Rolla

It’s near the end of another Lighthouse Project trip; we’re in Rolla, Missouri, this time, a town I’ve passed through driving I-44 toward Tulsa, Oklahoma, to plan and coordinate my trips there. It’s small town America, memorable only since I love Rolo candy, so if you’d told me my last time through that next time I’d stay a week to help a new coordinator run her first trip, I’d have found the claim dubious, at best.

When Elaine first wrote to me asking about running a trip to Rolla, it was on the heels of my January Tulsa trip. I’d just arrived home and was recovering from the almost unspeakably exhausting task of coordinating a trip, so I begged out of calling her right away. Not to worry, she said. She’d just gotten home five days earlier with her new twelve-year-old daughter from China and was recovering herself. I was on alert that Elaine was either very naïve about the rigors of running a trip, or else she was strangely ambitious, maybe had a Wonder Woman suit under her clothes.

Elaine was the first potential coordinator I didn’t manage to scare off with my description of the grueling task of coordinating. Through hours and hours and hours of conversations, we discussed how to present the project to callers, the merits of every potential host family, where children should go, everything I’d found that worked and didn’t, running Vacation Bible School, producing the evening program, how to promote the kids while they were in town, how to entertain the translator and chaperone, where to buy Russian Bibles, how to troubleshoot a palette of problems, and myriad other subjects too numerous to count. Elaine listened, understood, and followed through with aplomb. The truth is she doesn’t have a Wonder Woman suit; she’s got a whole closetful.

It wasn’t her fault I left one part off.

I didn’t tell her about the impotence she’d feel as the trip sputters toward its conclusion and there are kids left for whom a draining of her mental resources is insufficient to finding families. I neglected to tell her how she’d feel when she’d done everything, absolutely everything she could think of, and the world keeps turning and nobody notices that a few kids have been on a wild goose chase halfway around the globe. I didn’t say that if you’re conscientious, you’ll ask yourself a thousand times what you could have done but didn’t, what stone you left unturned, that sends a child back to the orphanage thinking there is no one, in Russia or America, who wants to be mom or dad. She didn’t hear that when you finally assuage your conscience realizing you did everything you reasonably could, and then some, resultant comfort is minced since it hardly matters to a still-motherless waif who depended on you without their even knowing it. And the most deflating epiphany might come at the end if families you thought were committed back out later, leaving you no time to further mine the nooks and crannies of resourcefulness.

The secret is out tonight. When Elaine left this evening, she told me to call her if I came up with any brilliant ideas, but her phone’s not ringing. There are three children for whom there is no one; worse, one child is on his second trip. It’s not for lack of spreading the word or praying; Elaine’s been on the radio, sent out a crazy number of press releases, sent 300 letters to churches, made roadside signs advertising the evening program, contacted homeschool groups, offered free housing to out-of-staters to entice them to host a child, and talked herself hoarse. Three kids wait, oblivious to, and unaided by, the efforts expended on their behalves.

Ten-year-old Vasily has the freckles I fall for. Most kids, the first time they meet you, ignore your attempt at basic Russian pleasantries. Not Vasily. My butchered “Preveyet, Vasily! Kak dela?” was met with a hearty “Haroshow!” and outstretched hand for shaking. Freckles? Check. Fun-loving? Check. Friendly? Another check. Vasily’s my favorite child on the trip, but I’m left lamenting that my enthusiasm was less than contagious.

Unobtrusive Vladimir, ten, is Vasily’s polar opposite. Vladimir bowed his head and cried during the question and answer segment of the evening program when he got a question about his visit to the local fire station. He didn’t have a parent to engulf him in a reassuring hug and help him through his shyness. When the trip is over, it appears he still won’t.

Most distressingly, Andrei, age 13, a two-trip alumni, must face his friends in the knowledge that visits to two states were not enough to find someone who wanted him. He still has his glasses from the first trip and wears them religiously, even though it’s not cool, so he’s earning better grades in school. The cynic within me tonight taunts me, saying scholastic improvement is irrelevant, since it looks as if no parent will ever see his report card.

It’s God’s program and the results are His. Elaine knows that. I know that. We’ll take comfort in that later when the kids are gone and there is truly nothing else we can do. But right here, right now, the kids still hope and they still have a chance. Watching the clock tick down toward Monday morning’s departure, we think we should do something. Just what is less clear. And when you’ve done everything you can think of and it’s still not enough, feeling impotent comes naturally.

So I’m sorry, Elaine, that I didn’t tell you the greater the effort, the greater the letdown when that effort is still insufficient. But I’m even sorrier for the kids who will go back, wondering what’s wrong with them, having met so many people, but not one parent.

Happy Birthday, Katya!

Working through interviews of kids for my July 2008 Lighthouse Project trip, I waded through an overexposed interview of a then- thirteen-year-old Katya. Amongst other things, she mentioned she was doing leg exercises, and I didn’t think much about it at the time. Understanding arrived past midnight on a July 2008 night at the airport as I met the kids in Michigan. Katya lagged behind, struggling to walk. She apologized to the translator for slowing the group and not walking better, and explained the stilted gait as cerebral palsy.

