Isaiah 43

Still Here

2012-01-28T22:13:00.000-08:00

Haven't written in a long time.
Life is crazy.
Writing music.
Loving God.
Loving a prodigal.
Growing and learning.
Changing.
Hope!

Here's some images of baby girl Neah. Talk about changing.....wow!

She's coming out of a cocoon and becoming a beautiful butterfly!

Unexpected Failure

2011-08-31T00:16:00.001-07:00

In 2004, on a warm spring night, I met a young man at the airport. Immediately, I fell in love. He stole my heart right then and there and I knew, without doubt, that he was my son. I counted days until he could home for good, and I waited.

On the night I met him, I wrote these words:

My Sasha

I have tall, strong boys in my life---
They fill me, they make me whole.
How can there be room for more?
How can there be another soul
That exists inside of me?
Just how can that be?

But, yet,
I stood in the restless crowd,
Nodding heads, nervous grins, bobbing balloons,
All waiting to celebrate love--
A love yet to grow.

Then, at once, there they are---
Small strangers from far away
Looking for love,
Looking to know that someone new
Can become someone they knew "all along."

The timid blue shirts follow each other,
Keep going, keep going,
deeper into the swirling bustle.
Someone cheers, someone hugs,
Some of the blue shirts are captured.
The rest keep going, keep going,
And I wait.

I see!
I see green, tired eyes under a cap of tousled hair.
The blue eyes don't see me, but, I know those eyes.
So, off I go into the cacophony,
Keep going, keep going,
Until I get there.

When I get there I whispered, "Sasha."
Then I looked deep into the soul of another,
And knew.
I just knew.
He DOES belong to me---he's part of me!
I can't help but hold him tight,
The tears roll down my cheek,
I'll never be the same---there's another part of me.

I found that there was no "love to grow,"
The growing had been done!
The love was full and there to stay--
This stranger was not new.
He is my Sasha---and, in fact,
He was my Sasha all along.

My love has not changed; but, he has. He is gone. I don't know where he lives. I don't know his friends. I don't know his life at all. He walked away. My love was not enough for him. This family was not enough. Even God was not enough for him.

He has turned his back on all of us and is just plain gone. He has himself wrapped up in himself, and there's no room for any of us.

For the past 5 months I have grieved a dark and consuming grief. It has stopped me cold. But, this past week-end, I let go. I just let go.

He's gone.

It seems pretty often that a message comes up on my phone---"Unexpected Failure." Every time I see that message it feels as though some unseen force of darkness is poking me with accusation---I failed. It all failed. He never did really succeed at being part of a family. He never gave me his heart; his heart is still his own. This is a failure that I never, ever, ever expected. It's an unexpected failure of magnificent potency, at least for now.

So, now the time is passing again, and I wait. I count the days and I wait until he will once more sit beside me and be my son.

I'll never be the same---there's another part of me----and that part is gone.

Post Mother Day Coping

2011-05-09T12:07:00.001-07:00

Hmmm, yesterday. Well, what can I say? I had kids who made me cards and bought me flowers and cleaned the house---and it was awesome. Then, I had my wayward son who called and made my day.....for a bit. Then, we had to talk again and I learned that he spent the day with his friends, even the married woman, and that he lied to me earlier on the first phone conversation. He let it be known that his friends mean everything to him; and I mean nothing.

It was a hard mother's day, for sure. (Also, I drove 5 hours to see my parents who are in the hospital--yes, both of them. My dad had a stroke and is incapacitated)

It's over....but, the pain lingers. So, today, I have stayed in bed to the middle of the afternoon.

That's how I've coped today. Someday, I won't feel this pain. But, for now, I do. And this is how I'm coping----in pajamas, in bed.

Write me more.....I love to hear how you have made it through the tough times.

Tell me more.

Tell Me

2011-05-07T13:36:00.000-07:00

Dear All, in the proving that we're not alone in the sorrow's of life , I was wondering if any of you would be willing to share how you have spent some of your most sorrowful moments in life. I will share one of mine: I get in the car and drive by myself and sob and scream and scream and scream. I let God have it, I let my son (who .I pretend to be sitting there with me) have it, I let Satan have it. This has become my number one coping skill at the very worst of the worst of the worst moments.

There's one of mine.

There's a book I have just read that I would recommend for anyone who is hurting with their child. It's by Barbara Johnson. She dares to tell the truth about what you really will feel. It's not for anyone who has not gone through these same feelings---you will only judge the rest of us. The name of the book is When Your Child Breaks Your Heart.

So, please tell me about your darkness moments. I want to know that I'm not alone. I want you to know that you're not alone either. Tell me, please! If you don't want to post it here, write me at: manymusic@gmail.com

Love ya'll!

Moonlight Cry

2011-05-02T21:47:00.000-07:00

I don't pretend to think that my life is important enough for anyone to follow, but I do want to explain my long absence from writing, just in case you wondered. It's all just about dealing with life. So many of you have commented that you are on the same path that I am currently on. It's really tough, isn't it? It does seem, though, that the stories I hear from others is that they, the prodigals, always come back around to some kind of relationship---even if it takes years. I haven't written much, even for my own sanity. Sometimes words are just too real to put down on paper. But, one night, in my grief, I did write these words. I'm praying for all of ya'll's prodigals, too. Let's stick together!

Sable moonlight....cry!
My soul falls to deep, deep dark,
I cry aloud for you.
A Life was given for me, and for you,
and now I offer mine.
My life is yours, take it all.
I cry in day, I cry at night,
I only want you back.

Heart of my heart, my soul tied to yours,
this pain I bear won't stand,
for more, more, more dark or alone,
I only want you back.

Sable moonlight
touches me through
walks of windy grief.

I cry and cry; I cry alone,
I only want you back.
Sable moonlight .....cry.

More Coffee

2011-04-12T20:58:00.000-07:00

Over a year ago, I sat in the Starbucks in Burleson where I received an email asking if it were 'too late' for my son to come home, an email from Ukraine that brought joy. Last week, I sat in that very same Starbucks without much joy. I sat with a friend, a woman older than I and more experienced and has had her own prodigal. She was a lifeline for me and had some important things to say. Thought I'd share them with you:

*Apparently, the prodigal son story in the Bible is translated a little nicer than was actually meant. The prodigal literally said/implied to his father, "I wish you were dead."

*The prodigal's father looked down the road for him every single day, expecting him to come back. I/we should expect our prodigal to come back, too.

*All prodigals have to 'get their fill' of what it is they want. They have to be totally sick of having everything they want.

*Love unconditionally....no matter what. Love without strings attached---of course, that doesn't mean we ever condone or enable....just love without asking questions.

*Think of the price Jesus paid for us, shouldn't we be willing to pay the same price for our kids/prodigal?

*By going through these experiences with our prodigal, I/we will tap into the very heart of Jesus in a way that those who do not walk this path can never do.

*Someday, someday maybe far away, but someday, he and I will be closer than we could have ever been had we not walked this path.

My Starbucks tears got me through another day. Not one day has gone by that I don't sob at some point, or even scream with anguish, but the days do go by. And I just keep hoping for that someday, someday far away.

(yes, a little communication has happened, a little, bitty, tiny glimmer of hope for the future has come, oh, so very, very little, but at least it is a little more than nothing)

The Ugly Truth

2011-03-30T06:28:00.000-07:00

Thank you for writing your comments. Some of you know exactly what I'm going through and my need for sleep. Please feel free to write me at: manymusic@gmail.com

He's been such a blessing to us and so much fun. A few days ago he was my right hand man. We laughed and talked, laughed and talked.

Last night he told me he would put bullets into me if I came close to him or to his friends. His friends are the only two people in this world he cares about. He hates me, wishes he were never adopted. Oh, and by the way, all of this is my fault.

He's turned into a monster and he knows it. He says this is the way he wants it. He has quit taking his medication, which was obvious from talking to him. He knows that he has chosen a path of anger and despair. He said that he is probably going to turn himself into an alcoholic and criminal and he doesn't care.

He has a bizarre and inmoral relationship with this married woman.

I know I'll get through this loss, but it's as close to the death of a child that I've ever experienced. It feels like he's dead. The boy I knew doesn't exist anymore.

He really needs those meds. I don't know what will happen to him.

I don't know what will happen to any of us.

I'm scared.

Good-bye Son

2011-03-28T14:57:00.000-07:00

I'm crying again, and again, and again--just like I have before and before and before and before that.

It's all about a son. I love this son with all of my heart. Though we were not blessed to become his parents until he was 14, I swear that he is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.

But he has walked out one more time. This time it's different for two reasons---he's too old for another chance. We've warned him that if he ever walked out again, he could not move back into our family home again. This is that time.

There's something else. This time, he has awful, drunken friends, with whom he will most likely live.

If you asked me today if it's worth it to adopt a hurting, older teenager, I don't know if I would tell you yes. The risk is high and the pain is even higher.

But, I will tell you this, we all truly need prayer. Dealing with prodigals is one of the most painful things a parent ever goes through. And, you know---if he would just reject me/us, that's one thing, but when he rejects God, it's unbearable.

It's absolutely, completely, totally unbearable, at least for today, and maybe for tomorrow. But, someday, maybe someday, I won't cry over him anymore.

Disclosure

2011-03-08T23:50:00.000-08:00

Last summer, every Monday afternoon, the kids and I drove to a small, white house in the south part of Fort Worth for piano lessons. We took turns at the piano---back and forth we went from the living room to the kitchen table pacing over original wood floors enjoying the order, simpleness, and whiteness of the 'early Fort Worth' little home. The homes on this street have Cowtown history written all over them, each compact dwelling with its own piece of character. I didn't know, at the time, that this particular little house would also become part of my life history---a part that will always stay with me and affect me and reach down to the bottom of my heart and make it pound fast and hard.

Till's not very musical, but he tried. Diligently he practiced and went to those lessons. One week, when it was blistering hot and the locusts were singing, Till didn't go to piano lessons. He didn't go because he was away at camp, a camp for kids dealing with the same life issue that Till deals with. No big deal to miss a piano lesson, right? The problem was that the piano teacher's family was just so very curious about why he was away at camp and why he was there and none of the rest of the kids were there. After a myriad of questions I was pushed into a corner until I had to make a decision. I was either going to have to flat out lie, or flat out tell the truth. I decided to tell the truth.

That was on a Monday. On Thursday of that very week, I received a phone call from that piano teacher. She would no longer allow Till to come inside her home.
*******************************************************************************

It all started in Kiev, Ukraine in the year of 2009. We were there to get our son who was about to age out of the orphanage, and a tag-along boy we decided to make our son, also, since were going to be adding to our family anyway. Might as well save two kids instead of just one. So, we climbed the infamous stairs of the government office where we would receive our official information and referral for these two boys. It was there we learned that our lives were about to change.

At first we thought they had the papers mixed up because they also had his birthdate wrong at first. No, this couldn't be right. Our new son just could NOT be HIV+. They must be wrong. But, they showed us his picture and the medical report and there was no denying it. We recognized God's hand in this. Had we known ahead of time, we would've said no. We would've decided that it was just too hard, too expensive, just too much to handle. God has a way of hitting us over the head sometimes; this was one of those times. I remember thinking, "No, God, You're not going to ask us to do this, too; to adopt a child only to lose him. After all You've asked us to bear in this life, You just wouldn't ask us to walk through this door, also."

They gave us a few moments alone to discuss what we would do. We could've backed out, we could've said no to the boy we had been writing letters to. But, we know our Jesus, and we know how He has to work with us. We had already given our heart to this boy, he was already our son. Though the wind was knocked out of us and we felt a cloud of grief settle in our souls, we said that we would not back out. He was our son.

Thus began a new journey for this family.

We didn't really tell anyone at first. We kept our dark wonderment to ourselves. Finally, we began telling family and a few close friends. We had some hurtful responses, though most of them of been full of nothing but love and compassion. We've been in some kind of grinding process that has changed everything we've ever thought about this disease. And now, we don't care anymore who knows. We will bear whatever crosses we have to bear in order to be brave and strong about this disease and to stand tall and face the future together.

The piano teacher put the fight into us.

Isn't it hard to believe that in this day and time, a woman who calls herself a Christian would keep a young orphan out of her house because he is HIV+? We have been trying to teach him to hold his head high and to feel no shame about his disease, yet, it is a Christian woman who has treated him in the most despicable manner possible. And she said she prayed about it.

Don't you know what Jesus would do? He would step around this person, who calls herself a Christian, in order to get to the boy with the high blood count. He would take his hand and brush aside his hair and tell him that he would always be welcome in His home.

And why do I write about this now? Well, like I said, it's been a process and I had to get to this point. When I was in Ukraine in 2009 I had just started this blog. Somehow, I wrote about my experiences without letting any of my fear and grief about Till touch my stories. I did some pretending.

We've been waiting for a year and a half for a blood test to show us a medicine that might work for Till. For a year and a half we have not found anything we can do for his complicated case of HIV. But, this week, yesterday in fact, we found it. We have finally found a medicine that Till is not resistant to! This has given our doctor so much more hope about Till--a hope he has been reluctant to give. The nurse, the doctor and we were all so excited about this Big Day we've been waiting so patiently for. He'll be starting really soon on a new treatment. It may make him very sick.......but, it will eventually begin to make him so much closer to being well......at least for now.

So, we don't know the future, but there are a few things I do know. I'm not afraid to tell anyone anymore. I'm glad he's our son....and I'm glad we are walking down this path together. Who needs piano lessons? We have Till.......and that's a blessing, indeed.

Spinning

2011-03-01T22:02:00.000-08:00

At the moment, I'm helping Roma fill out paper work. He has me explain the questions, then while he writes, I sit here at the kitchen island. It's getting close to midnight and I'm beat. I left the house at 1:30 this afternoon and got back at 10:00 pm----sewing lessons, ball game. More than anything, wish I could have a week of just staying home.

Do you have the same wish?

So much to do, so many kids, so many activities, just so much to do.

Sometimes I feel myself a bit lost in the flurry of life. That's why I haven't been able to write these days.

But there's plenty to say when your life is as full as mine.

Soon, I'll tell you more....

I want to tell you about a little girl named Sarah,
about my kids,
about orphans,
about missions in Ukraine,
and about last week-end when I flew to New York for a special recital.

But, for right now, I'm going to send Roma to bed.

Soon, I'll tell you more.....

Rejoicing Over You

2011-02-12T21:50:00.000-08:00

"The LORD your God is with you; he is mighty to save.He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing." Zeph. 3:17

Recently, Neah and I, and a few of her siblings, went into a store. Neah was dressed in new clothes and was laden in about 20 new plastic bracelets and a shiny new butterfly necklace. She was gleaming and glowing.

No one seeing her could help but grin at her girly apparel. I smiled, too, but with a feeling of warm-hearted gratitude. All of her new things had recently come from a party, one held just for her, where she gleefully opened gift after gift with squeals of unabashed happiness. This was our 5th adoption, our 13th child, our 8th adopted child, but this was the very first time that I, or my child, had ever been thrown a party like this. It was an adoption shower, complete with a fancy cake, pink decorations and piles of presents.

All over the world, girls and boys long for their very own family. They are pushed and shoved into dark places where they wonder what good thing could ever come their way. For some of them, there are families who are praying for them and completing paperwork for them and will even come for them.

When those children do find their way home, it is truly a time for rejoicing, for parties, for presents with ribbons and bows. What an honor to let an orphan know that they are fatherless no more!

This was my first "Fatherless No More" party. Sweet women took time out of their lives to rejoice over a little lost lamb being found. It reminds me of the Lord himself rejoicing over us, calming us, taking delight in us.

There are over a million orphans in this world, all hoping that someone will love them. If you can't adopt one, maybe you can become a party-thrower and hold a "Fatherless No More" party for a child, for a child who is no longer pushed into that dark corner.

Thank you, my dear friends, for rejoicing over Neah!

The Spirit of God, the Master, is on me.......

2011-01-30T23:14:00.000-08:00

because God anointed me.
He sent me to preach good news to the poor,

heal the heartbroken.....

Isaiah 61:1a

(Neah before....Neah after adoption. Adoption----it's God's mercy in action)

Uh-ohs and Firsts

2011-01-12T21:50:00.000-08:00

I wrapped Neah in a blanket and rocked her while we both watched the flames of the fire in the fireplace. That was a first for her, I'm sure. But, there's been so many firsts. Most of her life, right now, is brand new and wondrous.

This is the most rewarding and joyful part of adoption, watching a child with so little life experience discover family, love, safety, food, and the world around them. Every day is a string of adventures and delights for Neah, and in turn, they are delights and adventures for us as we watch her observe, discern, and discover.

I can't imagine our life without her; it seems as though she's always been here, and I swear that if I could just think hard enough, I would remember giving birth to her. She just belongs here, and it's our delight, blessing, and pleasure that she is here.

She's a lot of fun. Alan says that she's just like the rest of the adopted kids---she loves the refrigerator! She has discovered that she loves chips, she LOVES tuna fish sandwiches, and she is loving all of the attention she is getting. She and Sayer are buddies and play well together most of the time. Every single day she asks about going in a car, because she so loves to ride in the car. And, we've discovered her talent---she LOVES the Wii game "Just Dance" and is very good at it! This is the one skill that she is far better at than Sayer is! But, if you can imagine a child who has almost been locked in a closet, but now is free, that's what her life is like right now. She has a curious twinkle in her eye at all times. Car rides, water dispensers, shopping carts, and jumping on the bed are all exuberant thrills to Neah.

She has begun Music Therapy and loves it so much. The therapist says that she is very smart and was so surprised at how well she did. We continue to learn that she is, indeed, very smart, but her speech is very, very bad. She also is just so behind on life experiences! But, she is just blooming and blossoming in front of our very eyes! She is learning to understand some English. A very remarkable thing is that she has turned into a chatterbox! We don't know what she is saying, but she just chatters on! The orphanage had said that she almost NEVER talked before we came, and she has multiplied her talking 100 times over since being home!

She is such a sweet girl! I've heard of other people talk about the honeymoon stage, but I don't think I've ever gone through it before. Usually, things are kind of tough at first, but having Neah has been so, so pleasant and easy. Maybe it's a honeymoon, maybe it's just Neah. She is extremely pleasant. Our first weeks at home have been so very wonderful. All of us have just been going through that wonderful falling-in-love stage; and, really, things couldn't be better right now. She does have significant delays and speech problems, and is indiscriminate with her love and hugs (that bad ole RAD, again!) but she is just a little princess. I can't believe God has blessed us with such an awesome child.

Since she is behind in motor skills, she is much like a toddler and has so many little accidents. My kids say, "She has too many uh-oh's in her day! Like a baby, "uh-oh" was the first English word that she learned to say, and she has occasion to say it every few minutes! We all get a kick out of it!

HOWEVER, there's one discovery and uh-oh she made that broke my heart! She went into the bathroom with hair, she came out of the bathroom with very little hair. Somehow, she found hair-cutting scissors and decided to do her own hair. There was nothing left to do but to just shave it all off.
Well, it's a memory we'll always have! Alan says that she really is extra beautiful because she's still beautiful, even with no hair! Here are a few pictures of how she cut her own hair. These aren't great pictures (one of my kids took them) but you'll get the point! Prepare to cry!

Big, Heavy, Deep Sigh!!! These pictures don't really show how bad it really was. The beauty salon said it's one of the worst cases they've had! Soon, I'll post another picture of her buzz!

Well, my life has been a blaze of happy and crazy 'going-ness' and 'doing-ness.' Today I had a really sweet moment during one of my running-to-Wal-mart errands. I pushed the cadillac shopping cart that has room for two bodies to be strapped onto a big, blue plastic double seat---right between the handle and the cart. As I pushed through produce I looked down and grinned at the hot pink crocheted hat bobbing next to the midnight black head of Sayer. They are quite the pair, those two, and just the same size, too! Just as I was glancing at their darling heads, Sayer leaned over in silence and gave Neah a big, unexpected hug.

Oh, what did we ever do without her?

Neah, before cutting her own hair!

2011-01-09T19:47:00.001-08:00

He cares. He cares about the boys.

2010-12-29T18:29:00.000-08:00

We've been home almost a week. Neah slept very little the first several days, and for seven days straight she ate nothing but bananas. But, yesterday, she did something really marvelous. I ran to the grocery store for a few minutes, but when I came home there was a princess waiting for me by the front door. Donning a crown, pink tutu, high heels and plastic jewels, she was bouncing with joy and delight as I came back home.

My princess has found her castle.

However, though my life is currently full of pink tulle, today I was reminded about the Forgotten Boys (see post from December 2.) I received word from my friend, Alyona, that she and her family, and their ministry team made it to see these boys for the very first time. Here is what she said:

Today we have visited Ananiev orphanage for the special need boys. It took us 3 hour drive since it snowed a lot today and the road was very slippery. Thank you very much for your alls prayers, it encouraged us a lot.

There are 110 boys int he orphanage. Most of them are diagnosed with Down Syndrome, polio, cerebral palsy or other 4 th level (stage) of sever special needs. Their age rate s 3 to 35 years old. Today we brought them 2 big boxes of tangerines, 2 big boxes of bananas, 4 big cases of soda (the director told us that the boys LOVE sweet water - soda), 2 boxes of cookies, 3 boxes of different sweets all of this donated by Joe and Janelle Fuentes of Fort Worth, Texas, underwear and 6 000 medical syringe which were donated by some Ukrainians and wonderful Christmas gifts for the boys that were given by Brooke and John Newsome.. We do hope that we will build up our relationship with Ananiev orphanage and with your all prayers and support will help the boys not just survive but enjoy the present life some...if we can call their existence in that orphanage life at all....They need a lot of support and help and most of all love and care.

OH, these kids, these kids, these kids!!! They tear my heart out---ALL of them! We don't have such circumstances in America; trust me, we don't. But, the rest of the world does and I honestly believe that we MUST respond to the needs that we are told about. I'm telling you about these boys in Ananiev , Ukraine. They need you.

