The Evidence

We have a cat, Davidson, who is obsessed with my hair rubber bands. He has figured out likely places for these things to be lying around and I find him prowling on top of the dresser or around the sink at all hours of the day or night, trying to find my hair bands.

I rarely see him actually carrying one in his mouth- he's sneaky. I do however find a pile of them around his water bowl. I used to try to wash and dry them near the kitchen sink, but when I would go back to retrieve them, the whole pile had already vanished. So now I just pick them up directly from his water bowl area and put them in my hair. I know. Gross.

So we were out of town all weekend and when we returned I discovered evidence that Davidson had broken TWO of our house rules, apparently at the same time.

1. Don't play with the fish.

2. Don't play with hair rubber bands.

(Notice half of the water from the fish bowl is gone, which means he must have stuck his paw and splashed water around for a long, long time).

Ethiopian children dying daily from starvation

This article brings sadness coupled with thankfulness as I think about how good we have it, even with all the complaining about $4 gas and rising prices everywhere.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/africa/05/20/ethiopia.children/index.html

Family Day 2008

Two years ago today we woke up in Ethiopia, just hours away from going to pick up our new, 16 month old son. We were full of wonder. How I would feel that first time I saw and held him. Would he attach to us? Would he like us? Would we like him? How would he look? Would he be sick? How about his leg- how bad would it be? Would he be sitting up? Crawling? So many questions tumbling around that don't even seem like they were directed at the same boy who is now my son.

We'd been waiting for him for months, examined the few pictures we had of him hundreds of times. Mountains of paperwork were completed and processed in order to get to this point. He was legally ours and we even shared the same last name. I loved him deeply in a way I hadn't loved before. And yet, I had never even laid eyes on him, held him in my arms or touched his soft curls.

Now it feels like he's just always been with us. Like there was never a time without him. This all feels completely normal in a miraculous sort of way because God ordained it to be like that.

And most days I settled into that normalcy and forget what was before. If I'm honest, “normal” is important to me because I don't want outsiders to doubt our family. To think this family- my family- is second-choice or second-rate or is so different or something they could every do or relate to.

But them some days, especially anniversary days like today, I like to center down and go back 2-3 years and recount all that has happened.

It's painful to think about the days between December 14, 2004 and May 8, 2006 because I wasn't there with him. I couldn't help him. I don't know any of his birth statistics or growing milestones or his first smile or what made him laugh. At the same time, I am deeply grateful that he had almost a whole year with his Ethiopian family. I believed they played a significant role in who he is today. He was obviously loved and cherished. I imagine that he was held all the time and the center of attention.

The part I can't really go to yet is how difficult it must have been to take him to the orphanage. How did they decide? How did they know they couldn't provide for him? With his birth parents gone, did the grandmother just try her best until she couldn't do it anymore? Until he was too sick to thrive anymore? Was it mostly his leg, knowing he'd have no opportunity there- most likely not even school, a job or a normal life?

He was the size of a 5 month old. Medical records show he was sick in subsequent months with pneumonia, mono, bronchitis, and some atopic dermatitis that caused bumps and scabs over his whole face and head.

But we saw pictures where he was smiling and playing. He learned to sit up. He was held a lot. The question in my mind most often was, “Does he even know?” Across the oceans, thousands of miles away are a mom and dad, head over heels in love with you, counting the unknown number of days until they can hold you in their arms.

And now he's here. Sitting at the kitchen table, slurping his cheerios from the bowl, spoon and cup that he picked out himself and carried to the table.

This story- all the known and unknown details- is his. All embodied in this little three-year-old.

My son.

Elias Leul Brown.

I have deep respect and honor for you, Elias. And carry great responsibility as your mother, for I know God has destined you for significant works for His glory.

Your story gives us so much perspective and inspiration. We are immeasurably blessed to have you as our son.

Family Day 2008

Family celebration last night at Ethiopian restaurant in Austin.

Daddy Took My Leg

Elias is quite a bit more outgoing than I am and I find myself cringing inside on many occasions as he loves to chat it up with every. single. person. he sees. Don't get me wrong- I love that he is so friendly. But I guess I can be a little introverted among strangers. But in Elias' world.. strangers? What are strangers? I love this about him.

