At home in the mountains.

We've been home for two weeks, and it's starting to feel like we're really here. We went silent for a catalog of reasons – jet lag, a stomach virus that hit on arrival, getting back to school and work. Reality. But home is a great place for reality to hit.

The morning after the 35 hours of traveling, and the drive home from Atlanta, and Mia's first brave (lost cause) battle against the car seat, and falling into bed for hours, I woke up before light and it was cold enough to see my breath outside. I stood in our tree-filled acre that was starting to show its fall colors, with the world quiet around our house – a long way from China – and waited for the sun to come up. Later, we drove down to the hardware store for more babyproofing supplies, and as we headed down the mountain it struck me again how much I love living in Chattanooga.

It's unspeakably good to be home in the mountains, where we can find quiet, where all three of our kids can grow up playing in the yard, and where they have the political and spiritual elbow room to find out what they believe and who they are, rather than who they're told to be. From the beginning, we've said that our home has so much love, we feel like we should share it. It's good to bring Mia here, and to feel her settling into all of this. 

Red couch.

There is a legend in China of an invisible red thread tied onto those destined to meet, which connects and brings them together regardless of time, place or circumstances. The cord may stretch or tangle, but will never break. The red couch at the White Swan Hotel in Guangzhou has come to embody both that cultural legend and the adoption journeys of thousands of families.

We still hadn't made it to the White Swan by the morning we were leaving, so we took one last reckless taxi ride to capture this rite of passage on film. Here's Mia, the day before she immigrated to America, in all her glory.





Related, before we traveled to get her we noticed that Mia was wearing a red bracelet in all the pictures we received, and she still has it on now. We didn't know what it signified until we asked the orphanage director, the day we met Mia. Apparently, Mia's foster mother had tied it on her for good luck, and it is also tied to the legend of the invisible red thread. We are so grateful to this woman, who we will most likely never meet; she loved Pinyi, stayed with her for 7 weeks in the hospital after the burn accident, and wanted her to find the family she was meant for.