You see, my little girl was recently taken out of a pretty bad situation, and is now living like a queen, but millions more are still out there, and they will never find their castle.

Please help.

The best way to help orphans in Ananiev, or in Odessa Ukraine, is to help Alyona and Slavik Puzanov. I can't see myself taking my day off and spending six hours driving in snow to see lost and lonely boys. But, Alyona and Slavik did that very thing. Alyona and Slavik visit the boys' prison and buy them soap. Alyona and Slavik have camps for lost kids and adults. Alyona and Slavik do all kinds of things that you nor I would ever think to do.

But, we can help Alyona and Slavik do these things. First of all, I need someone who will help Alyona with a better way to accept donations. Can anyone help her with a PayPal button? I can send you her email and phone and you could help her get it set up. I'm no good at such things! My email is: manymusic@gmail.com

There is also probably a way to give and get a tax receipt; that would have to be through Harvest International. Who can help out with this? It will just take learning the information and sharing it, I believe. Alyona and Slavik work with Harvest International and I believe that it is possible to give money directly to Alyona and Slavik through giving a designated offering to HI.

I see that you are asking me about sending packages to them. To tell you the truth, I have sent only somewhat small packages to Ukraine. I have sent gifts, even a little valuable, and have never had anything taken. If you send a package to an Ukrainian's home address, and do NOT specify anything other than it being a gift of clothes, there should not be any problem. I do not know, yet, what the best way to send the clothes is, yet. I'm about to find out, however, because I have already started filling a box. There's just no need for boys to sit in prison without clothes when I am constantly filling Goodwill bags with clothes that aren't being worn!

For those of you who didn't get Alyona's address to send clothes for boys (any size from 3 up, by the way, they can go to the prison boys or to Ananiev boys):

Alyona Monzhay
Puzanova Olena
Lesi Ukrainki 64 a
Odessa 65086

The title of this blog is just copied and pasted from an email from another American who has been to this orphanage. She has been praying and praying for a way to find help for these boys. By a miracle, she found my blog, and noticed that when I wrote about The Forgotten Ones, that I was actually writing about HER LOST BOYS!!! Today, after hearing of the trip made by Alyona and Slavik she wrote me. These lines were in her letter. I don't know how it could be better said about God.

He cares. He cares about the boys.

Now, it's our turn to care, too.

We Did it!!!

2010-12-20T06:54:00.001-08:00

Have a few minutes only....have Neah with me!

Running to the train. Whew!!!

As usual, cost more than expected.

But, now on to Kiev....

SHOULD BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!!!!!!

I Need New Clothes!

2010-12-19T23:11:00.000-08:00

That's not exactly true, I don't need new clothes, I need used clothes (new ones will get stolen.) And, I don't exactly need my size, I need any size that might fit a 14 to 18 year old boy. And I'm picky, I only want dark colors because these clothes won't get washed very often. Oh, and I guess I should tell you, I don't need the clothes at all, but there are 50 somebodies who do.

They are in Odessa, all 50 of them locked away in a boys' prison. They have no heat, almost no clothes, not much food, no coats. Slavik has just recently purchased them soap. Finally, they got soap! They have nothing. They need soap, toothbrushes, deodorant, sweaters, shirts, coats, black socks, jeans, undershirts, etc

I know of enough extra clothes in my house to fill a couple of boxes. I'll be mailing them over. So, to church groups, Bible study groups, Awana groups, or you at home, how about it? Can we fill this need?

Let's do it!!!

Send package as a personal package to; (Do not at any time say this it is humanitarian. You'll have to say it is a gift of clothes to Alyona)

Alyona Monzhay
Puzanova Olena
Lesi Ukrainki 64 a
Odessa 65086

Want to make her smile? Throw in a note and a Snickers bar!

Hope

2010-12-18T10:08:00.000-08:00

Some boys fell through the cracks. They didn't get adopted. They left the system without ever having their own family. But, now, they have the closest thing to a family they will ever have. They have it because a 70 year old woman decided she wasn't too old to make a difference. Grandma Lela came to Odessa as a 70 year old woman, began her career as a missionary, and lived here for over a decade ministering to orphans. The ones who never got adopted broke her heart. Their prospects were not good.

She did something about it, and now a big ole house stands out away from the city housing four big boys. They aren't adopted, but they have parents, house parents that is.

Roma and I spent the day there with these guys since I know them and they are Roma's friends. I sat, watching them play and interact, for several hours. When Roma later asked me if I had fun, I answered that it wasn't exactly fun, but it was an honor. It was an honor to sit and just be in the presence of a last-resort ministry that gives these boys one last chance to make it in this life. It was an honor to sit and watch these guys have fun and wonder at the puzzle as to why certain boys were adopted and others weren't. It was an honor to be part of Ira and Igor's life and to watch them interact with their temporary sons. It was all an honor.

I got to know these boys last year and I feel a love for them. If there were a way, I'd bring them all to America. Four more boys I wish I could help and can't. What's a mother to do?

I can tell you. I can tell you about these boys, about House of Hope, about the need to have more sponsors, and about one more thing. As good as House of Hope is, adoption would've been better, and cheaper for these boys. If a child can't have a biological family, adoption is the best choice. It's the most economical, the easiest, the best way for these kids to find Christ, the best way to train them to be leaders for the world.

A house for boys not adopted. That was Grandma Lela's idea, her passion, her work, her service, her way to help orphans and to change the world.

I'll ask again, what's your idea?

I had my camera, but forgot the memory card, but Ira has promised to send me pictures later. I'll post them when I get them. Sorry!

http://www.harvestinternational.org/HeritageHouse/Sponsors.htm

Boys, Boys, Boys!

2010-12-18T10:06:00.000-08:00

Somehow I get along with teenage boys. When I was here for so long last year, I really got to know some of them. Roma told me after seeing them again, "You know, Mom, they are big boys and they aren't supposed to like big people like you, but they all really like you!" I have no illusions of grandeur; several of the boys I know do seem to really like me, yet I know they laugh at me sometimes and are still willing to steal from me if given the chance. Doesn't matter, I still love them. I still hurt to see them trying to be men but lacking any kind of foundation on which to build. I've given them all the "Don't smoke, drink, do pornography, be careful with girls" speech several times. I really don't know if any of it sticks or not.

This is Dima. He never got adopted and I don't know why. He doesn't just seem sweet when you meet him (they ALL seem sweet when you meet them!) but others who have spent years knowing him say the same thing. He was the only boy in the orphanage who made it a point to go to church. He wanted to be a doctor, but he won't get the chance. He's in cooking school now and he gets to live at House of Hope. He's behind developmentally, like most of these guys. He also was the one the orphanage director used as slave labor to baby-sit her daughters. So, when he could've been studying, he wasn't even in school, he was working for free, for the orphanage director who drives a BMW.

This is Oleg. I was really smitten with him last year. He was too old to be adopted or I would've thrown him into the mix, too. He has an older sister he had wanted to live with when he left the orphanage, but for some reason, he doesn't it. He lives at the technical school where he learns bar-tending. Oh, that broke my heart! He has made it a point to find my address and mail me letters. Oleg, Dima and a boy named Alyosha are boys I'd like to try to find a way to get them to America on student visas, but I don't think it's going to be easy. Anyone know how?

This is Sasha. He's one that's probably at the precipice of being into real trouble. Yet, doesn't matter that he's 18, smokes, or what he does, he still wishes he had had a mother.

Dima number two. He also gets to live in House of Hope. He could've gone either way, he could've chosen to hit the streets and choose a life of trouble, and he sometimes still does this, or he could make wise choices. For the moment, he's doing okay. He took longer to get to know me last year, but he can be so sweet and made my girls string bracelets as gifts. There's a sweet man in there somewhere.

Sergey left before we started snapping pictures. He did a brave, strong thing and allowed his sister be adopted by a family who did not want to adopt him. That was his only chance to have a family, and he let is sister have that chance. He doesn't have too much of a future, and I'm sure he's been into some bad things, but somewhere inside of him, there's a piece of a very great man. Oh, but Satan wants to destroy him.

Igor, oh Igor. This boy is a big, fat mess. He's 18 and stuck to me like glue last year. He, for some reason, clung to me like no other big boy. He just recently got out of jail, again. He is into some bad, bad stuff and he stole Roma's gloves while we were here. But, he hurts. He wanted a mama and didn't get one. He hurts.

These are boys, trying to be men, with no foundation to build on.

Girls, Girls, Girls!

2010-12-18T07:43:00.001-08:00

I have a sweetheart daughter, Hatty, and then I have two part-time daughters who live down the street, Bethany and Madalyn. I would take these three anywhere, and, actually, I did! I brought them along to Ukraine. It was time for them to see a land so different from their own. This was the chance of a lifetime.

We also brought along three extra pieces of luggage, two fiddles and a guitar. Every chance we got, the girls donned their western shirts and tuned up some strings. Off they went, the best little western swing trio you've ever heard!

It was a joy and delight for both them and for me to bring their sunshine music to orphanages. That was a way that we could use what talent we had on hand to make our trip a sharing trip at the same time. Every where we went, we brought music and treats. We brought Santa hats, fruit, coloring books, candy, and little trinkets. It was way fun.

This brings up the subject of mission trips. What about them? I had to be in Ukraine anyway, so I brought some kids along in order for them to catch a vision of how the rest of the world lives. We threw in as much giving as we could, and we did it within our means, and we tried not to push anyone else around by doing it. It was AWESOME!

Here are a few pictures of my three girls and our little orphanage adventure!

Two More Days

2010-12-18T05:33:00.000-08:00

In Russian, Roma and I told Neah several times that there were only two more days until we got on the train together. About 20 minutes later she spontaneously held up two fingers and asked, "Two more days?"

So, on Monday, December 20th, one month and 20 days after our SDA appointment, I"ll finally walk out of the orphanage with her hand in mine!

The girl loves the sunglasses in my purse! And here she is with big brother---ONE of them. Oh, if only she knew what's about to hit her! Lots of big brothers coming her way!

The Final Days

2010-12-17T23:59:00.000-08:00

At least twice yesterday I prayed, "God, take care of the kids and Alan, for I know that surely today is the day that I'm going to die." The cause of this dramatic plea? I was in a car in Ukraine, on the highways, covered with ice, going fast (real fast), on a long road trip. The times I prayed these prayers, we were driving straight, head-on, towards another vehicle, on the ice, going fast. Like everyone else on the road, we were driving as though we were in a big game of chicken, and determined to get the closest to the on-coming car before ducking back into the proper lane. We got way too close, especially to the big bus we were about to give a kiss to.

Welcome to Ukraine, that's all I can say.

If you put me in a torture chamber with techno-pop music ( I use the term 'music' loosely) blasting, I would confess all within 5 to 10 minutes. I just hate that stuff. Try a full day of it! Between the music, the death-defying acts of narrow escapes, the all day stint of no food, no water, and a sore back, I felt like I'd been put through a shredder. No, I'm exaggerating, I didn't feel even that well!

But, by the end of the day we had something new and blue in our hands. A laminated paper with a little girl's new name: Neah Yael Esther Whaley (only, in Russian, they write Bailey, they don't have the 'w' sound so they use the 'b' sound. So, I guess you could say her name is NOT Whaley! ha, ha)

So, our final days have begun. So far, so good.

130 Pigs

2010-12-17T00:06:00.000-08:00

He's a granddad. Valeryiy is also a 4th generation Baptist, and the oldest of 15 children, no small feat for an Ukrainian. As a child, his family was banished to Siberia for not denouncing Jesus. But, what satan meant for evil, God meant for good. Valeryiy's family just 'happened' to be banished to the rare Siberian village that had food, even meat. Meanwhile, back home, the citizens went without and suffered greatly with lack of food. So, Valeryiy knows what God's faithfulness looks like.

Valeryiy knows how to serve faithfully, too. He has dedicated his life, both during and after Stalin, to serving his God. He has had a passion for orphans all his life and has been a servant to them. He had an idea: what if there were a farm that would provide food for a whole orphanage?

His church loves orphans, too. In fact, part of the church building is actually an orphanage! They loved his idea and bought some land to make it happen. They did need some help, however, so Baptists from Germany became their 'farm' sponsor and took the church and their endeavor under their wing. And, Valeryiy, a tall man with a quick grin, is in charge!

Five or six days a week, Valeryiy puts on his farming clothes, travels the tiny elevator 16 floors down, and makes the 12kilometer ride out of town in order to work the farm. There are a couple of young men who live there and work the land, and Val oversees the operation. Sporadically, Germans make their way down to advise and donate.

The farm doubles as a fruit estate, also. Five thousand trees are poised in graceful determination, row after row. Think of a fruit that grows on a tree, and it's there! Fruit for orphans, more fruit for orphans, there's plenty for all. In fact, after everyone is fed and full, the church sells what is leftover in order to help support their church budget. Want to bring that idea up at your next church business meeting? Smile.

Fields of wheat are kept company by the squeals coming from the nearby barn--the protein barn, 130 pigs to be exact, and all of their babies. Valeryiy and the men slaughter their own pigs, right there outside, right by the barn door. Be careful where you step!

I don't think I would have ever dreamed of using pigs to help save orphans; that's definitely Valeryiy's idea. This faithful older man still thinks of ideas and plans and ways of helping orphans. He has thought of them his whole life, he thinks of them now.

Hmm, pigs for Jesus. Who would've thought it? What's your idea?

Snickers

2010-12-15T13:09:00.000-08:00

I must write more on the subject of the needs that need to be met in Ukraine. It hurts. There are just things that are really hurting me here. I want to tell you all about it. But, so much has been told to me and seen by me that I am overwhelmed. I am praying that God gives me some words that I can share with you so that you can feel what I feel. For now, I'm going to start with a quick story.

Roma and I waited by the bus stop; we both wiggled around a bit, trying to get warm. A raggedy magazine stand kept us company. Others whisked passed us to catch their ride. We waited as our cheeks were whipped rosy by the chill. Eventually, a car with a mis-matched door pulled to the curb and honked. We jumped inside, Roma in the front, I in the back. This was a great time for me to be able to talk to my friend, Alyona. She and I are the kind of friends who quickly start talking about the deep stuff; we're soul sisters.

It wasn't long before we were discussing the differences between American Christians and Ukrainian Christians. She's got us pegged, I'm afraid, in so many areas; and, most of the areas aren't happy ones for us to hear about. But, here's a small one:

Something had been bothering her about us(us, as in Americans.) She has noticed that Americans come to Ukraine, and will have something of their own, without offering to share it. In fact, she brought up the example of a Snickers bar. One time, Alyona and Slavik had Americans in the car with them and one of them pulled out a Snickers bar and ate it right then and there. She went on to explain that had an Ukrainian had a Snickers, they would have shared it with everyone in the car. She puzzled over this until she came to the conclusion, after seeing similar events happen with other Americans, that Americans might not be doing it to be mean. They do it because they don't understand what it means to be without something.

In her words, she felt like maybe we pull a Snickers bar out of our bags and don't think to offer it because we think that, surely, if they wanted a Snickers bar, they would have one! We would assume that they would just go out and buy one if that's what they wanted. We would never realize that maybe they wanted a Snickers bar, too, but just did not have the means to go and buy one. We would never think that a Snickers bar could be a glorious blessing to someone else! Alyona went on to say that we just have no idea, no idea at all how much we have, how rich we are, how hard life is for them.

I could comment on this conversation, but I don't think I will. I'll just let you figure out what it means to you. But know this, I'm going to dedicate some more time, in my final days here, on this blog, and on rainbowsinukraine.blogspot.com, to telling you about more needs here, especially in the Odessa region. I'm going to try hard to paint a picture of how massive the needs are. But, for now, just do this one thing; when you are in the store, which I know you will be soon, and you are waiting in line, look at the Snicker bars by the cash register.

Think about how easy it would be for you to buy it.

Then ask God to show you how hard it is for the rest of the world to do the same.

What Julia Said: Broken in the loneliness and poverty

2010-12-15T04:20:00.000-08:00

Julia put into words what it is like to be here and walk this road. I can't say it better, so let's let her say it.

Grateful taht you have a Faith that allows you to hold fast to HIS hand in this lonely, long and frustrating time. I really think we are forced to sit this time out over there - without 'divine intervention' is so that our hearts will be thoroughly broken for the plight of those we leave behind. God is raising up an army of people who are not going to go hoarse but stand strong together and fight for these kids. Having your heart broken in the loneliness and poverty over the next few weeks is going to press you to the limit. Know that you are not alone. Many have gone before you and walked that road and understand how you are feeling. Many will travel behind. Praise God. Each person - broken, tired exhausted person - traveling that road - represents Hope and Live to a Lost One! Hang on. Hold on. He's got you. So do we.

DECEMBER 7, 2010 3:35 PM

Unto the least of these

2010-12-11T06:42:00.000-08:00

If you take the main business street of Burleson, go till you're almost out of town, then turn north and go until you're pretty well in the next little town, you will find a young strip mall off to the right. There's a realtor there and a couple of other proprietors. One of those businesses happens to be a favorite of mine---a chiropractor! I know, I know, everyone loves their chiropractor so much. BUT, how many of you have a chiropractor who gives to orphans? Mine does and did! In fact, he sent me to Ukraine with money to spend just on the orphans. He's a "Unto the least of these" kind of person.
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I've only been to the panhandle of Florida; I've been to the beautiful, white, sandy beaches. I have some very, very wonderful friends in that climate-controlled state, though I've never met them. They've been praying for me and all of us Whaleys. As I cried and moaned about all of our unexpected delays and obstacles they did something extraordinary. They decided to not just pray for us. I learned today that they have sent a check in the mail to help us with all of these unexpected expenses and extra plane tickets and with the donations I make to orphans. I am amazed. I don't know what to say, except for thank you. I feel so humbled that strangers could do this to help us. All I know is that they, also, have stepped into the land of "Unto the least of these."
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If you want to know the truth, it can be easy for me to forget all about "the least of these." But, for right now, in this place, I do get the chance to give freely to them. The needs are so, so great. I cannot stress to you enough just how great the needs are, not just here, but in all of the world. But, I'd like to try to tell you about the needs I see here. I was thinking about Americans as I was writing an email today to my chiropractor. Thought I'd share it with you so you can see both my gratitude and some of the things that are needed. And, in case I haven't mentioned it before, the best way to help "the least of these" is to adopt them!

There's just so much to tell you! I have been in 4different orphanages and the needs have been great. Your money has gone a very long way.

The first thing I did with your money was to buy santa hats and coloring books for a few of the classes in the special needs orphanage. These little girls are hungry for love most of all. Every time I go there they all run to me and yell, "Mama!" I did not buy them food because this orphanage has one of the rare orphanage directors who actually feeds her children. Every day I smelled the food cooking and was so thankful that at least these children have food.

However, there was plenty of money left over, nearly all of it, for the next orphanage. These kids don't ever get fruit. So, off to the store to buy 140 oranges!!! I also bought 140 juice boxes to give them with the oranges. You would've thought that I brought them the best gift they ever received.

For the next orphanage, I also took a crate of oranges, which is what the director suggested would be a great gift for them. This was the day that several orphanages got together to play games and perform each other. Oh, my, what a day it was. There were deaf kids who were break dancing, and HIV kids who did pantomime, and blind kids who ran races. I don't know how else to tell you, but I just sat and watched and wanted to cry. These 'imperfect' kids who were all just wanting to have fun and be something out of the ordinary. And, to tell you the truth, there were quite a few of very talented kids, though they were physically handicapped in some way. And to me, they were all out of the ordinary.

Orphanage number 4 is my favorite project of all. Last year, I sat and watched these kids eat watery oatmeal three times a day. Most of the bigger kids would just choose to not eat rather than eat that again. So, when I went, I showed up with a big bag of dried fruit and juice boxes. They inhaled it. Today, I went back again with as much fruit as I could carry. Within less than one minute, it was all gone. These kids truly are physically hungry and the fruit is much appreciated.

It is an honor to me to be your ambassador and to take your gift and turn it around so that every single penny goes directly to orphans. Nothing is so heart-breaking as seeing kids without parents or family to love them, much less without enough food. You have truly 'given unto the least of these' Matt. 10:42 and I pray that it comes back to you 100-fold.

My mission continues. If you find my last post, Baby Lay, you will see that I have the honor of paying for a baby girl's surgery. The surgeon is on his way back from Kiev in order to do the surgery!

I have been asked to buy some electronic and computer equipment for orphanage number 4. I will be buying those today or tomorrow.

I have also helped the special needs orphanage buy 2 exercise mats for their gym room. These mats will massage little feet and help them coordinate their leg movements.

Then, there are two more orphanages, one for Down Syndrome girls, and one for Special Needs boys. These are the least of the least of the least. No one helps them much except for my Ukrainian friends Alyona and Slavik. These kids are so helpless, alone, and forgotten. I won't leave without leaving behind as much money as I can for these two places. Thinking of their plight is almost unbearable. In fact, to be perfectly honest with you, a part of me will breathe a sigh of relief when I am no longer in their presence. To not see them is to not hurt for them. Sometimes, I only want to be in safe America and not think about how the rest of the world is suffering. Oh, how I wish I were not this weak!

I wish there were more people like you out there in this world. You have found a way to touch lives. It's a blessing to them, it's a blessing to me. Thank you.

Baby Lay

2010-12-10T23:23:00.000-08:00

If Ukraine were going to copy America, I wish they would replicate our copious use of ziploc bags; instead, they have McDonalds. Unlike America, however, everyone adores them. They stand shoulder to shoulder waiting for a place to sit; they push and shove to get in line to order their greasy, fried potatoes.

Last night I joined them. Roma and I went to meet a couple of student friends of ours there, our love for them strong enough to make us battle the McDonald's war zone. We did the Ukrainian thing and sat down at a table with perfect strangers. It was so nice to finally sit and have a chance to catch up on news, and the strangers left pretty quickly after all.

