Our family grew by one size on Friday, March 7,

when the adoption of Esther Jemima Davidson was finalized!

This beautiful girl is now 4 years old

 We kept her given name of Jemima, and also named her for Jacelyn’s great grandmother, Esther Anspaugh.

We have found Esther to smile constantly and love laughter.

Below are a few images from our first day together. Her homecoming process was very personal and heart-wrenching. We literally had to pick her up from her former home. God guarded her little heart that day; no tears were shed and her smiles appeared right away.

Esther at our first court date:

Then, after our second court date, we became Davidson, Party of Five.

The transformation into our superhero alter-egos, as a group of five, is in process. The Justice League is in the runnings.

A lot of you have been following this adoption story, and we’re excited to share the next steps of this journey with you. Some of you may recall that back in early December, we sent out our plea for help with the adoption expenses. This was due to the fact that our boys’ biological sister unexpectedly came to be in need of adoption; while the Lord opened our hearts to this fully, finances seemed impossible, since we’d just gone through the hefty cost of two adoption only one year ago.

However, we are joyfully pleased to announce that ALL the necessary funds for the adoption were raised! Amazingly, the sum of over $8000 came in within THREE weeks; it was truly our Christmas miracle. Of the dozens of fund raisers we’ve been part of over the years, we’ve never seen a goal met so quickly. We experienced everything from donators who were skipping Christmas presents and giving the money towards the adoption, to people we’d never met hearing about our story and PayPal-ing us money. Acquaintances, old friends, total strangers, all showing the utmost in generosity! This touched and blessed our hearts immeasurably, and was yet another solid confirmation that God has led us down this road.  Better still is the benefit to our boys’ sister, because we are now able to progress quickly with the adoption process.

While we were home in the states over Christmas, we were able to take care of several important steps in the processing of our home study for the US adoption agency!  This was extremely beneficial, because many of the tasks are more difficult to accomplish here on the island.  As each step has accompanying fees and costs, the timely fund-raising is what made it possible to get things done so conveniently and more quickly while at home!  Here’s a summary of the progress so far:

• In November, our US social worker visited Dominica to complete our home study visit
• All four of us got the necessary, notarized, physicals and blood tests
• We got official fingerprints for the FBI background check, and mailed out the forms
• Forms and payments were mailed out for the additional required background checks
• A myriad of documents were printed, signed, and mailed off
• Here in Dominica, we are able to pay for updating our resident visas
• The legal paperwork in Dominica is complete, and we are able to pay the lawyer in full
• January 31 is the date set for the court to assign our guardian ad litem.  The guardian ad litem is then able to complete our Dominican home study (which we are also able to pay for)!  When she submits her report to the court, the judge will set a date for the final, official adoption hearing!

I guess, in the interest of full disclosure, we should clarify that WE didn’t actually do the mailings. We had to rely on family, because, well, you know us: always down to the line on everything. With our need to get back to Dominica for Jacelyn’s rotation, there was only so much we could accomplish. Thanks, mom and dad!

So, that’s our status for right now. Further steps of the process may go quickly and may drag on forever, being as it’s now out of our hands into the court/immigration system. Either way, we’ll keep you posted (pun!). While we’re not legally able to post pictures of our dear girl, yet, we can relentlessly post pictures of these two, so here:

If you pray, when you pray, pray for us…

On to the next thing…

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

We wanted to let you in on some good news, and, true to form of the Fantastic 4, we chose to do it in song!

(The freaky section was completely Davey’s idea.)

My life got flip-turned upside down…

So, I’d like to take a minute, just sit right there…

Picking up where Chapter 7a left off; Friday afternoon arrived . . .

The three of us (Nic, Whitney, and I) took the half hour drive to Calibishie to pick up the boys. The most interesting thing we noticed upon arrival was that 13-month-old Jonathan was walking around the yard with a t-shirt wrapped around him in a MacGyver sort of way to serve as a diaper.  (Remember the last blog noting how very expensive diapers are in Dominica?)  We chatted with Stella briefly, letting her know when we’d bring Miguel and Jonathan back home.  She did have a bag of clothes packed for them, but she didn’t give us any of the helpful hints we were hoping for—such as their food preferences, bedtimes, naptimes—anything.  Her habit of not communicating is something we became painfully aware of during our year of working with her.  She offers very little information and is quite difficult to talk to.  Therefore, it only took several minutes to reach that oh-so-awkward point where nothing more can be thought of to say.  We were also driven quickly out of their yard by enormous black ants that would torment us with their stinging bites every time we visited.  Just as quickly as we came, we drove away from their little home on the hillside—still feeling a bit clueless about the precious boys who now sat next to us in the car.  As we drove away, neither of them cried, and we counted that as a good start!

From the very beginning of our weekend, Jonathan took up his favorite pastime.

For our very first evening together, we decided to keep it simple: dinner, baths, movie.  Thankfully, one of our fears was conquered at dinner when Jonathan happily downed a bottle of formula!  Score!  We would not starve the child entrusted to our keeping!  We then received a big surprise when Miguel looked at his bubble bath with awe.  Not only had he never had a bubble bath, he had never taken a bath in a big indoor tub, or taken a warm bath.  At his home in Calibishie, they didn’t have indoor plumbing; they had an outhouse in the back and used a wooden tub in the yard for bathing.  It was heartwarming and truly amazing to see him enjoying himself so much.  For our first several visits, bath time was Miguel’s most anticipated part of the weekend.

When Miguel saw this pic of himself, he said, “I look like dee Christmas mon’!”

After letting him play in the tub for so long, we weren’t ready to start the movie until 8:45.  Ending the evening at a time appropriate for a 1 and 6 year old took us a long time to conquer!  Nic and I have always liked staying up late, and we almost always ate dinner after 8 or 9.  We couldn’t believe how excessively early we had to start an evening’s activities if we wanted to finish a movie with the kids by 9!  For months, Miguel wouldn’t make it to bed until 10:30 on our weekend visits!  Don’t worry—we’ve gotten better, and he is no longer sleep deprived. J  So, at 8:45 the 5 of us settled in to watch the Disney classic, Pete’s Dragon.  Miguel was enthralled the entire time!  He hadn’t had many opportunities to watch movies, so though it didn’t end until after 10, he had no trouble staying awake.  When the happy ending closed out the movie, I looked over to find him smiling.  As soon as the credits began to roll, he excitedly said, “Another one?!”

As for little Jonathan, he fell asleep in my arms shortly after the movie began.  I could have put him into the pack and play, but I could not resist cradling him until my arms began to ache.  Being without children for so many years, I just couldn’t believe I was finally holding a baby that would soon become my baby.  I also couldn’t believe how utterly wonderful I found it to be.  Holding him close and looking down at his peaceful face simply took my breath away.  I was actually rather surprised at how enthralled I was.  I later realized what was beginning to happen in that instant.  This was the very first of many moments that would follow—moments in which a new part of me blossomed and I experienced something I had never felt before; I was discovering what it felt like to love as a mother.  This beautiful and blessed moment brought the perfect ending to our first evening together.

Though nothing that followed during the weekend could ever compare to rocking little Jonathan to sleep for the first time, I’ll share some highlights—and some great pictures!

Taking care of Jonathan was truly so easy—we were blown away.  He was quiet and docile all the time.  Not only did he not cry, he hardly made any sound.  He wasn’t interested in exploring, walking around, or playing.  Instead, he made it known that he preferred being held.  In fact, letting us know that he wanted to be picked up was pretty much the only time he did make noise—and we were more than happy to meet his demands.  Between Nic, Whitney, and myself, someone was always ready and willing (more like overjoyed and thrilled) to hold the little guy.  However, as the three pics of us above show, his excitement level for pic-posing came nowhere near ours. You’ll also notice his deep affection for his thumb.

