The Polar Express

One of the highlights of our entire trip had to be watching The Polar Express on the train from Simferopol to Kyiv last night.  Picture all 5 kids with us piled into a four bed (bunk style) tiny compartment with the laptop open on the minuscule dining table in between beds.  The awesome-st were the parts made especially for 3D while the whole train rattled.  Granted, there were no dancing waiters or hot hot chocolate and you really don't want to hear about the bathroom (eegads), but the further we traveled the more the snow had accumulated.  Keeper was imagining a ghost on the roof and a caribou crossing.  It was completely dark and I was blissfully on cold medicine while the kids ooh'd and ahh'd about scenes they wouldn't have noticed sitting on a couch.  Here in Kyiv it is definitely polar at 3 degrees!  Yahaw.  Our new friends here are all jealous that it's 40* in North Carolina.

Our Ukrainian American girl

He's still freezing

Olga, Tom, Reagan and Angelina (our facilitators in Crimea)

World's Best Babushka holding pizzas for dinner on the train

World's Best Dedushka

Little Lambs ministry to orphans here in Ukraine is hosting us in their offices for FREE.  http://littlelambs.com/  They run camps all over Ukraine that my brother volunteered for two different years in the '90s.  So Mom emailed their U.S. director who set up a temporary home for us here that wouldn't further dwindle what little cash we have left.  Not only are they hosting us, but two big strong men met us at the train station at *7am* with two large vans.  Our new friend, Marina, had a huge Ukrainian breakfast all set up for us.  After an all nighter on a train, it was such a welcome sight.  I'm on my third cup of nasty instant coffee and even that is a blessing, especially when combined with benedryl and pseudophed. :) I'd like to be home before we run out of medicine in the near future.

The kids are so excited about the snow, and oblivious to the temperature, they would hardly eat before running back outside.  Especially Liza.  October might be coming down with my cold because she went straight to bed with a terrible headache.  Thankfully Dad is on the mend.

Old Man Winter

Freezing our popa's off

Snowball fight

Leaving Simferopol I could literally feel the fog of oppression lifting.  It was like an anchor on our snow boots.  And like the ring of power, the longer you wear it, the heavier it becomes.  It has reminded me that I do not pray enough for our missionary friends who bear that burden always.  The next time (yes I said it), the next time, we know to gird ourselves better spiritually and not just circumstantially.

As for circumstances, we still don't have a return date.  Tomorrow we are hoping the passport will arrive in Simferopol and be put on a plane back to us in Kyiv, where it originated.  We are also hoping for an appointment at the Embassy to start the Visa process.  Our concern is increasing exponentially for our poor dogs who we know miss us terribly and all things home and business related.  Six weeks is just too long to leave our lives unattended.  These have realistically been the most challenging six weeks of our entire lives.  We had things thrown at us that no one ever expected and at times it was relentless.  We are truly, clinically, emotionally and financially exhausted.  In hindsight there are some things we would have done differently.  But the end result is what we hoped for.  A daughter.  And a truer picture of the world for our American children.  You can't put a price tag on that.

American Birds Poop White

Tom here.   I could write 10 paragraphs on all the sweet things Liza has said over the past several days.  But I know many are wondering why things seem so difficult here.  So, this is the post where I give you an example of what we’ve faced since day one.  I’ve wrestled with whether or not to go into too much detail in this post. On one hand, if I do, your mind may become so confused and frustrated that you won’t finish reading.  But if I don’t, you may never understand why we feel like things here are so ridiculously difficult.  So, to help keep your attention, I’ll highlight the insanity in red and toss in a funny anecdote.  How’s that?

It’s Wednesday morning here in Simferopol; our last day in this city that we are very ready to leave, even though we have gotten very familiar with it and have happy memories here as well.  The past two days have been really busy with essential errand running.  Monday, our first stop was the court house to pick up the court decree declaring Reagan and me as the legal parents of Liza.  This could have been done on Saturday as our 10-day waiting period officially ended on Friday, but the clerk of court decided to uphold the Ukrainian law stating that “if the 10 day waiting period ends on a Friday, you can pick up the decree when court opens Monday morning – even though the period for appeals ends at the close of business Friday.”  It would have been awesome if they would have given us the decree just after business hours Friday.  We might have even made it home for Christmas.

