1000 Words

We’ve waited so long to post pictures of our girl, that we’re going to take advantage of it in this post, just because we can.

If you know us well, you probably know that the Christmas season is our absolute favorite time of year.  My wife starts decorating for Christmas sometime around Labor Day.  Christmas music begins by October 15^th.  Every week is filled with family traditions and activities.  So we knew leaving the country during this time would be particularly difficult.

We could have adopted anybody from anywhere at any time of the year.  In fact, we were going to adopt a baby domestically.  From the beginning of “our” plan to adopt, though, God clearly had some other purposes neatly built in.  Liza was placed in our lives as surely as a baby in your arms at the hospital.  We could just feel it, the hole being filled with just the right piece.   If you’ve been following our journey on Facebook you’ve may have an idea of how many people are praying for us, family, dear friends, acquaintances, people we barely know and many people we don’t know at all. Through our initial crisis, He’s united His body in prayer for a family adopting an orphan.  This in turn has drawn attention to the needs of all orphans – namely that of a family.  He’s changing the hearts of people with respect to how they think of orphans.  Perhaps, instead of “yes, but not me”, for some it has become “maybe me”? 

I wish I was spiritual enough to say that I wanted to adopt Liza just because I have a heart for orphans, but when I saw her last summer, I didn’t see an orphan.  I just saw my daughter. And I knew she was all alone halfway across the world. I wanted to go get her as quickly as possible and at whatever expense.  Any parent would do this for their child.  Reagan remembers watching an episode of Extreme Home Makeover some years ago in which they restored the home of a family who adopted several teenagers.  One of their young men talked about how grateful he was to his parents because everybody just wants babies.  She wished then that she was the kind of person who would do that.

Sweet 16 and never been claimed...til now

Just when it seems like things will go our way, though, God throws something in there to make us realize that it’s only going to happen by His will.  The most critical meeting of this entire journey is court.  The day before our hearing our facilitator told us of a family she’d worked with recently who were turned away by the judge.  They left here empty handed.  I just can’t imagine such a result.  We didn’t want Liza to worry at all about court, but she was nervous, like us.  She’s smart enough to know that there are still plenty of things that could go wrong.  

Liza's 16th B-Day Party

So when court was postponed from Friday, November 30^th to Tuesday, December 4^th, we started to feel like those 4 days were too much.  Like something must be wrong.  The SDA in Kiev had 10 business days before they would sign our papers.  They had our papers for 13 days, though.  The 13^th day was on Sunday, December 2^nd.  Of course, we had court scheduled for the 4^th and needed to have the signed papers in hand to attend our court date.  By 3PM on Monday the 3^rd, the papers were still not signed and it seemed like court would be delayed again.  Our facilitator told us:  “Americans know how to pray.  So please, guys, call your friends to pray for you.” So we put out the word on FB for friends to pray – and they prayed!  So many people prayed.

Her gift - a scarf from the market in town.

The phone rang. Good news!  Papers have been signed!  Bad news…  Blizzard in Kiev and flights to our region are either grounded or delayed.  Our facilitator in Kiev drove the 30 kilometers to the airport through the snow and ice for 2 hours. They found an ordinary person boarding the plane and explained what the documents were and what they were for.  That person was so moved by the desire for a 16 year old orphan to be adopted into a family, that they clutched the papers to their chest got on the plane and prayed the entire way!  When they got off the plane in region, they called our local facilitator who met them at the airport at 12:30 AM on the 4^th.  Court was on!

She LOVED it!

Our hearing was in the judge’s office with Liza represented by the orphanage social worker, two jurors, the judge and the prosecutor.  The session itself was filled with formalities; reading the same details of the case over and over again.  The judge asked us what the content of our case was: I answered formally, (paraphrased) to adopt Liza as our legal daughter, to change her name to the name she requested “Elizabeth Reagan Mountain” and to bring her home with us to the US.  The social worker told the court that she believed it was in Liza’s best interest for us to adopt her.  After a few questions from the judge and jury about how we would handle her education and social interactions, we were dismissed for a 30 minute reprieve while they deliberated.  FIVE minutes later we were called back in and sat down while the judge read the decision (in Russian of course).  One of our jurors, a stone-faced 50 year old woman in a miniskirt and thigh high boots, sat across the room smiling at us and Liza.  We knew it was good.  The judge declared our petition approved and that serious room burst into smiles all around.  

