At 5 am the chanting from the mosque woke us up. Our 2 year old said, "I don't like that man. He's mean." We tried to convince her it was okay, but she didn't think any reason was good enough to talk that loud that early in the morning. Daddy agreed.

We were so awake that we decided to just get baths and breakfast and dress. Our agency's guesthouse provides breakfast fixings, so we made scrambled eggs and rolls for breakfast, and got everyone dressed. By 8 AM both the 2 and 5 year olds were melting down, and I was wondering how on earth they would ever be ok when it was time to meet our new girls. I laid them both back down to sleep some more.

At 9:00 Nate, our agency's family liaison, arrived. Since the little girls were still sleeping and he had an errand to run, he decided to wait an hour to bring us to see our new girls. I felt bad to be delaying it. But I figured we'd waited this long -- another hour wouldn't really make that much difference.

An hour later we were driving down the rutted road to Layla house, on our way to meet our girls. A layer of jet lag made the drive seem surreal. I didn't really have any idea what we'd say or do once we met our girls face to face.

At the blue gate Nate honked the horn, and pretty soon the gate creaked open to let us drive in. Directly in front of the parking area, the soccer field was full of kids having P.E. As soon as we got out of the car and the kids got a look at our faces, I heard several yell out the names of our girls. It seems amazing in a group of over 100 kids, but the kids can usually recognize their friend's parents when they arrive, just because they know whose families are due and know what they look like by looking at their albums. Off several children ran to find our girls, and we followed breathlessly, not sure when we would be face to face with them.

The first stop was the classroom of our older daughter. A child ran in to get her and out she came, looking tremulous. She and I took one look at each other and we were both instantly crying and hugging. When greeting our other four adopted children (each of whom arrived as babies or toddlers) I was always sure I would be crying on first meeting. But I never actually did -- until this meeting with these older girls.

The fact that they had lived through the loss of their mother while old enough to be aware of what was happening made my heart hurt for them. And to be greeted, not with fear, but with a tearful embrace, touched my heart even more deeply. It felt more like a reunion than a first meeting. And yet while hugging her, I was also getting to know her.

She was tinier than I'd expected, even though people had told me she was small. In photographs there is a maturity to her face and a presence about her that makes you expect a bigger child. But when you see her in person it is obvious she is still a child.

We hugged and rocked and I wiped her eyes while she sobbed and I sobbed. I had the feeling she was relieved. Relieved that we'd come (we later learned she'd thought we were coming a week sooner). Relieved at the warmth of our embrace. And most of all relieved because she and her sister were no longer alone in the world. I don't know -- maybe I was imagining the relief. But it did seem that just seeing us took a huge load off her.

After a little while I turned her to hug her daddy and her two little sisters, which she did enthusiastically. She picked up the two year old proudly to carry her while she led the way in search of our younger daughter.

Owlhavens in Ethiopia: Sunday and Monday