After a few minutes the telephone of one of our friends rang. Not long after she answered I heard her say, "Oh, that's terrible." She then explained that she was about to get on a train and couldn't get the money to her right away. I raised my hand to her saying, "Hey, I'm here!" With raised eyebrows she lowered the phone long enough to ask, "Oh, do you have an extra $150.00 I could borrow. I'll pay you back later."

Without question, because I know and love this person so much, I immediately answered that of course she could borrow the money.

She won't be borrowing the money.
Now, let me tell you the rest of the story.

If you'll go to rainbowsinukraine.blogspot.com you will see the picture of two of the most Godly people I have ever met. They give themselves away on a daily and constant basis, most especially to orphans. Alyona was the one calling my friend. Alyona was the one who needed the money. Alyona didn't need it for herself:

Somewhere in Odessa there's a small child, a baby in fact. She was born in despicable circumstances. Her mother is full of darkness, her home is full of unhappiness. This baby was abused to the point that her tiny, downy head began to fill with fluid. She was dying.

Alyona called my friend to ask her if she had $150.00 to pay for an operation so that this child's life might be saved. My student friend, who lives on next to nothing, was willing to give away what money she did have to save the life of sick child.

I swallowed hard when I heard the story. These two women, with nothing to give, were discussing how to come up with the money to save a life. They, with not much, were willing to lay it all down. Of course I was full of shame to see such generosity displayed. Of course I was full of shame that while at home, I can pretty easily throw $150.00 away on worthlessness, yet here it will save a baby's life.

The money is not a loan to them. It's a loan to me. God loans money to us on earth and we are to use it wisely. I can't say that I often do. But, this time I will.

Baby, wherever you are, I pray for you. I pray that this surgery will be the answer to all your problems, that you will find a new home, that you will find love and that someday, you will know that two strangers with not much to give, were willing to give what they did have, just so that you may live.

Good-night, baby lay quietly, sleep tight.

I've been here so long, that.......

2010-12-10T11:23:00.000-08:00

In the past 16 months I have been in Ukraine 3 1/2 of those months. That's a bunch! In fact, I've been here so long that,

*I can go to the train station and run into people I know
*I know what shoe size I wear in European sizes
*I leave the apartment with a plastic sack in my hand
*I have slept all night with a stranger two feet away from my face
*I can defend myself, in Russian, from drunk men
*I have forgotten how to smile at people on the street
*I have forgotten how to fill a shopping cart with groceries
*I wear tights under my jeans on a regular basis
*I drink hot tea all day long (was it a dream or did I use to drink ice tea?)
*I ignore little old ladies telling me that I should have a hat on
*I actually bought a hat because I nearly froze today, and now the little old ladies won't yell at me
*I have perfected the art of taking a shower and washing my clothes at the same time
*I know the restaurants that serve the best palmeni
*I have a new favorite dish----shaslicke, hmmmmmm
*I register no surprise when someone pushes me out of the way
*I actually put boots on every single day
*I'm learning to argue with any and everyone

Things I will never get used to, on the other hand,
*that no weather imaginable keeps these people inside!
*the smell of vodka and nicotine
*paying to go to the bathroom, a very bad one at that
*that the same people who will push you out of the way are just as likely to help you and welcome you
*high heels, even on snow boots. Oh, a podiatrist's dream, this place is!

Something that I can't believe:
*that I get to bring home a darling little girl who will face a whole new life, and be handed hope, real hope, for the very first time

And the most pathetic:
*in Druzhkovka, there's not much to do. However, there is a little 4-lane bowling alley; they turn the lights on when I get there. At about $1.00 a game, including shoes, I've been bowling more in the last few weeks than I have the rest of my life put together. They know me by name---my Russian name, that is, Masha, AND I STILL CANNOT BREAK MY HIGH SCORE OF 80. Now, is that the most pathetic thing you've ever heard? Yup, it's gotta be!

Without Words

2010-12-07T06:05:00.000-08:00

With her downy head covered with four pony tails, two head bands, one baratte, and a big, vibrant bow, my little daughter looks up at me. I know exactly what she wants. She wants me to open her juice box. Her world has been built without the verbose clutter that so many of us live with. She talks to me, but without many words.

My life is surreal, currently. I'm wandering in the never-land of waiting. Alan came, no matter the cost. We had a second court date, no matter the inconvenience. Alan has already left, no matter how tired. My singing, playing girls have left, no matter my sadness. My teenage son is now here, no matter the school that needs to get done. And we wait, no matter how much we hate to.

Ten days of waiting and then more paperwork. A lot of money for a quick passport. Another train ride and then the embassy. The doctor's visit. The day's wait. A big, happy sigh, then the day we go home.

Home. The day or so before Christmas---barely and hopefully.

I can't describe the feeling of feeling so out of kilter with my own life. I enjoy some quiet, yet I want to be home. I want to double over in pain when I see my little friends in #4 who still do not have families. I feel gratitude for God's blessing and protection, yet wonder why so many "no's" come my way while in Ukraine. Yet, I can't believe this precious, precious girl who fits right into my family is coming home with me. I feel everything. Joy, excitement, grief, sadness, impatience, frustration, quietness.........

So, I don't know what to say to my Heavenly Father.

All I can do, like Neah, is to look to Him, hold my hands out, and know that He knows what I need....

all without words.

Got a life? Spend it.

2010-12-07T05:28:00.000-08:00

Kate-updated-reprise

2010-12-07T05:23:00.000-08:00

Hmmmm, think maybe someone misunderstood me, maybe? What I meant by 'if there were just some way for me to bring her home' I meant this:

If there were some way that I could keep stretching myself so that I could meet Neah's needs, Kate's needs, and all my other kids needs, then I would.

If my husband felt that we were supposed to adopt two at this time.

If there were some way we had the money to meet all of the needs of two special girls.

If there were just some way that I had what I needed to also be Kate's mom, along with all the other Whaley kids, then I would.

If only it were God's will for my life to be her mom.....

THAT'S what I meant. And I mean that about so, so many kids.

How about you? Have you stretched yourself to the limit?

Think about adoption. We can change the world!

The Forgotten Ones

2010-12-02T14:56:00.000-08:00

Somewhere, about 200 kilometers away from Odessa, Ukraine, lives a bunch of boys from the ages of 5 to 18. I use the word 'live' but I don't think they really do live much at all. They aren't quite up to snuff---they are special needs boys. They sit. They sit all day. Then they go to bed. They get up. They sit. They sit all day.

Oh, I forgot. They do get some stimulation. Every once in a while someone turns some music on so they have a little time to use their brain.

That's it. That's all they do. And, they do it in squalid conditions.

Somewhere, a long way from Odessa, Ukraine, lives a bunch of Christians who go to church. They sing with musical instruments in pretty buildings. They get into nice cars and go home to nice houses. They look at their to-do list and wonder how to get it all done.

Oh, I forgot. They do give some things away. They give their tithes and offerings and attend the annual Crises Pregnancy Banquet.

That's it. That's all they do. And, they do it in the very best of conditions.

If the forgotten ones are ever to be 'not forgotten' anymore, it's going to take more than giving our tithes and offerings.

It's going to take more.

A lot more.

Kate---updated photos

2010-12-01T04:29:00.000-08:00

She is really something. She is so funny, and she is ready to jump into arms and be hugged and kissed! She smiles, has good vocabulary, and is wearing shoes about 3 sizes too small-----which means she needs her family NOW!!!! Really, if there were just some way for me to bring her home.......

Kate, Dec 1, 2010
Looking for her family!

Thanks to donations, I bought hats and gifts for this class!

Kate and one of my fiddlers

A New Sister

2010-12-01T04:11:00.000-08:00

Hatty and Neah Yael Esther Whaley

No

2010-11-30T08:18:00.000-08:00

The judge said no. She was nice to me, and seemed to want to grant permission, but the district representative and the prosecutor told her to say no.

So, we need faith for the travel plans for Alan and faith for the money, along with faith for the kids left at home, again.

I also am sick with bronchitis.

On the bright side, the social worker teared up as she told the judge that I should be able to adopt alone because I am already Nadya's mother. She told the judge how Nadya (I'll tell you about her new name later) talks about me and tells everyone that I am her mother and Alan is her papa. She told about the day that Neah first said, "My mama!"

So, that's a bright spot.

Alan says we can't kick ourselves because we trusted everyone that we've paid to help us do this adoption to actually communicate and do things properly. We did everything we were told. There have been lots of miscommunication and misinformation between our workers. Hasn't been fun.

An extra week in Ukraine because of others' mistakes. Yes, it hurts so much.

Right now, it looks like the earliest I can get home is Dec. 23rd.

But, if I do come home before Christmas, it will be a very happy Christmas, indeed!

Tomorrow

2010-11-29T07:15:00.000-08:00

From what I understand, before we left Ukraine, someone in the judge's office gave permission for me to adopt alone. HOWEVER, the end of last week, the judge took a close look at our paper work and she then realized that our SDA (the Ukrainian govt) had not actually given permission for this. She does have the right to let me, but she also doesn't have to.

She is a she, and a strict kind of she. BUT, she does know that I am coming alone, and she did not postpone the court, which might be a good sign.

The hearing is at 10:00 a.m., I guess that's around 2:00 a.m. in Texas-time.

Today, I was thinking about the verse from Is. 41, and then it got posted as a comment!!! Your comments keep me going! I love you, Cara! Jesus is the only way to faith, hope, and love!! Thank you for all of those comments!

Meanwhile, to make matters worse, we never entertained the idea (yes, we're stupid) that Alan would have to come; we were so sure that we had done all things properly, that I brought Alan's passport with me to show the judge that he was just here. So, now he's madly trying to declare it lost and get a new one. sigh, sigh again, big heavy sigh.
************************************************************************************

On the up side, the girls and I managed to sweep aside the dark clouds and 'do' Kiev today and it was full of adventures. The landlord had to come rescue my daughter out of the apartment bathroom where she accidentally locked herself in, for about 30 minutes. The bathroom floor is heated and it was a sauna in there! Then, we battled freezing cold, snow, and rain to visit the ancient monastery where a priest turned us away because we did not have skirts on! So, we rented skirts which we wrapped around our jeans; then we were allowed in the monastery catacombs. Futility, for sure. (See July post of 2009 'My Jesus is Alive" for a much better write-up on that place.)I lost my phone there to boot! But, we had a super day with our taxi driver and we took him with us to eat lunch at the Ukrainian restaurant. We all laughed because he was laughing at us!!

I now sit in the internet cafe beacause, once again, ..... without internet. But, alas, soon a train will carry us away!

And then, only God knows what will happen next. But, I know that all of you are praying, and I so appreciate that! I sure could use an "Elijah" kind of day tomorrow!

sigh.

Another Mess I'm In: Need Prayer

2010-11-28T13:28:00.000-08:00

It doesn't take me long to find trouble.

As I was a few hours away from Kiev, yesterday, someone else was writing me an email telling me that this adoption can't happen without Alan physically being here. Problem is, he's not here. We left Ukraine with the understanding that I could come back alone and make this happen.

Can you imagine what it feels like to go without sleep for so, so long, finally get into bed---and then, the phone rings and everything falls apart. Many hours later, I cried myself to sleep.

This has been the hardest adoption we've ever had. Never has one been so confusing.

Here's our concerns about Alan coming:

1) We have a son that we really need to not leave. He really, really needs one of us there.
2) We're out of money.
3) Alan's work---it's really tough for him to get off
4) Christmas is coming. If this doesn't work out soon, not only will I be away from my family longer than we thought (we only jumped into this adoption because we were told that it would be shorter than last year), but I will be here for Christmas. I really don't want to be here for Christmas, of course.

There's a couple of ways out of this mess. One, God can soften the judges heart on Tuesday (this Tuesday) and let this happen anyway, even if I bribe her, this is the easiest choice. Two, Alan can come next week and God can provide the money, the time off of work, protection for our son(and maybe a mentor for him) and peace for the kids at home and for me, here, and strength for all of us to get through this.

Either way, please pray. I've been really, really down today. I feel at the absolute end of what I can cope with.

I'll definitely pass the results your way! And, I definitely need your prayers. Also, I have a string trio with me and they are scheduled to perform in Odessa during our 10 day wait. We need lots of prayers over this, too.

You know, Satan really, really hates adoption. Help, the newest Whaley, and the whole family is under attack.

Marsha

You Got Me Out of That Mess

2010-11-19T20:52:00.003-08:00

If I told you the truth about me, would you judge me? If I told you about the dark days and the days I can't talk to anyone, and the days I won't answer my phone (sorry, Paula, Deanna, Lora, Judy, Sarah,) and the days I spend extra time in bed, and the days I can't function, would you quote Romans 8:28 to me and tell me to get a grip, pull myself up by the bootstraps, or chin up? If you knew about my past and dreary week, would you be frustrated with me and tell me that I just take life too seriously or that I'm too sensitive or that I should just be grateful for the good things?

I wonder……

Truth be told, the world of adoption can be the world that Satan most hates for a believer to be in. He will fight you and make your life miserable and do all that he can to destroy you. He will make you feel fear and guilt and failure and doubt and a multitude of other crippling emotions. If you decide to jump into this world, you will be shrouded with darkness and loneliness, at times, and will question your sanity, your spirituality, your financial capabilities, your effectiveness, your life goals, and everything else there is to question. Bitterness will be waiting around the corner ready to devour your spirit, and will, if you're not careful. You will find yourself alone. You will find that others are silent about the new addition to your family. You will not receive the welcoming gifts that pregnant mothers receive, though you desperately need the encouragement a gift would bring. Adoption can be very lonely.

However, discouraged or not, on we tread. So, here we are with an adoption that should have happened already and hasn't, but we trust it's going to. Somewhere, in the middle of a place that's so 'no-where-ish' that I wonder if even God goes there, is a mysterious judge. Sometimes this judge has been called a 'he' and sometimes a 'she.' Without question, this is a judge who is not interested in holding a court for an adoption. My life, my families' lives, and my little daughter's life are all dependent on the whims of a 'wizard-like' judge who sits on his/her throne waiting to decree whatever he/she happens to feel like. What, I'm told, this person has said changes as often as the weather in Texas. But, for now, what this person is saying is that we may have our court date on November the 30th----30 days after our SDA appointment----and that we should count ourselves lucky that he/she will even fit us in that early.

Now, here's the real catch. You are reading some words coming from the dark side of adoption. Yet, I'm still going to tell you that it's all worth it. It so is.

So, I leave you with these words from The Message. This paraphrased Bible can so make me laugh sometimes. Don't know about you, but I'm a big, fat mess and get myself into messes all the time, too. I have kids who are big, fat messes, also, and I won't be surprised if you tell my that you are a mess as well.

Enjoy:

I give you all the credit, God--

you got me out of that mess,

you didn't let my foes gloat.

God, my God, I yelled for help

and you put me together.

God, you pulled me out of the grave,

gave me another chance at life

when I was down-and-out.

All you saints! Sing your hearts out to God!

Thank him to his face!

He gets angry once in a while, but across

a lifetime there is only love.

The nights of crying your eyes out

give way to days of laughter.

Psalms 30:1-5

The Price of Salvation

2010-11-14T03:34:00.000-08:00

I reach down into my garden of life and pick a rose, ignoring all of the weeds surrounding it, and share that one, lone rose with you when I write on this blog. I don't tell you the whole story; who would want that? Often, I leave out the fear, pain, and grief that sometimes goes on deep in my life and soul, just like it happens in your life, too.

This trip to Ukraine has had lots of weeds in it. In fact, as I write this now, it is nearly 5:00 am in the morning, my internal clock shot to pieces. I'm in Texas. No, we haven't had our court date, and we don't know when it will be. Besides the fact that our judge said she was too busy to worry about doing a court for an adoption, we had something else going on in our lives.

We had just gotten settled in Druzhkovka and taken our clothes out of the suitcases. We were even feeling a bit safe and a little bit in control again. But, an email and a skype conversation changed everything. All of a sudden, we were thrust into a crisis, the kind that makes you sit and stare at the wall and wonder how there could be a solution. The air was taken out of our lungs, we felt alone and even a bit forsaken. How do these things happen to us, and especially why when so far away from home?

It's all about a son. A son who hurts.

We did what we could from the long distance. We made phone calls and wrote emails. We prayed and grieved and wondered and tried to solve a complicated life puzzle. We didn't come up with many answers, but we did feel frustration with the distance between us, along with suffering fear, grief and sadness.

We held on, hoping for a court date, hoping for a chance to tie our new daughter's future as tightly as possible to our own, before we came home.

But, things just weren't working out that way. The judge didn't seem to have any interest in setting a court date any time soon. So, finally, we said that if we can't accomplish anything here, we better get ourselves home and work on this crisis.

We'd only been home a couple of hours when I told one of my older sons to please go get our prodigal son (we had had to remove him from our home, temporarily, while we were in Ukraine) and meet me at the taco place. We both pulled into the parking lot at the same time. As my wayward son got out of the car he held his head down, taking the long way around the car, walking slowly. I got to him as fast as I could and wrapped him in my arms. So tightly, so long, so hard, so carefully, so hopefully we held each other.

With crinkly yellow paper, shredded cheese, and well-seasoned beef between us, we began our conversation. I only wanted answers for myself, the thought of him finding answers never occurred to me. His words poured out--an eulogy over his past self-satisfaction, his once self-saving beliefs. This was a different boy, this was a boy who had finally come to see the evil, the hopelessness, darkness and futility of his own self. For the first time, he realized he needed a Savior.

As I asked him what he thought he ought to do about all of this, his eyes filled with tears. "Give my life to Christ." he said. I hadn't thought about this night being the night. But, it was the night.

No preaching, teaching or persuading on my part. The sowing had been done. He had done his soul searching and crying on his own, his desperation had reached impact point; his heart was being drawn into a heavenly contract, and nothing was going to stop it.

"Do you want to now?"
   "Yes"
"Do you know how?"
   "Yes"
"Do you know why?"
   "Yes"

A new life began as we held hands in a very public, and very orange and yellow place. Neon lights above us, numbers being called in the background, the spices of chili and cumino tickling our noses, this was the night. His tears dropped.

His sin had convicted him. It cost us grief, a delayed adoption, time, and the price of plane tickets.

But, the price Jesus paid? Well, Jesus paid it all.

Jesus paid it all,
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.

Daddy's First Kiss

2010-11-11T11:35:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we spend our time outside under a faded red, green, and yellow wooden picnic table awning. There we get fed our snack from a little girl's hands, and I get my hair put in a pony tail holder by the same set of darling girl hands.

She always shares her treats, so off to Papa she went to put some cheerios into his hands. This time, however, after carefully placing into his giant palm she stood there for a minute and carefully scrutinized him. Then she stood on her tiptoes, pursed her lips, and got as close as she could to her new father's cheek. He bent the rest of the way, and there she planted her first Papa kiss.

It was a kiss that made it all worth the while.

P.S. We still can't get her to stand close enough to Alan long enough for a picture, however! But, she's getting more and more used to him all the time!

Kate

2010-11-07T09:53:00.000-08:00

The hallways exhibit an enormous amount of art work done by various sizes of hands. As I caroused the halls looking for my little girl, it was impossible not to keep glancing them over wondering how in the world they got so many girls to sit still and do such daunting work. Down one hallway and then another---but no little girl for me.

Finally, I was told to find her outside. We threw our coats back on and out we went. As we viewed the girls clustered around the several play yards, we looked for the littlest bodies which we knew would be our Nadya's class.

They were lined up on a bench with little pointed hats on little round heads; the sun and wind had painted a rosy tint on each cheek. They looked like elves waiting for Christmas.

Nadya saw me and yelled out, "Mama!" She jumped up and ran towards me and jumped into my arms. This is the best feeling in the world! She is so happy to see me!

What was a surprise, however, was that Nadya was not the only little elf-girl to run towards me. In fact, her whole class did. But, out of her class, there was one little girl who did more than that. She ran up to me, looked longingly into my face, then pat herself on her chest and then grabbed my legs and held me tightly while still keeping my gaze, and she asked "My mama?"

Just like that, a two-word question from a tiny girl rocked my world. My heart spun around me and fell back down by my feet. How can anyone listen to a question like this and be unchanged? How can I not feel like shouting from the mountain tops the needs of these littlest creatures? How?

So, my heart cries out tonight. I so wish that there could be a way that Alan and I could bring little Kate home with us, too. We thought about it even before I met her. Her picture is on the Reece's Rainbow web-site and our heart was already pulled.

But, then, right now, our heart is already pulled to pieces. We are at the end of what we can do. This will be our last adoption. We know we will have so much to do for Nadya, and this we are adding to what we already do for the other kids. We know we aren't as young and strong as we were ten years ago when we began this adventure. And, we know we want to meet all of kids needs, and meet them the best way we can. We feel God telling us that Kate is not for us, she is for someone else.

And now I cry out to you. Can you help me find who belongs to Kate? Can you help me find whose family is cut out of the right cloth to adopt Kate? Can you help me find the mother who is ready to jump in and take a chubby little hand, and let a tiny little girl grab her legs while her big ole eyes look up into hers and listen to the question, "My mama?"

Which mother out there will be there to listen to that question next time and then bend over and kiss her cheek and answer,

"Yes sweetheart, I am your mother."
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You can find out more about Kate at reecesrainbow.org

She's My Mama!

2010-11-05T10:25:00.000-07:00

Some days are days you'll never forget. Ten years ago we had a day like that. We went to Russia, spent an exhausted night on a train, finally got off and faced a blustery wind. We eventually made it into an office up on the second floor of an dusky and dreary orphanage. We waited again until a woman in white brought two scared tiny little darlings into the room to meet us. They were both crying.

After our short visit the two tikes left with their tears dried. Though I was pretty convinced that the little boy didn't at all like us, I did notice that as he walked down the corridor he held his head up high and seemed to have a proud and satisfied kind of saunter. I also noticed that he looked up at a burly taxi driver man standing in the hallway. As he passed this man, he looked up at him and said something. It was gibberish to me.