The next two hours were spent in celebration with our new daughter.  So much joy!  I toasted the table at lunch, "Today, a new daughter has been born into our family.  All children are born into families through difficult labor.  But afterward our great joy causes us to forget the pain.  None of our children earned a place in this family, but were placed here by God.  The same is true with this daughter."  Her social worker gave a toast  and we gathered for a quick photo in the cold before she had to return for the orphanage for 10 more days.  We were told ten days until the court decree becomes official.  It's turned out not to be exactly the case. 

As with everything in being here, there have been two sides to every coin.  Our joy in having a new daughter turned to sadness as she was taken away from us.  But when we went to visit her again today, things were somehow different.  We were visiting Elizabeth, not Елизавета.  We were visiting our daughter, not our soon-to-be-daughter.  And she was so happy and talkative.  We spent some time teaching each other more Russian and English - laughing at each other's attempts to pronounce difficult words or understand each language's word order.

Moments before rushing to the defense of her siblings (Read "Big Sister")

Liza may only be a child for two more years, but she needs a family for the rest of her life.  She is still so young.  I pray that some of your are reading this and being called to adopt a teenager.  Reagan calls her, "baby" and she loves it.  Even older children need to be somebody's baby.  We can't imagine life without her now.

New Sisters!

Welcoming Babushka and Dedushka to Crimea

Choosing her name - Elizabeth Reagan Mountain

Choke Hold

We’ve spent the last hour talking through emotions, Tom and I.  We’ve talked through the events of last night, where another apartment was rented for the sole purpose of another one night party.  This is a regular occurrence.  We’ve talked through all the feelings that nobody else can understand, not even friends who have spent three weeks in Ukraine adopting.  We’ve talked about what has helped and what has hurt us.  We’ve talked about how it might be when we get home and still cannot impart what’s happened, even face to face.  We’ve talked about our darkest moments.    

 We were tired enough to sleep through a normal party.  Music, voices I can ignore.  This was a something altogether different.  One guy was on some kind of drug that allowed him to sustain a maniacal, evil laughter for six solid hours.  It was paranormal.  Among those sounds, were others too inappropriate to describe.  We stuffed earphones connected to white noise devices at maximum volume, to no effect.  By 4:30 we hit a breaking point, both of us.  It was at that time that I turned on the computer to try to silence the violent thoughts we were struggling through.  But it opened the door for more ill thought out advice from well meaning people.

We cannot describe how we are being stretched and depleted.  You would have to go watch a movie that has you on the edge of your seat, gripped, crying, foregoing sleep and sustain that position for 21 days to have the slightest clue why we are unable to keep up appearances for the comfort of other people who are reading from the comforts of their own home, in their own country, with their own possessions.  Platitudes are not helping us.  Telling us what we’re doing wrong, how we could do it right, how you would do it differently is not helping us.

This scene from the movie Warrior might aid an insufficient imagination.  We feel like the brother who is losing the fight.  Please don’t respond with “You’re not losing the fight.”  We FEEL like the brother who is losing the fight.  We are fighting something that we love.  Not just fighting for something we love. We are FIGHTING something that we LOVE.  We have sustained dislocated joints, broken bones and torn muscles.  Our Father is watching but not preventing.  Our loved ones are NOT inside the ring with us, but helpless bystanders.  We can't break the choke hold.  We are exhausted and pinned.

Our brothers will hold us despite the sweat and the blood that is pouring off of us.  Our brothers will say nothing more than I’m sorry, I’m sorry, It’s okay, I love you.  You may be in the crowd cheering, but we can’t hear you right now through the pain.  We can only hear the ones that are holding us up and whispering in our ears.  We can only hear our brothers.  

Sixteen Years Ago

It was our 16^th wedding anniversary, Liza’s 16^th birthday yesterday.  Sixteen, the fateful day that has fueled our race to Ukraine.  Sixteen, the age when these kids are set off on their own.  For whatever reason, she has always celebrated her birthday on October 30^th but today is the date on her birth certificate.  We would never want to take that away from her so we will celebrate the way she has always has.  It would be, however, impossible to ignore the Hand of Providence in this date being part of our story.  Since we weren’t in Ukraine on October 30^th, this was our chance for a re-do.  A girl’s 16^th birthday should be magical.  In the orphanage though, all birthdays of a particular month are acknowledged on one day, all together.  So this was, in fact, her very first birthday party.

