We are close to adopting our fourth child, second adopted child, soon. All of the mountains of paperwork are complete. All our documents have been translated into Amharic and are sitting in an office in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, waiting to be filed at the courthouse. We’re waiting for the authority’s role of red tape to finally deplete itself. Hasn’t happened yet. I’m told “any day now”, but a lot of days have passed.
Every Sunday, I walk downtown and have a cup of Ethiopian coffee at a local shop that almost always has some Yirgacheffe in the carafe. It comes from only about 100 miles south of the village where my hopefully, soon-to-be daughter was born. I distract myself every day with activities with my wife and children, as well as the endless projects at the office. But I also remind myself of her.