As we later got into the car to leave ourselves our facilitator said something to us. "Do you know what your little boy said to that man?" Of course we did not. "Well, he looked at that man and said,'My mama and papa came today and they are going to take me home!'" We were left to cry.

Well, today was that kind of day.

We didn't mean to be two hours early, but we were. Our internal clocks are so messed up, we read the room clock wrong---we just messed up. So we faced the day of, again the blustery wind, and went to the orphanage. We waited and waited for Nadya to come before we finally looked at the time on our phone and realized what we did. Oi! I decided to try to locate Nadya's social worker and tell her we could go back to the hotel and come back at our appointed time. Instead, I ran into Nadya's class and her sweet teacher. Her teacher just gave her to me right then!

This gave us a very long time to have with her! We weren't sure what we would do cooped up in that small dining room for so long, but before we knew it, we had played games, swept the floor, washed the chairs, swung her around about a million times, played tea party, played beauty salon, eaten a snack, played play-dough, and the newest activity, shooting foam arrows from a $1 air gun. We had a blast! She even played with Alan today! (I think she's getting closer to a hug with him!)

But, the best was yet to come.

Her sweet teacher gingerly opened the door to find us muddled around a table full of plastic gadgets and announced that it was time to go. Nadya didn't want to quit playing with us. After a few minutes I realized the teacher wasn't going to make her go, but I wanted Nadya to obey. So, I took the gun from her, and told her I'd see her tomorrow. She ran into my arms and gave me a big hug.

Then she turned to leave, looked up at her teacher, patted my leg and said, "She's my mama!" Upon that, I reached down to scoop her up again and held her tightly for so ever long. I let the tears fall. When I finally put her back down I noticed that her teacher also had tears streaming down her face.

Upon noticing my tears, Nadya got that very concerned look on her face. Then she took my cheeks into her hands and gave them a good pat, then another long hug.

She turned to leave with her teacher. But then, she came right back to me and jumped into my arms one more time. This time, she just couldn't get enough hugs and kisses.

Once more I gently nudged her towards the door and she took her teacher by the hand. But, once again, she rushed back to me and wouldn't be satisfied until her little ruby red lips kissed mine.

Then she was satisfied. Again she took her teacher's hand and this time she left me. The wooden door closed behind her......

and we were left to cry.

Believe me now? She's a doll baby!

2010-11-04T10:29:00.000-07:00

Though she is actually pretty happy, she does get this worried look on her face sporadically, like when you're about to snap the picture!

See? Happier here!

Yes, she is pretty willing to love on me. She did finally look at Alan a few times and nodded to him. It was pretty cute! As we watched her play Alan said, 'She sure is cute!"

We had to bring our own activities to do with her. I found some toys and this tea set at a supermarket last night. She knew all about having tea parties (the orphanage does SUCH a great job!) and this kept her attention for quite a while. We used tea bags I brought with me, and some pasta shells. Tomorrow I'm going to bring real biscuits and water. See the play-dough balls? One after the other she wanted me to make these, then she lined them up. After each one was made we all yelled, "Yeah!" She loved the routine of that. She leaves her final consonant sound off of her words, I learned from listening to her say "ma" over and over instead of "me-ach."

I knew from yesterday that she very much wants her short little hair in a pony tail at all times. So, I brought barrettes and pony tail holders today. She wanted them all in her hair at once! We couldn't get her to look at the camera long enough to get a good picture, but you can see that she had several pony tails here. She knows how to even do this herself!

She dug my glasses out of my purse and put a pair on me and a pair on herself. Then she ran to me, put her arm around me and motioned to Rylan to take our pictures. She's a bit of a ham!

Alan said, "There's no way she belongs here! She needs more stimulation!" We've upped her developmental age to 3 or 4, today.

Isn't she something else?????

The Day Finally Came!

2010-11-03T16:08:00.000-07:00

WE did it! We made it here, we met our darling girl! And she's a doll!

All of you want pictures, but guess what? No pictures because our camera was dead! I'm so sorry! On Monday, we were told that it would be a good idea to get an apartment ourself for Donetsk. So, because we did not have internet, and other Ukrainian reasons, it took us a day and a half to get a reservation! We paid our $100 reservation fee just in the nick of time so that we could get to SDA to pick up our referral paper. But, alas! As were were on our way, we got a phone call telling us we had to be out of our apartment in 15 minutes! We were planning on charging everything during that time---right before the train. Wait a mintue! When do we get on the train? Well, I assumed it would be later, because that's the only time I've ever gotten on a train in Russia or Ukraine, but, not this time! This time our taxi followed one of the other drivers and when we ended up at the train station we learned that we were about to get on the train! Therefore, no camera! Sorry about that. We'll get pictures tomorrow, promise!

While I'm on the subject, might as well finish this Ukrainian saga, when we got off of the train we learned that we are never ever going to Donetsk and we made reservations in the wrong town! So, $100 down the train. grrrrrrrr. Well, this is an Ukrainian adoption after all, isn't it? But, at least today we have internet and that is a huge relief. We don't have to surf the net, but we sure need to communicate with our kids at home. I just cried Monday night over the heart break of not being able to reach them.

This orphanage is amazing. It's the best we've ever seen. It appears that the director actually LIKES children and does what is best for them! We were shocked!

We were shocked by a couple of other things, too! We knew Nadya would be little, but she is tiny, like 4-year-old tiny. She's stunningly beautiful and has some personality zest, too! We don't know what her potential is, yet; right now, she's developmentally around 2-3 year old. She's come so far in the last two years that she probably has tons of potential. It's a new journey!

She learned my name very quickly, refused to say Alan's. She let me hug and kiss her good-bye, she wouldn't go near Alan!

This isn't beautiful or emotional writing---I'm way too emotional for that! But, I wanted to fill everyone in, and promise some pictures for tomorrow. We could use some prayer here, too! So far, out of five adoptions, this has been the toughest! Know what? My 5th delivery was also the worst. This is definitely a trend.

I'm pretty beat. See ya tomorrow!

God Takes Care of the Stupid, But He Charges Them!

2010-11-01T08:54:00.000-07:00

One time a woman looked at Alan and me and said, ´´Marsha, I bet you are a control freak and try to control everything.´´ Alan and I laughed heartily. NO WAY, am I a control freak. Problem is, neither is Alan. In fact, we´re always waiting for the other one to take control and neither of us does!

All that to say, that Alan never looked at our travel itinerary, and I barely did. So, on the way to the airport I thought I would take another look at it! Oops!!! The one time that I had looked at it I read the time wrong!!!

Uh, guess what----we missed our plane!!!

So, the adventure began. We quickly found a flight on another airline, paid the huge price, caught up with our travel scehdule in Chicago. What a day!

But, we are here, and all is well.

I didn´t expect to be nostalgic when I got here, but I was. Nostalgic from being here last year, and all that I went through the last time I was here, and nostalgic because the fall weather took me back to my childhood. I felt like I was in Pennsylvania again.

Nostaglia can be hard to handle when you haven´t slept in 24 hours.

Our wonderful driver picked us up from the airport and dropped us at the stairs of our apartment. I knew we were going to have to find the strength to get to the store to buy water. Rylan, who is with us, decided a quick nap wouldn´t hurt. Six hours later we woke up to find the night upon us, and Alan asleep, too. They still had their shoes and coats on!

So, no water. I´´m not usually afraid to drink water in strange places, but even the Ukrainians won´t drink it here---too much metal in it. Well, we did.

But, today, we made it to SDA, had a quick and easy appointment, learned about Nadya, got a different birthdate, but all is well.

Rylan and I walked around this beautiful city today and now I¨m sitting at the internet cafe writing as quickly as possible. The only two things we wanted in an apartment were internet and an elevator for Alan. We have neither, 4 flights of stairs, so please pray we can get these two things in Donetsk. I can live in a hole, if I can just have these two things.

Will leave on a train Tuesday night and will meet our new daughter on Wednesday. Can´t wait!

Have to be quick.....it´s late, and I don´t have much time left.

I´ll be poetical later when I have time to think!

Love ya´ll!!!!

3:00 a.m.

2010-10-29T16:24:00.000-07:00

Did you know that you can defrost and clean a chest freezer with a clothes steamer? It really works great! The reason I know this is because, for some inexplicable and insane reason, I actually did this fun little activity this week! There's just no explaining why I would spend time cleaning the deep freeze when I really needed to be packing, or sleeping, or something from my congested to-do list. But, there you have it. That's me and that's my week.

So, I sit here at the computer with a few minutes left before some of my teenagers' friends come over to eat pizza and have a little fall fun. I've crossed off item by item on three different lists, and I've purposely ignored some of them, and I'm beginning to feel almost ready---with just a few hours to spare.

The day has been surreal, but it is going to end with three duffle bags( we're taking our 13 yo, Ryaln with us; it's his turn) and two backpacks by the front door. They're there already, with mouths open wide waiting for the last course to come along and satisfy the remaining inch of belly room.

I've cried several times this week. I so hate leaving my family. I'm so scared to go back to Ukraine, again. But, I'm also so excited, so interested in finding a little soul and weaving her heart with mine. Alan and I will get to smile together at night as we review her little personality and the things she did that day. Oh, I can't wait for that!

<i>I'm going to insert right here: While I was typing this, a 12 year old and a 5 year old had a discussion a few feet away from me.I They were discussing how in the world the 5 year old was going to behave for everyone while mom and dad are gone. His response was, "We're going to have to train me how to be a good boy!"

It's been quite a week. It's almost past. It's almost time. I only have a pizza party and a haunted house to do. Then, I only have one thing left (besides, hopefully a long, hot bath) and that's to sit at the computer and help one of my sons write a paper. It's 6:30 pm, and that's all I have left to do!! So, looks like I might go to bed the same time I've gone to bed almost every night this week------3:00am.

Join me on the journey, it's one I'll never forget. And, if you happen to be up at 3:00am---that's probably God waking you up to pray for us, so please do.

Last Game

2010-10-23T11:32:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a break from math. The table is covered with multiplication papers that I'm about to staple together.

I'm preparing to leave. Math is part of that. I'm making sure every student in this house has absolutely NO doubt about what's expected of their school work while I'm gone. They will be plenty tempted to let school slide, that's for sure!

Preparing to leave behind family is one of the sacrifices that adoptive families make. Sometimes there are other sacrifices (uh-hem, of course, the money...always the money is a sacrifice) that have to be made, too. Thought I'd share one of mine.

Last night was the last football game I will see my son Cody play. The last games will happen while I'm gone. This was his first ever season, because we did not live where he could play before, and this is his last season. He has more games, but I won't be there. I fought tears off and on all day yesterday. Sounds silly, I know, but these games had a lot of meaning and healing power for me. And, they were dog-gone fun!

Last night was my last Dairy-Queen-with-the team-after-the-game night. The kids slurped down slushies and sundaes, and the big boys wolfed down big ole' hamburgers. Everyone was aglow with the bewilderment of the victory. (Okay, I just have to tell you about the game.....at half-time the score was 19-0, we were losing. In the third quarter we started catching up, but still had a ways to go. With a couple minutes to go we upped the score so we were behind by one point---26-25. With 30 seconds to go---one more touchdown---we pulled it off!) I sat and just grinned at everyone, thoroughly enjoying myself-- celebrating our under-dog victory that happened concurrently with our Rangers' victory--sending them to the World Series. We were one bunch of hyped-up Texans!

I watched my 3 football boys sitting with teammates and wonder at how Roma could have ever been an orphan in an orphanage. I marveled that Hatty loves to be with her brothers and says of them, "I have the coolest brothers in the world and I love being with them." I praise God that Cody and Clay didn't inherit their father's bad muscles (long story, that subject.) I watched my big family and the football team, and just admired the blessings God has given me.

Clay, me, Roma, Cody

So, this time next week, I'll be on a plane. But for now, I sit surrounded by school books, the rain is pouring for the first time in months, the washer and dryer are running, and all I can think is, "Oh, how good God has been to the Whaleys!"

"Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?" Luke 15:4

Over

2010-10-19T18:00:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at the kitchen table at the moment with four 6th graders sitting around me, two beside me, one across from me, one an arm's length away. Because, and only because, I am sitting here with them, they are furiously scratching away in their vocabulary books. The root for today is:

-over: means "above or too much"

Hmmm, fits me today, because today I am overwhelmed with how much I have to do in the next 10 days! I am already overworked! Here are some of the other 'overs' on my to-do list:

Pack, but don't overpack
Don't overact about the kids chores, again
Do, overlook dusting and other insignificant details of housework
Go to the bank, but don't overtax the account
Don't overstress
Don't feel overprotective about leaving the kids behind (can't do this one!)
Oversee the plans for the running of the house while we're gone
Try not to stay awake overnight!
Make sure not to overlook anything important that needs packed
Don't overcommit myself in the next week
Do NOT overlook time with God
Look over our paperwork
Get ready to go over the ocean in about a million different ways,
And most importantly, don't forget how God has overabundantly blessed me and my family!

You know, before I know it, this, too, will all be OVER!

Dear Hazelina

2010-10-17T00:49:00.000-07:00

It's 2:30 am and I can't sleep. My bed is being kept company by the suitcases I flung open on the floor, ready to pack. I have a dark-headed 5 year old asleep beside me---and soon I will leave him to go to Ukraine. I'm a bit overcome.

I can't sleep because I'm broken hearted over a situation with my parents. So, as I avoid sleep, I seek peace. I pray and I browse. I ended up on my own blog, not sure why. I didn't think I had anything to say. But, then I found Hazelina.

So, Hazelina, this is for you, I know no other way to reach than to write you this letter right here, right now. You wrote me a comment that I just found tonight. I want to find you and tell you that you are not alone. I have felt all the same things that you feel. I promise, I surely have.

You are precious in the sight of God. You are of value to Him and your life has a purpose. I'm wondering if you are lying awake, too, wondering how you will face tomorrow? I wish that I could be with you and hold your hand. I wish I could hug you and tell you that everything is going to be alright.

There's so much comfort in the fact that the great people in the Bible were big, fat messes!!! God seems to pick them that way! Your problems make you unique and beautiful and make you a very real, genuine person, and the kind of person that God loves to transform and use in mighty ways!

I've been in the dark before when I couldn't feel God's hand. It's a scary place to be. But, don't give up, Hazelina, keep fighting the darkness. Do NOT believe that you will have these problems your whole life. You CAN overcome, even if it takes years and years. And just think, God trusted you enough to have these particular problems! He must really think your strong and special if he is going to allow these kinds of things in your life! Wow!

You have so much joy and excitement ahead of you. Please, don't give in to the darkness.

I'm willing to bet that there are plenty of people who love and care for you. But, I promise you this, if you get to the end of the rope, and feel like there's just nothing left to live for, and no one else to care, there IS someone who cares for you and who wants you to be victorious.

That would be me.

So, Hazelina with the beautiful name, don't give up. Don't ever give up trying. Hang on tight to Jesus and fight that darkness with all your might.

You are not alone.

November 1st!

2010-10-15T10:16:00.000-07:00

After electrical problems in Kiev, computers down and confusion----we FINALLY have a SDA appointment!

We leave in two weeks!!!

In 2-3 weeks we will meet our new daughter!

PRAY!!!!!

I Hate This, I Hate This, I Hate This!!!!

2010-10-07T10:00:00.000-07:00

We are now in The Black Hole stage of adoption. If you can't tell from my title, to me, this is the most horrid part of the whole process. Papers are done, submitted and all we can possibly do is wait. It's time to hear, we haven't heard.....we wait.

Should be any day now that we do hear. But, you never know.

Then there's this vote thing that's always going on in Ukraine. First they are going to have a vote to maybe stop adoptions, then it's postponed, then the vote's back on, then no one knows, then it's postponed, then it's back on. I heard it was set aside indefinitely, I heard they will be voting again tomorrow.

Big, heavy, deep sigh!

So, I hate this!!!

smile!

Sponge Bob and Tattoos

2010-09-28T23:02:00.000-07:00

I bought Sponge Bob pajamas today.

I also took girls to sewing lessons, practiced fiddle with 3 kids, went to a special health food store to hunt for a specific item, explained division, counted down days to when we might learn of when we are going to meet our new princess, took the temperature of a 260 lb football player, paid a couple of bills, had a 'financial responsibility' talk with an offspring, went grocery shopping, intervened in who-knows-how-many arguments, made sure a teenage daughter actually did eat lunch, found least common denominators, bought a gift for a one year old..picked up boys from speech class, thought about our upcoming wedding, wished for grass for our yard, picked up some tea from Chicken Express..AND...

I went to the tattoo shop.

No kidding, I did. Not only that, today when I told my oldest that I was planning a trip to the tattoo shop with his 19 year brother (who is thinking about a tattoo and wanted to check a parlor out) he decided to tell me that he actually got a tattoo a month ago! Wow! I stayed calm--I didn't freak out.

But, the truth is, I'm completely freaked out! Not so much about the tattoos, though I'm not crazy about the idea, but about the fact that I have MEN as children and they are old enough to get tattoos! I'm freaked out that my kids are growing so quickly, recklessly flying through their growing-up years! I'm freaked out that I'm so busy that sometimes I feel like all the important stuff is under appreciated. I smile on the run as my five year old informs me that he can now hear himself talk in his head, and hear God talking to him. These wondrous things happening while the intense mundane takes place. These are my days.

On days like this, however, I realize how blessed I am to have so many children, even some with complex issues. It makes my life full and interesting, and I can't imagine what I'd be doing if all my kids were grown already. I'm so thankful that on the day I deal with young men and tattoos, I can take pleasure in the thought that I will soon have a new daughter.

But, sometimes my head does spin with the variety of issues and problems I face because of the number of kids I have and the range of age they are. College and kindergarten-----kind of crazy!

Sponge Bob and a tattoo parlor in one day? I think I need to go lie down.

Roma's Story

2010-09-26T12:41:00.000-07:00

Roma is taking speech class; it's quite an adventure for all of us. This week his speech is about his life. He gave me permission to put excerpts from it on this blog. I thought you needed to read it, dear reader. Please, if you haven't adopted, please consider doing so. It won't just change your life....it will change someone else's too.

My mom started drinking and smoking. Some nights she came home drunk. I did something wrong and she took a belt and beat me. What I did wrong was something small, like break something, or some small thing like that. After that day I began to run away from home: I was around 11 years old. I ran away from home five times and then the last time I ran, I ran away for forever. Then I lived in the streets. I sold newspapers and made money in ways like that. With the money I made I went to the computer club and pay for a night of playing games. I played for a little bit, then I would go to sleep. I moved the computer forward and put my head on the table and slept like that. And when the night was over they would wake me up at 8:00 in the morning. This was in the summer, so after they woke me up, I took a trolley to the beach and went to sleep there. After I slept on the beach I woke up and went swimming, that’s how I took a shower. I worked only in the night time, not in the morning.

I did this over and over. I also sold flowers, like roses---white roses, yellow roses, red and orange roses. I got the flowers from an abandoned garden that I found behind an empty building. I lived on the streets for two years doing this kind of thing. I slept in the computer lab every night for these two years.

I got caught about 8 times by the police during these two years. Sometimes, they just let me go. They sent me to a sort of orphanage, but it wasn’t really an orphanage, it was a place where they decide what to do with you. If they sent me there, I just ran away.

I made some friends at the police station, like guys who work there. The last time I was there a dude told me to stay here for a while and that I might like it. He said to me that every time I get there, I just run away and don’t find out if I like it. So I said, “Okay, I will try.” So, they sent me to an orphanage.

I stayed there for a little while and found friends and not friends. I had a few fights and I stayed there for a few months. Then they sent me to orphanage #4 and I stayed right there for four years and learn a little bit of English and other stuff like math, geometry, and physics.

It was okay there but I was not completely happy because I had a bunch of fights there and I did not have much food. I did not even hope that someone would come and get me but I really wanted someone to come and get me.

And my second point…..I’ve been adopted!! One day some kids told me that the police came to get me and I was scared because I did nothing wrong and I wondered, “What in the world happened!” Then when I went to the director’s office I saw the woman, and her husband and kids, who had written me letters. I was surprised. I didn’t think she would adopt me, I just thought she came to see the orphanage where I lived and maybe to bring some presents. But, she said, “I want to be your mom.” I was surprised, twice. So, I got adopted. I be{sic} happy about that.
************************************************************************************************

My parents tell me what’s wrong and what’s right. They help me with my problems. When I am sad they tell me that everything is okay, but I’m never sad. I smile all the time.
In my family I am trying to learn to care about everybody and not just myself because when I run away from home I just thought about myself---how am I going to make money, where I am going to sleep, what am I going to eat, who will be my friend. I was just thinking about myself and not what someone else will give me. Now I try to think of others.
***********************************************************************************************

My mom says that the best things about me are that I’m friendly with other people and that it’s hard to make me mad. She tries.
************************************************************************************************

The most important thing in my life is that I gave my life to Jesus and a week ago I got baptized.
************************************************************************************************

I hope you will tell other people to adopt kids because I told you about my life before I got adopted.

Adoption News!

2010-09-22T21:46:00.000-07:00

I dropped the papers I was trying to fill out while I was talking on the phone. I had my insurance company phone number in one hand, a chart, phone, glasses, and papers in the other. I was being carted from one chair to another, and then another, and then another. Hatty and I were at the eye doctor.

The last time I was there, a couple of months ago, I struck up a conversation with the guy blowing little puffs into my eyes. I promise, I don't talk adoption with everyone, but, somehow, it came up with him. He told me a little about his life---seminary student, two kids, his desire for ministry and for someday in the far, far future to adopt kids. "There's no way we could now--we have no money." My response to that was that maybe they couldn't adopt internationally right now--but, they surely could adopt through a Christian gate-keeper organization here in the city. He was interested, but I couldn't tell how interested.

So, as I was dropping everything and talking and trying to calm myself down, he walked by. He smiled, I smiled, he kept walking. I got my insurance problem cleared up and took a deep breath. I wondered where he went. Within a few minutes he walked past, again. This time my hello was more vibrant and his was, too. So, I took a chance and said, "Hey, any more thoughts about adoption?'

