It's Tough Meeting Family!

My daughter has dipped her toe into the vast ocean of her birth relatives. It's a scary sail! The tides of uncertainty pull her under. The currents of truth and falsehoods are murky and difficult to navigate. Emotions are tossed high upon the crests of waves and then pummeled into oblivion by simple misunderstandings. Her elation is still there, but there is a hint of caution in her voice as well.

When a family has been disrupted through neglect and the need for foster care and adoption, there is a lot of reckoning to do at reunification. Forgiveness is noble, but never reckless. There are reasons for the events in her past and they are being laid painfully bare for her now. It is an intense time for her of questioning, evaluating, and healing.

I am especially thankful for two people at this time, one of my daughter's older biological brothers and her older biological sister. Just as they had cared for her physical needs when she was a baby, they have now come alongside her to protect her emotional well-being as well. They are truly special people and we are blessed to have met them.

There is a romantic side of reunification the media loves to portray. There is also the reality, which is often tougher than it looks, but is, in the end, well worth the effort.

Birthfamily FOUND!

She did it! Andriana posted this picture, got people to share it, and is, at this very moment, talking for the first time with her older sister who hasn't seen Andriana since she was a baby, but has been looking for her.

There are five other siblings and a mother to try to contact.

We're opening a new chapter.

Oh, the emotions!

Me, the Proud Auntie

I am a teacher and I have been blessed to have been able to teach four out of five of my children. I have also been blessed to teach six of my twelve nieces and nephews.

In my Bible class I asked my students to write a thank you letter to God. I got the usual results. Thank you for my cat. Thank you for my house. Thank you for my mom and dad.

But then, my eyes fell upon a different sort of letter. It stopped me and made me focus intently on the words penciled on the page before me. By the time I got to the end, I had tears in my eyes. Curious, I flipped the page over to see who had written this beautiful prayer. And, I must confess, I got all goose-bumpy when I saw my sweet thirteen-year-old niece's name printed at the top!


This was her letter....

Our loving Father, which art in Heaven, thank you for a family that loves me and helps me in times of trouble. Thank you for the school which I am in. Thank you for a chance to further my education. I especially want to thank you for the loving kindness You've shown to a sinner like me. I don't deserve it. Thank You, God, for being the greatest Father I've ever known, the greatest Friend I've ever met, and the greatest Help in trouble. Thank You so much for the good friends You've given me. Thank You for sending Your Son to die on the cross for my sins. Thank You, God, for just being You. Amen!

Reeling and Writing

I have to be honest. The news that our Latvian kids didn't want to be adopted by us really sent us into a tailspin. I kind of went into mourning. It felt like someone had died in our family. It was, and still is, so incredibly difficult to wrap my mind around this whole thing. So many questions plague me. What happened? What went wrong? Why?

I am learning some things now that are answering some of those questions, but the hole in my heart remains. The hopeful part of me still prays for a miracle. The logical part of me tells me to move on. The realist part of me says to sit still and wait for God's leading. The I-can't-sit-still-and-wait part of me jumps into action with a new project.

Writing has always been cathartic for me. During this time of waiting and praying, I've decided to get started on something I've always wanted to do, but never seemed to have the time for. I really don't have time for it now, but creativity helps me heal.

So ...

I'm writing a book!

It's entitled "Marie: Woman of Beauty, Mother of Courage" and is about my grandmother. I'm posting the first chapter here in the hopes that I'll get honest feedback and some motivation to continue.

Thanks!

Chapter 1 - Escape!

Stealthily they crept like shadows through the gathering darkness, dodging Nazi soldiers dashing madly about, and slipping between trucks bearing the swastika symbol. The rumble of military jeeps filled the air, nearly drowning out the urgent commands barked left and right. The five figures paused in the midst of the commotion to peer through the smoky haze in an anxious search for the correct vehicle. It had to be the right one!

“Over there!” Marie pointed and the frightened group pressed onward towards the back of a truck carrying ammunition. The young driver gave a grim nod and a quick jerk with his thumb towards the bed, then bent back towards his work of duct taping the headlights, allowing on a sliver of light to shine through. Fourteen-year-old Henry clambered over the bed’s rails, then leaned down to help his twelve-year-old sister, Ester. “Hurry!” Marie directed as she and her sister, Anne, climbed aboard. Last up was Anne’s husband, Rolf.

