hold fast

6 de agosto Yesterday was Bolivia's Independence Day. We celebrated as best we could from 6000 miles away. I miss Bolivia, it's been home for the last 5 years of my life. But Edson yearns for Bolivia in a different way - it is his home, it's all he knew for the first 7.5 years of his life. So I knew we needed to mark it, needed to celebrate the country that made us a family - the country that gave me him! (Plus, their food is just 😋) So we celebrated all week long - I cooked his favourite meals (which I am steadily becoming more proficient in, although I'm counting down the days til we get back to Bolivia and I don't have to be the one to cook them anymore...) and he wore his Bolivia shirt as much as he could until it was dirty beyond all recognition, then switched to Wilstermann (one of Cochabamba's local teams - and our favourite!) We started off with pique on Tuesday night, which aside from being mine and Edson's favourite Bolivian meal, has also become...

Today, at one point, Edson and I were cuddling in a chair and both crying. Not sure either of us could have actually told you why we were, other than the fact that we are just both tired. Tired of waiting. One night recently, Edson was lying in bed looking pensive (not his default), and I asked him what was going on. He sighed, and said he was sad for one of his "brothers", because he was going to have to wait so long to get a family. "I waited a long time for you to adopt me. I knew you would, but it took a long time." Sometimes I forget that those months when I was doing paperwork, waiting for the next piece of paper to be handed on, he was waiting too. And then I got visits, and we had to wait for him to come live with me. And then he came home, and we had to wait for finalisation. And then we got finalisation and we waited for the next thing, and the next, and the next. And now, Edson asks daily when we can go to Ireland, but we're here -...

I could go back and check the date, but I would guess that backpack was in my cupboard for about 18 months. I had one like it, and Edson loved it. He’d put it on, walk about, pull all my stuff out of it and put his stuff in. And so I decided he needed one of his own, for that day that seemed so far off, but that I think I always knew would happen - the day he came to live with me forever. I loved the beauty of it, the mirror image of it, that by buying one backpack, two kids would get the chance to have a bag all their own to move out of their home with. And so in there it stayed, even when mine broke - I powered through until I could get a replacement, because that one was his. There was something about it, almost sacred, holding space, all through the in-between. Some small show of faith that I truly believed it would happen - in God’s timing, not mine - but one day he would come home. One day the hoped-for would become the now-here. It sat there, through the mo...

I took this photo early this year, but I've loved that bridge for far longer.  Those blue letters spell out, “I love you Cochabamba”, and as I've gone past them during the past two and a half years, I've smiled as I've read them, because I do. I wrote about the bridge and its message just after I arrived here in September 2014, remembering all the ways that God placed Cochabamba in my heart before I even set foot here. Now, two and a half years later, I find it hard to believe all the things I didn’t know, couldn't have imagined, back then. I didn’t know that Bolivia would nestle so deeply in my heart. I didn’t know that it would feel every bit as much home as Northern Ireland does. I didn’t know that I would miss Northern Ireland as much as I do. I didn’t know Bolivia was landlocked. I didn’t know how much I would miss being able to walk on the beach. I didn’t know that through the hard times and the good, friends would become fa...

As we walked up, I told him we were going to pray, and as I said the words he repeated in whatever language it is he speaks. "Lord, heal me. Let my heart be healthy. Amen." To tell you in that moment that I had faith the size of a mustard seed would be a wild exaggeration. So go about three seed sizes down from mustard seed and you're around the size of my faith. You see, we've heard all these scary term thrown around recently, "murmur, another one, catheters, open heart..." And in our flawed human hearts, that was all we could hear, and we could think. We went in, and his doctor was wonderful. He did all his testing, said, "don't move" about 30 times, bribe him with a lollipop, said, "don't move" another 30 times then sat at his desk and typed for what felt like an eternity. As he typed, scenarios of what the next weeks, months, years would look like for the little travieso ran through my head. Less invasive procedure, wo...

I am legit the worst at blogging ever. In my defence, however, this year has been absolutely manic and doesn't appear to be becoming any less so. So here we are. They say a picture's worth a thousand words, so this will be primarily pictures, in order to up my word count. First off, school. I taught Kindergarten for less than two months this year, before I ended up in First Grade, in an accelerated class. It has been quite the experience for us all, and is the reason for about 60-70% of the mania. However, we're kind of more settled now, and we're struggling through, and they're adorable, so I forgive their madness every day when I look at those cute little faces. School has been through some MAJOR issues this year. Legal, mostly. It's been a rollercoaster in every way. We have had little to no idea what's happening from one day to the next, but God has proven Himself faithful over and over, and for that we are consistently grateful. Due to the manic...

Today is Orphan Sunday. But for me, well, basically every Sunday is spent with kids the world would label “orphans”. People message me every now and again, telling me what a great job I’m doing helping these kids, but here’s the thing - they give me so much more than I do, will or could ever give them. They are the brightest thing in my week - they love so well. And that in itself is a miracle, because as a friend wrote earlier, “it takes love to give love” and these kids, well they haven’t had nearly enough love in their lives. They light up the room with their smiles, laughs and ridiculous comments. They love each other (mostly), love their tias, love the random gringos that rock up during the week. They are a gift, and I get to see that, but I know that sometimes you guys miss out on that. David Platt wrote, “Orphans are easier to ignore before you know their names. They are easier to ignore before you see their faces. It is easier to pretend they’re not real before...