Jonathan was also our sleeping angel.  During his two evenings at our home, he did wake up about four times each night, but easily went back to sleep after a bottle or some rocking.  For this, we counted ourselves extremely fortunate!  We were certainly not expecting him to sleep so well through his first nights away from home.  Furthermore, during the day we didn’t have to allot a nap time for him, because he fell asleep in any location, at any time of day.  He would drift off to sleep in typical settings, like the stroller or in my lap at church, but he’d also fall asleep in unexpected scenarios—like covered in salt water and sand at the beach.  His most unusual sleeping situation was in my arms while we were in the ocean!  As I stood there with him, trailing his feet in the Caribbean Sea, he didn’t seem excited or scared or even interested—he just laid his head on my shoulder and fell asleep.  In these beginning stages, we simply strove to give Jonathan the few things that he really seemed to crave: comfort in physical contact and rest.  In forthcoming blogs, you’ll be thrilled to learn of the personality that leapt out of this quiet little baby from a village by the sea. Even on this first weekend, we were fortunate enough to see him smile and laugh on a few occasions. I’ll admit, Nic was the first one to get a laugh out of Jonathan, which made Whitney and I pretty darn jealous! However, the green monster couldn’t last long in the face of such a beautiful smile.  PICTURE BREAK!!!

The first time we saw Jonathan laugh!

Ahhh, the face of an angel.

And what about dear Miguel?  Just like his brother, Miguel gave us no hint of difficult behavior, and he was very quiet.  Miguel, however, was very interested in his surroundings.  Everywhere we went, he spent most of his time intently observing everyone and everything.  Though he was quiet, it was intriguing that he didn’t seem frightened or even nervous to be spending the weekend with us.  He went along with everything we did that weekend without hesitation.  He needed simple instructions on activities, like “let’s sit down and all eat dinner at the same time” or “during church just do what we do, and try to be nice and quiet”; then, he’d just join in like part of the family.  Nic and I simply had a wonderful time sharing the weekend with him.  We only saw him get nervous one time—and that was in a boat.  While down at the beach a friend of ours offered to give us a free spin in his tour boat.  At first, Miguel was pretty excited; however, as the boat gained speed the smile slid from his face. I kept encouraging him that we were fine, but I don’t think he was convinced; the instant that boat got remotely close to shore, Miguel jumped right out of that vessel and headed to shore before the rest of us had time blink.

So, we learned one thing that Miguel didn’t like, but we also discovered something that he loved . . . We tried out feeding the boys spaghetti on Sunday afternoon.  It turned out that Miguel didn’t like the tomato sauce; what he did like, however, was warm bread and butter.  After devouring his first piece of bread, his Caribbean accent came alive as he began to say in a low voice, “Bread and bo-daah.  Bread and bo-daah.  Bread and bo-daaaaaaah.”  Apparently, this was his way of asking for more, but for a few seconds Whitney and I got a little creeped out by what sounded like chanting!  Nic later admitted that terrible scenes from Blood Diamond played through his head every time he heard “bo-daaaaaah”.

It was all fun and games until . . .

Last, but not least, we have to relay the memorable moment when Nic, on this, our very first weekend with these two fragile boys, caused Miguel to vomit. It all began with the fact that we could hardly find any way to get either of these boys to laugh. So, while playing at the beach, Nic found that Miguel really liked it when he threw him into the air and let him splash down into the sea.  After a few throws, Miguel was laughing hysterically, and Nic, not wanting this amazing breakthrough to end, continued throwing him into the water. One of the splashdowns, though, just happened to coincide with one of Miguel’s belly laughs, at which point he was submerged, swallowed a bunch of sea water, popped his head up, and promptly vomited bright blue all over. The color was less a result of the beautiful blue waters of the Caribbean Sea, and more because Nic had also pumped him full of blue Powerade earlier that day.

Sunday evening we drove the boys home, clean and fed, and we couldn’t believe how well the weekend had gone.  They had eaten, they had slept, no one got maimed—perhaps Nic and I could learn this parenting thing, after all! Here’s a few more pictures from our time together.  Looking back at these photos, I see that we were just like brand new parents–we took a million pictures!

He was mesmerized with taking pictures of himself on Whitney’s ipad!

Wanna hear the story from the beginning?

Check out the previous chapters–I, II, III, IV.

And, my personal favorites:

Chapter V: Miguel

Chapter VI: A Journey of a Thousand Journeys Begins with a Single Journey

Bashful, yet very pleased, to wear matching hats with Nic.

Who is this lady?

She won’t leave me alone or stop smiling at me.

So far we have detailed the first steps of our adoption in Chapter’s I – V.  Little did we know that this seven month adventure turned out to be a sort of preamble.  It really only brought us to the starting line of what would be the “official” adoption journey.  Remember how terrifying it was when Frodo was chased through the dark by the petrifying ring wraiths on his way to the Prancing Pony–but that this distressing pursuit occurred before he even started his journey toward Mount Doom?

(That’s how it was for us)

We were now at the point where it was clearly established that Jonathan’s mother wanted to move forward with the adoption.  This is when our true journey began.  One by one we contacted the necessary people and agencies, and one by one they gave us tasks to complete.  Over the following months, the tasks kept coming . . . and coming . . . and coming . . . Now, get ready, folks!  I’m going to start using the word “journey” a whole, stinkin’ lot!  I’ll spare you every once in a while and use some lovely synonyms like saga, expedition, odyssey, pilgrimage, quest, and the oddest synonym I found, peregrination.  (Yes, peregrination is really a word, and yes, Peregrin Took is a character from The Lord of the Rings [he’s the lovable hobbit better known as Pippin])  As you read on you’ll find that excessive use of the word journey is very appropriate, because that is precisely what our adoption experience has been.  The journey hasn’t been along just one, straight path, either.  It’s been a journey of constant detours—again similar to what the Fellowship of the Ring faced.  As we progressed through the adoption, our journey forward would periodically be halted until we completed the quest at hand.  Then we could progress a little closer to the destination, but only until an entirely new expedition halted our progress once again.  So, pull up a chair, grab a piece of lembas bread, and join us as we recount this insane journey and remind ourselves that the incredulousness of the journey is actually what speaks most of God’s miraculous, unlimited abilities and the strength He provides in grueling pilgrimages.

Journeys:

