A little 3 1/2 year old boy just braved a very busy airport, went through security, had papers checked and double checked, and then walked down a funny little hallway to board a big plane for his very first plane ride. There are 11 other children with him all anxiously anticipating what will be at the end of that plane ride. There are also 4 orphanage directors and some other caregivers too accompanying them, no doubt excited and anxious too about what the place they literally call “beautiful country” is really like.

I can only imagine the scene of getting those children ready to go with only small backpacks on their backs with whatever someone saw as essentials. I wonder if the staff made them all hold hands, weaving through the crowds of the airport like the tail of a kite. Did the wealthy people in their fashionable clothes there in Beijing point at them and try to take their picture? Did the staff put their hands up, gesturing for privacy? Or, did the staff proudly line the children up, appreciating the attention to this brand new exchange program for their orphanage?

N.J. is the youngest child in the group. The oldest is nearly 14. I hope all of their seats are together so that oldest boy or one of those children can show N.J. how to watch a show to pass the time. There’s a lot of it to pass—13 hours after which N.J. will get in a car (and a carseat for the first time) for another 2 1/2 hours before he arrives at our door.

We’re all going to stay up past bedtime to welcome him in a quiet way. No signs. No fanfare. No big hugs. We’ll let him wander around a little to see this place that will be his home for this season. We’ll show him where the little potty is (the one I couldn’t believe I was buying yesterday). We’ll show him his bed and loosen the sheets for him and show him how to pull them down (so much is so different). And, then we’ll just sit and pray that he eventually will want to get in them and sleep so the rest of us can too.