I don’t think I will ever forget February 9, 2015. Even more than the day we brought sweet Ruth home… even more than the day the paperwork craziness was finally done… this day will forever be a maker in my memory. That Monday morning we woke-up to the roosters crowing outside the guest house, hearts filled with a bit of anxiousness and nervous energy. In just 24 hours we would be at the US embassy for our visa interview; what could be the last step in paving the way toward finally brining our daughter home from Ghana. So instead of spending the day sitting around waiting, we decided to hire a driver and visit Cape Coast… known for the oldest slave castle in the world. The drive took a few hours, and we finally walked into that fortress that had been the site of such evil. To say the tour was sobering does not do it justice… it’s hard to describe sitting in a dark dungeon or walking through gates of no return.
After our tour we decided to lighten our heavy hearts with some good fish (head included of course) from the restaurant across the street… and that’s where the craziness began. It was there that we learned that the medical records our representative was going to pick-up earlier that day were still sitting in the clinic office… and he was delayed in a nearby country. We could get them, but we were hours away… and by now it was mid-afternoon. That’s when my heart raced and our driver Patrick earned his formula 1 stripes. I had done the math in my mind a hundred times… I knew how long it had taken to get here… there was no way (especially adding afternoon traffic) that we would be able to make it back in time. Still, we had to try. So Patrick drove… I prayed… and Ruth fell asleep on my lap. As I watched us navigate traffic like the Israelites walking through the parted sea, I looked down and heard that soft, still voice tell me heart: “you need to be like her”. Amidst the chaos, amidst the “impossible”, amidst the fear that a 9000 mile journey would be wasted because of one missing document… my heart needed to rest in the care of my Father. So as I watched the miracle unfold, my heart learned trust once again. We arrived as the clinic was closing… and thanks to a gracious God who turned a normally fairly passive man into a passionate pleading father… we left that clinic with the treasured folder in hand.
One year later I can still see that little girl sleeping on my lap while it felt like the world was unraveling before my tear filled-eyes. Sometimes I guess we just need to close our eyes and lay our heads down on our Father’s lap.