• We needed to find a lawyer who practiced in Dominica to oversee the legal aspect of the adoption.  God provided us with a wonderful, Christian lawyer who was supportive and encouraging through the whole saga.
• The first thing our lawyer required was signed consent from Jonathan’s mother, Estelle.  Obtaining a signature sounds like a simple task, but even this turned into a quest.  Her signature had to be accompanied by some form of identification, and Estelle didn’t have any.  This called for an extra trip to the capital, Roseau, which is an hour drive.  Once there, we were sent back and forth between several government buildings until someone finally knew how to help her get a government-issued ID.  There was still a hold-up; Estelle was only eligible if she had employment, which she didn’t.  We called our lawyer in a panic, wondering if we had hit a brick wall already.  Thankfully, we had one more option.  Our lawyer took the time to personally visit the government office and vouch for Estelle; this won her the ability to get an ID!  One month after beginning this quest for the consenting signature, another trip was made to Roseau to pick up that ID and have Estelle sign the form.  With detour number one completed, our lawyer was able to begin taking real steps.
• We also needed a Dominican social worker.  This person’s most important task was to complete the home study on Nic and I that would be reviewed by the judge in the Dominican court.  In the two months following our first visit, we had FOUR rather useless meetings with this social worker where nothing new was discussed and no directions were given.  Of course, these meetings were an hour away in Roseau, necessitating four expensive trips with Estelle and the three children.  Finally, one of those meetings provided some useful, albeit frustrating, information.  Turns out this social worker wouldn’t begin her Dominican home study until we could give her a home study completed by a US adoption agency.  That was going to hold up the process in Dominica significantly.  So, we didn’t see our social worker for three months and the adoption process in Dominica didn’t move an inch while we attempted to complete the colossal quest before us.
• The first step in this side journey was to choose an adoption agency.  We have been very happy in our selection of Adopt Abroad, Inc.  And, just as God provided an excellent attorney, the social worker assigned to us by the agency was so helpful and generous with her time.  She answered our endless questions, and did everything she could to expedite our process.  The most expensive part of this journey was, oddly, the easiest.  We had to fly this social worker to Dominica to complete the home study.  This meeting ended up being scheduled during the one week I had to study for my third semester final.  There really isn’t a week more stressful for med students.  This was bad timing, but it was our best choice.  So, believe me, it is no small miracle that the hours I lost to this home study didn’t affect my performance on the final.  It’s likewise a miracle that I was able to present myself coherently during our interviews, because we med students are ridiculously exhausted and frazzled by the end of a semester.
• Next came the process of obtaining the information that would build our dossier with the adoption agency; I believe this warrants the title of an odyssey.  It is a massive undertaking.  We’re talking references, bank statements, birth certificates, tax returns, marriage licenses (how do we keep misplacing that thing?!) autobiographies, background checks from every place we’ve lived in the past 10 years (darn our habit of moving!), a background check from none other than the Federal Bureau of Investigation, something I’ve never heard of called a social security statement, and even shot records for our Chihuahua.  Looking at that list always made my head spin.  Yet, step by step it was completed.
• With pride and a sense of accomplishment, Nic and I turned in the last piece of required information!  We felt like someone out there should congratulate us!  Instead, the adoption agency replied with, “We’ll look at this for review and acceptance in the next two or three months”.  We sputtered in disbelief, “We’ve already been working on this for two to three months!  It can’t possibly take longer!”  She replied by informing us that the turnaround is usually 6 months. Now, here is one process that worked in our favor. Due to the fact that my fourth and final semester on the island would soon finish and we would need to move, the agency kindly reviewed our dossier in record time. This was partially due to some kind “nudging” by our amazing social worker. Three weeks later, a copy of our certified US home study was on its way to Dominica.
• With intense excitement, we delivered a copy to our Dominican social worker.  Finally the in-country process could proceed!  Our social worker did not share our enthusiasm.  She calmly scheduled an appointment for 6 weeks later.  What?!  Another six weeks?  We first met with her in June, and she did not begin any official processing until November.  Yes folks, we’re into November now.

We were getting dangerously close to the end of my last semester in Dominica.  More important to me, we were getting dangerously close to Christmas.  For those of you who don’t know, I pretty much love the season of Christmas with all my heart.  I can’t even tell you how excited I was to have our first Christmas as the Fantastic Four at my parents’ house, surrounded by family with all the wonderful trimmings of the most blessed season of the year.  However, timing was starting to get really tight.  The Battle of Christmastime had begun.

Ah, yes.  Nic and I liken these home study journeys to the first steps of the Fellowship of the Ring.  When these nine attempted to pass the mountain Caradhras, they were stopped by Saruman.  Resourcefully, they detoured beneath the mountain through the Mines of Moria.  This path seemed to promise deliverance . . . until Pippin unwittingly alerted nearby Orcs.  A new battle began.  Then, as if the Orcs weren’t bad enough, the Balrog appeared.  I’ve seen this creature described as “an ancient demon of fire and shadow”.  Most of the group finally escaped, but they suffered a devastating casualty.  See the resemblance between our stories?

Join us next time for, “A Sentimental Journey”.  The battle of Christmastime was indeed a desperate one, but it pales in comparison to the Battle of Miguel that shall next be told.

Not up-to-date on our previous blogs?  Check them out here:

Chapter I   Chapter II   Chapter III   Chapter IV   Chapter V

Chapter I:  It took 7 months to figure out how adoption works in Dominica.  Most importantly, we learned that we needed to identify a child in need of adoption on our own.

Chapter II:  Nic walked into a coffee shop and heard the words, “I found kids for you!” Two days later we met two women in need of a home for their children.

Chapter III:  The next morning, both women said they would like us to adopt their children. We were faced with a rather impossible choice: two sisters or little Jonathan . . .

Chapter IV:  In the end, however, that decision was made for us; the father of the two sisters made it clear that they were no longer interested in pursuing an adoption.  However, the mother of that dear little boy named Jonathan was interested, and we immediately began scheduling appointments . . .

Chapter V: Miguel

The first step in the adoption proceedings was to meet with a Dominican social worker.  We had confirmed this meeting with Jonathan’s mother on a Monday, and we waited on pins and needles all week until the Friday appointment.  We had only met her one time, and we couldn’t yet be sure how interested she actually was in this adoption.  We didn’t even know if she’d show up for the meeting.  A Thursday night phone call reassured us that she was still coming, but the flutter in my stomach couldn’t relax until we actually saw her on Friday.  Nic and I had so little control over the how the next steps of the adoption would progress—it was greatly dependent upon Jonathan’s mom . . . But, to our great joy and relief, Friday morning brought Jonathan and his mom to our house right on time!

In addition, amazingly and unexpectedly, their arrival brought us far more than relief; it brought us another little boy who was to instantly occupy our hearts.  Sitting in the van with Jonathan and his mother were two other children.  One of them was Jonathan’s three-year-old sister, whom we had met along with him last week.  The other child was six-year-old, Miguel, whom we had never even heard of.  The mother simply said he was one of her children.  Immediately our attention was piqued!  After all, we’ve always wanted to adopt siblings, and we couldn’t help but think this might be a possibility with Miguel . . . With exciting new prospects in our minds, we made the one-hour drive to Roseau (the capital city, where all our appointments were held), holding Jonathan in our arms and sitting next to Miguel.  Miguel climbed into the front seat with us to get a better view.  He had never made this trip before, and was absolutely mesmerized.  He pointed out every big truck we passed as well as every boat, by shouting in his thick, Dominican accent, “Look dee boat!”  Though we dreamed of it, this process was just in its infancy, and we truly had no idea that this moment was a snap shot of our future.

Our meeting with the social worker was very introductory, as she spent most of the visit gathering background information on the mother, whom we’ll refer to as Estelle.  We learned that she was poverty-stricken and of a slightly low IQ that made her unable to hold a job.  This rendered her completely unable to provide for the six children she has had.  She has never been married, and only one man she has been involved with has ever even claimed one of the children.  And, though Estelle has sisters on the island, no one offers her any help or support.  Her extreme poverty, coupled with her personal inability to care for so many children, had already forced Estelle to place three of her children with various families.  Her only means of livelihood is a very meager sum provided by the government, and consistent supplementation from the one man who has remained in her life.  He is the father of the three-year-old we mentioned previously, whom we’ll call Sadie.  On one occasion, we had the pleasure of meeting him.  It is because of his involvement that Estelle was not looking for a home for little Sadie.  However, this didn’t explain what was going on with the quiet, wide-eyed Miguel.  Estelle was clear that she wanted a new home for Jonathan, and she was clear that she could provide for Sadie—but she never mentioned Miguel.  When asked if Miguel was in need of a home, she quickly said no, but was unable to confirm that she was capable of caring for him, either.  The social worker seemed uninterested, but we weren’t satisfied.  If this adoption process continued, we would have to make sure that Miguel was taken care of.  And, inevitably, we continued wondering if Miguel and Jonathan were the siblings that had been in our hearts for so long.  This, dear friends, begins what we will refer to as “The Saga of Miguel”.  Here he is in his old school uniform.  Isn’t he just adorable?

One other interesting point came from this meeting; to our surprise, we were encouraged to spend as much time as possible with Jonathan during the adoption process!  This is more than we had hoped for, and Nic and I were thrilled!  We asked Estelle if we could keep Jonathan on the upcoming weekend, and she enthusiastically agreed.  Now, like I said, from the moment we met Miguel, he truly captured our hearts . . . so it naturally follows that we had to ask if he could also join us for the weekend with Jonathan.  We didn’t know what the future had in store, but we had no doubt that we wanted to be a part of his life in the here and now.  Estelle was more than willing to have us babysit two of her kids for the weekend, so she had no problem with Miguel joining us!