So, Monday it was.  The decree would only be official after we made our third trip to the Piervomayesk Region where she was born to have it notarized.  Notary offices are open on Saturday and closed on Mondays.  So earlier the week before, we had driven 100km to Piervomayesk to make a cash donation to the notary there so she would come in on Monday to help us.  As we started our long, notoriously car-sick trip out there, the pace of our facilitators tone increased with one another.  And as we’ve now been here nearly six weeks, our Russian is good enough to understand the topic of conversation if not the details.  They were discussing details surrounding Liza’s passport that we would need to get on Tuesday.  Then they began to make phone calls in upset tones.  Then they pulled the car over.  We could understand that there was a disagreement about whether or not Liza needed a Ukrainian intra-country passport in order to get a passport for international travel.  It was quite a while before they explained the details to us which I will explain to you in detail later…

We made it to Piervomayesk mostly in one piece, though really stressed out.  Our sense from their conversation was that there was another unforeseen (and enormous) hurdle to overcome which could add at least another week to our time in this place that feels like Groundhog Day in a Tim Burton movie.  After running through the scenario, our facilitator explained that there was no way we would be home for Christmas but if we wanted to hurry home, we could plan to spend Christmas in a medical clinic in Kiev  for Liza’s health exam.  That was too much.  It soured our moods so much that receiving the notarized copy of her birth certificate (with our names as parents on it) 3 days after the 10 day waiting period ended was not a very happy occasion.  We drove silently back to Simferopol.

After a few more errands, we went to pick up Liza once and for all.  Of course, if you’re in the blackest of moods, one thing you can count on to lift it is telling your new daughter that you are taking her away from the orphanage she has spent 10 years in – and are taking her to America to her new home.  To see that smile and those tears of joy in her eyes.  Wow.

Before we left, we made our donation to the orphanage director and passed out gifts to the teachers and children.  Thank you to our many friends who donated gifts to us to give them!  They loved them a hung on us for the entire time we were there. It was bittersweet.  To have so many kids who have no family show you so much love.  And to take only one and leave. 

We celebrated with a wonderful dinner out, listening to the adorable sound of Liza practicing her English.  We were given some photos of her by the director of the orphanage before we left.  They are so sweet, they melt my heart.  I uploaded one to Facebook until Liza realized and said “Daddyyyyyy!!!!”  Another teenage daughter!  Of course, I took it down. Later she translated something on the phone and handed it to Reagan.  It said, "I believe in miracles."

Tuesday we were up early again and off on the additional mission that had been a revelation to our facilitators:

The woman at the international notary office told our head facilitator that because Liza is now 16, she would need the Ukrainian passport before she could get an international passport.  Our facilitator didn’t believe her because it was just too ridiculous – and you’ll see why.  The Ukrainian passport would be destroyed once she applied for an international one, which we had been planning to apply for Tuesday.  But a myriad of phone calls and arguments later, it was confirmed.  On Tuesday, we would need to go to the local passport office to apply for a domestic passport.  Of course, this normally takes days or weeks.  With the help of a cash donation, however, the passport office could have it done same day.  Why is this important?  Because the international passport office only accepts passport applications at 3PM on Tuesday afternoons.  The passport application is then mailed to Kiev where it is processed.  Turnaround time is faster than the US, which is amazing!  But, the passport made in Kiev must be mailed back to the originating region (900km away) so that the local chief passport officer here can sign it – which he only does on Mondays at 3pm.  It can’t go directly to us, even though we will be in Kiev by then!  So, our facilitator will have to receive it here in Simferopol and send it back to Kiev so we can take it to the US Embassy to apply for Liza’s visa.

So, after a few stops, we headed to the domestic passport office with Liza.  We were met by our facilitator and the social worker from the orphanage who had to register the new passport in the orphanage books (for some reason).  The passport application went smoothly and with the help of the purchase of new office supplies for the facility, we were given a shiny new Ukraine-only passport for Liza – that would subsequently be destroyed three hours later when the international passport application was submitted.

Ukraine passport office - just imagine a post-soviet DMV.

We went to the notary to have Liza sign her consent to leave Ukraine.  We got a new social security card for her (needed for her international passport even though it will mean nothing when she leaves).  Then we went to the international passport office to apply.  After sitting there for an hour, the woman began arguing with our facilitator.  She would not accept the Ukrainian passport!  Why?  Because Liza’s middle name was not on the same line as her first name!  I’m not kidding!  We had to leave the international office, drive through insane traffic across town, get new passport photos made, go back to the domestic passport office and have a whole new passport made for Liza with her middle name on the same line as her first.