When the phone rang at 10am yesterday we were expecting confirmation that we could come get Liza for a special day.  As it happened that phone call was not confirmation.  It was the opposite.  We were told we were unable to take her off orphanage grounds for the special occasion.  The director was very apologetic but she said the inspector was already there as he had been for the last 5 business days.  All day, every day, doing headcounts.  The consensus is that he is trying to prevent adoptive families from having any privileges with their children before the process is complete.  If he were to discover Liza missing for a few hours, it would have a significant and detrimental impact on our court hearing this coming Tuesday.

So, Plan B: we ran to the enormous SuperMarket two blocks over and grabbed a cake.  Up the stairs on the second floor is a miniature mall.  We bought her a beautiful scarf (which she hasn’t taken off since).  Grandpa and October ran to the underground kiosks to the biggest hallways full of long stem roses ever (and by long stem, I mean 3 feet long and thick as a tree branch).  They chose a pink one, her favorite color next to Ukrainian black ;) .  It was without a doubt the most beautiful rose I have ever seen, and I used to work for a florist.  (Scheffler’s shout out for you Wheatonites).

The surprise was in the fact that she had not been told that we were trying to get special permissions in the first place.  So for Liza, there was no disappointment, only surprise.  A teacher sent her outside where all 8 of us were climbing out of our two taxis.  Keeper presented her rose by getting down on one knee.  When asked if she wanted to share her cake with her class she said, “Konyeshna!” (Of course!).  Her precious smile during the whole party was impossible to describe.  It was a little bit self conscious, a whole lot happy.  It was a smile that had been waiting her whole life to make its’ appearance. 

The class sang Happy Birthday in Russian and in English, then gave CocaCola toasts to her health and happiness in America with her big new family.  She in turn gave Tom and I a toast to our 16 years of marriage.  She grabbed my hand and we ran downstairs to take a piece of cake to her beloved Director saying, “Sank you, Mommy” all the way.  She lit up like a Christmas tree when she opened her very fashionable scarf privately afterward.  She still had it on today when we went to visit.  I would be remiss if I did not communicate how beloved she is here.  She has been well loved.  It may not be a home, but God provided for her.  Teachers stop us in the hall to say what a “good girl” she is.  Her geography teacher wanted a picture with her.   Birthdays for orphans are not easy days.  This birthday for Liza was as 16 ought to be.

**We promise to show you pictures of her sweet face after court next week.

Michael W. Smith's song from my junior high school days "Hand of Providence" has been playing in my head since early yesterday morning.  It reminds me that none of my life is accidental. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2HbrNcfmYs

Providence, Providence
See it laying down the cornerstone
The Hand of Providence - it's evident
For we could never make it on our own
Apportioning the power
Weighing all that it entails
Giving us the fulcrum
And a balance to the scales
Chorus:
Oh, the Hand of Providence
Is guiding us through choices that we make
Oh, the Hand of Providence
Is reaching out to help us on our way

Providence, ever since
Any thesis ever entered man
The Hand of Providence
Has been our best defense
Tho' his ways are sometimes hard to understand
From the dying of a heartbeat
To another soul reborn
From in between and circling
Our thoughts of love and war

Today was, by comparison, a much more difficult day.  It stormed heavily all night long.  It rained all day, dark gray and gloomy.  Hours stretched into eternity.  I can’t believe this is still the same day.  It has been black as pitch since 4 o’clock.  Our visit today was brief as all five of our kids slept and lazed most of the day away in their respective locations.  But one notable thing happened.  One thing struck me deeply as I watched a few of our kids play soccer on the pavement just outside the door of the dormitory.  It was still sprinkling and very, very dark because there are no lights outside.  I was standing on the large front steps next to a little boy named Oleg.  He was watching me intently, as Liza sometimes does to me and Tom both.  He said he was twelve, but he was tiny, possibly from malnutrition.  We’ve seen that a lot here.  I would glance quickly sideways every few minutes to see if he was still there.  Yep.  Still watching.  He didn’t look away embarrassed or even have anything to say.  His answers to my questions brief.  He was not waiting to interact with me.  I knew what he was doing, though.  He was watching me mother my children.  He wanted to study what that looks like.  He was wondering what it would be like to be the object of such affections. 

That’s what orphans do.  They dream.