Marie settled herself onto the cold steel and pulled her coat a little tighter. She would not let herself think of the memories they were leaving behind. She watched as her son, Henry, observed the activity unfolding around them. He was the mirror image of her husband. Athletic and strong, he was becoming a man now and needed a future he could look forward to. Marie’s gaze shifted to Ester, her daughter. Quiet and pretty, she loved to read and learn. Marie adjusted the small suitcase containing all she could take with her as the truck jerked to a start. Reviewing the dark events of the last few years, Marie reminded herself once again that she was making the right decision.

The Nazi caravan lumbered into motion as vehicle after vehicle fell into line in the direction of Estonia’s southern border. The Nazi occupation of Estonia was over at last, but there would be no victory celebrations on this night. At that moment a new occupier was crossing Estonia’s eastern border. Russia, with its Communist fury and vision of a massive Soviet Union, was quickly claiming ownership of Estonia’s blood-soaked soil.

Suddenly the caravan came to an abrupt stop. Doors flew open as officers and soldiers fled into the forests. The dull roar of an airplane could be heard overhead. Was it Soviet aircraft? Marie and her family scrambled off the truck and raced beneath the protective cover of Estonia’s vast forests. It would not be the only time on this journey that Marie would whisper desperate prayers for the safety of her family.

The unidentified plane disappeared in the night sky without incident and the caravan resumed its homeward voyage down through Latvia and into Lithuania. These Baltic countries would soon fall, as Estonia had, into the iron clutches of Soviet control. Reeling from the carnage of Hitler’s rampage, Western Europe was catching its first breath of freedom. Eastern Europe, however, could feel the cold breath of Soviet oppression breathing down their necks. It would be a many years before the fires of freedom would thaw Russia’s icy grip on Estonia and her Baltic neighbors.

Perched atop an ammunition pile on the back of a Nazi truck carrying her far away from her beloved homeland, Marie could not think of Estonia’s future. She could only focus on providing the opportunity for freedom for herself and her children. The farther she could distance her family from the evil clutches of Communism, the safer she would feel.

No.

It's a word that is only two letters long but it can bring your world to an abrupt standstill.

It did for us.

Our four Latvian kids have said "No" to our adoption request.

Simple.

End of story.

No.

I don't understand why. I don't like it. I don't want it to be this way.

But the answer remains...

No.

And I feel like this big chunk of my heart just curled up and died.

I hurt.

I rage.

I beg God for ...

answers...

reasons...

guidance.

I don't want to accept it.

No.

The word can be as final and devestating as death.

No.

The word echoes throughout my soul and reverberates through my thoughts.

No.

And yet, through the tears...

there is an Almighty arm I lean on and trust in everything.

And He promises...

That He will bring something good ...

out of every ...

No.

I Quit -- But God Didn't

It's hard to believe it's only been two short weeks since we kissed our Latvian sweeties good-bye. It seems so much longer. The days have just crawled by.

This whole experience has been like a dream -- a good dream that I don't want to wake up from. And, yet, I'm sobered by the thought that it almost didn't happen.

Three weeks into our frantic fundraising journey, my faith crumbled. I am ashamed to admit it, but I began looking at the numbers and the dollar signs and became completely overwhelmed. "I can't do it!" I sighed. (My husband wasn't completely on board with the hosting idea at that point, so he wasn't much encouragement either.) It was just a crazy dream I had that was completely devoid of logic. I decided I should be responsible and call New Horizons to tell them we just couldn't do it. I would quit, so someone else could host them. The more I thought about, the more sure I became of my plan.

There was just one problem...

I hadn't prayed about it yet.

All good Christians should pray about things, even if they "know" what to do, so I did my Christian duty and shot a prayer off to God. In the process, I felt impressed to ask for a sign.

I had recently set up the fundraising website that is still in the left column of this blog and had received several donations on it. But nothing had come in in some time. "Father." I prayed, "If I even get a $20 donation before I call New Horizons, I will take it as a sign that we should continue to move forward with hosting these kids." My prayer finished, I hurried off to school determined to make the phone call at the 10:00 recess.

When 10:00 rolled around, I made the sudden discovery that in my haste to leave for school, I had left my phone at home. I borrowed a phone and called my husband, asking him to bring me my phone. For some reason, it took him awhile to get it to me. By the time I could make the call, it was well past lunch.

Phone in hand, I checked our fundraising account for any recent donations. Had a $20 donation come in? Did God want me to stop? What was His will for us?

Tears formed as the donation total showed a $100 increase. ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS! Five times as much as I had asked for! It was too much. I bowed my head and thanked God for showing me so clearly His will for us regarding these children.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Does God care about orphans?

More than we can imagine!!!

Saying Good-Bye

I can't say I've ever excelled at saying good-bye. There's always an ache in my heart and the dark thoughts that swirl through my mind about whether or not I will ever see them again.

