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

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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.

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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!

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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.