Love Hate

Our poor, kind landlord has been working all day on the plumbing himself.  Our apartment looks a demolition site, smells like a porta-potty and sounds like the inside of a jet engine.  The toilet seemed to be clogged all night long.   We all had to go down the hall to my parents studio apartment to use theirs.  When I went to get in the shower this morning, the contents of the bathtub were...well...the contents of the toilet.  Okay, I can do without a shower for another day.

Dad studying Russian on the soccer field

The drive to the orphanage was, as always, a challenge to see if you can hold on to the contents of your stomach.  It is always a non-stop game of chicken. At any rate, it was cheaper because he cut 5 minutes of the ride.  We got to the orphanage at 11am to see a special presentation for Russian Week on Alexander Pushkin and Crimea in which Liza had a speaking part.  The assembly, which looked like 100 students participating, was fantastic.  They lack many things, but a good education is not one of them.  I can't speak for other orphanages but this one is filled with loving authorities who do their best to fill gaps in their charges' young lives.  A few of the kids even had English lines. Liza is a very calm public speaker; no nerves, no forgotten lines, no flushed cheeks.  She was brilliant.  We were so proud of her.  She was exceptionally glad that we were there.  We were the center of attention as all the children knew we were her family.  It is rare for them to have anyone else in the audience but students and teachers.  She was super chatty during our brief time with her and even played soccer with us today.

The assembly room filling up with students

Liza giving her speech :)

Our 4 girls playing soccer together

Our daily walk

She had a busy rest of the day so we left there and went to bowl for an hour.  They were not happy to see us.  A new woman behind the counter glared at us, rolled her eyes and took every opportunity to look exasperated.  We were conversing with her in Russian, we knew the routine of covering our shoes with little stocking booties and planned to feed all 8 of us lunch there, but that was not enough to make us valued customers.  It feels bad to be unwanted.

The kids wanted to walk through the part on the way back and ride the bumper cars but we realized halfway there that we had only 17 UAH left.  The facilitators aren't answering their phones this evening and seem to have thrown in the towel on moving up our court date.  They were supposed to find out if we could have special permission to take Liza out for her legal birthday tomorrow.  But at the moment it looks like our 16th wedding  anniversary and opportunity to be with her for one of her two birthdays is going to be mirror every other day here.  We will get a few hours to walk around the grounds, kick the soccer ball, watch a movie on a 6 inch screen.  That one is hitting a little harder and not so easy to tune out.

Our daily despondency hit us on the rest of the walk back through the city.  Most of each day we try to focus on a plan, execute our chores and errands and visits, read a book, talk about the future, explore something. And then...then thoughts of home creep in, fatigue tugs at our eyelids and we wish for our own beds; the city noise jumps on our one remaining nerve and we dream of a few minutes of peace; hunger pains twinge and we crave a real home cooked meal.  When we arrived at the apartment we found the landlord drilling something in the dismantled bathroom.  Sigh.

A little levity goes a long way

We have a love hate relationship with Ukraine.  We are here for a beautiful purpose and we get to see our sweet girl for a few hours a day, but there are forces here that deliberately delay the goal of getting her home.  The culture is unique and fascinating, the food is fresh, we are here all together in the same place, we are learning a new language, we are growing as people.  Though so much of this process doesn't make an ounce of sense to me.  I don't know why their system is such that families go home financially and emotionally exhausted with their new child(ren).  We are both.  I don't know if I've ever in my life been challenged physically, spiritually, & emotionally like this before.  Tuning out the noise (literally and figuratively) is a constant effort.  Minute to minute.  It has been 19 days since we left home, almost three weeks.  At least three weeks left to go.  I'm still waiting to round the corner to a state of peacefulness.

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

6 hours later...We decided to pressure the facilitators into at least trying to get Liza a day pass with us tomorrow for her legal b'day and our anniversary.  Sixteen for both.  Sixteen feels momentous.  She is the reason we are here and yet we spent most of our time neither with her nor accomplishing anything for the process.  If we don't speak up for ourselves, no one is going to speak up for us.  Sparring the tough Ukrainian exterior of the people here has thickened our skin, tremendously. The facilitators are saying they think we can take her to lunch and a movie tomorrow.  Hanging on to that hope tonight.

Court is set for Tuesday, December 4th.  That's not what we prayed for and we feel disappointed about five more wasted days.  I've been asking God a lot of  two year old "why" questions.  The facilitator told us tonight that she is meeting with the judge tomorrow.  She said it's to go over paperwork.  You have to understand that they have had our dossier here in Ukraine for 2 solid months.  And still they go over it, and still they make us wait, and still we are "not the parents".  I realize I sound entirely impatient.   I don't care.  I HATE the fact that this is status quo here.  Hate it.

