For the many who requested the full story from yesterday's Facebook/Instagram post, I am afraid my words cannot do justice to describe last night's events but here is the brief story.
We were meeting friends in Addis Ababa. Brad and JJ are long-time friends, even though we just recently met in person. They delivered our first care package to The Littles and sent back sweet pictures that we cherished and stared at daily while we waited and waited to hold them for the first time.
While we planned to eat out for dinner, they brought along a man, D*, who Jon and I knew had a connection to The Littles' past. We knew he could fill in some gaps for us as well. Because this is the world wide web, there are details I cannot share but it was so fabulous to hear bits and pieces of their early puzzle about which we could only guess.
The Littles were getting down on the stage, D* was watching them and then motioned to Little J, said her Ethiopian name (now her middle name) and asked who was taller. He then said Little A's. I was surprised and after a few more questions, I realized he knew much more about The Littles. After a bit more conversation, I was stunned and said, "Do you mean, you are the man who named them?" "Yes, yes." he responded. He explained why the names had been chosen. He was the man who was at the hospital with them. D* was the one who took them to a care center and made sure they were watched over and fed enough to keep their little bodies full of life. As we talked more, he recounted their exact weight when he brought them into care.
And what do you say? How do you ever thank the person who kept your kids alive and loved them when we couldn't?
My words are only cheapening the whole evening.