Two years ago today, I saw the face of my little M for the first time. It was such a relief to me, to see his wide brown eyes and pudgy pink lips, to know that I would become his mother in just a few months. He was only 3-months-old at that time. Two years have passed, and I still wait for this boy. I no longer have photos of him displayed in my house. I don’t feel that it is right since he isn’t my son, at least, not yet. We’ve come so close to adopting him. We went to court over a year ago, and the judge said that everything was in order except the letter from MOWCYA. The social worker from our agency even congratulated us on “passing court” even though we had not. He continued to believe that letter would arrive. We never received that letter. A year ago, I believed there was no hope for us adopting this boy, and I had so much confusion because I felt as though God had promised him to me. It challenged my faith, trying to reconcile promise and disappointment. I still feel that God intends this boy for our family, but I will not presume to know how he will join us or when. Maybe I am foolish to hope. We have hope now because we have learned more details of this child’s relinquishment, and we understand now why he was not adoptable with the paperwork available a year ago. We have hired a consultant to complete a formal investigation of his background. She will also work to complete his file with the necessary information to ensure no hold up in court or at the Embassy. She does not guarantee that we will complete this adoption, but she has hope. I pray long for this little boy, pray that God will call me back to Ethiopia. God is able. He helps my unbelief.