Big Sister

классный.  The word I heard several times today from Liza.  It means "cool", and from her, it comes accompanied by a sweet smile that attempts to subdue some of the underlying excitement she's feeling.  Today, things with her were definitely классный (klassnyy).

Despite the non-stop feeling that we have no control of our lives here while wait this process out, today was a pretty decent day on other fronts.  Determined not to wallow in our inactivity, we started the day with some PT.  Reagan and Gordon went for a run through the busy city streets where only the clinically insane drive.  I returned to my Cold War gym to spend some time on the treadmill and trying not to contract tetanus from the rusted weights.  This is the same gym that requires one to bring a clean pair of sneakers to wear inside and yet offers no soap or paper towels in the bathrooms leaving you wondering at how many staph infections originate there.  But at least my shoes were clean.

We found an interesting outdoor bazaar where all manner of goods are sold (including passports, assorted stinky fish, appliances, name brand knock-offs and amazing Ukrainian food).  After picking up some chicken kabobs and rice with vegetables and beef for about $8 (for 8 people!), we ate in the apartment and I took the girls to the orphanage with Sherrie.  Reagan stayed back with an exhausted Keeper while she nursed a strained hammy from stumbling on one of the innumerable frost heaves along the streets.

The ride over to the orphanage was interesting.  We had the first ever talkative cab driver.  He didn't speak a lick of English but was thrilled to carry on a conversation with me and my limited Russian.  There are some really interesting things we've all noticed about people here in Ukraine from the moment we got off the plane.  1) The percentage of attractive women in Ukraine is ridiculously high.  It's like there's a model convention across the entire country.  (Sherrie pointed this out, not me!).  2)  Probably 80% of adults smoke. 3) Very, very few adults smile.  Ever.  In fact, everyone looks miserable.  I can't imagine why.  4) Everyone greets you on the street with the customary "здравствуйте" which means "hello".  And yet, after said greeting, nobody really wants anything to do with you.  Which is what made our ride with this particular cabbie out-of-the-ordinary.

Arriving for our daily visit at the orphanage, we were greeted by a mass of boys who were eager to play soccer with the three sporty girls (October, Isabel and Mercy).  Liza asked me if I wanted to go play with her also - until she glimpsed my Kindle and then said "movie?".  Sure, why not.  We sat down and started watching "Snow White and the Huntsman".  She has no idea who Snow White is but got into the movie.  A few moments later, some older boys came out onto the field and started pushing our kids off and teasing them, taking the ball and making hissing noises.  Liza said, "Uh-oh", got up, marched across the field, chewed them out for 3 minutes in her rapid Russian.  Mama bear in classic form.  Nobody was going to mess with her sisters!  After a little bit, I got up to play with my girls and some of the boys - just to make my presence known as well.  You know, kids don't make the best choices even when they have solid, stable families.  It's hard to get mad at them when they have no families to instill values or ethics.  Nevertheless, she was mad.  And they listened to her and made space for our kids, not bothering them again.  When you are a day away from 16 in an orphanage, you rule the roost.  The other kids listen to you.

Liza returned to me and I was so proud of her.  I said in the best Russian I could muster, "You are a very good big sister."  She looked at me curiously, "me?"
"Yes, you."
"Oh." She said and walked past as an enormous smile grew across her face.

I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking at that moment.  Never being the big sister, but now...  I walked over to her and said, "They need you, too."
"Who?"
"Your sisters.  They need you."
More smiles.  It's so hard not to be emotional every step of this journey.  Seeing the mental evolution of someone who has never had family, to step into one.  And into a role that requires a bit of responsibility too, as a big sister.  There is so much joy in becoming family with someone who desperately wants one and to show them how the need for the relationship is not one-sided.

 We returned to our movie but before long, she looked at me and said, "Concert tomorrow.  Me no 'la-la-la'.  Me 'blah-blah-blah'".
I asked, "What time does it begin?"
"Eleven.  Maybe Twelve.  You come?"
"Of course!  We will want to see you!"
She smiled her great big smile and said "Good".

