A 12 month run…starting in NC and landing our family as residents of Uganda…what an epic adventure!
Oceans Between Us – Jenni Cockerham *
Almost exactly 2 years ago to the day I penned these words*. It is a mini memoir that was written mostly for me. But it was written with others in mind…those who have had hard histories…who were struggling or disillusioned with life…or God. I think I have spent the past few years spiritually disoriented…after having spent the past few decades so very clear.
To ask the question, “why?” to some of the deeper, darker questions of life can actually be quite destructive. To ask “what’s next?” might be a better question.
I don’t know a stronger word for desperate…so we will go with it…I was desperate. I had spent the past 2.5 months away from my husband…raising 5 children on my own. Feeding, bathing, homeschooling, and hand-washing all the clothes. All.the.clothes. I watched adoptive families come and go. Their stories were never simple, but in one to two months after their arrival, I found myself waving to yet another van full of smiling faces. Driving rapidly toward the airport leaving the country and us wondering when it would be our turn? We were given a 3 year ruling…meaning the children were “ours” legally via guardianship, but they could not be adopted in Uganda until 3 years had passed. We were promised by our lawyers that our case would be overturned by the appellate court. We were told we would have a court date by the first of the year (January 2014)…and it was early February…we had heard nothing.
Confession: I’ve stopped trying to heal.
I came home from Uganda in April…shell-shocked and in survival mode. We let down our defenses and I immediately got to work…doing my best big girl job to heal. I did all the right things…went to my counselor within less than 24 hours of arriving on US soil. We took a month at the beach to adjust to the western culture and to quietly unlock the grief box. And I did pretty well. I grew angry and shook my fist at God, I doubted and questioned, and then grew sad–unashamedly sad, and the stages of grief rapidly unfolded in textbook fashion.
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..Somehow it feels as if only a few short weeks have passed since we left the land with the red dirt and a slice of my heart.
I try to take time to live a bit of life before I publically scribble my thoughts in cyberspace. I realized I hadn’t shared for a few weeks about my current status and specifically about my okay-ness with God; whom I hold both responsible for giving me life and giving me the privilege of knowing the little lives we left in Uganda. He and I have had words over how it all went down; but my words are filled with less venom in recent days. Our current status (His and mine)–is at times dicey, but the projection for long term okay-ness is quite good.
This is written for all those who don’t know…but care.
I know you care because you asked. And I wanted to figure out how to give you the 30 second version while we were washing our hands in the bathroom at church, or in the checkout line at Target, or while we were pumping gas before you scurried off to work…but I couldn’t do it.
I also realized when I tried to formulate the words for the 30 second version, I was much better at writing than delivering a verbal summary of an 18-month epic adventure. So I don’t blame you for not knowing, I just appreciate you taking the time to come here and not expecting me to fumble through something I am clearly still fumbling through.
Cause I really am better. I am not in my shaking mad phase any more. I am not doubting God’s goodness as much. I am not choosing a bitter agnostic outlook on life. I am ready to go to church and the grocery store and the gas station…so that’s an improvement. I am out of the sweatpants phase, certainly that points to growth?! But I am not quite in the place where I can fully give you the 30 second version without making you feel slightly uncomfortable.
So if you don’t know–and Lord knows I don’t expect folks to wait on baited breath for the latest installment of the crazy Cockerham adventures–please know I humbly understand. Let’s just think of this as grabbing a quick cup of coffee together. Remembering our other option was for me to look at the floor and then up at you awkwardly wishing you hadn’t asked where our adopted children are–or when we were going back to Africa to get our kiddos–or how’s life going now with 5 kids–or any other sincerely kind questions you simply didn’t know the answer to. It is less awkward and fumbly for us to catch up here. I will leave without a pit in my stomach and tears in my eyes…and you will have the scoop. We are all better in the end.
Not sure what you knew or where we left off so here goes:
October 2013 we went to Uganda to adopt 2 kiddos.
November 2013 we were granted legal guardianship of those 2 precious kiddos, but told we must stay in Uganda for 3 years…so I stayed with all 5 children and Chris went back to North Carolina.
March 2014 We were hopeful to appeal our court case–but also were growing fatigued from the wait so Chris decided to join our family adventures in Uganda taking a leave of absence.
May 2014 We realized it could be a long wait and possibly not receive an appeal, so Chris resigned his job at Hope Holly Springs and Chris accepted a position at Restoration Gateway to serve on their team.
Late June 2014 We moved to Restoration Gateway.
July 2014 It was discovered/confirmed that Jonathan and Caroline were NOT true double orphans and had living parents.
July 2014 Jonathan and Caroline were returned to their families.
