It wasn’t until a full year and one month later in August 2013 when we were given the referral for our kids. In fact, our caseworker was hesitant to hand it over due to our daughter’s age — she was already 12 going on 13 soon. Was she too old?
No, we realized, and we accepted the referral.
On Friday, Oct. 19 — after just one week’s notice — we were on our way to Bogotá, where we stayed a couple nights to meet up with our agency’s attorneys. We then flew to the city of Pereira, located 35 minutes west of Bogotá by air, in the foothills of the Andes Mountains, to meet our children.
Two nights prior to our meeting, the owner of our hotel who is an active volunteer at the orphanage where our daughter was living, walked us to a nearby grocery and department store. God works in mysterious ways. We ran into the nun in charge of that particular orphanage; a petite woman originally from Spain who has dedicated her life to raising and preparing these beautiful souls for a family of their own. Rosario, the hotel owner, grabbed Sister as she was leaving the store and excitedly told her who we were. Sister took our hands, embraced us strong and began to tell us the first of many stories we would hear about our girl. Our daughter was the oldest in the orphanage. Having been there for six years, it was starting to weigh on her, especially when she would have to say goodbye to other girls who had found their forever families.
Our daughter was failing classes; losing hope. She thought it wasn’t going to happen, that no one wants a 12-year-old. When she learned of us — a couple from the United States who wanted to adopt her and her little brother — Sister said everything changed. Her hope returned, her grades were getting better and she was happy. Both me and my husband wore tear-stained cheeks the remainder of that evening. What a blessing it was to meet Sister that night.