After spending some time watching our movie, Liza paused and looked at me like she had something important to ask.  She walked through the number of days that remain before she can come be with us forever.  She had a few numbers off in terms of days, but I told her what we thought our remaining schedule looked like.  Afterwards, I said "you've been here a long time already."
She answered, "Ten years."
"That's too long." I said.

"Yes."

Zombies

Liza has been very happy the past two days and our visits precious.  She is calling out "Mommy" or "Daddy" more and more like it is second nature.  Priceless.  We have all enjoyed hanging out with the other American family and their new children because we all have that in common.  When you don't understand the language where you are, having anything in common with anyone is a more sizable blessing than usual.  She is ready to leave here though and would pack her bags today if it would do any good.

There are a few boys that we have become attached to and are bringing treats to each time we visit.  They looks for us and do what we do, even when it's frigid outside.  There were games of tag and king of the hill and soccer going on this afternoon.  Most of the children have between 2 and 4:30 pm for free time.  That is the only time we can visit on a weekday. Then they have homework in study halls before dinner which they take in cycles.  Liza's isn't until 7pm.   She and a boy who will soon be adopted into a family from California had a ridiculously good time playing with the zombie app on Tom's phone right before we left.

Speaking of Zombies, we're all feeling a little like that ourselves.  First me, then Isabel, then my Mom and now Tom have all had a bug of some kind that gave us a terrible stomach ache and joint pain.  Mom stayed in bed most of today.  Then she got up and as she's done every night, cooked us dinner.  It's so incredibly nice to come back to after several hours with the cold settling into our bones at the orphanage.  I don't know what shape we'd be in right now without my parents here.  Several of us are struggling to get any sleep and waking with backaches and bothersome discs.  Everyone seems to be tired all the time.  What little we're doing burns more calories and spends more emotion than it does at home.  For all of us, it's easy to lose track of the days.  Our new friend said it's like Ground Hogs Day and that is a true statement.  Everything is starting to blur together while we are missing our favorite time of year at home.  My husband said that we're bored, which is probably true some of the time.  But for me, it's not boredom so much as uselessness.

Liza told us she's in a play of some sort on Thursday morning.  We're trying to wrangle an invite from the powers that be and then head to the Black Sea for the day.  She's not allowed to go with us at all anymore until after court because as we are reminded frequently, "You are not ze parents, you are not ze parents, you are not ze parents" until AFTER the 10 day waiting period is over.

She made her first request to us since we've been here.  She said, "I want...you and you and me...go to my house...posley sud (after court)."  She hasn't seen her mother's house in nearly 10 years.  She wants one last look and a photograph.

Me & Liza doing our daily walk around the property

An Onerous Case of Ennui

A few years ago, I wrote a poem on my iPhone while waiting in the DMV.  It was aptly entitled, "An Onerous Case of Ennui". It was about a guy, bored to death while waiting in the DMV, imagining an entirely fantastic alternate reality.  Lately, I've felt like writing a sequel.

Today marks two weeks since Sherrie and I arrived in Ukraine.  After the passport fiasco, the first week was nonstop activity to get things moving: SDA appointment, travel to the region, separation petition and process, submission of positive summary back to the SDA in Kiev.  Now, we're at the point that our adoption agency's travel guide warned when it said "you will have a lot of down time."  And you could say we're bored out of our minds.  And when you get really, really bored and see no relief in sight, it starts to make you angry.  So you become bored AND angry.  We're in an apartment with not enough seats for everyone to sit down, not enough technology to keep everyone entertained, not enough room to store more than a day's worth of food.  We don't have enough hot water to shower everyone and even if we did, we don't have enough towels to dry off.  We don't have enough fluency to enjoy TV or a movie, have an easy conversation with a native or easily order food from a menu.  We don't have enough signal strength to stay on Facebook for more than 20 minutes, use Skype without dropping or watch YouTube without stalling.  To top it all off, the food we're used to eating is not readily available.  While it makes for great family time, we're utterly bored.

We had a great time bowling on Thanksgiving - and it was cheap. Around $8 for 6 people to play for an hour.  It's only about a mile away and our kids love it so we decided to walk through the park and then spend some time bowling again today.  While we were there, our facilitators came by to discuss the week ahead.