Saying good-bye to our Latvian kids was all of the above times one hundred. In fact it's taken me a whole week to be able to even blog about it without breaking down and crying while I write. Yes, it hurts that much.

We arrived at the airport at 5:00 a.m. The kids were all blurry-eyed as we drove through the dark morning hours. They dozed all the way to the airport, but sprang into action as soon as we hit the bright lights of the airport. We got them checked in (all under the 50 pound limit) and then joined the other families clustered in little groups at the designated waiting place.

The kids were happy and cheerful while they munched on snacks and played a few games on Andie's IPAD that we borrowed for the occasion. At one point Samanta sat next to me and leaned her head on my shoulder. I patted her cheek and told her she would always be my baby. She smiled softly and said, "Yes."

Liga climbed onto my lap for some more last-minute snuggles. She took my face in her hands and said, "You. Me. Latvia." I shook my head sadly. She thought for a moment, then said. "You. Me. Here." Again I had to shake my head. She sighed and went quiet for a little while, content to just be held for the time being.

And then all to soon, the moment we had all dreaded arrived.

The chaperone called out, "Valerija! Samanta! Liga! Eltons!" And something in my heart just snapped. This was it! After one month of loving and giving and giving and loving, how do you just stop?

Elton stiffened. His head dropped down and his arms hung limply at his sides. His sisters tried to get him to hug us, but he was not able to. I kissed his little cheeks and my tears fell on his face. Valerija did not cry nor did she smile. She had a look in her eyes that told of too much hurt and disappointment. She went through the motions of hugging us and saying good-bye because she is so polite and proper. Samanta also stiffened up. She hugged us, but it was not with the usual warmth or enthusiasm as before. And little Liga, clung to Samanta's hand after her good-bye was over.

Shawn and I joined the other host parents at the railing. You would have thought we were at a funeral. The somber silence that hung over our group was interrupted only by more good-byes as subsequent kids parted from their host parents, the flash of last minute photos, and the muffled sniffs of broken-hearted people wiping their eyes and noses. No, it was not easy.

This week the hosting organization asked us what our intent was regarding these four. That was one of the easiest questions I have EVER answered. What is our intent? To get them back home as fast as possible!!!! This broken-hearted mama is on a mission to get her babies back home to stay home FOREVER!!! So help me, God!

One Week Left

It's the story of my life.

Always wondering...

Where time went.

At this time next Sunday our house will be down to six people instead of ten.

Our four Latvian sweeties will be heading home.

Our future with them is,

at best,

unknown.

In the midst of crossing all our t's and dotting our i's in making sure everything gets done that is supposed to get done for the hosting agency, I find myself wanting to hang on to them a little longer.

I catch myself watching them play,

smiling at their laughter,

hugging them often.

I know they feel it too.

Valerija and Samanta told Shawn the other day, "Seven days and we go home. We no want go home. We like stay here."

Eltons handed Shawn a note yesterday that had three words on it:

Mamma

Eltons

Tetis ("Daddy" in Latvian)

I like how he sandwiched himself in between mommy and daddy.

Liga colored a picture for me and wrote, "Latviski mammai no Ligas." (Translation: Latvian mother of Liga). As she handed me the picture she pointed to the words and then pointed to me. I'm not exactly sure what she was trying to tell me with that phrase, but a week prior to that she had hugged me and said, in English, "You my mommy."

We are not allowed to talk about adoption with the kids and we haven't. But it's hard not to act like their parents. Initially, we introduced ourselves as Shawn and Margie. The kids opted for Daddy and Mommy.

For now we will complete our responsibilities with them as host parents. When they leave, we will begin our home study. We are not rich and don't even know if we will qualify with the US government to bring four kids from a foreign country into our home. But, if this is God's will, it will happen -- one way or another.

So, we will pray and walk through every door that opens, trusting that God will work all things out for His honor and glory and for the good of us and our Latvian loves.

Miles of Smiles

I must say that nothing gives me more joy than to see our kids smiling.

Our recent trip to Florida was filled with miles of smiles. I was lucky enough to capture some of the best while the kids were swimming.

And now to endure the grumpy aftermath of too many late nights and sugary treats. Sigh. Glad I have the pictures to carry me through.

He's All Boy

Elton is all boy. Today he chewed up a nugget of dog food, ran around the house with his underwear on his head (clean, thankfully), and belched as loudly as he could as often as he could. With an audience of seven girls watching his every move, his antics earned him exactly the reaction he was looking for. "Eeeeeew, Elton!" Gotta love having a boy around the house! Can't wait to see what he'll do tomorrow!

Day 4 of hosting!