Upon leaving this first meeting, our hearts were so full of possibility and excitement!  At long last we had finally taken the first step in the adoption process!  It was no longer just thinking and hoping–real strides were being made!  Then we began to consider the next step—a weekend with a 6-year-old and 13-month-old!  We were brought back down to earth momentarily as we thought about the upcoming weekend . . . One of us finally asked the pressing question, “Do we have either the knowledge OR necessary supplies to take care of the two of them for even one weekend???”

But, then we realized, the Dynamic Davidson Duo had never felt prepared for any of their big steps–so why start now?!  Stayed tuned to hear about these weekend adventures!

Chapter I: 

• We spent 7 months making inquiries and phone calls just to figure out how adoption worked in Dominica.  We finally got the right contacts and learned that we needed to identify a child in need of adoption on our own.

Chapter II:

• Nic walked into a coffee shop and heard the words, “I found kids for you!”  Two days later we met two women in need of a home for their children.

Chapter III:

• The next morning, both women said they would like us to adopt their children. We were faced with an impossible choice: two sisters or little Jonathan. We decided to contact the mother of the sisters first, and move forward with that adoption if she was still willing.

Chapter IV: Receiving direction

. . . A male voice answered the phone . . . and Nic’s conversation with the man went something like this:

“Um, hi. I was calling for ‘Amanda’. We met on Thursday about the adoption of her two girls.”

“No, man. This is their father. Forget it. We’re not giving them up for adoption.” (It turns out this is the man who was in jail just a few days prior for beating the girls’ mother. This was also the man who a few days prior had said he was 100% behind the adoption.)

“Oh, okay. A few days ago you really wanted to do this.”

“Nope. Not gonna happen. Move on, man.”

“Um, okay. Uh, thanks for your time.”

Nic, knowing that we actually would need to “move on” and begin the adoption process with another child, called the man back. Nic had to ensure that he understood; if he and the mother changed their minds in the next couple of months, but we were already adopting someone else, we wouldn’t be able to help them at that point. However, he was met again with the same staunch finality. Their father absolutely did not want to proceed with the adoption. This man emanated such a casually confident air, that I couldn’t help but be reminded of everyone’s favorite guy from Lincoln Park.

So, that first meeting with those two little sisters was actually our last, and we haven’t heard anything about them since. This moment that brings them to mind, however, is the perfect chance to say a prayer for them. And, as of right now, that’s all we can continue to do for the two little girls that filled our hearts and minds for a short weekend.

With that brief and surprising conversation behind us, Nic and I turned our thoughts to Jonathan, the adorable boy I had held a few days ago. 99% of us said “YES! ABSOLUTELY we will adopt this little boy.” 1% of us, however, was confused; We had always planned to adopt siblings—that was our dream. Why, now, were we presented with just one child? We had always been so sure of adopting siblings, that this truly gave us pause. But, as we considered it further, we decided to trust whatever God brought into our lives. Because we have faced infertility, we have long-since known that having children is simply not under our control in any way. For us, it’s going to happen as God designs it, and we aren’t going to get to plan it at all. And, actually, I’ve come to find peace in that. There are several enormous decisions that I get to escape: when to have kids, how many kids to have, how many years in between each one. Instead, I guess I just get to sit back and see what comes about. Though that is putting it a little too simply, you get the general idea :). So, just as having a biological child isn’t under our control, we decided that the adoption didn’t have to be under our control either. Perhaps having one little boy was the perfect plan for us. Maybe we were destined to become the next Three Musketeers, Three Amigos, or even Three Tenors! What if me, Nic, and little Jonathan were the perfect fit? Full of inspiration, we decided to walk in this path God had laid before us. After all . . . 

BUT, before I let myself get carried away in dreams of forming the world’s greatest trio, we still had to call Jonathan’s mother. Maybe she had changed her mind, too. It wasn’t quite time to get our hopes up. Yet again, we had a terrifying phone call ahead of us. The second call was made just as the first–with excitement, fear, anticipation, and a bit of panic. This time, however, instead of an unfamiliar voice, Jonathan’s mother answered the phone. When Nic asked the frightening question, “Are you still needing us to adopt your son?”,  THIS was the reply. 

With insane excitement, Nic also asked if she’d be willing to come to a meeting with the social worker. This meeting would be our first step. Again, and to our great joy, TA-DA!

It was a Monday morning and we planned the meeting for the coming Friday. Maybe this was actually going to happen!!!! Maybe we were on our way to becoming the Three Musketeers! It was hard to contain the excitement and dreaming . . . 

Still, the tiny, little “realistic” voice in my head told me to slow down. “Nothing is certain yet, Jacelyn. So much still has to happen. Besides, until the final moment when a judge deems an adoption official, a child’s mother can change her mind at any time.” I’m not a huge fan of this little realistic voice (I like to call it my boring side), but I did decide to try and guard my heart–a bit. I should probably try not to fall in love with Jonathan just yet. I’d try to remain calm and cool (obviously two of my defining characteristics) and see how the process would unfold.

Was this it? Had we just met our future child, or would Jonathan’s mother change her mind before Friday? Would we even make it to our very first official adoption meeting?

To find out, you’re going to have to wait for Chapter V!

If you pray, when you pray, pray for us.

On to the next thing…

Hello, all!  So, in the month-and-a-half since we last saw each other, two mission trips have come and gone, I’ve been scrambling to meet deadlines for the curriculum I’m writing, our friend Whitney came for 50 days, and Jacelyn’s been slowly-but-surely kicking this semester’s patooty (Due to the impending parenthood, I’m trying to clean up my speach.  Old, non-father-ish Nic would have said “buttooty”).  The mission teams went off pretty much without a hitch.  Yes, there’s always the influx of explosive and inhibiting digestive issues, but they usually pass (pun).

I did have a fun encounter with an elderly woman up in the hills outside Portsmouth, in a village called Cottage.  The whole team and I were sitting in her living room, just chatting with her and her sister about life and enjoying some fresh guavas, when she suggested that we go get a fresh baby coconut, called a Jelly Nut.  You may not have known this, but the term “coconut” is only used for the mature, ripened, end result of what grows on the coconut tree.  To clarify, THIS is a jelly nut and THIS is a coconut.  And if you were looking for the smaller, brown thing that is called a coconut, they are merely the seed found deeper in.  HERE’S one of them.  (For infallible, inerrant information about coconuts try THIS LINK at Wikipedia.)

Anyway, back to the old lady.  I followed her outside.  She was surprisingly fast, and when I rounded the corner outside, this is what I saw:

Yes, that IS a machete (called a cutlass, here) that she’s leaning on.  Before I could say anything, she turned and darted off, which I photographed:

Then, apparently all the frustrations that had been building up inside of her over the past _,___ years came bursting forth as she ripped a jelly nut off the tree, and started to kill it mercilessly (if you click on it and let it load past the slow point, it’s hilarious to watch):

(What happens when you give an old lady a cutlass and insult Pat Sajak…)

I guess apart from what I’ve called “The Cutlass Massacre of 2012”, the trips were pretty benign, so I’ll just move along to what you’re all waiting for anyway: the next chapter in our adoption story!  Settle in, grab a bowl of molasses, and enjoy the ride…

…Then it happened.  I walked into a coffee stall owned by a local woman and, as soon as I walked through the door, she said, “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??????”

I replied that I’d not only been busy with mission trips, but had also contracted Dengue fever for a bit and she was basically like, “Yeah, okay, wimp.”  Then she said the those five words we’d been waiting to hear: “I have caramel for you!”  Wait. No. Sorry, that was what I was wishing she’d say before she actually said something much more gratifying: “I have KIDS for you!!!!!”  I couldn’t believe it.  She went on to tell me that someone she knew was in an abusive, poverty-stricken situation, was prone to leaving her daughters alone for 12 hours at a time, and was willing to give them up for adoption.

