We had our first meeting with Sensi a year ago, but it feels like yesterday. I still have vivid images of his orphanage in my head: the entry gate and guard, cement walk and flowers, playground and scuffling children. We made a few introductions before anyone tracked down Sensi for our initial contact.
I remember him shuffling down the steps, guided by one of the nuns, a vacant look on his face. "Sensi, this is your family," the sister said, turning his head so it pointed toward ours. "He's just embarrassed," she explained, slapping his cheek.
I reserve my most honest first impressions for God and my wife. But I can admit to holding my breath.
This maiden voyage to Ethiopia, this first visit with Sensi, has surfaced in many conversations in recent weeks. We talk about the outpouring of gifts and prayers for our family. We recall the flurry of travel plans and packing of bags. We cringe at the interminable flight and mental, emotional exhaustion we felt. We remember God's faithfulness in big and little ways. We recite the smells, sights, tastes, and sounds we heard in Addis Ababa. And, of course, we reminisce about our precious few hours with Sensi before crossing the ocean again and leaving him to wonder who these strangers were and when they might return.
A year after first impressions, life with Sensi is beginning to feel normal. It doesn't feel the same. It does't feel easy. But it feels normal. We're accustomed to his early bedtimes, nighttime nosebleeds, stomping feet, contagious laugh, sense of humor, creative drawings, loud chewing, nervous pooping, hyper-focus, short attention span, and dawdling at the doorway. Liz and I have developed a divide-and-conquer approach to parenting necessary for family rhythms in a household of five. Claire and Margot have settled in as the less-asked-about sisters of Conspicuous Number Five (but if anyone asks, they are remarkable).
A year after first impressions, I've stopped holding my breath. I've started moving forward with greater hope in God's bright future for my boy. Caring helpers surround him, building his confidence, speech, and physical strength. A loving family embraces him, cheering his victories and calming his tears. (Just the other day, his sister soothed his tears about his uncomfortable orthopedic braces.) And a heavenly Father molds him, so that childhood suffering will not have the final word on his life.
A year after first impressions, God is writing a better story for Sensi. I am grateful to be part of it.