His answer? "Well, we are in the process of filling out papers right now. We are using the organization you told us about, and we're starting classes soon." My mouth flew open with the words, "Praise God!" I asked him how they came to make the decision---did other people talk to them or what? NO!!! I was the ONLY ONE who told them they would qualify for state adoption and the only one who told them about this organization. They are going to start, maybe, with foster kids aged 5-10 years old!

Now, is that cool, or what? It just really made my day. I can't believe I actually had an influence on someone's decision to adopt. Wow!!!

So, let me tell you more.....I talked to three families today, all thinking about adopting from Odessa, Ukraine where we were last summer. Please pray for them. God knows their names.

So, I've had a few great moments today---and it's a very good thing because this has been one heck of a crazy, stressful day.

OH, AND BY THE WAY------ONE MORE THING! GOT AN EMAIL TODAY----WE'RE SUBMITTED!!!!!!(That means that our dossier is now in the hands of the Ukrainian government and we will get assigned a date to come)

So, we're getting close. Hopefully, in a couple of weeks, we will learn of the date that we will be going to Ukraine and will meet our new little bright-eyed daughter.

Wow!

p.s. as I was typing 'Wow" my phone started ringing. I answered it, then walked one of my today-families through filling out the I600! So, please pray for them! Praise God!!

Dear Dad

2010-09-19T15:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Dad,
You are an old man now. We've been through a lot and, at the moment, it doesn't seem that our lives even touch each other's anymore. And there can't be much time left.

But, I wanted to tell you about a moment in time when my soul was tied to yours and our own universe was aglow with a common desire, something we both wanted, and something that would forever change me and the direction of my life.

You remember, back when I was a kid, the family in our church who had an extended family consisting of two parents and six kids. The two parents were tragically killed in a car accident and the six kids were left floundering and nearly alone.

We were poor, you and mom were older parents, we didn't have much to give. Thing is, your heart was already stolen by the youngest of that crew, a dark-headed 5 year old boy.

As I look back over my life there are a few images of you that will stay with me forever. They are the dioramas I will see in my mind as I cry at your funeral. I can see you now, in the church parking lot, wearing your preacher suit walking away from me. I stood there with the sun shining in my eyes as I watched your back and I listened to your black Sunday shoes crunch-crunching the gravel beneath you. You looked down to your left to the little boy attached to your hand. You grinned and spoke softly to him, your heart smitten by an unspoken empathy and love.

Maybe I was supposed to feel jealousy, but I didn't. Instead, as I stood there and watched you, I was consumed with respect and compassion, not for the little boy, but for you. I was born in that moment. I became who I am because of of that moment. It forever changed me. That moment you were the best man on earth, the hero of my life, my pride, my joy. You were a man's man, but willing to give your heart away to a little lost boy. Your heart was broken by the plight of these children, and you were willing to do what it took to help them. You wanted to adopt, if not all of them, at least one of them.

I don't know why it didn't work out, but your willingess to take our measly resources and share them with other children made me feel the most loved I've ever felt by you in my life. I think of this moment often.

Dad, know what I hear other women say, over and over? They say they would adopt---but, their husbands won't let them. I'm seeing this situation constantly! I'm wondering what happened to the real men--the men who have their hearts turned towards their children, families, to widows and orphans. Where did the real men go? I see Christian men in America selling themselves, and their families, short by hoarding their hearts away to serve only their goals and visions--with no vision left for the world around them. I want to grab them by their collars and shout to them that the very thing they are trying to protect they may well lose if they aren't willing to be a big, strong man who loves the defenseless! Dad, what can I say to them? How can I let them know that the men of America are going to have to stand before God and answer for the plight of the orphans of this world? How, Dad, how?

How can I tell them that one day their own children will have their own images of their fathers burned into their hearts. What if there are no pictures of their dads holding the hand of a lost child? What if they never get the gift of that memory? How can I tell them that the strongest they will ever be is when they love the weakest? Why don't men lay it all down and surrender to the orphans of this world and take those steps of faith and just do it! Why?

You had, and have, plenty of faults, Dad, but you always were a friend to the friendless, and nothing, absolutely nothing in your life has colored my life more than that quality of yours. How can I tell all the dads about this?

I see this world, I see all these orphans, I see all these dads, and I know, there just can't be much time left for them, either.

Cigarette Burns

2010-09-16T00:24:00.000-07:00

A quaint, white house is nestled in one of the oldest Fort Worth neighborhoods, not too far from the first wobbly brick streets ever laid in Fort Worth. A Morning Glory vine tendrils itself up the front porch rail and a straw wreath decorated with sewing notions hangs on the front door.

Once a week I cart girls to this sweet home where a tiny, old woman teaches sewing classes to giggly girls holding embroidery projects under their noses.

This week I brought along three gangly teenage boys with math books tucked under their arms. The sewing teacher kindly swept away her well-read Bible, her Sunday School book and her flower vase, papers and notebooks so that we could use the kitchen table--right off the sewing room--to navigate our way around math problems.

Somehow we went from multiplying negatives with negatives to comparing cigarette burns. I think it started with a random question from Rylan, (that kid is the random-ist of all random kids)"What happened to my hand?"

He's asked about the other scars on his body, but this was the first time he asked about his hand. As much as I would like NOT to tell him, I know I must. So, I matter-of-factly remind him of the abuse he suffered as a young, very young, infant and tell him that the line on his hand shows where his baby hand was dipped into boiling water, or boiling something. He takes it in stride and doesn't seem to be ruffled by this information.

This little question produces a flurry of speech from the other two and before I know it, all three of them are comparing their cigarette burns--their scars from previous lives, previous families.

I don't know whether to laugh or to cry! What a sight-- us four sitting talking lightheartedly, yet seriously, about abuse--within earshot of a sweet sewing circle!

Roma and Till have been here a year and now they speak English really well. Now, they are ready to tell me, in English, stories that I don't know about them. In that kitchen, for the first time, I hear how Roma ran away from home and lived on the streets, how he missed three years of school (explains why he's 17 and doesn't know his multiplication tables!)and how he got his cigarette burns. Till knows how he got his, too. Rylan counts how many he has. I know that at least one more of my kids, not with us, also carries these sinister cigarette burns.

Will my new daughter have any? I wonder how many kids, right at this moment, are sitting in orphanges thinking about their cigarette burns.

I may be the poorest excuse of a mother anyone can have...but, I'm so thankful that I get to be the mother that sits at a small kitchen table with three teenage boys and listens to them talk about their scars. Oh, what a honor for me!

Who is out there that is willing to listen to more stories of more scars? Is it you? Will you listen?

Would you like a chance to sit with handsome, or beautiful, teenagers and let them tell you how they got their cigarette burns?

You may think that you are also the poorest excuse for a mom or a dad.....but, won't you tell God that you are willing to be the mom and dad that sits with kids while they compare their cigarette burns?

It will be a conversation that you will never forget, if only, oh, please if only, you will open your heart and your home to one more child, maybe even one with cigarette burns.

18 Days and Counting and Counting and Counting and Counting.......

2010-09-09T22:27:00.000-07:00

My life is about to change. Five minutes down the road, around a corner, and through an intersection, a monstrous new building has been coming to life little by little, brick by brick. It's painted in bright, bold colors and decorated with signs announcing such things as the pharmacy, the gas station, and the coming Sushi chef. The biggest and most important sign of all consists of 3 prodigious letters---HEB. For all of you NOT from the lower three quarters of Texas, HEB stands for Herbert E. Butts, and believe it or not, it's the name of a magnificent, marvelous, variety-laden, awe-inspiring, grocery store! (If you knew the grocery-store situation in my town, you would understand now why my life is about to change!!!)

All of us in town have been wondering just exactly when the day would come when we could all rejoice together in our newly improved lives. HEB decided to help us all out. About three weeks ago they erected, yet one more, sign, "HEB opens in 31 days". Each day they would change the number, lessening it by one day. Each day we drove by, looked for the shrinking number and shouted our hurrahs.

But, on the day that the sign should've been changed to 17, it wasn't. It wasn't the next day either, or the next or the next. We all checked the number today, and yes, it's still stuck on that stubborn 18. Some sinister monkey wrench is keeping HEB from moving forward with their opening day plans.

I wish I could make my own sign and put it up right beside that HEB sign. My sign would read, "Welcome to my life: this is what adoption feels like!"

So, this is how it goes, two steps forward, one step back. Our dossier is there. We had hoped it would get submitted to SDA today, but it didn't make it. So, next Thursday, we'll pray the same thing. If it gets submitted, we can start counting down, but we won't get to count backwards, because we won't know how many days it will take to get travel dates. When we get travel dates, we will wait for court. When we get court day finished, we will wait again until we can get a birth certificate, a visa, an embassy appointment, a plane ticket.

Wait, wait, monkey wrench, wait, wait some more, wait, monkey wrench, excitement, disappointment, wait, wait, wait, monkey wrench, hope, wait, wait, wait some more, then, all of a sudden......it's all over and the adoption is a real, very real thing.

On that day, my life really, assuredly, unmistakably, most definitely, and very happily will change.

(can't wait!)

On It's Way! The Dossier Poem

2010-09-04T02:29:00.000-07:00

Days fly by with sputters and spurts,
I live here, while children hurt.

I can't fix it all, I can't even try,
But, this one chance I won't let by.

I filled an envelope with papers and stamps,
got it sent on after many revamps.

The fed-ex man watched me unabashedly dance,
taking my package he threw me looks of askance.

Oh, what glory, what sighs, what reprieve,
All of these papers that I did achieve!

So now we will wait, just one more time,
Until we can see the Ukrainian sunshine.

In case you must know, and watch the package adieu,
our fed-ex tracking number is....
8708 0912 594..........AND 2!!!!!!!!

Adoption: Lace and Casserole Stage

2010-08-31T21:22:00.000-07:00

All of a sudden, Hatty and I noticed a horse walking past our back door! We interrupted our morning conversation with our friends and neighbors long enough to exclaim the wonders of a loose horse walking into our back yard. You can imagine our surprise when a few minutes later another horse walked past our door! Then our hearts twittered a bit when it finally dawned on us that it was OUR horses that were walking past. They had gotten out and were casually walking back home! Well, if you're going to learn that your horses are out, it's definitely best to learn that fact as they are coming home!

We bid our friends good-bye and turned around to get our shoes on (to deal with the horses loose in the backyard) when my friend stuck her head back into the door, "Marsha, the police are here!"

Oh, bother! Sure enough, there stood 2 police officers and 2 animal control officers. They were tracking down the errant owners who let their mischievous horses go down the street to visit with the donkeys!

They took information and left. As my friend and neighbor was still trying to get out of the driveway a pick-up pulled in. A cowboy kind of guy got out and interviewed us about the horses. He, apparently, was the one that shooed them back down our way. He was awfully nice. I was awfully embarrassed. All I could think of was that my life looks like a children's book plot!

That's how my day started! That little incident really has nothing to do with adoption, but it does have to do with my day and my life; my life full of adopted and biological kids.

It wasn't long after the horse commotion got settled that I finally unpacked my Hobby Lobby sacks that had been sitting, for days, on my bedroom floor. I pulled my treasures out of crinkly bags and positioned them across my bed. Denim tote bags, star buttons, red rick-rack and lots of fluffy white lace were arranged in sets across the bedspread. Then I carefully arranged all my red-patterned fat quarters in accordion style next to graceful ribbons. A sense of hope and anticipation filled me. I just can't wait! All of these things are for a project the girls and I are going to make; a project of tote bags to take to Ukraine and give as gifts.

When it's time to get serious about what gifts will get packed into the suitcase, it's the time that you know things are starting to happen! I'm so very, very happy and excited! Can't wait to hug that little girl!

If you're planning on going overseas to adopt for the first time, you will want to know that gift-giving is one of the fun parts of the process. Well, I say fun, but it can also be anxiety provoking. To whom do you give gifts? Just the orhanage director or to all of the workers? What gifts do you give? And what in the world does it mean when you give the gift and you get a completely unemotional,smile-less response from the recipient? These are adoption questions that have very mysterious answers. In fact, the answers are sometimes so mysterious that you may never get a clear answer.

But,tackle the gift issue I must. So, my bed is full of materials to whip up some tote bags that I will fill with giant Hershey bars and maybe some coffee or tea, or maybe bunches of flowers purchased off the sidewalk on our way to the orphanage.

So, now you see what white lace has to do with the adoption process. Our dossier is finished and is being apostilled and will be on its way to Ukraine within days and I am now planning gifts!

There's another process my heart goes through---this is the one that makes my heart skip beats and can stir up rumbles of doubt in my head and waves of horror and dread in my stomach. I'm going to be leaving my family; and this thought is enough to keep me awake at night.

If you're a mother, I don't have to tell you what kinds of thoughts go on in my terror-stricken brain--because you can already guess them. Oh, and then there's the guilt! If guilt hadn't already been my campanion, it most certainly would join me now!

This heart-wrenching leads me to a location I'm usually trying to get away from---the kitchen. While in Ukraine I will be on the other side of the world from my kids, but there is one thing I can do. I can leave the freezer full of already prepared meals: I am now in the casserole stage of adoption.

Powered by two dissimilar emotions today, four chickens got de-boned, another casserole got added to the freezer, a craft project got started, dreams were dreamed and plans were thought of.

And this is what I call the "Lace and Casserole Stage."

Ya'll know any good recipes for the freezer? :)

The Giving Girl

2010-08-26T23:29:00.000-07:00

She likes to go sledding with her family. She's beautiful. As I look at her picture I see that she has a classic European face. It looks as though her hair is the same color as mine! Her smile twinkles at the camera while she stands in front of snow-covered, red gabled roofs. It looks like she lives in a fairy tale.

Most days she drives to her job, a job that fits the fairy tale image---she takes care of children's books in the local library. One day, as she drove to work, she prayed for me, for us. Many days, as she drove to work, she prayed for a little girl with blue eyes and not much hair, and no family at all.

Her husband has a garden. He went there when he heard that Nadya was going to get a family. He held back tears of joy as he mingled with the plants. God must have been so proud of that gardener that day. I can just imagine God smiling down on him as he watched this humble man who felt compassion for a little girl he had never met.

She writes. She wrote, and writes a blog about a little girl living in Ukraine---a little girl who needed a family of her own---to get her out into the world so that someone can find out what's inside of her little heart, so that someone can love her and help her grow up under the Shadow of the Wings of the Great Creator.

Her words found me. Her words found my husband. Her words have effected all of us. She took a chance and let her heart really care about someone. She took a chance and because of that my life is changed.

She lives a European life that I can easily envy. I live in the midst of cowboys and bar-b-que. We haven't met, but she's my friend.

She and her husband did more. They gave us a gift of sponsorship money. My heart swims with gratitude that they would do so much. I wonder how I can ever thank them for what they have done, for what they have given, for how they are helping a child and a family find each other.

I wish I could hug them in person. But, for now, all I know to do is to tell you about her, her husband, her fairy tale life, her faith, her belief, her generosity, her persistance.

There's one more thing....I can thank them.

Thank you, my far away friends!

Pray, Eat, Love.....?

2010-08-19T00:13:00.000-07:00

I just wasn't in the mood for all that action. I whispered to my boys that I was going to escape to a 'girl' movie while they finished out the battle scenes without me.

With a Dr. Pepper beside me, I was ready for a couple of hours of a feel-good get-away---all by myself. The credits rolled and Julia Robert's voice lulled me deeper into comfort as I prepared to be entirely entertained.

Hollywood can dress it any way they like, but it's still the same old lie, and it's the oldest lie of all time. So, instead of being entertained, I was heart-sickened and sad to see that Satan still knows how to get us off track by promising us the same thing he's always promised us----that we can be like God.

In case you don't know the story of the movie "Pray, Eat, Love," it's a true memoir of a author that divorces her husband, leaves her lover, and runs away from life for a year of world travel to find herself, peace, happiness, forgiveness, something to make her feel good, and a supposed spiritual balance. It was just the same old story--- an empty person looking for love in all the wrong places. The shear 'nothingness' of the whole quest on the part of this woman was enough to make me feel like I was actually getting a small peek into the very pit of hell.

As she traveled the world, I thought of all of the money she spent on herself. I tried to count up how many adoptions it would have paid for.

As she spent countless hours on mindless meditation, I thought of the commands of the Bible that teach us we should meditate by engaging our minds and hearts on God's word.

As she entered into worship with other worshippers of some unknown god, I thought of the praise and worship of my fellow believers and I and how we can KNOW that we are worshipping the one true God! Hurrah!

Her journey to find God led her to believe that she found him---and he was in her all along and he was her! She states, "God is in me, and he is me." I don't know about you, but if God looks like me, I don't want any part of him!

But, it is with great joy that I write this now. You see, there is no good thing inside of me. I've often trashed my life and filled it with one selfish act after another. I struggle to live the way God wants me to and I struggle with my own selfish desires on a constant basis. Though I recognize the faulty world-view of the author as she works so much on loving herself, I have to admit that I'm, also, always trying to justify my own self-love. So, where's the joy? The joy is this---I have found the key to true peace, fulfillment, and to eternal life---it is through giving my life to Christ and living for Him that I have found the reason to live; and though I am nearly always a big, fat mess, He loves me with a love I can't understand, and I never have to try to fill that void with anything else ever again. Talk about freedom!

I can't even claim that adopting all these kids is a self-less act. I can't say that I (or we) would do it if it didn't have so much fun attached to it. So, don't get me wrong when I issue this challenge that I'm about to write. I'm preaching to myself, too. Here goes.......

In the movie this poor lost woman-soul writes to her friends of the need of a poverty-stricken woman she has met in Bali. She states that, "Sometimes when you try to help yourself, you end up helping {tutti} everybody."

Here's my challenge to you....quit trying to help yourself. Instead, help everyone else. I pray that, for you, helping everyone else means adopting a child. If not, God has other ways for you to help everyone else. I just happen to know that the children of this world are about the neediest people on this planet. It's too bad that the lost-soul woman didn't spend her year in an orphanage.

The truth that Elizabeth Gilbert (author of "Pray, Eat, Love") never found was this:

Sometimes when you help everyone else, you end up helping yourself."

Now, get busy and help.

Blessings from Texas

Pink

2010-07-15T20:37:00.000-07:00

I found it at the resale shop. It's three stories high and painted white. The roof is slanted, the inside is ready for company. it's a doll house and bookshelf combination and it belongs to a little girl who has yet to see it.

It's Nadya's.

I'm beginning to fill the shelves with all manner of pink--and it's fun!!

Pink hair bows, dolls dressed in pink, a pink fluffy telephone. Oh, how easy it is to find little girl treasures that come in pink!

Sometimes it doesn't seem real, this new daughter of mine. Waiting is just so abstract! But, we talk about her every day, we plan for her, we wonder about her, we rearrange our bedrooms for her, we fill out paperwork for her, we save our pennies for her, we pray for her, we call her by nick-names, we love her.

I know that being on the outside of a big family looking in, it may almost seem like another child may be just matter-of-fact. If you have any friends with lots of kids you may find yourself saying.....'she has 8, no, 9 kids, wait a minute, I can't remember how many she has! ' However, if you are the one waiting for that new little life, there is just nothing matter-of-fact about it. She's important to us and she's a very big deal!

Thoughts of Nadya have only been with us for a short time--since May. This next week we will complete our final fingerprints and we will wait for our final piece of paper. It looks like we really will bring Nadya home.

Nadya---a little face I saw on a blog, written by a mom who lives over the ocean. Nadya---in our hearts and on our minds. Nadya---we just can't wait to hold her little hand!

So, as we wait I fill up shelves with all manner of pink.

The Bee Keeper

2010-06-15T12:42:00.000-07:00

The dust flew up and danced with rubber tires as the Uzbekistani family traveled the country-side. This they did for six months every year. They weren't alone: they traveled with a bevy of bee hives tethered in the back of the truck.

From farm to farm they went, this close-knit family of theirs. Their job was to pollinate the farms--to spread the seeds that make life grow. Shoo the bees out in the morning, wait for them to find their way back home at dusk; the rhythm of their days fell into a steady pulse of life-giving labor.

Ah, can't you just see it? A young, golden boy surrounded by love and travel and countryside. Old Russian-speaking country farmers swapping 'man' tales, their own bee-hive-like turbans wrapped above their sun-kissed faces, telling tales while a young boy listened nearby. A happy mother who kissed her boy good-night. All was well.

Life didn't stay that way.

The 'Jesus' Movie came to town. The breeze of the Holy Spirit blew across the face and heart of this boy's 16 year old sister. Her heart opened to the message of the film; she would never be the same. She would not keep silent. Out of her love for her new-found Father and out of love for her brother----she told him. She told him all about her Jesus. The Spirit worked in his heart, too. Brother and sister in life, brother and sister in spirit.

But, life couldn't stay that way, either.

As the boy's bones grew taller, so did his faith in his God. Not such a great thing for a Supposed-to-be-Muslim-Beekeeper.

He couldn't keep silent.

For him, this meant being arrested.

Yet, he still couldn't keep silent.

So, one day, some soldiers came once more. This time, without even letting him grab a coat or tell his wife or children good-bye, he was put on a plane, extradited from all he knew and loved.

All was taken away from him----all because of the gospel of Christ.

Thankfully, life didn't stay that way, either. Like only God can, events began to be woven into a different tapestry. Through a series of miracles and governments working together the family was reunited. But, they couldn't stay where they were. Leave they must.

So, this is how the Bee Keeper came to be in my dining room sharing his story with us. My insides curled up into a ball when I remembered my complaints of that very day---too much to do, too little money and so on. How ashamed I was of myself when in the presence of this man who has lost all--his home, his parents, his job, his beautiful life---all for the chance to tell one more person about Jesus.

This Bee Keeper now lives in a big ole' city in the south part of Texas. Now, he spreads the seeds that make life grow. He spreads the seeds---not in one city, not in two. He gets to spread the seeds that make life grow in SIXTEEN different countries---mostly Muslim. (Isn't God good?)