So, we scheduled a meeting for three days from then.  When the day finally came, we were surprised at the mixture of nervous excitement and natural ease we felt while driving to the meeting.  We found it surreal to be driving in a taxi on our way to a village to meet someone who might suddenly be our child, a major “life moment”, when most people experience that moment in their own car on the way to a hospital room.  As we got closer, the woman who was acting as our go-between, whom I will call “Lisa”, began to tell us that the mom had recently been beat up by her boyfriend and father of her kids, and that he was currently in jail.  She also mentioned that the man had said that he was 100% ready to give up all rights to his daughters.

As we arrived, our hearts were broken by the sight.  The mother’s eye was swollen shut and her hair had been all but cut off by the abusive boyfriend.  She was soft-spoken and very kind to us and to the daughter who was nearby.  The mother said that she was interested in giving them up, but needed to think about it for a day or two and we agreed that that was wise, so we gave her our number and told her to feel free to call us whenever she made a decision.  The meeting was short, but promising.  As we drove away, “Lisa” mentioned that she knew of a lady just outside of town who had had 6 children, had given two up for adoption already, and was willing to give her youngest, a boy of 13-months, up for adoption.  We figured that there would be nothing wrong with stopping by, since nothing was in stone with the prior mother, but also were a bit reserved, since we’d talked of adopting siblings who were a bit older.

The meeting with the second mom was brief, and the little boy was adorable, as was his 2-and-a-half-year-old sister.  We gave the mother our number, telling her that if she was ever sure she was interested in adoption, we would love to hear from her.  As we drove away, we asked “Lisa” if the older sister was available for adoption, as well, but she informed us that she was not.

Early the next morning, the first mom we’d met called me up to say she’d like to proceed with the adoption!  We were so excited and began planning the next step, making an appointment down in Roseau to meet with the the mom and the social worker.  Not long after the first call, my phone rang again from an unknown number.  It was the second mom, calling to let us know that she was completely ready to begin the adoption process, even going as far as to ask, “When will you be taking the boy?”

If you pray, when you pray, pray for us.

On to the next thing…

Hey, everyone!  Okay, so I’ve been sick since yesterday, puking, fever, aches, sweats, chills, pink elephants, and there’s a mission trip arriving from Ely, MN at 2:30.  With that in mind, here’re a few pics.  This is where I try to do my curriculum writing when I can.

This is a locally-made drink called Cocoa-Tea, which is cocoa mixed with some spices and formed in to blocks, which you drop into boiling water, burning your hand in the process.

This is Jacelyn’s crazy Wall of Tests, as I call it.  It’s a documentation of what tests to do in certain situations and then what to do next, given the outcome of the first test.

This is the pineapple outside of Pineapple Manor.

This is an interesting flower that is growing out front.

This is me, signing off.

If you pray, when you pray, pray for me, dangit!

On to the next thing…

Hey, there, Strangers!  I know it’s been a while, but believe me, there’s been good cause, and I’m about to give you every detail from the last 4 weeks.  I’ll start with every single toilet experience.  Well, maybe I’ll “hold off” on those stories until you’ve heard the less interesting anecdotes.  You gotta “let it build”, ya know. (wink)

To start with, we moved to a new location!  We loved our old apartment and our location, but, for various reasons, we decided to relocate.  A wonderful lady in our church, Fredricka, just happened to have an opening in the house above her, so we jumped at the chance.  Not only did we gain a bath tub, but also a separate work space.  In our first apartment, we’d kind of converted the back room into the bathroom/office/dining room/sleeping quarters/recording studio.  Here at Pineapple Manor (our title, not the locals’), each of those categories has its own space. (Except the studio, of course)(Where do you think we live–Jamaica?)  We’ve given our residence that name because of the small, picturesque pineapple that is growing just outside of the frame in this picture of our front door:

And remember this?  Well, now we have this:

That’s right, we have a peach patio!!!  So, I can grab my Wonder Wash, head out the patio, and allow the peach to distract me from my work as I place the washer upon the…………OMGoodness!…………….we have a WASHING MACHINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Why did I not notice that until right this moment?  I feel so silly about having been excited about the peach walls.

In one of our first posts, we mentioned that we shipped all of our belongings to Dom in 55-gallon barrels.  While moving to this new place, we found that you can get a lot more into barrels when you are specifically packing to move to a different nation than when you are hurriedly throwing everything into them to re-locate to 5 minutes away.  We ended up making two trips with Kenny’s van crammed to the ceiling and one barrel filled, emptied, then refilled on the second trip.  As you probably know, when moving, you can misplace things if you’re not careful.  Imagine our surprise when we got to the bottom of one of the barrels and found:

(You can see that he also found the red contacts we’d gotten him for Halloween when he went trick-or-treating as Edward Cullen.)

AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR RESIDENT DOCTOR:

The people who discovered, and then got to name, the various components of the immune system decided it would be “easier” to just label everything with letters and numbers rather than actual names.  So, for the lucky ones of us who get to learn about the immune system, here’s a sample of the kind of things we get to learn.  It sounds so ridiculous when you start saying all these things in repetition!  Our teacher even noted that this following discussion was his favorite part of the lecture.  Even though it won’t make such sense, just read through it to catch the absurdity!

Jacelyn is beginning her second week of her THIRD SEMESTER of med school and we’re finding that each consecutive semester gives her new ways to sound brilliant.  Yes, indeed, she made it to what is considered her second year of med school!  During the break between semesters, we were amazed to find $40 tickets to Barbados, so we hopped over, skipped to our cheapo hotel (with kitchen to keep food costs down), and jumped into the ocean.  We literally did nothing.  We read about 5 books each and we watched old black-n-white movies on the computer at night.  I think it was the first time I’d ever seen Jacelyn be so tired that she was capable of just sitting for days on end.  We took very few pictures while we were there, mainly because that would require effort, but also because there wasn’t much besides the gorgeous ocean/beach.  I have this pic…

….and this one….

I took the first pic, because, yes, both her and the water ARE that beautiful; I took the second pic because I’d never seen two grown men walking down the beach with tube floaters, one of which was pink and around the man’s waist.  We wanted to get some pics of the amazing Green Monkeys of Barbados, but we only saw them once and we didn’t have any sort of camera with us.  Every time we made the journey over to where we’d seen them, you’d swear it was an abandoned lot.  They must’ve been at the beach.

Anyway, after many days of “chillin’ out, maxin, relaxin all cool”, Jacelyn thought she’d like to spend her last hours of freedom with sore muscles from the longest, most-difficult hike on the island: The Boiling Lake Hike.  It’s an 8-mile walk, the initial hour of which Virtual Dominica describes as climbing “steeply uphill to about 2,500ft, then a steady SE climb along the ridge to the top (3,168ft) where’s there’s a clearing and a good point to stop and rest. It can provide spectacular 360° views… or it can be cold, misty and miserable.”  On our hike, we got both!  On the way there we were able to take this video (which, by the way, represents the first time I’ve posted video on our blog!):

….and on the way home, the same peak looked like this:

Between shooting those two videos, we hiked through one of the coolest terrains we’ve ever seen.  Because Dom is essentially still actively volcanic, there are hot springs everywhere and, if you’re out in the ocean, the air bubbles that come up are called champagne.  Well, when those vents are big enough, and happen to occur where water pools up, you get hot springs; and when the pool and the vents are even bigger, you get the second largest boiling lake in the world.  It is right around 200 ft across, over 200 ft. deep, and boils at a temp of right around 200 F.  Virtual Dominica says, “It is believed that the Lake is actually a flooded fumarole, a crack through which gases escape from the molten lava below, rather than a volcanic crater. The natural basin of the Boiling Lake collects the rainfall from the surrounding hills and from two small streams which empty into the lake. The water seeps through the porous bottom to the hot lava below where it is trapped and heated to boiling point. “

To get to Boiling Lake, you must first pass through The Valley of Desolation, so named because, as a result of all the sulfur and heat, very few things can live near the vents.  As you watch the next video, I encourage you to light some matches and sniff a bunch of hard-boiled eggs.