Bad news: there has been a 5-business day rule that the SDA (in Kiev) adheres to when it comes to reviewing adoption summaries.  The SDA approval is required for a local court date.  Today, our facilitator told us that the 5-day rule was an unwritten one.  It was an internal policy that the prior director of the SDA adhered to but now there is a new elected head of the SDA.  The response to the request to abide by the 5 day rule is, "where is it written"?  Well, it's not.  Therefore, the SDA can return our approval whenever they feel like it.  In essence, the court date we hoped for late this week, probably won't come until sometime next week.  Translation:  more boredom.

So we headed off to the orphanage to visit Liza and follow up on yesterday's whopper of a day.  Last night had been rough for her and rough for us too in the wake of meeting her biological mother. Around 8PM we couldn't bear the thought of her being there without anyone to talk with about what had happened and yet, with our limited linguistics, we didn't know what we could say anyway.  Nevertheless, we called Liza on the cell phone we left with her. We spoke in Russian, Liza in English. Reagan spoke first, 

"Liza? It's Mommy."  

"Hi Mommy." 

"How are you?"

"I good."

"Yeah?  I love you."

"Me too."

"Daddy wants to tell you something."

Me: "Liza, it's Papa.  Are you OK?"

"Yes"

"We want you to know that we have been thinking about you a lot tonight."

"Yes, I understand you"

"We know that today was a very hard day for you."

"Yes."

"I know it is difficult for us to communicate right now - to understand each other. It will not always be so."

"Yes.  I know."

"I love you, my daughter."

"Thank you Daddy. Me too."

When we arrived this afternoon, we were greeted with a smiling, happy Liza.  We walked down to the soccer field where she pointed to a man playing soccer with some kids.

She nodded toward him, "American".

I recognized him from the grocery store the other night.  I had seen a man in line ahead of me at the checkout.  He hadn't spoken to the cashier at all (first clue) and when he took out his Ukrainian money, I had glimpsed a greenback. 

 I called out to him and we struck up a conversation. It turns out he's not only American, but he's from the Charlotte area, just a couple hours away from us.  Only, he's already been here 6 weeks for his adoption of two teenage kids.  And he was here in April when he and his wife came to adopt two other kids.  Yep, they're adopting 4 kids from Ukraine inside of a year. They have 10 kids in total.  Wow.  And a huge heart for adoption (obviously).  He is here now with his 14 year old daughter.  We talked about how obscenely boring it is to be an American here.  Since they already had their court date, they were able to keep the two kids they're adopting with them overnight at their apartment.  He said that on Sunday afternoon, as they realized the time was approaching to return to the orphanage, the kids just clammed up and were quiet the rest of the day, dreading it.

I have to admit, when you get here and you meet these kids and get to know them, it is REALLY hard to not want to take some home with you.  They are so sweet and funny and fun - and yet wounded and sad and alone.  Most have never known true family.  Most have never known parents who love and support them.  Many have never known parents who care for their physical needs. They rely on each other for love and support.  The girls walk around holding hands.  The boys move in packs.  They rely on the State for their physical needs. But even then, it's absolutely minimal.  In the US, poverty can be defined as not having enough money to buy an iPad or to go on vacation every year.  But here...  These children own *nothing*.  They wear clothes from a community closet.  Whatever is given to them is taken away or stolen.  They are allowed one shower per week.  Meals are not very exciting - soup, bread and a piece of fruit was on yesterday's menu.  Medical procedures go unperformed unless they are life threatening. Liza has chronic tonsilitis.  Something that could have been easily resolved if they had been removed years ago.  Not only do they have no possessions.  They have no family.  This is true poverty.

To parallel this experience, on of our twins, Isabel has taken to a cuddly stray cat who she looks for every time we arrive at the orphanage.  The cat is sweet and soft but without a home.  It stays perched on a rusty hot water pipe that runs behind one of the orphanage buildings so it won't freeze overnight.  As soon as she picks up the cat, it nuzzles right up to her neck and purrs.  It wants to be loved and it wants a home.  And she wants to take it home. This is why we brought our kids here.  To see all this.  To see how great they have it. To see what true poverty is.  She announced the other day that she wants to study Russian, become a missionary to Ukraine and come back here to start a shelter for all the stray cats and dogs that walk the streets.  That makes me a proud Papa.

As we walked back up from the bleak, dusty soccer field, I looked around at the old, dilapidated orphanage buildings and thought, "Wow, there is really nothing to do at this place.  Liza has lived here for nearly 10 years.  What in the world does she do?  She must be utterly bored.  Like me."  Then I felt really terrible for thinking that selfish thought, because I have a family.