So, can you picture me and Alan on our back porch sitting with this great man of God? What does this man, who's been arrested, imprisoned, kicked out of his country, had his family taken from him,lost all he ever knew, and came to America with $200 and one friend look like to you? Does he have salt and pepper hair? Does he have a few crow's feet around the eyes that announce his life of sacrifice?

He looks like a school boy. You see, this man is only 27 years old!

How about you? Do you have any seeds that make life grow? Could you throw those seeds out the window and see what happens?

I dare you!

The Young Marrieds

2010-05-25T22:37:00.000-07:00

Summery weather wrapped its arms around my little crew as we made our way through the parking lot. We were about to enter double glass doors that would lead us to a group of worshippers who were unknown to us. We had moved again. We were in our new-to-the-community-looking-for-a-church mode. Here we go again.

We tucked our little boys away into Sunday School classes and left a strawberry-blond baby in the nursery. Now, it was our turn. The aristocratically-dressed man handed us a bright yellow paper with our class choices listed.

Ah! There's our class---the young marrieds. That's the Sunday School class for us!

We stumbled in and plopped our presences into the already formed circle. The circle gave us some curious glances.

Being friendly, they asked all about us. "Four boys! You have four boys?!" Though we grinned with pride we quickly began to realize that we were the only ones there that had any children at all! The young woman rubbing her maternity-dress-covered tummy was the closest to parenthood any of them knew.

I thought to myself, "Hmmmm. We seem to be in an entirely different season of life than any of these married couples. How can that be? Why, it even appears as though we are older than anyone else in this room! We've never been in any class other than Young Marrieds before, we can't possibly be anything other than a Young Married, can we?"

That's the day that Alan and I faced a cold, harsh reality and admitted that we were, indeed, no longer "Young Marrieds."

So, now that over a decade has passed and our kids have grown from 'little crew' into 'massive organization,' it would seem implausible to find us, once more, in a group setting of young marrieds. But, let me tell you, that's exactly where you'll find us---and we go there on purpose!

We have happened across the most interesting set of people! They appear to be a people-group who have escaped some of the common dyspepsia of modern Christianity. They don't seem as concerned about 'reaching their 10 year life goals' as they are about just plain ole' reaching out! They don't seem to sit around talking about their financial plans but they DO seem to talk about their sharing-Christ plans, adoption plans, and how-do-we-help-our-neighbor plans. In fact, they seem so out of step with popular Christian world view, that I almost think that their skins should be bleach-white from hiding out in some underground world somewhere! Are they for real? Can they possibly be 20-somethings and still be this radically in tune with what raw church is actually supposed to be?

It appears they can.

Yes, there are Others who view the modern church the same way these young couples do. Sadly, however, these Others got to this place by shear, heart-breaking experience. They got their view of what a radically true church should be by first serving time in the modern-church. The Others got to watch churches use their money on entertaining the masses. The Others got to watch the modern church vote in and out youth pastors, activity pastors, children's pastors, media pastors, senior citizen pastors, mission pastors and on and on. The Others have watched churches being torn apart by power-hungry staff and members who would rather spread gossip than truth. The Others have spent their time with churches that somehow got The Great Commission confused with The Great Getaway Weekend Mission trip. The Others have watched churches become placid, shallow, feel-good, entertaining, non-challenging, and completely un-Biblical churches who think a church is thriving if their youth group has a disproportionate number of kids who 'entertain' consistently, expensively, and outside the authority of the family structure.

The church is losing the battle and many of us who have watched it fail have had our cries gone unheeded--and we've given up. Many of us don't even bother to go anymore.
We've lost all hope that the church in America can really make a difference in the lives of the lost.

So, imagine how our hearts thumped-de-dumped when we first entered the small group meeting of the 20-somethings and it wasn't what we expected. Not only did they not view us as being out of place, but, they seemed a bit relieved to actually have a different age group present! The only children usually there were babies and preschoolers. Would you think my school-age kids would be out of place or, worse yet, bored? Instead, they seemed to be the guests of honor! Young moms wanted to know my little girls and sat knee-to-knee with them on the living room floor! Single guys wanted to throw a football to my teenage boys. The young adults were interested in understanding the personality of my quirky, yet funny, 12 year old. The 20-somethings sat us down to play a card game and acted like it was a very important event to play "Apples to Apples" with my crazy kids!

You know what? It was important! That first evening spent in the home of 20-somethings did more to win the hearts of my kids than the most organized children's or youth ministry ever could.

It might seem silly to have tears in my eyes as I write about this group of people; but, I can't keep my eyes quite dry. There's more to this story than a friendly card game. That group of 20-somethings didn't just touch my kids, my husband, and me, but within a few, short weeks, their baby-holding arms reached out and touched the lives of about 30 young Russians.

You see, within the last year, I began to see how God could use my family to start Christian karate in Russia. We jumped in, but always with the hope that we might find some churches or groups of Christians to jump in with us. Instead, we were literally told some of these things:

"It can't be done"
"We already give to missions"
"That's your passion---not ours."

Discouraged, but not about to quit, we kept up the fight and brought our Russian, missionary trainee over for his Christian Karate training. (By the way, wouldn't you know it? This Russian that's willing to lay down everything for a chance to talk to others about Jesus is, yes, you guessed it---a 20-something.) Off the plane, and into the weekly living room, we brought our new friend, Pasha. That night, in the living room, I took one more risk and shared one more time about a need---Pasha needed 25-30 karate uniforms to take back to Russia with him. I felt like I was doing something wrong by even mentioning it. The rich, established, older Christians, didn't have anything to give. How could I even mention this need to these young families?

You can guess the rest. Pasha got on that plane, to go back to Russia, with 30 sets of crisp, white, folded-and-wrapped-in-plastic uniforms , all because an unusual set of 20-somethings pulled out their wallets labeled "Widow's Mite" and gave and gave and gave.

Thirty kids in Russia will have karate uniforms because of the Young Marrieds.

And soon, my three daughters will be having spa day with one of the Young Marrieds.

Now that's church.

Daddy's Little Girl

2010-05-17T22:35:00.000-07:00

Sparkle! Little Blue Eyes, life is gonna change.
Warm hearts and arms will hold you close
and kiss you sweet good-nights.

A teddy bear will snuggle,
a doll will smile for you,
Christmas will be magic,
and life is gonna change.

All because your daddy, from so far away,
saw those blue eyes and recognized,
a child that should have his name.

So, hang on tight sweet baby princess,
you're Daddy's little girl.
He chose you from across the way
He's coming soon, he's coming just for you.

He's your earthly father,
for you he'll give his life,
yet there's something more important,
I have yet to say to you!

My sweet darling, daughter,
He's not the only one,
who now calls you "Child"
who calls you His very own.

You have a great, big Father,
Who watches over you.
He sees you from the heavens,
He strokes your brow at night.

He loves you so intensely,
but you didn't even know,
you always were Daddy's Little Girl,
and your life is gonna change.

(My dear, sweet, new daughter, I love you already! I long to hold you in my arms. We'll see you soon---and you can be Mommy's little girl, too!)

The Dragon Slayer---Part Two

2010-05-06T21:11:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I don't like to take him to parties and group outings---he's just too quiet! He's unassuming and doesn't seem like much of a warrior. He's content to sit alone.

I often can't tell when things are really stirring the deeps of his heart.
**************************************************************************

For some reason, the last few months we have been bombarded with the faces and stories of children needing parents. Someone asked me whom we were adopting now. I responded, "No one this year--this isn't an adoption year for us." Another told us they found a sibling group they really felt we should adopt. It was a group of seven---and the oldest was seven!! Yikes!

Out of the blue, an old friend I hadn't talked to in so long called and said, "I'm adopting again and they need families like you. They want to talk to you!"

After so many adoption messages sent my way I started repeating them to The Dragon Slayer. His response to me was the same mine had been to my friends, "Not now, not this time, probably not, too many kids etc."

But, all of a sudden, a picture fell into our lap of a little girl who lives in a corner on the other side of the world. This one wasn't so hard for me to turn away from. Not this one.

The Dragon Slayer glanced at the blue eyes. "Yes, she's cute, but....."

Silence. Is the Dragon Slayer asleep? Once more, I lay it all down at the foot of the cross and leave it all alone. I just want what God wants---that's all. I don't need anything in this world except to surrender. I walk away. I rest.

But, today something changed. He called me. He was thinking...we could sell the farm. Sell the farm? But why would we do something like that? Because we could adopt the little blue-eyed girl on the other side of the world. She needs help, she has special needs, she's in a bad situation and there's no one to get her out of there. She needs us.

************************************************************************************
The heart of the Big Dragon Slayer has been moved. He's standing tall again. He's getting ready for battle. He pulls the sword out of the holster and raises it high. It's possible, just possible, he's about to go to battle for a little heart who has no love, but has a big ole' dragon standing behind her waiting to devour her young life.

So for Nadya and the dragon (see button on the right) there just might be a Texas Dragon Slayer coming on his white horse.....just maybe.

The Dragon Slayer

2010-05-06T20:30:00.000-07:00

I wrote this a couple of years ago about my sweet husband, Alan. I wrote it in response to a request from the church to let them know about people we knew who were making a difference in this world by getting out there and fighting for those who can't. That would be my husband.

It all began in a tiny, dusty, Texas town. The young boy grew up with cowboy boots kicked under the bed and pigs asleep in the shed. The boy had school teacher parents who loved him and his life was full of church, FFA, music and science projects. it would seem that this kind of life would be idyllic for a young boy.

The problem was that Dragons came early into this little life.

By the time he was six years old he knew his life was not meant to be the same as others'. He already knew his legs would never carry him across the same finish lines that so many boys would cross. His legs weren't the same and they never would be. his little neck began to feel the warmth of the breath of that first dragon.

The second dragon came to him while he was in middle school. Something wasn't right with his mother. Some very dark spirits moved into his family home and hovered around the woman who was slowly turning into someone else. it would take decades to learn what kind of darkness she had entered at that time. Her tunnel would get progressively darker until it would take her life as a 71 year old woman. She was a victim of a terrifying, degenerate disease which would rob the family of so much joy and cast ghostly shadows over all of them for all of her earthly time.

There was more. The boy's father began a struggle with his own dark demons; and often he would lose the battles. As he fought these demons, his own muscles began to give way; his legs would not be the same either. The males in this family would not have strong muscles.

The country home was bustling with activity, but some days were just full of fear and despair. These were dragons no one chose and no one wanted around. yet, the war was on whether it had been invited in or not.

The young boy began to think of swords he would be able to use against these vicious creatures. He met a man who would forever change his life--a country doctor. The boy's own mother traveled the two-lane curves over and over again seeking some kind of relief from the hand of a gentle spirit named 'Doctor.'

The young boy I've been telling you about would ride along sometimes. He watched the doctor, he watched his mother, he watched his father, he watched other sick people in his life and a passion began to grow inside of him. He would become a doctor and slay some of the dragons of this sinful world with God's gift of knowledge and medicine.

And that he did.

He had another cause he wanted to fight. That was the cause of unloved children. He married a girl with the same desire and together they decided to dedicate themselves to children. They so badly wanted to live in a third-world country and house a hovel of orphans--giving them hope and a future. They tried so hard to make it happen. God had other plans.

Instead, God gave them their own five children. Given the health history of their gene pool, this was a decided risk. They took the risk, they loved their kids, and they saw it as God's ministry for them.

But, that was only the beginning. God had more children for them. God brought five(now 7) more children to this family through a very blessed event called adoption. Four of these children, especially, were in great need of a dragon slayer to enter their lives and begin the fight of saving them from decided darkness. The Texas boy was ready; he was ready to stand tall and to fight the fight and beat the dragons down---all just for them.

These battles were overwhelming sometimes. Many of the battles took place at the hospital. There were ICU days and surgery days and hospital days---lots of them.

Many tears had to be cried for these kids. Sometimes the Dragon Slayer would have to physically hunt one of his stray sheep down---just to bring him home. Sometimes the Dragon Slayer would have to cry out to professionals to learn just what he was going to do to save these little lost souls.

He went to work. He went to work A LOT! he went to work to pay for all his children, for their surgeries, for their medications, for their music lessons, for their food, for their clothes, for their future.

He's fought hard and long. At times, the battles have been lost. Darkness has surrounded our Dragon Slayer with a plethora of difficult circumstances; some of them downright tragic. He's lost so much through this war.

In fact, right now, he's down on the ground with a dragon hoof planted on his chest. If someone were just watching the dragon and the slayer, they might actually mistakenly assume that the dragon had won! While our Slayer might be partially slain and greatly wounded, he's still moving and breathing and his sword is still sharp.

Besides, just look off a bit behind that dragon. There you'll see 12 faces smiling at the hope given them. You'll see 12 who watch a father say that who we are in Christ is more important than how well our physical body works. You'll see faces who have watched a Dragon Slayer snatch them straight from the hands of neglect, hunger and abuse. You'll see faces that have the courage to live and walk with God because they have watched courage lived out before them. You will see hearts that have been given to Christ because their Dragon Slayer showed them the way to the foot of the cross. You'll see 12 faces of life because of one, single Dragon Slayer. In fact, they now stand free because the Dragon Slayer is on the ground for them---just for them.

Let's check back the the Dragon Slayer; he's still breathing and he's still stirring. A weak hand is being raised with sword in hand. The fight still goes on. It has to go on. It just has to.

It's for the children.

The Kitchen, The Circle, The New Life!

2010-05-03T00:33:00.000-07:00

I love stories. I love to hear stories of other people's lives. Sometimes I'll tell my sister or my friends, "Tell me a story about someone you know."

I found out this morning at church that I'm not alone in this love----God loves stories, too. In fact, the Bible follows a story outline that has become the magical formula for all good stories.

We got home from church today and the kids and I started putting lunch together. As we worked side by side I couldn't resist asking the kids what the 'sermon' was about today. They were all eager to say that it was about the story of the Bible.

"Well, can anyone tell me the outline of the Bible?"

I didn't expect Roma to be the one to be the most enthusiastic about answering. His English is rough, and I've never been able to catch on to what his real spiritual understanding is. With that darling Russian accent he quoted:

1. Creation
2. The Fall
3. Redemption
4. Restoration

Wow! I didn't even think his almost-a-year English language could pronounce those words much less remember them! Of course, I had to ask---did he know what the words meant?

That began the discussion between my kids and me as we microwaved and juggled silverware. Within a few minutes we had all stopped cold. Roma and I discussed and the kids mostly listened. Roma knew about creation, he now understood the fall, and he knew he had never been redeemed and he wanted to know how. I told him. He wanted it---he wanted it now. Salvation class commenced.

So, amid the kitchen chaos, Roma's new family made a shoulder to shoulder circle-hug around Roma. He understood, he wanted, he was ready. He prayed out loud---in Russian---while his family hugged him tightly.

Today, Roma received, in the middle of a circle in the kitchen, brand new life!

Welcome home, my Roma boy!

It's All About the Ski Trip

2010-05-02T22:28:00.001-07:00

A lanky young man was busy dragging the cart of potting soil back into the fluorescent lit Dollar General. Though it was closing time, a hurried woman slipped in for a last minute purchase. I sat in the car watching the activity as I waited to pick up a couple of my teenagers who were sequestered in the "youth room" of the church next door to the Dollar General.

As the day began to tuck itself away for the night, I sat in my dusty mini-van with some rare thinking time on my hands.

Youth group night--gotta love it, gotta hate it. However,as I waited, I also felt a reluctant and down-trodden sense of inevitability sink into my heart. I just don't like this---not at all--and there's nothing I can do about it, at least not tonight.

My youth group opinions began to form about ten years ago while Alan and I taught a Junior High Sunday School class. We didn't choose our curriculum--we were handed it. Let me tell you, it was amazing! It was inductive Bible study for middle schoolers and it blew us away. We sat in a room full of kids who had their noses in a notebook and pulled treasures out of the Bible like they were born to do it. We were humbled and amazed and inspired and invigorated. So, was our red-headed son who was in the class with us.

So, imagine our surprise, when the following fall, when our son got promoted to youth group while we stayed behind with our Bible-studying middle schoolers, he came to us after the very first Sunday he attended, and begged us to never make him go back again. He pleaded to us with eyes wide with horror as though we had just sent him swimming in a sewer pit. He was repulsed by the childish, crude, outlandish and gimmick-filled hour followed by a 5 minute devotion.

What we didn't know at the time was that we had just learned the formula which is followed by nearly all churches for a 'successful' youth ministry: get down on their level, entertain them, make it simple because they must be stupid, keep their interest by playing silly game after silly game, feed them and take them to the movies, and best of all----do fund-raisers for the annual ski trip.

I went to high school in Great Falls, Montana. We lived 45 minutes from an awesome ski resort. Not once did our little youth group take a ski trip together. But, here in Texas, where there's not a skiing hill in sight, any youth group of any size, goes skiing every single year, usually in Colorado. To all of those who don't live here---no, I'm not kidding. To all of those that do live in Texas---you know that I'm telling the truth.

So, as I sat watching the last-minute activity at the Dollar General I got to thinking about the ski trip that the church in the corner takes every year. I wondered just how in the world it has come to pass that Texas churches take ski trips every single year. How could we? The world is full of starving people, orphans, widows,the poor, martyrs, sick, and oppressed. But, here we sit in America and entertain our youth as though the gospel truth just can't cut it on its own.

I think it's wrong.

My first two concerns about youth group were this---I don't want my kids to be peer-dependent and I don't want then to be materialistic. Well, if you want to make it in youth group, you have to be those two things. Money pours out to keep up with all of the rock-climbing, bowling, roller-skating, swimming, Six Flags, pizza trips. The kids are separated from all other age groups and kept in their little group where they have their own band, their own worship, their own counter-culture. Everything we don't want our kids to do---we promote in our local churches.

We've moved around so much, therefore seeing many youth groups, that I've become an expert. Here's the deal: the youth pastor is young, never raised a teenager, and is a person who also loves an inordinate amount of entertainment activity. The youth pastor is expected to be there to listen to the kids problems and advise and counsel them. The youth director has no problem approaching the teenager and instigating private conversations that should only take place between parent and child. Youth group is planned around a catchy gimmick that teaches a moral or Biblical truth--that truth taking from 5 to 15 minutes, tops.

Just wondering----why do we treat our teenagers like they are babies instead of nearly adults, and why do we use gimmicks and entertainment instead of the plain old Bible.

I'm not against fun---I'm against teaching our kids that church is all about being with friends and having fun and feeling emotional when they worship together with a 'cool' band. I'm against letting the youth of this country feel that they are such a special age group that they deserve their own activities, pastor, and peer group. I'm against pulling youth away from their parents and their families and letting them feel like they have a right to their own, private, peer and entertainment-dependent counter culture. I'm against a church using 'vibrant youth and children's ministry' as their church mission statement (do you know of this mission statement anywhere in the Bible?). I'm against this notion that churches of any size are supposed to take a group of youth skiing in Colorado every single year.

I'm not a Bible Scholar, but I sure can't find how the Bible can be used to support these elaborate and family-less so called "ministries." They just aren't Biblical. in fact, they really do the opposite when they pull impressionable youth out of the "let the wiser teach the younger" framework and throw them together with like-minded youthfulness/foolishness. Let me share a quote from Mike Mchugh who has written online ("A Book Review of Chris Schlet's 'A Critique of Modern Youth Ministry'"{you can google this})

When young people are allowed to interact with one another and make their own rules, a "herd mentality" develops: they follow in the footsteps of one another rather than those of adults. The fundamental problem is not peer interaction, but irresponsible adult; especially parental; leadership. Young people should never be allowed to form a herd. Though peer interaction is often profitable, it is only so when it promotes maturity. From their birth, children should see themselves as adults-to-be, growing into an adult world. They must never be trained to think that perpetual youth is life's aim.

The church ought to be wary of what some call an "Ideal" youth ministry. They pull teens away from their elders, bring them together, and encourage them to revel in their youth. Even worse, children are drawn away from home in order to keep church commitments. I have seen youth ministries where the "deeply committed" kids are at the church four nights a week!

I'll write some more about this later---and tell you how I'm a hypocrite. But, tonight, all I can think of is that the world is dying without Christ. But, here in Texas, it's all about the ski trip.

Life is Precious

2010-03-31T16:18:00.000-07:00

The game system in the corner couldn't hide the fact that this was a waiting room. I didn't want to be there.

As I came in, I did the respectable "space" thing and left two seats between myself and a woman who was there with her boy in a wheelchair. He was asleep, curled fingers upon his chest, head rolled to one side. Drool was slip, sliding down his chin as his eyelids pressed heavily together.

I gasped when the darkness one seat over moved! Oh, it wasn't empty after all! There lied a big, long-haired, adorable black blob, so blended with the black chairs that he was almost invisible. My startled gasp was a doorway to conversation---she had noticed my reaction to the dog.

It's my custom---I ask questions. So, I began to hear the story of her darling 15-year boy in the wheelchair who has so many seizures that he needs his constant companion, his seizure dog who stops them cold.

He's a poster boy for Easter Seal. He travels with his mother to fun events for those whose lives are curbed with restrictions. In turn, she misses business meetings in order to care for her boy. She tells me he is a gift. She tells me what he means to her. Her eyes begin to water. She loves him so much.

Meanwhile, another mother with an over-sized stroller had come and settled close to us. She had her head tipped towards us, listening. The dog, once again, set a conversation into motion. The dog... the boy.. and now we talked of her own little daughter.

I couldn't tell you how old she was. She was still and quiet, eyes closed, and dimpled fingers at her side. Her raven hair lay still around her hers. She wasn't a baby, yet she wasn't quite a child. She looked like an over-sized china doll.

I walked across the room to get a closer look. "Oh, she's so beautiful" I said. The mother quickly became contemplative. She sighed.

"I need to find help for her, but no one can do anything."