So usually any venture out in public has me calling Chase on the way home to relay all the Elias stories. Elias will talk to everyone he passes, and is especially encouraged if someone actually makes eye contact with him.

There is usually a certain theme that he shouts out to passersby."Hey! Do you like tattoos? I'm into tattoos!" or "I have a monster truck at home. Do you like trucks? Do you have trucks? Do you want a truck? Do you want to see my truck?" or any other random thought in his brain. Could be about the cheerios he ate for breakfast or the dead skunk he saw in the road 3 months ago. There's just no tellin.

We just had a unique two days without Elias' prosthetic leg. Daddy Prosthetist was finalizing his new leg (which uses parts of the old leg) so had to take it with him to work.

(As a side note, it was interesting to see Elias get so sad about not having his leg. Since we had been talking about it so much I wasn't prepared for his grief. He would burst into tears throughout the day, bemoaning the fact that daddy took his leg and how mean that was or how sad he was. This is the first time in a year that he has gone a day without his leg and it is really a part of him. The sadness wasn't related to not being able to walk- he enjoys crawling around- but a very real attachment to his leg. )

Yesterday at Walmart, Elias was wearing shorts so it was obvious to people around us that he has only one leg. He was chatting it up with a lady in the garden section asking a million questions about her flower selections when he suddenly got very quiet and said,

"Daddy took my leg."

Complete silence and uncomfortableness overcomes the woman. So Elias repeats himself.

"Daddy took my leg."

The lady was being so kind but obviously confused that this kid was telling her that his dad had taken his leg. All she can see is his one leg hanging out of the cart and obviously missing the other. Who knows the stories she had concocted in her head!?

Elias never cracked a smile so I stepped in and explained that he was referring to his prosthetic leg and his dad was making him a new one. She nodded her head politely as if she had had the same conversation with a million other toddlers and then I soon pulled my cart into the next aisle to relieve her from this awkward conversation. :-)

By the way, the new leg is pretty cool. My camera is broken but we'll try and post pictures soon.

Bite Back

I just read here (a blog that makes me laugh out loud on a regular basis) that today, April 25, is World Malaria Day. And through the Bite Back campaign, people can give a one-time donation of $10 and provide a mosquito net for a child - or a family, if they’re all sleeping in the same place - who otherwise would have no protection from this completely preventable disease. That $10 will also provide education and treatment for people who are already sick with malaria.

What an easy, inexpensive, and great way to make a small dent in a worldwide problem yet a significant impact in the life and future of one family.

Click here to donate $10 that will provide a mosquito net for a child (you can donate more than that if you feel led). Each net lasts three years, so for $3.33 a year - less than a penny a day - you can save a child’s life.

Deep Thoughts

I was shopping at Walmart with Elias yesterday. I was deep in thought while deciding on shower curtain rods (who knew there were so many choices!?). Apparently, Elias was too. He suddenly spoke into the silence, "Mom, I was meant for bigger things."

What? Where did he come up with something like that? I asked him where that came from and after some thinking, Elias remembered that that's what Scuffy says in the classic Golden Book, Scuffy the Tugboat.

Cute! And what truth there is to that statement. I mean, there's so much more to life than shower curtain rods! :-)

Monster Truck Rally

Elias' long awaited dream finally came true- - a trip to the Monster Truck Rally. And he hasn't talked about much else ever since. (But that's not really saying much because all he really ever talks about is monster trucks. Seriously. I'm not kidding. It is an obsession).


We got to the show a little early and found some great seats. Then we moved down the the second row for the last part- the freestyle competition. To be honest it was a little scary to be so close with mud spraying in our faces and the deafening rumble of the trucks threatening to bust our eardrums. Not to mention being eye level with theses HUGE tires that seem as though they're going to roll right into you.


Elias's favorite part was the donuts. Not the eating kind, but when the MTs (that's Brown family lingo for Monster Trucks) go around and around and around in circles. Pretty wild.


I highly recommend that everyone visit at least one show in their lifetime. It's America at it's finest, and the best people watching you'll ever have. :-)