It’s starting to feel like Christmas. I’ve made eggnog, Christmas cookies, and hung lights around the house. Evan’s end of the year reports are wrapping up, and I’ve finished wrapping presents.
This past week, our home study was completed and we have copies. This enables us to start applying for grants and loans. More paperwork, but paperwork that somehow feels like we’re moving forward, not stalled in bureaucracy.
Our dossier was also sent to our agency today. A dossier is basically your life on paper. Everything from your financials to your home study and every detail of your life since you were 18 is on paper. It’s all official and is what will be presented to the Kyrgyzstan government as our formal request to adopt.
And so this Christmas, as we’ve toured Kensington Palace and Jane Austen’s house, attended carol and advent services as St. Paul’s, and started the long journey to me appreciating a mince-pie, two little kids sit in an orphanage in Asia, with no clue that we are fighting desperately to bring them home. They won’t have stockings or Christmas trees or pictures in their jammies on Christmas morning. They have no clue that we are coming for them, but we are.