It seemed so absolutely insane to us but we had a good laugh on the way there.  While we were leaving the passport photo shop, there was a giant thud.  A gigantic bird poop had landed on the windshield.  We all started laughing but for different reasons. It was a really gross, brown color and huge.  Reagan said, “American birds poop is white”.  Liza looked at it, shrugged her shoulders and said “here, too.  I don't know, maybe big big bird?”   Our facilitators were so excited because they said when a bird poops on your windshield, it means “big money!  It's good luck!”  You’re going to have good luck – and the luck goes to the person who the poop would have hit if there had been no windshield.  We laughed and our younger facilitator asked if we held the same belief in the US.  I caught my breath and said “no, in the US it just means you’re cursed.  It means you're having a really bad day.”  We lost it with the kind of laugh you only laugh when you're completely sleep deprived and cracking under pressure.

Maybe the giant bird poop was good luck because the rest of the day went smoothly.  That is to say, there were no new absurd, dark Tim Burtonesque surprises.  We made it back to the international passport office just in time for the 3PM deadline, paid our unofficial “expediting fee” and went home for the night.

Liza and her brother, Ruslan

Despite all the misadventures, having Liza in our apartment at night , with the rest of the family feels perfect.  She fits in perfectly.  She and October are two peas in a pod.  Hearing her adorable voice and seeing her sweet face makes all of this worth it.

Sisters & Strangers

We received two really great letters today.  Letters so great, they changed my whole day.  One is from a complete stranger.  One is from my sister.  Be this kind of stranger or that kind of sister (or brother as the case may be), to someone today.  Letters make unforgettable Christmas presents. ~Reagan

*****************************************
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Mountain,
    Several weeks ago as you and your family was heading to the Ukraine I saw a news story about your airport troubles. Over the next couple days as I kept you in my prayers I looked up any posts I could that had any information on what was going on with the passports, which was when I came across your Blog page. Since then I have been following your posts, and I just amazed at all the troubles you were willing to go through to be able to adopt this young lady. As I just read your blog about the fundraisers I felt God impress on my heart that not only do I need to give you some money to help with the adoption, but that God wants me to give you an extra $100 for you to use buy Christmas presents for your children.
    I'm still unsure why but ever since I first heard that you were going to be adopting Liza I have felt that God wanted me to have flowers sent for her for when you bring her home. So I am adding $60 that I would greatly appreciate if you would order some for her.

**********************************************

Hey Reagan, Sweet Sister, 

What a long journey, huh?  I can't wait until you guys are home. There are soft flannel sheets and snug

blankets waiting quietly at home for you.  Jar glasses waiting to be filled with protein shakes.  Cool, long-

handled iced-tea spoons ready in the drawer for stirring in home-raised honey.  A library full of beloved and

well worn books by which you can measure the years-- yours or the kids'.  Containers of markers, crayons,

and pencils, and paper ready to be filled with stories, drawings...Upstairs a closet full of clothes from which to 

choose in accordance with your mood or task.  Best of all, first of all, a large shower with amazing water-

pressure and multiple shower heads that promises to make both grime and stress a thing of the past.  Odd

isn't it to picture all of these things just waiting there patiently, inanimately, for your return.  Waiting to serve. 

You are going to get home some evening soon, exhausted.  A friend will have filled your fridge with some favorite

things.  There is fresh fruit and avocados. They've picked up some Kombucha.  It's in the fridge.  Terra chips, 

at least three bags, are in the cupboard.  Tell the kids they are on their own for one hour.  One hour for you to be alone, sigh, cry, be thankful.  One hour before dinner, or dessert, or reading a Christmas story together or 

making popcorn and settling in for a family movie, curtains drawn, pillows and comforters abounding.  

Let the kids greet the dogs and chickens.  October and Liza will go up to their room, lay on the beds for a 

minute (the sheets will fill cool, crisp),  then they'll start talking about what comes next, sharing closet space,

sharing clothes... 

Leave the luggage in the car and go straight up stairs, quietly. You and Tom go into your room, 

close the door. Peel off layer by layer of clothes, leave them on the floor for another day, a different kind of 

day.  Today, is not a day for upkeep, for housework.  Today, you walk right into the shower, turn it on hot and full.

