Love and fear, from 9,000 miles away

Last March I sent my mom a message on Facebook. I'd been so worried about Michael and just had this feeling in my soul that something was wrong. I couldn't explain to her how I knew, but I knew. I asked her to begin praying.

I messaged our social worker and asked if she'd please try to get an update about how he was doing. We knew, though, that sometimes communication was tricky -- we'd waited six weeks for an update on him previously -- and we weren't sure when news would come. 

We'd known for awhile at that point where Michael was and while looking for blogs about the area, I'd come across Els van Teylingen's (the director of Amecet, the babies home Michael was at) blog. Every day until I had Michael in my arms, I would check, and check, and check for a possible mention of him or a glimpse of him in the background of a photo. 

So, as the days passed, I grew more and more worried. No news yet from the adoption agency. I kept checking and checking Els' blog, just hoping for a glimpse of him to put my mind at ease. 

And then this post came -- Robert has a new family! I read along, elated for Robert, who I'd known about for some time, and his parents. I remembered the day that Max came home to us and how elated we were. I rejoiced with them knowing their ache for their son was finally over! 

And as I got to the bottom of the post, my heart sank as I read these words and saw this photo:

 "Michel has been sick for a week now. High fevers, really high, and he get all tense and stiff, he cries, he might have pain. We have been gone to the clinic, treated him, but still the high fevers were there. We took him to the pediatrician, she changed the medication again, we had to do some more blood tests, but nothing came out of it. It is hard to see him so miserable. The staff is doing great with him, they are really trying to help him, holding him when he cries etc. Please pray for Michel, that the medication will work and that we will see his lovely smile again!!!"

I fell to my knees, and screamed and cried like I've never screamed and cried before, pleading with Jesus to protect my son, to get him in my arms as fast as humanly possible. I've never felt so terrified and so helpless in all my life. 

I spent the next few days in tears. Through Facebook, our church's social media site, and friends, hundreds upon hundreds of people had joined us in prayer for Michael. Our small group laid hands on us as they interceded on our behalf, each and every one begging God to protect this precious boy 9,000 miles away that I'd never met, but I loved more than life itself. 

I cried myself to sleep at night, fearing the worst for Michael, fearing I'd awake to news that he'd died, but one night I had a dream. I dreamt of Michael laying on that red cot sleeping, body still so weak and fragile, but three angels surrounding him, swords drawn and crossed over his body. I knew instantly when I awoke my precious son would be spared.

We waited for two more weeks after Els' blog post for an update. I got a message from the adoption agency (who talked to the lawyers in Uganda, who talked to Amecet) with two words -- "Michael's fine." No explanation about anything, but it was enough for me. Michael's fine.

As I write this tonight, another adoptive family is in Uganda, grappling with their son's unraveling health. Friends, I ask you to please join me in prayer for them, pray God's protection over their little one, pray God will open the doors needed to bring him home to the medical care he needs. 

To learn more about the amazing work Els and her team is doing, visit Amecet-Soroti.blogspot.com