(Jia Lin is the name our Chinese friends gave her when we lived there)  Last up for videos is the clip of the actual Boiling Lake.  Off to the left in the video, you can actually see the hot water boiling up.  You can also hear the words slurring and sort of trailing off, since we were exhausted and only half-way through the hike.

Well, that’s all for now, peeps!  We’re back into the swing of things, so I should be able to blog once a week (or so).  For all the pics and vids from our hike, our move, and other various aspects of our time here, visit our ever-present, always-available photo album by clicking HERE and scrolling down.  Till later:

If you pray, when you pray, pray for us.

On to the next thing…

Howdy, everybody!  Last week was perrrty busy and I get to speak at a retreat every night this week; so this blog will be short.  Well, shorter than the usual novel I write for you all.

First, I make it a policy to alway always have a few binder clips of all sizes with me.  Always.  You’d be amazed at how many random things you can use them for.  I initially became enamored with them a few years back when I was hanging Christmas lights on our house and garage in Duluth.  The cheap plastic clips that came with lights only held the lights up long enough for me to get the cheap plastic replacement clip ready in my hand; so, in desperation, I went in the house and grabbed a container of teensy, silver binder clips and headed up to the roof.  Those beautiful things lasted me for three years!  So, you can imagine my excitement when I stumbled upon a brilliant new use for a large binder clip.  You know ear buds, those little earphones that, no matter what you do to prevent it, come out of your pocket/backpack/purse in a tangled ball, looking like what the celts were going for with their infinity knots?  Well, brace…………..your……………………..self……………………:

Yes.  It works.  It’s amazing.  I’m brilliant (in the way I find stuff online that people have already made available and photoshop in my gorgeous thumbs)  You can thank me in whatever way your culture repays genius.

About a month ago, I noticed that there was a lack of what we would call Sugar In The Raw at any of the stores.  Usually, there small, zip-lock-type bags of that “brown sugar” everywhere on the island.  Then, even at our IGA in town, there was no longer any white sugar, either.  Then, disaster struck.  Jacelyn approached the stand that she normally gets fresh juice from and saw this:

You know how I always say “…when you pray…”?  Well, you should start NOW, because, apart from the statements of The Oracle and the sweltering heat, the juice is the number one enjoyment of the Dynamic Davidson Duo on Dominica.  Thank God there wasn’t a paper shortage at the same time, or we’d have had no clue why the shack was closed.

While talking with some folks about the amount of beach on the island, I once made the offhand statement that practically the whole coast was on the ocean, which those who were present were quick to point out the utter stupidity of, which I who was present was quick to throw a shoe and walk away, sobbing.  Well, however I should have said it, there are definite benefits to having the ocean so close, fresh seafood being on top of the list.  Also, you probably know that every year on my birthday, the ONE place I want to go is Red Lobster.  It’s like my Neverland (Peter Pan, not Michael Jackson), what with all the melted butter, constant birthdays, Coke refills, and quirky “I’m gonna act like your best friend” servers.  Well, two weeks ago, my dream collided with this 100% coastal island.  I was at home, just thinking of sacrificial and impacting things to do for each of our readers (your home-knit Rasta hat is in the mail), when there was a knock at the door and a local guy, named Randell, was standing there with 2 lbs of lobster and 2 lbs of small fish (red fish and the like)!  For 30 ec ($11), it was ALL mine.  Well, brace yourself and Fisherman’s Feast ………….your…………………………eyes:

The fish are already gutted and waiting for me to figure out what to do with them.  After 3 days on the counter, I moved them to the patio (because of the counterspace) until I figure out how I wanna cook ’em.  As for the lobsters, I knew to boil them.  I got our cast iron pot filled and boiling, added some Old Bay seasonin’, dropped the 4 smallest in, and shrieked like an alien (because, being dead, they couldn’t do it, and I NEED that sense of realism).  They tasted good.

One of the things I love about living in other cultures is seeing the different ways in which the cleaning staff do their work.  Now, just calm down, before you judge me.  I NEED to have a cleaning crew if I’m going to be out interviewing servants all the time.  But seriously, most of the student housing in our area has weekly housekeeping included in the rent.  In China, we had a housekeeper, but it truly was in order to help one more person have gainful employment; and, to be fair, their standards of “clean” were far different than ours, which meant I would usually re-do all the dishes after she left. (One time, I opened a hard-t0-reach cupboard and found all the dirty dishes from earlier in the day stashed up there)  Anyway, back to Dominica.  I’ve grown to love our cleaning ladies, Zephrina and Media.  Usually, every time they come to our apartment, they sweep, and I cook them grilled cheese and make hot tea or coffee for them.  Who’s serving who, I ask you?  I can just see Zephrina getting home and her children asking her, “How was the chef today, mommy?”  Then I see Zephrina saying, “It was good.  The bread was stale.  I’m thinking of pushing for an appetizer next week, too!”   Back to the opening sentence of this paragraph, I have loved seeing the different ways of doing things since we’ve been here.  For instance, my mum taught me to make a bed so it looked like this…

…because she happened to work at a hotel at the time.  Jacelyn’s mom taught her to make a bed so it looked like this…

…because she loves herself some pillows!  And, Zephrina and Media’s mums taught them to make a bed so it looks like this…

…because Dominica invented the world-famous game “Where’s the Topsheet”.  Can you find it?  Give you a hint, I call it “The Postage Stamp”.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is folded up into a teensy square at the foot of the bed, under the comforter.  The first time they made our bed, I looked through the whole apartment to find that sheet!  I thought I’d forgotten to put it on the bed or something.  Nothing wrong with this method; it just adds a Scavenger Hunt aspect to going to sleep at night.  I am also thinking of getting those two an origami DVD for Christmas, given their natural talent at folding things.

Lastly, I know I’ve mentioned my li’l sister, Smeaphie, a lot, but I had to include one more classic picture of her.  Before leaving to come to Dom, Jacelyn got a perm, and Smeaphie and my niece, Brooklyn, decided to get one, too.  I got to spend the three hours at the salon with her and, in a beautiful moment, I snapped this photo:

The combination of curlers, Ugz’s, and random antelope on her smock make for a self-narrating photograph, don’t you think?  (The towel in her lap is for the bits of raw fish that she keeps in her pocket “for snacky timeseses”, as she calls it)

If you pray, when you pray, pray for us.

On to the next thing…

So, I’ve spent the last two days sitting in what is known as “The Fishbowl”, a large study room filled with tables and a silence fostered by something which my instructor at flight school called “The Pucker Factor” and which is caused mainly by the fear of imminent danger.  (There is far more fear in this one room on a daily basis than in my entire time in flight training.)  Jacelyn has her second major exam tomorrow morning and has been planted firmly in the same chair for days.  The Fishbowl gets its name from the two huge banks of windows found on either side of the room, but I also think it has a lot to do with the nearly complete lack of fresh air.  I took the following picture of The Fishbowl two minutes ago.

It has looked exactly the same for days. Same people, same hunched posture, same look of profound confusion.  And then there’s me, alternately blogging and trying desperately to beat my mom at Scrabble online.  One of these folks is definitely NOT like the other.