Embrace and hold on for no less than twenty minutes.  There might be tears mixing with water. They rinse away just the same.  You don't necessarily want to get out of the shower but are equally excited about putting on underwear and socks different that what you've had in rotation over the last several weeks...ahhhh, yoga pants and a worn in t-shirt (one that feels so great and easy to wear but, miraculously, looks just as good as it feels).  Then, on top, that sweatshirt or sweater that you have semi-regretted not bringing with you.  Being home....it's like the feeling of getting over a terrible cold, you can't believe what it's like to breathe again!  Like your lungs are expanding, taking in twice as much fresh air as before. A surge of energy, of calm.  All those weeks of keeping it together, of being at the mercy of a system over which you have no control, of being on guard, of simple tasks seeming anything but simple.....the passive brutality of it all.  But how strange it is, getting back in your house, how quickly all of that fades.  Just this hour alone has made you feel a year younger.  In two days, in a week, it will actually be difficult to believe how long you were away.  In a month, many of the day to day details, the boredom, the loneliness of that time will be blurry. It will still be a part of the story, but like remembering a dream, distant and no longer wielding power over you.  The lasting imprint on you is, thankfully, not in the form of a chronic pain permanently frayed edges.  The lasting imprint on you is in how prone toward gratitude you are ---more than ever in your life.  Thank you and I love you are the first words on your mind, out of your mouth.  Strangers are taken aback.  Friends wonder at your relentless kindness.  Your kids find it almost annoying how often you reiterate the words. Almost annoying.  Except that they have it too, this habit of thanksgiving now.  Even more than ever before. 

You will be home soon.  You will be home with your family.  There will be snuggling.  And then dancing. 

There will be Spring, gardens, roses....lots of roses.   There will be summer and swimming, bike riding with no hands!

***************************************************************************************************

This is Liza saying goodbye to Tom just before as she was leaving the U.S. in August

This is Liza today.  I much prefer this face.

I liked the face she made last night, too, though her eyes were filled with tears. I told her that she's grown up too fast at the orphanage.  And that now is her turn to be a child.  She smiled and cried and leaned into me.

A Few Moments of Silence

This weekend we temporarily deactivated our Facebook account as we processed the death of our friend and the ever evolving yet rarely productive situation here in Ukraine. Yesterday we were painfully aware of the time his funeral was taking place.  Our brother in law attended and emailed us details as they were happening to help us feel present.  And it was helpful.  We still do not have a return date and cannot change our tickets until we know for sure when Liza's new passport will be ready.  It is another flaw among countless in the Ukrainian adoption process.  I hope that someone is able to change it someday.  If you are adopting or considering adopting from Ukraine, we'd love to hear from you and try to be of some support.  When we get back home we'll be able to see more clearly the beauty among the ashes.

A friend sent this link to us of an article addressing how we unintentionally make things worse for someone who is grieving.  It is specifically written about the horrific shootings in Connecticut, but the basic ideas can be applied to many painful situations in life.  It's much better worded than anything I have attempted to say recently on the subject of  "letting people feel what they need to feel".

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rev-emily-c-heath/dealing-with-grief-five-t_b_2303910.html#slide=more270071

The one that most applies across the board in life and that has been most difficult for me to process the past five weeks is this: 5. "'We may not understand it, but this was God's will.' Unless you are God, don't use this line."  I whole heartedly agree.  The thing that I have heard recently used to skirt the issue of God's will is, "God didn't cause it, but He allowed it."  I think God's job is far more complex than either of these sentences allow for, but more importantly it is not helpful to hear in the midst of heartache.   It would make an excellent small group discussion, but is not encouragement.

It is 10am on Sunday morning here.  We are all still jammie clad and vegetable like, making a second pot of coffee.  (We drink twice as much here as we ever do at home).  We've had Liza with us the past two nights and she hasn't slept well.  She's still passed out, the last one in bed.

Yesterday we were invited to a movie by our new Raleigh friends, the Shumakers.  They are here in Crimea adopting a 14 year old daughter.  They spend a lot of time with their new daughter's brother who is Liza's brother's best friend.  It was perfectly timed because we were in need of some good company.  Traveling with 8 people helps tremendously with what I imagine is painful loneliness to couples traveling alone, whether they left children behind in the States or had to split up after court.  But we still feel lonely, missing our friends.  It was another opportunity for us to get to know R and extend our desire to bring him to the States for visits or to study, if he desires.  He says he's not a good student but would like to visit.  We have his phone number to stay in touch.  We have not seen or heard from Liza's sister since Thanksgiving.  Please continue to pray for her.

