Thursday, January 7, 2010
This box, lovingly crafted by my sister, has been collecting paper for months now. Until today, it held letters of reference thoughtfully penned by dear friends, medical reports from our doctor, passport photos, police clearances, marriage and birth certificates, our agency's homestudy report, notarized bank letters and income tax forms...and more. This stack of papers, a picture of our lives in both the most intimate and practical perspectives, is called the dossier. And today, with 6 hours logged on the road for a seal from the Secretary of State, we completed it.
Our dossier has one more stop in the states before it heads to Ethiopia, and as I stood at the counter waiting to mail it, I was reminded that this was the last part of this process that we have control over. This was it...this was a piece of us...packaged in an 8x11 envelope, miraculously bringing us closer to our little one. The clerk casually took the envelope -- such a great weight she lifted -- and she asked the perfunctory question, "What is the declared value?" I fumbled for words. I can't now recall what I stuttered, but I know what I felt like answering,