"I'm sorry," I sighed with her.

"They told me I should put her in an institution, they told me she would die soon, they told me she would cause me so much grief.

And then she was swept away by her sorrow; the tears ran down her cheeks as she said, "But no one understands how special she is and how much joy she has brought to my life. Maybe she can't do anything, but she's my little daughter and I love her so much."

I didn't know this woman, but I wrapped her in my arms while she sobbed. I then asked her if I could pray for her. She let me. So, in the waiting room, while the fish flitted in the aquarium, I lifted up appeals to our Heavenly Father.

As she wiped her eyes and I stood to go, it hit me. This is neither a baby nor a child. There's no capability for sin in her life. Her life has meaning and she is loved. Her very life makes the lives of others richer. She's a real, live, honest-to-goodness angel, here to visit this earth for only awhile.

The boy, the girl. They will never be what man calls normal. But their lives are important. They are so special in the sight of their family. They are wanted and loved. They are treasures to this world.

Even difficult and different lives are ordained by God. So, you see, life really is precious. Yes, life is precious.

How Rich Am I!

2010-01-30T19:37:00.000-08:00

I'm a very rich woman. As I sit in the dark, on a big ole' bed while typing, I have wiggly, dark-headed, Guatemalan 4-year old by my side. I have a stream of sweet faces coming in to tell me good-night, one after another. Long, wet hair softly hits my face with an Elyza-hug. I take Roma's hand and pray with him for sleep. Honor grabs my neck and puts his cheek against mine; a hair dryer whistles in the other room. Hatty comes to tell me her new photo-shop trick. It's night, and I am home, safe and sound.

"Good-night, I love you, Till!"
"Sayer, time to close those dark eyes of yours."
"Juliya, what's up? Why aren't you going to bed?"

Sweet faces, sweet sons and daughters, lots of hugs and lots and lots of happy times. How rich am I!

But, there's a sinister plot being unfolded in the Whaley family. It's a plot that has my insides twisted like a knot at the end of a golden chain.

We're being robbed.

It's all about renting a house. As the 16 months we lived in the house unraveled themselves, we learned something about the owners. We knew we would hit some ugly wind when we moved out; we knew we were in a no-win situation. But, we weren't really prepared for a hurricane.

In our effort to protect ourselves, we did everything we could to keep things up, repaired, painted, in good order. But, we should've known. It didn't really matter what or how we did it---it was going to be wrong, it was going to cause us problems.

Would you believe that we were required to have a $8,200.00 deposit before we moved in? Well, we scraped to get that money together because we just needed a home where we could rest and find our way in the employment world. It was a home perfect for us. We gave the deposit with a sigh; it was everything in the world we ever had besides our 'paycheck to paycheck' money. We sacrificed to get it that money. We just needed a home.

I cried with the stress of packing, moving, and cleaning, cleaning, and more cleaning. We hired help. We scrubbed everything we possibly could. We couldn't think of anything else we could possibly do when we left. I used a new floor polish and polished myself out the door.

The owners stepped on my over-zealously polished floor. Check. Too much polish. Take our money.

The owners see the floor where our reported sink-leak damaged the floor. We didn't repair it the way they wanted. Check. They want a new kitchen floor. Take our money.

We asked if we could keep the walls painted. They gave us the paint. They didn't like how we did it. Check. Take our money.

They don't like how we trimmed the hedges. Check. Take our money.

The list goes on. Without giving us warning...they took all of our money...every penny...and they want $2,300.00 more------"or you may face legal action"------

Now, wouldn't you agree that we are being robbed? For $10,200 dollars worth of damage you would think that we took out the sink and took doors off their hinges.

We were counting on that money; we were counting on getting most of it back. We need it.

They kept it all. They want more.

Now, it becomes a spiritual battle. This is now about the state of my heart. Am I willing to let God be our defender? Am I really willing to let go of everything---all of our money? Am I willing to let someone falsely accuse us and slander our name? Am I willing to trust God completely and let my pride go? Am I?

Alan is so good. He quotes such thing as "..give them our cloak, also" "turn the other cheek" "love our enemies" It's hard being married to someone who is right.

The plot unfolds and we try to navigate our way through a minefield of spiritual questions. Oh, we just want to do what is right! But, yet, we don't want to be robbed!

And then, I imagine the owners who have bragged about making lots of money, who have oil wells, who own 2 or 3 houses of their own, and who spend their summers in Colorado. They have their reward---they have lots of money. They have their Old Baptist Family reputation.

But, they don't have what I have. I sit on the bed in a sleepy house, with downy heads nodding away, guitars played by boys who are supposed to sleep, dryer running. Three more boys just joined me because they scared themselves silly by telling scary stories. I have lots of life around me.

We live paycheck to paycheck and pay medical bills from years gone by. We run to Goodwill to scrounge for good finds and Wal-mart keeps us alive. We scrape to get the bills paid and Alan works two jobs.

But as I think of my house full of kids, love, fun, and promise all I can think of is HOW RICH AM I!
*************************************************************************************

Please do pray for us in this matter. We want what God wants. We will lay it all down if that is what He asks of us. We just need His grace and peace and guidance. Pray we do the right things. Also, pray for them. But, please, my friends, pray for them. I do.

Down 1187

2009-12-22T19:38:00.000-08:00

It's got lots of bumps and a few red lights. It goes right past a tattoo parlor, a Sonic, a Dollar General, and not past too many other things. It's Route 1187 and I used to live a couple miles south of it.

Right now, I hate that road. Yes, it's strange to hate a road, but I have a reason---even a fairly good one if you consider selfish, human fraility. A little less than six weeks ago, we found out that we were going to have to move sometime within the next six months. Our life has been in transition, so we had just been renting a place for the time being. However,landlords, being what they may, want to sell the house.

Big, heavy, very heavy sigh!

It usually takes a long time to find a place for this crazy crew to live in---so, I figured it would take every bit of six months to find that place. I was wrong. Within a day, we found a really cool, wonderful place, and it seems that it has been provided to us directly from God's hand. It's a long, complicated story...but, suffice it say....it's from God, for sure. But, instead of six months from now---it came NOW. (Have you noticed that God doesn't seem to know the word "timely?" His time seems to come out of nowhere, or never to come at all!)

Anyway, over the last few weeks, we have made many, many, many, many trips down Route 1187 to our new home, carting all manner of junk.

And now you see where my gut-felt aversion to the Texas pathway came from? Moving is stinkn' hard. Add scads of kids and paraphernalia, and throw it into the middle of the holiday season, and it's just enough to make a grown woman cry.

Let me go back and pick up some key words from what I've just written. Try these:

bumps
used to
transition
heavy sigh
many trips down
stink'n
scads
cry

This seems to sum up several things about me---like maybe my life and my relationship with God. I think it could also do a pretty good job of often describing my parenting skills. Without question, these words describe my diet plan!

I don't own these words,alone, though. I have a feeling that you own them, at least some of them, too. Such is life for all of us!

But, there's some more words that I also own, and I've already written them above, too:

good
big
cool
wonderful
God's hand
many, many, many

And these describe my life, too. Do you own these words?

I wanted to tell you that I moved-because I figure if I can move all these kids, and I didn't kill one of them (came close) I can tell you that God is good.I can tell you that you can have a big, crazy life and survive. Besides that, I can tell you this, when we packed up the truck, we threw Honor in, too, and he's back home----again!

I didn't exactly know what was going to get typed---but, here it is good words and bad, good times and bad.

But, best of all, I can't find the box that has the measuring cups in it....so, I'm think'n I can just keep on eating the Hershey kisses and never actually put them on top of freshly baked peanut butter cookies. Yes, there are many, many blessings in this life!

Merry Christmas, my sweet friends.

You've Always Been in My Heart

2009-10-19T18:26:00.000-07:00

It smells funny. It's plain and it's in the bad part of town. The living room furniture consists of a bicycle and three pairs of shoes lined up under the window. A Wal-Mart lamp is plugged in and stands by the dingy, front door. The refrigerator door is covered with rust and the pipes under the sink leak. The bed is nothing more than a sleeping bag laid out on the carpet. Books and a Bible are scattered around.

This is my son, Honor's, apartment. It's the right place for him to be, for now, but it's a sad place for all of us. He doesn't want to be there; he wants to come home.

But, we had to do it. We signed a three month lease, so that he could have time to reflect and pray.....and so we could have time to heal.

Changing, growing and learning so often comes with a price. This is one of those times.

So much turmoil,
so much pain,
just so much......

So, we rest, work at relationships, and wait. Honor wants to come home to stay by Christmas time. We all want it, too.

One of his new jobs in life is to learn to share his heart----his real heart, not the made-up one. This has been a tough assignment for him. It's been so tough, I didn't know if it would ever happen. Words don't come easily for him.

A few days ago, I stopped by to pick him up for a few hours. As we walked out his apartment door, he handed me two sheets of notebook paper that had been prepensely folded into a little square.

Honor slid behind the wheel and I warmly held my mysterious papers in my hand. I carefully unfolded them. Honor kept his eyes on the road, mine were glued to the lines before me.

It was a letter. In fact, I would have to say, it was the best letter I have ever read in my whole life. In fact, when I die, my kids will go through my stuff, and they will find those two non-descript, very normal pieces of paper. It was the kind of letter that can direct paths and heal hearts and give hope.

We stopped at red lights--he looked ahead-- I looked down. He navigated turns, I tried to navigate my heart. I don't know where he had been hiding those beautiful words, but somewhere deep inside of him, he found words that painted the most beautiful picture of his heart, thoughts and feelings. My eyes were already brimming, but when I got to the end, I had to weep.

I've tried to explain to Honor, that he was always meant to be my son---God just wanted him to learn Russian first! I've tried to explain what it feels like to adopt a son--how I tied my heart to his and felt like he had always been mine. I've tried to explain that he always belonged to me. I tried.

But, he found a better way. At the end of his letter he penned a few words.

P.S. You've always been in my heart.

Now I know, we're going to make it.....we just are!

Smelling Coffee

2009-09-15T17:21:00.000-07:00

I'm at the Starbucks inside a Barnes and Noble. The drunkenly-sweet smell of chocolate cake and the exotic aroma of coffee beans make my mouth water. Hmmm, wish life could always be this easy.

As you can guess, with 12 kids, my life isn't always that easy. Sometimes, it's easy---but, not always.

I've resorted to being here, for example, before I actually try to write on this adoption blog! I'd like to keep this blog going because I'd like to think that someday someone would read it and adopt because of reading it! I've shared about past adopted kids, and about my recent one involving easy and very happy boys.

Now, I'd like to tell you about another adoption--one that hasn't happened yet. I don't know who's doing the adopting--but, I know who's being adopted---it's a 14 year old boy named Andrei. He lives in Odessa, Ukraine in orhpanage number four. He's a great kid. He's one of the ones who doesn't get into trouble. Not only that, but he's really, really handsome. He wants a family---badly.

He started in the orphanage in the 1st grade along with a group of other orphans. ALL of the other kids in his class have been adopted. He's the one who hasn't been chosen from his class. Recently, he asked someone why he was never chosen. There's no answer for that question. He went on to say that, no matter how tired he is, he won't go to sleep st night until he has said a prayer to God asking for his very own family.

That's not all. He went on to ask that person if they would help him find a family.

I'd like to help, too. I have his picture! He's a doll! If you, or anyone you know, might be interested (oh, please, please be interested) please email me at:

manymusic@gmail.com

I'll send you the picture and tell you what I can about adopting him--or some of the other kids there.

You know, I'm going to trust that there will be a day when Andrei will be sitting in America at a Barnes and Noble, feeling like life is easy and---smelling the coffee!

I Have a Family

2009-09-04T15:23:00.000-07:00

He's so happy, that 16 year old Roma son of mine! He dances around the house---literally. The only time he doesn't dance is when we ask him to show off for us!

He's been in America less than two months--and, he's happy!

One day, a couple of weeks ago, I took Roma shopping and out to lunch, just the two of us. We had so much fun. Of course, he had more fun. He always does! As we got home and he leaped out of the car and towards the door I mentioned to him,

"Roma? You know what I like about you?"

"What?"

"Your'e just so happy!"

"Why, of course!" he exclaimed!

"hmmmmm,"I was thinking. "Of course? Of course why? What does he have to be so happy about anyway? Life hasn't been so great to him so far! Why can't I just be like him--one of those the glass half-full kind of people---the kind that wake up hearing the birds sing? But, then, maybe he was just born his way and I was born this way and I'm always going to feel deeply and be more melancholy, and see through dark glasses, and why can't I be more like Roma, and was I this happy when I was his age, and why, and what, and, and, and........."

My philosophical thoughts were a big, selfish, jumbled mess. But, as we got to the door I pulled myself out long enough to respond to my Roma.

"Of course, why, Roma?"

"Because, I have a family!"

Enough said?
Yup, enough said.

The X's Have It

2009-08-10T16:28:00.001-07:00

My street is eclectic country. It winds around corners and skates past yards littered with throwaway tires and runs past a mailbox crookedly standing from the center of a ringlet of faded pink and orange plastic flowers. Then it skoots on down past privacy driveways with some kind of fancy houses hidden back in the woods. It skips on past a few cows and the like, and rises up over the railroad tracks, and then, with a sigh, settles back down into a meandering country walk.

Right about here there's a little bungalow. This is one of the houses that was here before there was any 'eclectic' to the place---- back to when a country road was only a country road and didn't try to put on any airs. Buddha, Trouble, Fever, Ed and Frankie mark time in the fields, swish flies, and wave at the passing train with their tails. They wait around until the warm, tanned hands of either Derrell or Honor(aka Sasha or Sawyer) snuggle their noses and sneak them a treat.

The chickens don't make too much fuss in their coop and Bobby the goat is behaving himself. The air is pretty still these days, and the grass is browning in the heat.

Out back, stands a Texas type of obelisk--a monument to the Texas way of life and a sanctuary for a man's kind of man--a rusty, corrugated tin barn. Treasures abound in this place. All manner of tools, wires, and equipment decorate the walls and equestrian gizmos burnish the place with cowboy ambience.

Like I said, it's a 'real man' kind of place.

You might not notice the calander on the wall, if you weren't looking for it. It's a regular size calendar pinned up at the eye level of a tall man---like Derrell. It fits the decorating scheme---cowboys and their horses printed on the top half, and those what-you-would-expect calendar squares on the bottom half.

But, this is when 'ordinary' stops. You see, many months ago, my son, Honor, started feeding Derrell's horses-----sometimes. That left the other times for Derrell to guess if the horses had been fed or not. Sometimes the horses got fed two or three times more than they should've! So, Derrell came up with a system. Whoever feeds the horses picks up a marker and makes an X in the upper corner for the a.m. feeding and in the lower corner for the p.m. feeding. That way, whoever comes to feed the horses can see if they've been fed or not.

So, the X's began accumulating.

But, there came a day in May when Honor and we got on a plane to go to Ukraine for a month--or so. That month turned into two. Then that month turned into three for Honor, who took a u-turn into a dark, lonely, lost place. He should've been home---but he wasn't.

The days on the calendar marched past me. Some of those days I was throwing Honor's things away--with the belief I'd never see him again. Most of those days found me crying. Many of the days found me in despair. But, regardless, one by one the days on the calendar just kept passing.

Honor did finally come home. He was nervous about facing anyone---and about facing Derrell. He knew he let a lot of people down---and his dear friend, Derrell, was one of them. Honor was scared.

I nearly had to walk him down there myself---but, he finally overcame and went on down. Like I knew he would be---he was there awhile; you never greet a true friend after a long absence in only a minute. He came back, as the sun began to wither, with a grin on his face. He sat in the kitchen and watched me wash dishes while his eyes glistened with something that had moved him. I knew something affected him before he ever opened his mouth. It was this:

The days that Honor was lost, the days I was walking the rainy streets of Kiev with a broken heart, the days I gave up hope, the days we all thought the pain was too much to bear, Derrell was doing something else. He was making two X's every day on his calendar---one in the a.m. and one for the p.m. Every day he checked to see if there was already an X before he fed the horses.

Derrell never gave up.

I had to have a peek at this calander myself. So, a few nights ago, when Honor was there, I made my way down to the corrugated tin barn. There it was....the month of August already well on its way with X's. I lifted the corner of the August cowboy to see July----yep, full of X's----then I had to check June--yep, full of X's. In fact, there were three months full of X's-----all waiting for Honor to come home.

It's hard for us humans to really understand love and forgiveness and repeated chances. It's hard for us to understand how it is that God can forgive us and keep waiting on us to come home. But, every once in awhile, God sends us humans a visible picture of love and forgiveness and perservance.

This time, for us who live down the street from Derrell, it came from a cowboy calendar marked with X's, on the wall of a rusty, corrugated tin barn.

A Late Night Ride

2009-08-08T10:14:00.000-07:00

I didn't know I was late and the plane was early. I sat on the baggage claim carousal and opened my Bible while I waited. My son was already there; I just didn't know it.

Within minutes he stood before me. I jumped and threw myself into his arms. He held on to me for dear life while I shook with tears. Airport activity went on around us; we just stood there, he was clinging and I was crying.

He was determined to know his consequences, he really wanted to know now. So, we pulled into a Starbucks and talked awhile. It wasn't any fun. We sat with my journal open between us. But, it wasn't too long before I closed it again and said, "Let's go."

He was in no state of mind. He wasn't the contrite, broken prodigal I was hoping for, at least not at that moment, not like he'd been on the phone.

With Silence buckled in the car with us, we began our journey home once more. He fell asleep.

He slept and he slept and he slept and he slept--a result of jet lag and readjusting to his medicine.

By the time he awoke, nearly 18 hours later, I was gone. It was my parents' 60th wedding anniversary and I had to get there to help set up. Hours later I saw him, truly, for the first time, in a room full of aunts, uncles and cousins.

Another big hug from him.....

We got another chance to redo our silent car ride after the big Texas sky turned starry and dark. This time, he drove through the countryside, with a full moon cheering us on and we talked, we really talked. I relived one particular day by speaking the day out loud and I cried and I cried and I cried.

He grabbed my hand and said, "I'm sorry."

The man on the moon's smile got tiny. I was both relieved and forlorn. This dark night was a beginning, but it was only a beginning.

The late night ride came to an end...but,another ride is beginning.

You Sweet

2009-08-03T19:51:00.000-07:00

My life swirls around me; like the tilt-o-whirl at Six Flags. I have children in life stages from toddler-hood to nearly-getting-married-hood. I have kids in all stages of adoption---from new to seasoned. I plan meals, school lessons and doctor visits. I practice piano for my son's recital and watch my kids do hand-stands in the water.

I live.

Yesterday I was sitting on the deck level of a pirate ship, while being sprinkled with both water and toddler squeals, when my almost-four-year old looked over his shoulder at me through over-sized, neon goggles and grinned from ear to ear. He then sped away from me as he swooshed down the slippery slide taking him away from me and down to the blue, one foot deep ocean.

As his night-dark head slid away from me I was thinking about words. I have survived on the Words of God this past month, and I've treasured your words written to me, and I've kept my sanity by sorting my thoughts through the sieve of words. I have been a bit forlorn at times, since coming home, that I haven't had time to think through very many words or to put them down. In fact, this is the 3rd time I've tried to finish this post! So, my time on top of a pirate ship became my 'quiet time' of sorts---the time I could think through some thoughts and some words and even reflect on the power of words on my busy, crazy, tilt-o-whirl life.

I began this blog a few months ago with the hope that I could somehow find the words to show others down to the very bottom heart of adoption. I've shared quite a few words already. Since we have shared words together, you and I, I would like to fill you in on a story you've been waiting to hear more about, and a few more adoption words.

My far-away son is coming home tomorrow. For the past week and a half, words have traveled back and forth on a cloud of hope and mercy and perplexity. Words have revealed some answers and some more questions, but they have also given this family back hope----and a son and brother.

Words have become important to another adoption story---that of my new son Till's. He has finally gotten confident enough to come tell me long, detailed stories. He uses all kinds of words-- some in English, some in Russian, and some with pantomime. But, his words are becoming the visible sign that he is coming to know me.

Two days ago my other new son, Roma, gave me a very precious gift of words. He and I and my daughter, Elyza, were talking about how to be sweet and how to treat other people and such things as that. All of a sudden, Roma turned around to me,
squared me with his chocolate brown eyes and said,

"You sweet. For you, no problem."

Ah, the power of words to fill a mother's heart!

So goes my stories. They all need words. I have already shared both happy and sad stanzas to my Life of Adoption song.

And I want to give you one more thought about words.......there are so, so many kids in this world who are waiting to look at their very own mother, and with their very own brand new English words say,

"You sweet."

Anybody out there want to hear them?

Questions

2009-07-29T09:48:00.000-07:00

I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think.

We have to wait another week for a flight out of Kiev for Sawyer to come home.

But, in the meantime, I'm at a loss as to why all of this happened.

Nothing makes sense.

He says that one thing he has learned is how much God loves him and how much we love him.

But, as the story unfolds more and more; I feel MORE unloved by God and MORE unloved by Sawyer.

The story seems to bring him answers and it brings me more questions.

Someday, maybe I will have some answers. But, right now, all I have is questions.

P.S. God has shown me His love through you all, I think more than any other way, throughout this month of July. I appreciate the time you take to write me. I really, really do---I'm not kidding----I treasure every word from you all, even though I don't seem to find ways to write you all back. Thank you.

If It's Not Too Late

2009-07-26T17:11:00.000-07:00

The weeds brushed my cheek as I leaned over the puddle of dark---the one right by the railroad tracks. The moon tried to give me my privacy by giving my only a sliver of a wink. The stars were also my unwelcome company. A complete, unadorned night sky would've fit my mood better.

What I really, really wanted was to throw up. If I could've just willed myself to throw up I thought I would've felt so, so, much better. So, as I walked the street in front of my house I paused at the railroad tracks. I had cried, I had moaned, I was so sick to my stomach from grief that I took a few steps off of the road and put my head into the brush.