Liza, her brother R and his best friend Y

It's been such a miracle to have several North Carolina families here to touch base with.  The Shumaker family wants to start a kind of support group for the newly adopted Ukrainian teens in the Raleigh area.  We are very excited about these opportunities for Liza.  We also have a Russian speaking counselor, a native Russian nurse at our doctors office and a Bible study with native Russian speaking ladies at our own church all lined up for her.  The presence of a Russian speaking community in our backyard is another miracle in this situation.

Tonight is Liza's LAST EVER night at the orphanage!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I saved that little tidbit til the end of the blog so you wouldn't know I was going to say something really good unless you read the whole thing.  So ha! for those who quit early ;)  And I dressed it all up purty like.  The purple is a shout out to God for the 9th inning homerun.

Tomorrow we travel for the third time to Liza's place of birth to finally get her new birth certificate.  (My stomach loathes this drive).  On Tuesday we will take this to the passport office, which only accepts new applications on Tuesdays.  When something goes wrong in this step, families are delayed an entire week costing hundreds of dollars or more in living expenses.  The passport is mailed all the way to Kiev (check out the distance between Simferopol and Kiev on a map) and then back.  We are not allowed to simply pick it up in Kiev nor have it sent directly to the U.S. embassy.  It costs another two days in waiting.  We are getting on a train Wednesday night so that the Embassy can pre-process a few things before  the passport arrives.  We know they won't do her physical without it, however.  We are hoping to get it put on a  plane to us in Kiev by Friday night so the Embassy can get us her Visa on Christmas Eve.  If all of that goes well and we put my parents on an earlier flight a day or two ahead (there were already insufficient seats available a week ago), we might be able to get most of us on a Christmas morning flight at 6am Kiev time, arriving Raleigh at 6pm EST Christmas night.  (If anyone has airline connections, it could save Christmas...and would also be an awesome ending if we ever make a movie).

There are many more ifs in that scenario than I have listed, but that's the gist of it.  Thank you for your support and prayers and the donations we have received in the last few days.  They have been an encouragement.

At a Loss...

Reagan ~ I find myself at a loss for words...and other things.  In hindsight, some part of me knew what the day had in store when I woke with intense stomach pain at 3am.  I think I was having an allergic reaction to something I'd eaten for dinner and in pacing the apartment in the dark, I broke my toe.  I didn't sleep much after that and yet I still overslept.  I dizzily and frantically got ready to take Liza to the town of her birth, where her biological mother still resides.
We were picked up at 8:45am and drove to the orphanage to get Liza.  Within the hour, the Ukrainian roads in disrepair there had all three of us, Tom, Liza and I, in the backseat nauseated.  She curled up next to me, head on my shoulder and closed her eyes.

Tom ~ There are times when a girl needs her Dad and times when she needs her Mom. Yesterday was certainly a Mommy day for Liza.  And for good reason.  She had said a brief and unexpected goodbye to her biological mother a couple weeks earlier.  But today she knew she was going to see her again and she was preparing mentally for it.

Reagan ~ We had errands to run at the local government offices regarding her new birth certificate and then had a good lunch.  We laughed a lot at the younger of our two facilitators, Angelina.  She's a stitch and we needed the comic relief.  It was another 50 bumpy kilometers to Liza's village of origin.  It looks like World War II happened yesterday.

Tom ~ When the facilitator said her village was 50 km away from the small town, but "in the region" we knew it was going to be a tiny village.  Poverty is not an adequate word for this place.  Everything was decades old and falling apart.  Every house had an outhouse out back.  Clay bricks, rubble, rust, rotting wood.  These are the words I think of to describe the village.  I asked Liza if she remembered anything about her village.  She answered "Я не помню".... "I don't remember." and then the phrase she says so often, "Ten years."  

As we approached the village, though, she perked up and wanted me to roll down the window.  You could tell she was recalling foggy memories of this place where she had lived until she was 6.  She suddenly knew which roads to turn down.  Memories were returning, sparked by visual images.  But soon I could see that whatever memories she was having were confusing her.  

Reagan ~ She began to realize that even her positive memories were not all accurate.  She hasn't been back since she was handed over to government care ten years ago...and had only yesterday been told that it was at her mother's request.  It was her chance to see what might have been and to let it go all in the same breath.

