Rainy season stops for no one. June-September is our winter in the highlands, cool temperatures, daily rains and cloudy skies bring bright, green pastures, muddy trails, new plant growth and human bodies tightly wrapped in their fotas or a blanket/towel, capturing warmth against the rains.
Tiger, he doesn’t mind all the puddles. Neither does Miss T, though on this day, she was stuck on my back as she doesn’t have a pair of rain boots.
Rainy season adds a challenge/adventure element to all getting out of the house.
We wrapped up the girls’ 2nd grade year! (Shh…yes, I know it is July…they don’t know kids are supposed to be on break!) J and A thanked all their teachers in their graduation speeches they gave at their ceremony. ;) It’s been a year of others pouring into them and we are so thankful. Jon and I praise God for their growth and maturity in the past year. 3rd grade started the day after. Our school schedule is interrupted often so we take advantage of the rainy season and get a jump-start on the material.
The toddlers in the house have staged a coup not to have Mama available at their whim. Transition is usually chafing and as they switch to one nap a day and less time with me in the morning, I am feeling the discomfort but we press forward! I realized yesterday how little the toddlers have been away from me in their lives. I still nurse Miss T and she has never had a bottle, which brought me to the shocking conclusion that I am the only one who has ever put her to sleep. Our neighbors here nurse their children as long as they produce milk and it’s the norm in rural Ethiopia.
On Aubrey’s last day with us, we tricked the kiddos into looking and snapped that picture with every set of eyes in the same direction. We send Aubrey off with thankfulness and blessing and now I relearn how to do life without an extra set of arms. Thanks much, Aubrey!
We send off the young mother, and her baby (the child with spina bifida), back to Addis Ababa this week. Huluhagarish (mother) is nervous and sorrowful.The long and bumpy bus ride with a child with nerves exposed from his back is still too fresh in her memory. While the rain pounds down on her tin roof, she recounts to us the cold hospital waiting room, where she doesn’t leave. She is summoned in to see her baby in an incubator every few hours to nurse him. It is her only time she is able to be with the sweet boy and then she returns to the narrow, wooden bench, with hours to sit and worry. She wraps her body in her fota and shivers the night away, balled up and wishing things were different. Her brother goes with her and brings in food. We continue to pray that this time, the child will weigh 4 kilos or over and they can proceed with the surgeries. The doctors have given the child a 50% chance at life. Please keep praying for the comfort of both of them and God’s glory to be known. How we pray they can know God as the good Father He is.