Katya was an immensely sweet girl, but the day before the kids returned to Russia I still had no leads. At VBS that last morning, a nice lady came to meet Katya; it was her fourteenth birthday. They shared the day and ate birthday cake together. By mid-afternoon, the family was “100% committed” to adopting her. Based on this assurance, I promoted only other children with a confident serenity that Katya had already found her family.

Happy Birthday, Katya, right?

Wrong. The next day the kids returned to Russia, though they had scarcely arrived home when the family changed their minds. They gave a few reasons, excuses, really, and nothing they hadn’t known at the time they were 100% committed. Not that it mattered: Katya was gone, I now knew she had special needs, and no other family had expressed interest.

Katya’s second chance would have been Tulsa in November 2008. When a last-minute, dysentery-inspired orphanage quarantine kept her, and six others, at home in Russia, it was Katya my heart ached most for. But the Lighthouse Project returned to Tulsa in January this year to give those quarantined souls, and a few newcomers, their chances at families. Katya came on that trip, played the piano, sang a solo at the evening program, and slept in what she proudly told the translator was a “princess bed.” Mid-week, her host mom whispered to me they loved her and how well she fit in their family. A decision to adopt was followed by a flurry of paperwork finished at breakneck speed.

Earlier today, less than six months after Katya’s departure, her parents-to-be stood in a Russian courtroom. The judge asked Katya why she wanted to go with people who’d traveled halfway around the world for her. The answer was as simple as it was profound: she wanted a family. There was no reason not to; the judge approved the adoption. Providentially, it was Katya’s fifteenth birthday. While she got what most kids her age already have, it was the well-chosen gift she wanted most: a family.

So to a very special family, congratulations! I pray for you the best adoption ever. May you be as blessed as you have blessed.

To Katya, I wish you the happiest of birthdays! Bring joy to the family that has brought such joy to you. You’ve found your family. You’re a daughter.

What a difference a year makes.

Meet the Missouri Russian Orphan Lighthouse Project Children This Evening!

The Russian Orphan Lighthouse Project announces a free program of Russian song and poetry to be presented on Wednesday, July 8, at 7:00 p.m. Thirteen Russian orphans are spending July 3-13 in Missouri with host families, giving them the opportunity to meet Jesus and, hopefully, a forever family.You’ll have a chance to meet children available for adoption: Sergei, 11; Vladimir, 10; Anton, 13; Ekaterina, 13; Andrei, 13; Daniil, 10; Xenia, 9; Luba, 13; Anastasia, 13; Vasily, 10; siblings Alexei, 14, and Evgenia, 12; and Egor, 9. The program will be held at First Assembly of God, 1608 N. Oak in Rolla. Even if your only desire is to support the children, you are welcome. If you know of other Christian families interested in adoption, please urge them to attend. Please call Elaine Harrison at (573) 465-3222 or Becky De Nooy at (616) 245-3216 for further details.

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.

Eager

A family in Michigan can’t stop thinking about Egor; can’t stop praying for him, either. When seeking updates on my blog for another Lighthouse child, an incredible mom stumbled across my post about this extra-special boy, (Unmasked, 4/22/09). Kind-hearted souls have seen him, expressing sympathy for his plight, but her maternal eyes saw more: her son, waiting hopefully in his orphanage for an emergency dose of compassion. Six brothers and sisters love him already; Mom and Dad think he’s precious, just as he is. Eagerly anticipating hosting him on the July Missouri Lighthouse Project trip, they especially hunger to get him home forever to share the love and attention he starves for now.

It’s rare a family combines both willingness to adopt an older child and ability to pay without help. I’ve lost count of the number of potential adoptive families with whom I’ve spoken, and have finally concluded that while a wedding of willingness and ability are ideal, I’d take willingness over ability any day if forced to choose. I sense this more acutely in Egor’s case; if his adoption were free, would there be more aspirants? As it transpires, the cost of adoption is the only obstacle Egor’s hopeful family faces. While the director of the Lighthouse Project will complete the adoption at cost, the many other people involved still need to be paid, so even with this nod, Egor’s adoption would be cost-prohibitive for the family without external assistance.

In my most fervent prayers, I never expected a family to pick Egor so swiftly. As the perfect family awaits God’s provision, Egor waits shyly, his dream of a mama and papa within his grasp.

***

A tax-deductible account is being set up to receive contributions for Egor’s adoption. If you would like to help Egor join his family, please contact Becky via phone at (616) 245-3216 or through the Lighthouse Project .

Oklahoma!

Hoping to travel to Oklahoma, and just needing host families:

Vitaly, 7, and Alexandra, 5, are siblings. No information is available on them currently; hopefully a faith-filled family will agree to host them.

Dmitry B., 11, and Alexander B., 6, are brothers. Fourth grade Dmitry enjoys art, drawing, math, and computer classes. His best friend lives near the orphanage; Dmitry said they share secrets and everything else. He hopes to be a chef, and can already make soup; pickle soup and garlic are his favorite foods. In his spare time he visits a teacher who works on crafts with him. He also enjoys soccer and reading fiction. His favorite seasons are summer because he can fish and go mushroom hunting, and winter because he can throw snowballs. Alexander is a kindergartner. He likes puzzles and playing soccer. Spring is his favorite season. He likes to eat beet soup and cabbage. He hopes to be a pilot, explaining he likes to fly.