The facilitators asked us to wait in the car while they took Liza inside her old house because it was inappropriate for the whole thing to be taking place at all.  Her mother had kept drawings she'd done at school and someone had brought.  She told Liza to take anything she wanted from the house.  There wasn't much to choose from.  She came away with three old photographs.

Liza received Operation Christmas shoe boxes at the orphanage.  Pencils are a common gift.

She saw her mother and little brother and two aunts and let them all go, too.  She was brave and smiling.  And then she wasn't.  She entwined her arms in mine, held both my hands, slid down in the seat with her head on my shoulder and let the tears come.

Tom ~ Liza walked back to the car with a smile on her face.  Honestly, I was a little surprised.  But she hopped in the car smiling and we drove off, heading back to Simferopol.  Reagan pulled out the camera that our facilitator had used to take pictures for us.  As she began to scroll through the photos, I could see Liza, on the far side of the back seat, slide down, put her head on Reagan's shoulder and squeeze both her hands.  I leaned forward to smile at her because I wanted her to know that I was happy that she had this last opportunity for closure.  But as I leaned forward, I could see tears streaming down her cheeks.  I've known Liza long enough to know that she has a lot to cry about, but never does it in front of anyone.  This was an overwhelming event for her.  

Reagan ~ For the second time we had to leave her with that specific grief and drive away.  We had no idea that more loss awaited.  I sank into a chair back at the apartment and was ready to peel off the layers.  That was when Tom walked into the room with a look so flat I might have known what was coming.  A dear friend passed away.  The rest of this blog is all we can do to honor him from here, for now.  We owe him so much.  But we will be still be here in Ukraine during his funeral on Saturday morning.

Tom ~ I returned to the apartment and as soon as my phone picked up the wifi, the emails and FB notifications flooded in.  I sat down and started to sort through them.  I opened one message and read that our good friend and the builder of our house, "Steve Allmond passed away."  I had to reread that sentence several times.   I had talked to Steve the day before we left for Ukraine.  He's only 51.  He had just talked me through winterizing our irrigation system.  He agreed to be on-call should any emergencies with the house come up.  I left his number with our house-sitters.  He was so thrilled about our adoption and couldn't wait to meet Liza.  I just couldn't believe it.

Reagan ~ The three of us, Tom, me and Steve comprised a team that have worked together for 3 1/2 years on our home.  We carried the vision.  He built it.  Every square inch is evidence of his heart and his integrity.  Not only did he help us design it and build it, he hung in there with us the last two years since we moved in.  If the smoke detectors went off in the middle of the night, we called Steve.  If we couldn't dig up a tree stump, we called Steve.  If some one else tried to rip us off, we called Steve.   When the yard flooded, when we installed irrigation, wanted to extend the driveway and when Liza needed a closet...we called Steve. It has even gotten to where our German Shepherd follows Steve around when he's over and not me.  Steve was like Mikey, he would try anything for us. He was dependable and trustworthy and generous.  He was our partner in the biggest dream of our lives.  He's irreplaceable.

Steve in December '09 framing the house in 25* weather

Steve in April '10 deciding on the deck stairs with Tom

Teaching Tom all along the way

Steve in the Bobcat that has become part of the scenery at the Faraway

The finished house, a tribute to his talents

The library bench, a gift from Steve because I couldn't afford it but had my heart set on it.  He was so excited to show it to me that day.  He put the top on hinges so I could store blankets..R

He put up with me painting all the rooms myself WITH four kids in tow on his construction site for months.  I wish I had a picture of his face every time he saw a new color I was using.  When he saw the orange paint for our sons bathroom he said, "Reagan, you are like a box of crayons."  It was a good laugh.  To date, one of the best compliments I've ever gotten.  I'll never forget it.  I will miss you always, Steve.

Before we left for Ukraine, he was working on Liza's closet and helping me with the new orchard and preparing to pour more of the driveway.  He knew every inch of our place.  We were supposed to pick up where we left off when we got back.  I loved working all together.  His loss leaves a big hole in our lives and many others.  Please pray for his wife and daughter.

Tom ~ When someone dies, you wonder where they are.  With Steve, there was absolutely no question.  He loved the Lord very much.  He declared it.  He lived it and showed it.  He was a man of enormous integrity and honor.  He loved his family and worked very hard for them.  He taught me a lot of things that men should know.  He was an excellent friend.  I will miss you very, very much, Steve.