July 2014-March 2014 The Cockerham Family stayed in Northern Uganda serving at Restoration Gateway.
Insert Jim Gaffigan’s high pitched squeaky disapproving voice: Wow, sad story. But that wasn’t so bad? Hasn’t she been away from the kids for almost a year now? Does she think she can do better than their own flesh and blood? What’s her problem? Isn’t it great news for her kids to be reunited with their families?
Yes, but what takes longer than 30 seconds is that there are little people I love in Uganda who are hurting. Reliable sources say at least one of the two is suffering even. I don’t know the full extent but I know life is far from happily ever after. This is not spoken by a bitter woman wishing for a diverse stair-step family photo, nor disappointed she won’t be able to color coordinate five kids’ outfits for church. I am not a western mom who believes she can provide more, etc. It is an unjust ending for a child whose physical, emotional, and mental needs are not being met. It is innately mommy to want your child to avoid pain. Therefore, it is a debilitating place to know your hands are tied and it is the “right thing to do;” because he should never have been trafficked by his family in the first place. But the sting still stings and the grief is still close and it is still too soon to deliver the 30 second version. And so for that reason…we are here grabbing coffee and I am grateful. Feel free to sit down to coffee again soon…we may talk about this or other messy life matters…but in my heart this is the safest place for me to share my story with you.
So…just…thanks.
Humbly,
Jenni
Not sure where this Good Friday finds you? Are you full of faith? Faltering?
Not beginning to comprehend or claim rights to pain and suffering, I do find myself needing to be honest about my faith…especially on this Friday.
It’s been 6 weeks of no rain. Not even a sprinkle. The dry season is dusty, hot and ever so dry. This makes for gorgeous sunrises and sunsets. It creates a perfect place for children to play uninhibited by the elements. You don’t realize you miss the rain until it hits.
Tonight it showered in sheets. The slow rhythm became louder and it pounded hard and fast for over an hour. What it brought was refreshingly unexpected. It brought a soft wind and delicious breeze. The nights have been hot…the kind where your clothes stick as you lay in bed twisting and turning hot. But you forget how extreme the heat is until you feel the breeze. You forget how you much you needed the cool air to touch your skin. A sigh of relief escapes your lips unconsciously.
We have lived a wonderfully tragic year and a half in Uganda. We have experienced our highest of highs knowing and loving Caroline and Jonathan as our own, living and serving at Restoration Gateway and loving the community here. Life-altering highs. We have also experienced the lowest of lows, losing those children as our own, battling severe malaria, and being away from our loved ones across the ocean at critical grieving moments.
The weather currently has been the hottest we have known in Uganda. The pressure from the heat is almost forgotten until you feel the coolness of the breeze touch your skin.
As we prepare to forge ahead toward America, a cool breeze has crossed my face. Our love for the people and this place run deep. Yet our longing for loved ones, and a whisper from Him pull us back across the ocean. Growing awareness for the extent of the fever we have experienced takes hold. A refreshing wind has begun to blow over our Ugandan home as we make preparations to fly home home.
The heat and the beauty that follows from 6 weeks of sun. Grace. The powerful rain that brings the much needed cool breeze. Grace. A life-altering journey, trusting, twisting and tumbling all over Uganda. Grace. A trip home home in a few days. Grace.
May You Be a Blessing and May You Be Blessed,
Jenni
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Crystal clear is how I like my communication. I never liked the game of telephone. (Not the kind in which you whisper a funny phrase with friends around the table.) The other kind, with the string and the tin can. I always felt like the words being delivered were either so close and obvious, or so muffled that the game was pure bunk. Just climb down from the treehouse and tell me what you were trying to say! This tin can game is crap. Hurray, for ACTUAL telephones that deliver the message–loud and in stereo–even by video at times. Crystal clear communication please.
Not so with the God of the universe. With Him and me it feels at times we are playing a game of muffled, old-fashioned tin can telephone. Anyone else have fuzzy reception? Continue reading
Earlier this month I traveled back to the place where I felt most exposed, most disappointed, and most broken. Ever. I made the choice to go. I packed up our entire family, boarded a plane and away we went. The place was just as we had left it…maybe a little hotter, a littler drier, but the same. I went willingly but with small shreds of dread in my heart. I knew we were meant to return. But if you have not heard, this, The Most Elaborate Foster Plan Ever Orchestrated, or this The Epic Adventure is Over; were the reasons for my dread. Upon reflection I realize my search for hope in the midst of hardship is not an uncommon pursuit. I would love for you to join me today in uncovering a path to hope despite the hardship.
100 Cups of Coffee 