When we lived in China, it was always uplifting to see the various ways they would either “tweak” the English language in their advertising (we called it “Chinglish”) and how they would blatantly take things from the American market to use as their own(Red Berry vs. Black Berry).  Well, I’d missed that regular dose of hilarity, until I walked into James’ Store the other day.  Jame’s Store is a general store of sorts, where you can basically get what you need for your household in some form or another, most of it straight from good ol’ Chinaland.  While walking the aisles, I happened upon this box of computer speakers:

Yes, in case you’re wondering, that IS Jennifer Aniston.  No, I don’t think she knows that her image is being used to market cheap, immediately broken computer speakers.  Yes, I bought four boxes of the green because the marketing ploy worked.  No.  Just no.

Do you remember Phil and Sandra, the happy goat couple who lives out behind our house?  Well, they recently reached a milestone in their relationship: they had two kids! Oh, gosh, we were so happy for them.  We actually walked past them minutes after they’d been born! (I know this because I stepped on the still-soupy afterbirth)  So, they asked if we’d make their kids famous by posting them on our world wide web.  We did.

Twice.

Apparently, in the goat world, it is good parenting to lie directly on top of the newborn, thereby teaching them to NEVER roam.  The baby goat on the left, a boy, they named Chester, “After Phil’s uncle.  He was  a sheep, but we loved him, anyway”, said Sandra.  The little girl kid on the right, they named Scram.  “I don’t know what we were thinking”, said Phil, “We’re gonna change it.”  I’ll keep you posted.

As I mentioned in our last blog, our buddy Johnny came to visit us for 9 days.  We saw many sites, ate many unique foods, and in lieu of forgetting the sunscreen, instead applied 9 bottles of Aloe.  One highlight of the trip was when he and I attended an hour-long class with Jacelyn one morning “about measuring clearance values to measure kidney function”.  Jacelyn seemed to like it, but I almost fell asleep just typing that quote from her on what the class was about.  Here’s a pic from that class.

Johnny did really well during the class;  he kept his eyes on the screens, nodding every once in a while for effect.  I was good for the first 60 seconds.  Two minutes in, I was desperately trying to figure out what food that girl had brought.  I took this picture 5 minutes in, after which I remember nothing.  We did plenty of lying around and reading.  Johnny napped quite often, at which point I’d get out the camera.  Isn’t this a great pic, which I’ve NOT asked permission to post?

Like little angels, Johnny wrapped in a Wizard of Oz blankie and Burt, snuggle between his toy and his boy toy.  However, there WERE some low points.  Jacelyn gets pretty stressed sometimes and one night, while we were having fun posing with some souvenirs Johnny was buying…

…one of us said something to contradict her in some way and….well……

Sadly, that pic of Johnny and Burt really IS just his head.  She showed me mercy because she needs someone to continue blogging and cooking for her.

If you pray, when you pray, pray for us.

On to the next thing…

So, two times this semester David and Goliath have come up.  Two teachers have presented different ways that scientists have thought Goliath might have died.  (Besides the obvious rock in his head.)    Neither of these completely fit with the Biblical account, but they are still interesting.  Apparently the neuroscientists didn’t consult with any theologians.  I simply like seeing people’s interest in the story!  The story of David and Goliath is so inspiring and such a testament to God’s power that people love thinking about how exactly it unfolded.

So, here’s the first explanation:

Look for the circled area on the skull above—it’s an intersection of skull bones known as the pterion.  Right under the pterion runs the middle meningeal artery.  This is also the thinnest area of our skull bone.  Therefore, getting hit here (say, with a stone) could relatively easily break the skull bone in that area—which could pierce the middle meningeal artery and cause blood to collect inside the skull (an epidural hematoma, to be exact)—putting pressure on the brain—which can lead to death in a matter of hours.   Now, the Bible says the rock hit Goliath in the forehead . . . and it didn’t take him hours to die . . . but you get the idea.

As for words from Li’l Nic, there are none this time. I’m busy showing my friend Johnny how to safely make it through a sea tunnel and end up in a sea cave.  You can safely assume that I will blog next week, though, if it’s any consolation!

If you pray, when you pray, pray for us.

On to the next thing…

Welcome to our balmy blog!  Amidst the preparations for the upcoming 20-person mission trip that arrives this Sunday, I’m trying to make time to keep hacking away at getting you all up to speed. (When I say hacking, it’s only because I have a very “productive” cold, right now.)

Siblings learn to kill together:  One would think, given my love of all things Jason Bourne and her love of crouching over ponds and slamming fish against rocks, that me and my sister, Smeaphie, would be better at warfare tactics.  But, we’re not.  Plain and simple.  In fact, it took our family until this Christmas for us to begin a structured training program of how to go about covert operations.  I don’t usually try to be subversive to someone’s parenting techniques, (It seems I usually AM, but I’m just not trying) but while we were home, I had the chance to learn how to play a game called “Modern Warfare 3” (MW3), and I found that I couldn’t just keep it to myself.  So, one day, when my mom had left me alone with my sister, I enticed her down to the living room, gave her a Red Bull, and slipped an Xbox controller in her hands.  The next thing I new, it was like 13 hours later, my hands were duct taped, and Smeaphie had dominated so much that all the characters in the game had laid down their arms and were on their knees up close to the screen, begging her to please take a bathroom break or something so that they could re-group and figure out what all the fighting was even for.  (Don’t judge me, all you people who are judging me.  You think Snakes-n-Ladders or Trouble were any more benign when we were kids?) (Or Scissor Tag?)

Kryptonian undergarments:  This was the second year in a row that I got Superman Underwear!  Last year, I experienced the repurcussions of joking around too much by opening the underwear package and putting them outside my clothes; my mom snapped a pic and within 2 minutes it was on Facebook. (Luckily, at that point, my mom hadn’t figured out how to tag someone in a pic)

Consistent Airport Security Fail:  So, I like to keep my travels pretty streamlined.  I like to have my pack in order and everything where it should be.  I prefer to be on time, if not early.  Now, you all know that Jacelyn likes to travel with as much as is possible, if possible, and she is consistently 5 minutes late (at best).  So, one would think that airport security would have issues with her clutter and take one look at me and simply wave me on through, possibly complimenting me on my physical succinctness and offer to give me a piggy back to my gate.  It’s the oddest thing, though.  When we get in line to go through security, it seems that all occasions inform against me.  I swear that my name is on a “Not Remotely Threatening, But REALLY Fun To Mess With” list. (Yes, the TSA has one, I just don’t know how I got on it) (Bets are on Smeaphie)  Anyway, for the last couple of years, when we line up, I get everything packed into one pocket in my backpack, completely remove ALL personal possessions (even tooth fillings, just to be safe), place them all on the conveyor, and then proceed to be run through every, single security measure that the TSA has at their fingertips (I said “fingertips” on purpose).  Everything from that weird, huge piece of cotton that they smear all over your bag to idle chit-chat with the officer while I wait (which I’m sure is designed to find out how I react to extreme boredom).  And, no matter what prep work I put into it, the ending is always the same: me trying to justify the large amount of binder clips, rubber bands, and twisty ties that I must have with me at all times, and Jacelyn chilling in a lounge with a magazine.  I usually find her just as she’s either finished a R.E.M. cycle or a 1-hour massage.  It’s infuriating.  And it has been true to varying degrees no matter WHERE on God’s green earth we travel. (It’s clear that the therapy is not helping my anger in this area)

Feliz navidad:  We met up with Jacelyn’s parents in the San Juan, Puerto Rico Airport on Christmas Eve and travelled to Dominica together.  Beautifully uneventful.

McGorge: Yes, again.  Always.

Fleas, rashes, bowel obstructions (Burt, or course):  While we were in the States, we left Burt at a kennel on Dominica.  It was recommended by a friend and the woman had a great, thick Cockney accent, so I thought, “What could go wrong?  The Brits are great at animal care, right?  It was the taxation without representation that we took issue with, not their PETA infractions, right?”  Anyway, at first he seemed fine when we picked him up after 12 days.  He seemed upbeat enough, but I should have known something was up when I walked in to get him and he was lounging in a recliner with a smoking jacket, reading a copy of “The Complete Works of Jeremy Bentham“, which he set down with a pithy sigh when he saw me come in.  Anyway, the next day, we noticed that not only was he scratching a LOT, he also had fleas jumping off of him like crazy, a red rash near his eye, and was now taking like 5 minutes to complete the act of Canine Valsalva, which is highly uncommon for him.  At first, I chalked the bathroom time up to having adopted the “British way of doing that“, but later changed my mind.  Well, that was two months ago and all three health issues have, for various reasons, gone away.  We ARE having trouble breaking him of the habit of trying to tax us on all of our tea, though.

