nuns are genuinely the best of humanity I am convinced. Laying aside every aspect of “freedom” to live where true freedom is found. And then, in what felt like an instant we were whisked away, ushered back into the van, needing to get to our next destination before nightfall. I will never forget that moment. The strength of Theresia boldly sitting beside me and wildly waving her arms goodbye to all of her friends. I was so thankful she had another friend in the van with us that day, but oh her courage to embark on an adventure, one that shall change her life forever, with a smile on her face. It is more than I think I could have done at 7, and I pray she knows she is safe to cry, to release, to grieve and to mourn the beautiful place of her childhood.

3:30pm We are on our way to the next orphanage, yet all I can think is that I cannot believe this is real. There is a space of timidness. I don’t want to overwhelm her, yet I want her to know she doesn't have to be so tough for all of this either. She is safe to cry, safe to not be ok. So, I balance on this line of finding what little middle ground I can. The mix of car vibration, with filled bellies and worn emotions leaves us all tired as we drive to our town where we shall rest this evening. But on the way, Shiloh dozes off, her head to fall on Theresia’s shoulder. There is a sweetness in Theresia, a softness to embrace the connection as it lands. Then, she too loses the battle of alertness. Theresia dozes off too, her head falling to my shoulder, and in an instant, we have a domino of dozing heads, and a moment in time I shall never forget. It has been 4 years, and it has been 4 seconds all in one. The journey hard, and this moment a refreshing breeze of wind to break the heat of the years. Certainly there is no perfection in it. Things are still all a bit new, and with that newness comes a lot of uncomfortable moments. Yet, this moment marked the beginning for me. The beginning of knowing in the end, even if we fall as dominos do, we have a new member of the family falling with us. We are a team. And we shall embrace what is to come together. The moments of bliss and the moments of breaking. We are FOR each other. We are the Dugglebys, merged with the Wiringiyimana family forevermore now. What an indescribable gift and honor and responsibility to hold. I pray we do it justice.

10:30pm. We made it to our hotel for the evening. Weary after the day behind us, all 5 of us collapse into a King size bed, organized like a puzzle, nuzzled together as if we had never been a part. Such fear melted away. The first step behind us. We met the one God whispered to my heart through a dream over 4 years ago. The one He asked if we might be willing to leap into the Sea of fear, inadequacy and doubt and simply say yes to be a place for her to land. Not a savior, not giving her a “better” place, not giving her anything that I don’t wish a million times over her own birthmother could give. But here all the same, saying we see you, we cannot wait to get to know you, and thank you for letting us love you. We know you are going to make us better. The past four years have already proved that. Thank you for helping us learn to repent of our emotional hierarchy. Thank you for helping us see the world through the lens of a worldview, not a western view. Thank you for showing us where we had so much pride that we needed to crumble to humility. You, Theresia, the one whose name means “to bring the Harvest”, you are teaching us what it truly means to live in Harvest. To come to harvest means to actively serve, work and show up faithfully before ever seeing first fruits of a harvest. But what a faithful God to bring us to you, the day before Thanksgiving, the day we celebrate the Harvest. And what an offering this day must have been for you. And now we see a bit more fully. For us this day of unification must feel like a day of separation for you, and we are learning that there are always two sides to a story, and I pray we never leave one side to dust.

I’ll see you soon then, to continue this story of our time in Burundi. Thank you for being here and taking the time to read. I feel so humbly honored.

~Laura