Fundraisers

On December 13th from 8pm to 10pm our friend Kit is hosting an online fundraiser for us selling the hairclips we brought to Liza and her best friend Alona, shown here.  They will be donating 30% of the proceeds to our adoption and $1 per toward a bundle of beautiful clips for the girls in Liza's orphanage.  If you have some Christmas shopping left to do for any beauties in your life, please do it with us :)

You can see images and instructions at the following Link:
http://personalpresence.blogspot.com/2012/12/lilla-rose-for-liza.html
Or also on Facebook at:
https://www.facebook.com/events/479354712108421/

We do have a Paypal account for direct donations to TomandReagan@gmail.com

We have a T-shirt fundraiser with ShowHope T's at:
http://www.adoptionbug.com/farawayhome/

And also an awesome Pampered Chef fundraiser at:
??? be back soon and tell you :)

Sorry I am the worst blogger ever and this whole site is boring :(  I have NO idea how to make it better, least of all from a laptop (not my fave) and our internet drops off every few minutes here.

Thanks for stopping by :)! Reagan

Lost in Yalta

I'll begin at the end.  It was eventful.  I must forego the whole story and just say that we are back, all of us, safe and sound from a one day excursion to Yalta on the Black Sea.  We had Liza for 48 hours over my Mom's birthday weekend.  It felt good.  We saw the sun actually shining for the first time in 28 days.  The sky was blue.  Do you know how much that enhances your ability to cope?  It would not have been worth more to me had it been literally made of gold and handed to me.  It was tonic for the soul.  I don't know how long I stood, face uplifted, afraid to close my eyes and soaked in the sound of every wave, the beauty of every ray, my children laughing.  I breathed.  I was silent.  And I breathed.

Many sweet, kind people have tried to use logic to help us overcome spiritual oppression and emotional pain here.  I have been very convicted to pay attention to how we respond to someone who is hurting.  We are uncomfortable with sadness or anger, so we try to talk each other out of feeling those things.  I just want to point out that Satan does not release his grip on us because it ought to make sense.  Many things in this world should be and are not; or should not be and are.

If you were betrayed by a friend and someone said, "At least you had a friend" would you be comforted?  If you were sitting beside your mother's bedside while she dies and someone said, "At least you had her as long as you did" would you cease to mourn?  If your marriage ended and someone said, "At least you got out alive" would you not grieve the loss? If you spent every day for a month with social orphans whose parents live and yet do not come for them, in a spiritually oppressed nation and someone said, "At least you saved one" would you forget the rest?  I will never forget.  And if it ever stops hurting, then shame on me...because my eyes have been opened.  And it hurts.  Yet we are worn thin.  We are worn thin and that hurts, too.

 It's okay for Christians to hurt.  It is not a lack of faith or a failure. We should not approach others with a measuring stick and tell them when it's okay for them to hurt and when rationally they should stop hurting for our comfort.  My sister described a book written by her friend, Daniel Walser, in to Make a Life,  that describes it as sitting in a burning house.  This is a quote from her blog about this idea:

He articulates with precision the rarely heard perspective of a man grieving the loss of his unborn child.  “I begged God to raise her from the dead.  Crazy?  I didn’t think so.  I pleaded with the Almighty.  My heart nearly dislodged with the force of yearning behind each appeal.  I became a desperate, dime-store lawyer stating my case before what I hoped would be a fair and righteous judge.”  

But for me personally, the real treasure in his writing is less the narrative of what happened and much more the insider story of grief that follows. How we who stand outside often unintentionally fail those inside the “burning house,” how God does not, how we can help by being willing to enter into the flames rather than trying to simply extinguish them.

This story is for all of us: those who have hoped and been disappointed, those who mourn, and those who want to understand how to enter the mourning of others."

We will rejoice when we get our daughter home.  This place will become part of her past.  We cannot, however, erase that past.  It will still hurt her.  She will need us to enter the burning house, sit down in the midst of it, and burn with her then, as we are now.  It is a life skill for parents.  

I'll leave you with that image and show your some brighter ones.  They are the balm.

These are all elderly people dancing in the public square.  Joy you just don't see in Ukraine.

We had to return her by 1pm for a school field trip to the Circus.  Last night we heard there was a snow storm in the mountain passes we had traveled down.  That route was only 100km.  The alternate route was supposed to take 4 hours, so we had to wake up and leave straightaway.  She didn't talk or smile the whole drive drive back.  Then toward end she said, "Mommy?...One more week?"  Yes, baby, just one.  Then I had to give her back.  I pray that was the truth.