If you pray, when you pray, pray for us.

On to the next thing…

Hi there!  Jacelyn signing in for a moment!  Here’s another interesting tidbit–sure to come in handy for all those living in the arctic, or planning to practice medicine there someday 🙂  In a recent lecture, a professor was discussing the damaging effects of too much Vitamin A, called hypervitaminosis A.  She then briefly mentioned how eating polar bear liver will give you toxic doses of Vitamin A . . . polar bear liver?  That struck me as odd, so I looked it up after class.  Sure enough, it’s true—and it’s a well-researched topic.  Polar bear liver accumulates large amounts of Vitamin A from the seals they eat.  I haven’t found wherethe seals get it, but they need it because it helps young seals mature quickly.  Here’s a little blip about this from the website “How Stuff Works”.

From “How Stuff Works”

The native peoples of the Arctic have never shied away from cooking up some polar bear stew, but they’ve long known to avoid eating the livers of various arctic creatures. Western explorers, however, learned the hard way. As early as 1596, explorers returned to Europe with accounts of horrible illnesses resulting from the consumption of polar bear liver.  Illness severity depended on how much liver the explorers consumed, but symptoms typically included drowsiness, sluggishness, irritability, severe headache, bone pain, blurred vision and vomiting. Perhaps the most horrific symptom they encountered was peeling skin. While milder cases merely involved flaking around the mouth, some accounts reported cases of full-body skin loss. Even the thick skin on the bottoms of a patient’s feet could peel away, leaving the underlying flesh bloody and exposed. The worst cases ended in liver damage, hemorrhage, coma and death.

 In the wild, polar bears feed almost exclusively on bearded seals and ringed seals, both of which store high levels of vitamin A in their livers and blubber. The seals store high levels of vitamin A in order to swiftly grow and nourish their young in the harsh environment. Vitamin A plays a key role in growth and development, so seals rely on this vitamin to quickly advance them through their vulnerable pup stages

And now, on to more of explanation of the one-word paragraph from just after Christmas:

McGorge: The Dominican food is not in any way bad. It tastes fine.  In fact, the fresh juices are downright amazing.  The fish is great.  The pelao is hearty.  However, it doesn’t take long before you notice that it’s just not like food from back home. Even the restaurants that sell “American food” have to, for the most part, use ingredients found on the island to make the meals, so it’s always ALMOST there, but not quite.  Seriously, I’m not complaining. I live in the Caribbean and get to do ministry. I know I am livin’ the dream.  That still doesn’t stop us from exiting the plane in San Juan (technically America, mind you), walking through security, down to baggage claim, and immediately to the airport McDonalds to eat our fill of the un-ageable burger.  In fact, I’m going to be honest with you now, which is something I rarely do.  When I came back to the states by myself in January, I walked straight to the Mee-kee-dee’s, ordered a Big Mac Meal (supersized with Coke), ate it all, walked back up, ordered a Triple Bacom Burger meal (supersized), and ate it all.  I’m not proud of it, but I’m kinda proud of it.  In retrospect, I should’ve budgeted enough time to also walk to a clothing store to buy pants with a bigger waistline.

Surprise!, Grandma’s nightgown, and grandpa’s drug problem:  When we arrived in Minneapolis, my mom picked us up at the airport.  After much finagling (and boldfaced lies by my mum), we were able to keep our visit to the States a secret.  The only people that knew were mum, Ralph (the wise one), and my little sister Smeaphie (because, in her attempt to prep herself to rule the world one day, she has started reading all of my mum’s texts, consequently enabling her to read the text about us being trapped in Barbados) (Oh, and I call her “Smeaphie” because she reminds me of a combination of Sophie (that’s who she actually IS) and Smeagol (Not really. I just have to tease her) (She DOES sit that way sometimes, though) Anyway, after surprising my sister Kristina at the hotel (she sorta went blank-faced and then told mum she was mean), we made our way north from Minneapolis.  The first stop was my grandparents.  It was 11 at night.  They were in bed. They’d already taken their evening “sleepy time” meds.   We sent mum and Kristi in ahead of us and listened outside.  Grandma was the first to get up.  She came out of her bedroom in a nightgown to see what was going on.  They called for grandpa numerous times, but he wasn’t getting up, mainly because, like I said, they’d already taken their nighttime sleep aid.

Then, Jacelyn and I burst in the door and screamed, “Surprise!!!”  It was at that point that a few things happened.  First, after hugging us, grandma disappeared into her bedroom.  Then, grandpa came out and, after hugging us confusedly, leaned against the wall.  Then, grandma returned, wearing a thicker, darker nightgown. (I have permission to tell this, by the way) (and by “permission”, I mean, I was there and I talk about everything I ever see).  We chatted for a bit, telling them about our adventures in getting there, during which I entertained myself by watching my grandpa’s legs occasionally give out due to tiredness and sleep aid.  He’d be listening and the randomly dip about six inches and pop back up, kind of like watching a 1-year-old trying to stand.  This was better, though, because gramps combines the instability of a toddler with the finely manicured hair of James Dean.  Anyway, after about ten minutes, we realized they’d probably not remember the surprise in the morning, which would let us do it all again the next day, so we left.  I started belly laughing when, as I was closing their front door, I heard my grandpa bellow, “SURPRISE, SURPRISE!!!!” (Which he later told me he had no recollection of)

But the best moment almost of the entire trip happened in the car on the way home after that.  If you know Jacelyn, you know that she quite often knows what she wants to say, but adds many pre-cursors or qualifiers to her sentence BEFORE she says the actual sentence: i.e., “Because she is so nice…..and I always like to make my own yogurt…..and because it’s not Tuesday, yet…..I just thought I’d mention…..that before one gets loose…..and since I’ve always been afraid of gnats…”   So, as you read these next few lines, you need to put yourself in the situation.  Close your eyes.  Now open them because you can’t read the rest with them closed.  It is dark.  We’ve been travelling for days.  We’re tired.  It’s very quiet in the car.  We’ve all sort of started to zone out.  There’s just the sound of the road and the view of the headlights in the dark.  Then, out of the quiet comes this statement: “I’m not ashamed of it……………………….Because they’re so soft……………………….but that nightgown grandma was wearing………….BEFORE she put the second one on………….” It was at this point that my mum later admitted she was thinking, “Nic, are you gonna stop her?”  I had ZERO clue what she could be talking about, but, in the context of just having seen my grandma in a “first nightgown”, BEFORE she put a second one on, the words “not ashamed” and “so soft” were seriously perplexing my mind as to what could POSSIBLY be coming next.  We all just basically started laughing, Jacelyn included, and it was about ten minutes before she could expound on what she was not ashamed of.  Turns out, earlier this year, Jacelyn had purposefully gone out and purchased what she appropriately terms a “granny nightgown”, because they’re “so soft”, and, in the most random of coincidences, she bought the EXACT SAME NIGHTGOWN that my grandmother was wearing when we surprised her.  So, if we read Jacelyn’s words again, in the light of that knowledge, they make total sense.  For days, all anyone had to say was “I’m not ashamed” or “so soft” and we would all bust out laughing. (Incidentally, Jacelyn inserts this comment: “I highly recommend splurging on a granny nightgown from a department store.  It’s TOTALLY worth it!”)

Early Christmas:  We celebrated Christmas dinner early.  There’s nothing funny about that.