Dmitry K., 13, enjoys math and wants to be an archeologist in Egypt. He likes the colors green and pink. He likes to make crafts and does not particularly like sports. He would like to have a cat. He likes honest and fair people and dislikes it when people fight. He would like to do better in school and help the poor. He has read the Bible and knows that Jesus came to earth.

Artom, 11, finished fourth grade. While other kids play, this kind and industrious boy knits socks in bed before going to sleep for the night.

Bubbly Alena, 10, considers herself optimistic, a trait very apparent in her interview; the longer her translator spoke in English, the more smiley Alena became. She gets all grades in school, playfully confessing she can be lazy and doesn’t always do her homework. She wants to do better in school, aspiring to attend college and teach kindergarten. She loves playing with children because the young kids she knows are sweet and kind. Alena likes to draw, dance, watch TV, and would like to make clothes when she’s older. Her favorite seasons are summer, when she can swim, and winter, when she can throw snowballs. Her wish is to have a family who owns horses; she has never even seen a horse in person before.

Dimpled Angelina, 13, has lived in her orphanage six years. While she likes living there, she wishes her biological mother would stop drinking so she could live with her again. Noting there is not too much good in her life, she misses home. Angelina was cautious about sharing her dream, but finally confided she’d like a family of her own.

Kristina, 14, is in seventh grade; she enjoys literature, physical education, and music classes most. She likes drawing and would study English but for lack of a teacher. While she formerly was able to play the piano, she no longer remembers. Her favorite days are her birthday and New Year’s Day. She hopes her future will include a good family, a computer, and a career as a veterinarian. She worries whether she will have sufficient money to feed her children once she has them. If she were president, she would ban alcohol, cigarettes, and drugs, and she would assist the poor.

Twelve-year-old Andrei liked fifth grade, and prefers math and physical education. He enjoys playing ping pong with his friends. As he loves soccer and likes teaching, he would like to be a soccer coach. His favorite colors are red and white, the same colors as the team he roots for. Andrei said he likes to eat everything, but doesn’t know how to cook. He believes in God and has attended church in the past. He wishes for peace for the whole world. After eight years in his orphanage, Andrei is ready to join a family with good people.

Sisters Anastasia, 11, and Anna, 9, get along well together. Anastasia’s best class in fourth grade was Russian. She enjoys reading fairy tales. She’d like to be a rescue team member when she’s older; she wants to help people. Her favorite color is orange because it’s bright. She wishes for a dog, health, and the chance to travel. She believes in God and would like to be baptized. Anna finished first grade; she likes to play when school’s over. She enjoys playing the piano and says she’s a good singer. She wants to work in a shop when she’s older. She likes eating porridge, making snowmen, and skiing. Her one wish is to have a doll.

Waiting Heart, Wrong Arms

Seven-year-old Yuri was looking out a window when he got the thrill of a lifetime. Heading toward his orphanage were people he recognized from a Lighthouse Project trip he’d been on several months previous; his family had come! Sprinting down the hallway, bounding out the door, Yuri leaped into their arms, overjoyed his wait was over.

It would have been a heartwarming scene, except for one problem: the couple had come for a different child they’d met on his trip. It was devastating for all involved. A pall was cast over the family’s joy, Yuri was crushed, and others who’d witnessed it suffered vicariously with him in his bitter disappointment. I heard the next day, and with aching heart resolved to do my part to locate parents for him who would show up soon.

Yuri, now nine, is a smart boy, as confident and articulate as his age allows. Charming with his darling smile and quick laugh, he’s still young enough that age does not pose an undue hurdle in recruiting. My notes on him are categorically succinct: “complete winner.”

Eighteen months after Yuri’s colossal letdown, I’ve mentioned him to a myriad of families. Thrice since, he’s been scheduled to travel on Lighthouse Project trips I’ve coordinated, but illness conspired to keep him home. His health is fragile, though as an insulin-dependent diabetic, his very life depends on finding a family. Russian orphanage directors have expansive latitude in deciding who can leave and who must stay, and Yuri’s cautiously felt his first trip to America was too taxing. Now, if he is ever to be adopted, a family will have to visit him in Russia first rather than meeting him in America on a Lighthouse trip.

This chafes: as a seasoned coordinator, I am more cognizant than I’d like of the difficulty finding families willing to go to Russia to meet an older child. The Lighthouse Project concept is predicated on our experience that precious few families do so. Most who adopt older international children do so having met them in America with a relatively minimal commitment prior to the meeting. Parents first meeting children in Russia are much further along in their paper chase than families meeting Lighthouse children here. Worse, Yuri’s medical issues do not engender confidence amongst would-be adoptive families who might otherwise visit him. It’s “safer,” for everyone other than Yuri, to just meet a different child here before becoming overly involved. I’ve spoken to hundreds of families in thousands of conversations, so my brain understands the logic.

Envisioning Yuri in his despondent trudge back up the steps of his orphanage, my heart is less acquiescing.