Her Brother's Keeper

An orphan, Vera doesn’t have much save her brother, seven-year-old Alexander. Years ago, their father died; subsequently, their mother’s rights to them were terminated. The Lighthouse Project had once been on her docket, before her babushka promised to care for them, squashing their chance at an adoptive family. Vera wistfully noted Babushka didn’t take them, and never visits. Hardly placeable any longer, it’s a small consolation she’s finally available for adoption, at age fifteen.

Vera’s confident, well-spoken maturity at once inspired and deflated, as she insisted she still wanted to live in America with a family, but realized her “time is ticking.” Observing the orphanage is not a proper place for Alexander to live, Vera would be happy for him if he found a family, even alone, and would let him go by himself, if necessary, to give him a chance. Living in a family would “be best for him,” she added.

Vera wants badly to stay with her brother, but not at the expense of him losing a family. The Russian government generally prohibits international citizens from splitting up siblings; when it happens, older sisters and brothers, whether of majority age or not, must consent. While this is an occasional occurence when an older sibling declines to be adopted, Vera still calls having a family her dream. She recognizes, though, that her presence in the equation hurts Alexander’s chances; young, sweet, and smart, finding his family would be a cinch, were he alone.

Excelling in ninth grade, Vera enjoys history, has many friends, and is known as a good cook. An aspiring poet, she last wrote about love; words come automatically, she says, an ability I envy more than understand. When she sets goals for herself, she expects to achieve them through work and motivation. Queried on her knowledge of English, Vera proffered an eclectic list: “Duck, my brother, my sister, do you like, library, I love you.” Her name, translated, is “Faith”; fittingly, Vera believes in God and attends church, typical for kids at her orphanage. She calls herself a good sister, a mother really, to Alexander, protecting and helping him when he finds trouble. But for all her friends, she laments there is no one in her life, outside a cousin, to protect her in the way she protects Alexander; no one mothers her.

In ten minutes, Vera managed to burden me with the most gnawing desire I’d ever felt to find a child a family. Her can-do attitude, so laudable, can’t help her keep her brother. The girl who has lost almost everyone, and will selflessly sacrifice the last love she treasures, for his good, needs a family with Solomon's wisdom to adopt them both.

Her chance has come late, very late.

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Little Family

Many circumstances confer on orphans a “special needs” moniker. If older age, developmental delay, physical need, or being part of a sibling group make finding the right family more challenging and success more rewarding, imagine the emotional reward that would accompany finding a mom and dad with room in their hearts and home for five!

Our Lighthouse Project translator told me last week of Artemiy, 9; Ruslan, 8; Ekaterina, 7; Alla, 4; and Oksana, 3, five brothers and sisters who await adoption, hopefully together. While the Russian government is generally loath to split up families, the translator postulated an exception might be made here. It is unusual for children under the age of five to live in the same orphanage as older children, but in this small orphanage in small town northern Russia, all five kids are together. Since they know and care for each other, it seems all the more heartless to acquiesce to such a placement strategy.

As if five children seeking one family were not a tall enough order, another issue conspires to compound the challenge. Ideally, interested families would have a completed home study in hand, along with USCIS approval to adopt internationally from Russia. Time is of the essence; the longer the children must wait for their adoptive family, the greater the risk they might be separated forever by the Russian foster care system.

While it strains credulity to believe a family wanting quintuplets both exists and reads this tiny blog, waving the white flag without even an attempt at locating that family is repellent to me.