"Oh, please, please, just throw up...please, God, let me throw up; I'll feel so, so much better if I could."

I couldn't.

So, I carried on my battle with God, under the moon and stars for awhile, then gave up. Time to go in and distract myslef, again. Let the dark keep its vigil without me.

Good-night moon.
*************************************************************************************For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. Psalms 30:5

Morning came to Texas---but, nothing else has been normal for this day.

I had some weird things happening at home.....sigh.

Then, a storm blew in---a storm in JULY--in TEXAS.

We have no internet for some reason, so I'm spending my Sunday night at Starbucks hooked up to their Wi-Fi--another strange thing.

And here's something JOYFULLY unexpected, and even strange---------My lost son wrote me----

He realizes what a terrible thing he has done....
If it's not too late, can he come home?

My answer:

It's NEVER too late!

Now, I know that we are just at the beginning of a new journey...and I see some awfully big mountains in front of us--

but, I'm just so happy that It's Not Too Late.

Eggs at Midnight

2009-07-23T15:54:00.000-07:00

We have a new tradition in our house. It involves me, my new son Roma, and a bunch of fried eggs cooked and eaten in the middle of the night.

They never did get enough to eat in the orphanage. Time after time during my short stay in Odessa I saw Roma walk away from his meal, rather than eat the same thing one more time.

While we were in Kiev, he spied the bag of milk (yes, it comes in bags)in the fridge and eagerly asked, "Moshna?" meaning--may I? Of course he may! He cut off the corner of the bag and downed most of it in a few gulps.

"Ah," he sighed, "I love milk."

"Roma," I said, "I will buy you all the milk you can drink!"

I later found out that he never, ever got milk in the orphanage---of course. No surprise there---they didn't get much of anything besides broth, oatmeal, and bread. And now I will unveil one of the joys of adoption; it is just dog-gone fun to lavish a hungry child with that they've been longing for. I don't just mean food...I mean the whole package: love, food, fun, hugs and kisses, and you get the picture. This is part of the adoption process which is true, unadulterated, and guilt-free FUN.

Till is much less discerning with his taste buds. He has had an adamant fear of meat---but, besides that, he's better at trying new foods than Roma.

So, what joy it was the first time (in Kiev, actually) when Roma asked me to cook him eggs one night. Thus, began our late-night vigil.

These two boys have got to think I am either the craziest or the most fun mom in the world. My idea of dealing with stress is to go have fun---then come home and have more fun by staying up late and watching movies. Since I am laden with unbearable stress and am living with an incubus of grief, we are having, oh so much fun. I am often caught throwing caution to the wind. We are living it up these days.

So, we stay up late and watch movies. And sometime during the dark hours, my tall, thin, funny, cautious 16 year old hits me up...."Mom, eggs?"

He often hangs out with me and talks while I cook. This is our time together.

Someday, I suppose I'll have to teach him to cook his own eggs. In fact, he should know already by just standing there once! But how could I ever give up this precious time together?

For now, I just love cooking eggs at midnight.

My Sweet Friends

2009-07-22T21:33:00.000-07:00

My Sweet Friends..
My sweet friends are you...
You who responded to my plea for advice.

I hardly know what to say.
I changed what I would say to Sawyer tonight because of you.

I love you so much for taking the time to write.
I cherish every word.

Thank you.

Do You Need a Minister?

2009-07-21T21:26:00.000-07:00

I sat, drenched in rain, in the internet cafe in Kiev---during my last dark, dark week in Ukraine. I wrote three people. Two I wrote so that they could minister to me--because that's their job. The other I wrote because he was the one person in the world I wish I could talk to personally. I expected to hear from two of them, I never, ever expected to hear from the third.

I wrote the pastor at our church who is in charge of our age group. I wrote the counselor at our church that my son (now we're calling him Sawyer) had been going to and I had also seen. I wrote another person who I greatly admired and thanked him for his honesty in his books---I wrote Philip Yancy.

It's been almost three weeks since I wrote them. Guess which one wrote me back?

Philip Yancy.

Isn't that something? I just wanted one of the men responsible for pastoring my family to write me and tell me they would pray for me------but, nothing. Not one word. I mean absolutely nothing.

But, Philip Yancy took the time to write me.
************************************************************************************

I took the kids to guitar lessons today. They meet their teacher at a church we don't attend. I talked a minute to their teacher about my crazy life with my wayward son. He jumped up and nearly took me by the hand to drag me out to the church hallway to find someone who could help me find a counselor.

I couldn't find the counseling secretary, but out of nowhere, one of the staff members came to me to inform me that I could go to the church office, "Martha is expecting you."

I didn't know who the man was, but, off I went to Martha.

I stood at the counter looking down at a friendly Martha. Almost immediately, a big man joined the perpendicular side of the counter. I knew he had to be listening, but we pretended he wasn't there. Martha informed me of the counselors numbers and office hours and gave me another smile.

Suddenly, the big man asked, "Do you need a minister?"

At first, I chuckled a little bit. Then, I teared up. Then, I bowed my head and cried. He answered, "Come on, let's go talk."

He pulled me into the glass room----there was just glass everywhere. I settled down, both physically and emotionally. I started by telling him about my three emails I wrote while in Kiev. I told him that I just couldn't believe what he said about needing a minister----I've been trying to get a minister for three weeks.

For about 30 minutes, we sat and he let me talk and he let me tell him about Sawyer and he let me talk about my disappointment in churches and he gave me really, really wonderful advice. He has some similar struggles with prodigals and he knew first hand what I'm going through. He was wonderful.

For several hours after, I felt like a huge burden had been lifted off of my shoulders.

I don't know why I was so alone in Kiev. I don't know why I'm so alone in my big ole' church. And I don't know why God sent me to guitar lessons to give me a stranger to minister to me.

Because, you see, what I really needed was a minister.

The Birthday Wish

2009-07-20T20:54:00.001-07:00

A quorum of Whaleys were asleep. My Sweet Missionary from Ukraine smiled. She and I carried our late night tiredness into the living room and plopped. Ah,the sofa wrapped it's arms around us.

Roma came bouncing by. "Come sit with us, Rome!" He did.

Somehow, the relaxing spirit hit us all just right and we began talking---the three of us---well, sometimes two of us, with My Sweet Missionary was often a go-between for a English mom and a Russian-speaking son. Stories of Roma's life and his thoughts and stories of some of the other boys unfolded as the stars began to shimmer outside the window.

"Oleg," Roma said. "I want to help Oleg."

I loved Oleg. He and I met while I visited orphans in Ukraine. I wanted to bring him home, too. So, Roma wants to help him and I want to help him, too.

"As we left the orphanage and I said good-bye, Oleg asked if we could send him a birthday present," Roma continued.

I felt the grief over my missing son begin to slip away a bit. I had Oleg to think of at that moment. Oleg is a sweetheart of a 16 year old--he missed his chance for a family--and he knows it. All he asked for was a birthday present.

Then we talked about the others---the ones left behind. We learned what video games they liked and what they thought they would do in life. None of them have much hope for a great future---and, again, they know it.

Hmm, the other boys who know me and really connected with me. They're all left behind. Somehow, thinking about them, and their attitudes and knowledge of their bleak futures made me forget myself for a moment. I remembered their talks and their smiles and their hugs. As I remembered, I smiled. I loved those boys, and they seemed to have an interest in me. We enjoyed each other, at least.

Roma had given up dreaming of a family. He told us that when I started sending him all of the letters, he figured I would just stop----like the last person who wrote him. His 16th birthday came and went---and he didn't have a party. He had my presents I had sent, and he had a few friends to hang out with, but no party, no birthday. I was coming soon, but he didn't know it. He didn't know there was still hope for him.

He told us himself that he had decided that it just wasn't going to happen for him. When he was called to the director's office, as we sat waiting for him, he had his first fleeting moment of hope. "Maybe they will take me. Well, maybe they are just visiting. Maybe........?" Those were his thoughts on the day we first met him---May 20 in the orphanage office with four Ukrainan women watching our every move.

Pictures of the orphanage office floated into my country living room as we listened to the story of his excitement and the thrill of knowing we came to get him and to take him home. He never thought it would happen to him, and now it was happening! He is just so happy here in his new Texas home!

As we talked, I pulled out my little photo album of pictures of my boys that My Sweet Missionary had sent me over the months. We all looked at them together....for about the 4th or 5th time. But, this time, we paused over a picture I have seen a hundred times or more. I just never really thought much about it.

Roma is sitting at a kitchen table, surrounded by the ambience of old Ukrainian wallpaper behind his 15 year old head. In front of him sits a home-made cake made by My Sweet Missionary friend. He has his eyes closed and his left forefinger resting on his nose. He has half of a grin hiding under his hand.

I always thought that picture was made by mistake---as he was about to sneeze, or as he accidentally closed his eyes and raised his hand.

It was no mistake.

My Sweet Missionary friend asked Roma about the picture. "Hey, you were making your wish then, weren't you?"

"Yes," Roma matter-of-factly answered.

"What did you wish for?"

"I wished for a family to come and get me and take me away."

As she translated the words to me my 14 year old son, Clay, said, "She's going to cry."

I did cry. This time I cried for my new son and over the amazement that his birthday wish made over a year ago. It came true and I'm the one blessed enough to be part of his dream! Oh, what unspeakable joy it is! I actually jumped into his arms and told him how happy we are to have him; my tears touched his precious cheek.

I cried for joy, I cried at the thought at just how close he had come to not having any family at all. I cried for my young men left behind who cannot ever have a family because of their age. I cried over the fact that so many of these young men would do anything they could to come and live in the Whaley family---and would never run away---because they've never run away before.

Then, of course, I cried over my son who had everything these boys dream of, yet, he threw it all away.

But, I felt comfort at the fact that Roma and Till are so happy here; that their most treasured dreams have come true. I sigh with vast relief that neither of them have ever, not even once, run away from the life God had for them in the past.

Believe it or not, we've had lots of fun since they've been here. We've been jet-skiing and swimming and watched movies.

Tonight I joined my new Roma son on the trampoline. He nearly killed me, and we laughed and laughed and laughed.

It feels so good to laugh. It feels so good when I hold my 17 year old's son's hand. It feels so good to see my kids all play together on the playground at Sonic while I sip my iced-tea. They all fit---they fit like they've always been there together.

I think about Roma's birthday wish as I watch them play tag---all the big ones and all the little ones. Oh, I'm so, so happy that his birthday wish came true. I'm so happy I'm the one that gets to see it come to life.

I wish I had a cake with a million candles on it in front of me. I would have so many wishes for all of my children----for the lost boy who has run away, and for the all the ones tucked safely into the Whaley family.

I'm so, so grateful for that birthday wish.

Will You?

2009-07-20T20:52:00.001-07:00

The news is hard. It's tough, it's unspeakable, it's hopeful, and it disappears.

He was such a good friend to me, my run away son. We made such a great team together and I never got tired of being with him.

But, he's gone.

I prayed so hard to God to hear from him. He did write a few lines of hope after four days of silence. He made promises and said he wants to change. I asked him for a few things---like writing every day. He made some promises and we had so much hope. We were sure he would write every day now---we just knew he would honor that wish.......we just knew.

We've been rewarded with silence again. It's a powerful tool he has. He can completely control the communication. It's all his.

But, what he doesn't know is that it kills our respect and trust in him----even more than it's already been killed.

There's something else he doesn't know.

We've changed his name. We usually call him Sasha---that's his Russian name. Alan doesn't want to call him that anymore----it's time to get Russia out of his system. Well, the name he chose for himself when we did the re adoption in the states is Honor. That's the name he uses with his American friends. Alan can't bear to speak that name.

So, we're back to one of his middle names----Sawyer. Alan's determined that we will call him that.

Sawyer is in another country being called Sasha---and we are here waiting for Sawyer to come home.

We have no idea what to do, how to handle this, should we ever even let him come home? He says he wants to----when he's ready. How do you like that? When HE'S ready!! How do we get him to stop manipulating us? The only thing I know to do is to give up. Quit writing him. Quit asking him. Take myself away from him completely.

We just hurt.

You are so wonderful to write me. I cherish every word ya'll write to me. I read them and re-read them again. As I sit here writing, I am so sleepy, and even a bit drugged from life and from some of the medicine I'm taking to survive.

What do you think? Tell me more. All of you who read tell me how to survive, and how to forget him and how to completely let him go into God's hand.

Will you write me some more? Will you tell me how to survive? Will you pass this on to anyone who has had a similar experience?

Will you?

Only

2009-07-16T22:03:00.000-07:00

Only an update on silence.

My son quit writing again.

He quit giving any hope.

He's gone; he's missing.

I'm trying so hard to be strong in my faith and trust God....

I will make it when I can give it all to Him and quit carrying this myself....

If I can.....

If only............

My Jesus is Alive

2009-07-16T21:30:00.000-07:00

The underground tunnels were narrow. If one person turned sideways, two people could pass each other. I bought a scarf to cover my head, out of respect to all of the Ukrainian women and girls who capped their hair. It was my last day in Kiev. It would be my last day of hope that my son would come to me. He didn't. He still hasn't.

Most carried a tall, skinny, yellow candle. The flames provided the light for our feet to find their way. I gasped with a small fear when I found myself in the tightly closed space. There was no way out; I was squished between people before me, and people behind me----all with their tiny yellow flares.

The reverent flock strolled, slowly, slowly, around a curving corner. The walls were blanched, but were occasionally visited by a painted icon....the glass was covered with the kisses of many, many, many Ukrainians looking for peace; hoping for mercy from a kiss to a icon.

I gasped again. As we rounded the dusty corner a glass coffin was resting by my right hand. I was stunned. Royal and elaborate robes covered the bones of a "saint"-- the women in front of me kissed his face.

A few creepy steps more and there was another glass coffin. Then there was another and another and another. All the men and women would keep their one un-candled hand at their side after crossing themselves, then gently lean over and kiss the glass above a skull blanketed in burgundy and gold. The ghoulish cloth was inscribed with a strange cross with a skull at the foot. More and more kisses were given to these dead bones.

I decided to join the hopeful congregants. I, also, gently leaned over the glass, right at the face of the skeleton, but I did not kiss him. I whispered instead. I breathed the words, "My Jesus is Alive."

One coffin after another were baptized with my words that last day in Kiev. Over and over I told the dry bones, "My Jesus is Alive!"

Oh, in the midst of unspeakable grief and sorrow there's something I could say! I wanted to shout it in the stuffy air---I wanted to shout it in Russian---I wanted to tell them all that they didn't have to pray to dead old bones or to brilliant icons. I have something better! I have Jesus and He is Alive----He's not brittle, dead bones!

My Jesus is Alive!!!

And now, I'm in my Texas home with the heat and the Texas sounds and with my beloved family.

I'm so far away from scarfed hair and bowing patrons begging for mercy.

But, I'm not far away from grief. I still cry, I still moan. I still don't understand this tragic thing that has happened to me, my family, my precious son.

I don't understand it. I don't want it. I'm fighting the sadness at all times.

But, as I lay in bed, or wake to a dark pit in my soul, there's one thing I can say, and one thing I want to shout, and one thing I want all of you to know.....

no matter what dark tunnels I'm in....
no matter what dark tunnels my son is in.....
no matter how much the pain, or how hopeless I feel.....

MY JESUS IS ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Trees Shrill

2009-07-10T20:39:00.000-07:00

My life is so bizarre.

Two days ago I was surrounded by dusty, but magnificent, architecture. Today I sat in the Texas heat and listened to the Texas cicados screech and whistle. I stared into the waves lapping against the gravel.

Grief sits in my lap like a demon. He sits there and stares into my eyes and wants to know if he can beat me at the game. I feel as though he can.

For moments, I can push the grief demon out of my lap and carry him on my shoulders down to the water. I baptize myself and wish for the demon on my back to drown. He doesn't. He's still with me.

The trees shrill.

My new son asks what the sounds are. My kids splash and rejoice in life. They are able to push aside their feelings and go on......oh, how I wish I could.

Am I supposed to feel this bad? Is there something wrong with me that I just want to die? Did I take adoption too far-----was I not supposed to make him part of my soul?

I hope that's not true, because I'm adopted by the King of the Universe and I want Him to love me with His everlasting and precious love......I want to be part of His very soul. In fact, I want to sit in His lap and cry until I can't breathe. I wish my tears were physically washing His royal robe. I wish my head was in His lap and His hand was on my head so softly stroking....softly whispering....softly telling me that everything will be okay.

I can close my eyes and see this, but I wish my fingers could feel His hand and His robe.

Instead, my soul just whistles, and screeches and shrills.....just like the trees in Texas.

Comment on the Comments

2009-07-09T19:02:00.000-07:00

What could I possibly say to you all who are writing me these precious comments? They truly are my bread and water these days----along with the Word of God.

It does help to hear that you hurt with me and pray for me. Sometimes I think maybe I should just forget him and go on---as though he never existed.

But, he's my son. He was chosen for us and by us. He changed my life when he came into it.

Your comments and prayers are keeping me alive. I so love you for taking the time to write me and encourage me.

I need it more than you know.

And one more comment: I have two new sons in their Texas home for the first time tonight. This is the happiest I have seen them, yet. They are running around, jumping, playing as though this is their first real day of freedom.

Maybe it is.

My Shoes

2009-07-08T14:59:00.000-07:00

I threw my shoes into the Dniper River tonight. I sat on the polluted concrete bankment with hundreds of others; but, none of them did what I did. I cried, I read the Bible, and then I took off my shoes, shook them, and threw them in.

The couple next to me quit kissing. They stared at my visible grief. I sat and watched one of my shoes sink and one of them float away. This is my last night in Kiev. I am leaving my boy behind. There are no words for me to write to you that can paint the picture of just how painful this is. But, I'm doing it; and it will be good for him----wherever he is.

I threw my shoes because Kiev has not welcomed me. This has been the darkest, lonelinest week of my life.

I threw my shoes so that part of me would stay here with Sasha.

As my shoes float or sink, my prayers do too. It feels like some of them immediately sink, but I know they actually float. They float without stopping.......and will until I see my boy again.

Good-bye Kiev. Good-bye Sasha.

The Descent

2009-07-07T12:33:00.000-07:00

Last night I walked Andrew's Descent, in the dark, in a river of rain. Down, down, down, down the ancient cobblestone street goes. I cried with the rain. Gargolyes stared at me, rain enveloped me, and down I went. Spires and pinnacles towered me. Down I went---alone on the cobblestones and some twinkles of light peppered here and there from late-night cafes.

As I got close to the bottom, it was so dark, so scary, so mysterious. I cried some more. As the stones traveled down to a darkness I was afraid to go to, I thought of my life and how this walk down this path felt just like the path my life has taken in the last seven days.

The darkness, the statues, the cathedrals, laughed at me---I know they did. I shuddered with the aloneness of being on that street, alone, at night, in the rain. It scared me. So, I turned my way up, up, up and out of the darkness at the bottom.

I want to climb out of the darkness and into the arms of Jesus. I want to praise Him and give Him glory for all that my life emcompasses. I want my faith to go up, up, up.

I don't want to climb down any more Descents into the dark.

I will, I will , Iwill find a way to rejoice through this trial.

I just will.

My Boy

2009-07-07T06:34:00.000-07:00

My Boy
carries my heart with him,
in his pocket,
around the city of Kiev.
Taxi’s honk,
high heels click
and little old ladies sell sunflower seeds;
but, quietly my heart breaks by being
carried around in my boy’s pocket.
I know if he could,
he would give it back to me,
but can he?
Can he find the glasses to wear,
that will help him see,
how much the tears run down my face?
Is there any way, I can pray
for him to feel the stabbing in my heart?
Oh, would he just reach down
into his pocket and feel
that my heart is with him now,
and that it is crushed.
Could he gently, carefully,
bring my heart back to me?
Oh, please God…….
Please,
Let my boy bring my heart back to me.

I'm a Peanut Buster Parfait

2009-07-07T01:47:00.000-07:00

Remember those things? I don't even know if Dairy Queen still has them or not, but they are layers of ice cream, fudge, peanuts, over and over up to the top.

Well, that's what I am right now. I am layers and layers over and over until I feel I will absolutely fall over the top and spill all over the place into an unregonizable mess.

Peace
Sadness
Hope
Fear
Peace
Sadness
Anger
Peace
Hope
Sadness.......................................

Words Have Meaning

2009-07-06T06:28:00.000-07:00

We had Bible Study in our home last spring. We tried our hand at apologetics. One of the first arguments a philosopher/apologist will use is that words, do indeed, have meaning.

Your words have all had meaning to me, and they still do, and I still need them. If it weren't for ya'll, I would be begging and crying and pleading for him to come home-----instead of letting go.

I'm trying so hard to let go..................

I can't stop shaking because I'm still afraid I won't see him before I get on the plane.

I've written him and told him I would help him find an apartment if he would come to my apartment this week.

My fingers are quivering as I write this.
I so need your prayer.
How do any of us do anything right in parenting anyway?

I love you all

Praising God for Hope

2009-07-06T03:30:00.000-07:00

This morning I raised my hands to heaven, just like the angel statue I see outside my window, and I told God to help me give up.

I cried out one more time.

I cried.

Honor (Sasha) wrote me two hours ago and I just got it.

He's on his way to Kiev to look for a job. He wants to keep in touch.

That's something.

That's hope.

I love all of you for your prayers and beg you for more today.

Five Days Today

2009-07-05T11:36:00.000-07:00

I inhale.

I inhale and then cry.

I stand beneath Ukrainian, ominous gargoyles who stare at me with empty eyes.

The blankness in their eyes matches the blankness in my heart.

Day five, and the bizzarreness of my son's actions still doesn't make any sense. Is this mental illness?

Nothing makes sense.

I inhale.

I inhale the words of comfort sent to me from friends and of strangers.

I inhale and a breeze blows past......a small breeze of peace.

This time, I don't cry so much.

This time, maybe I will let go......

Maybe I can stand at the bridge overlooking Kiev and raise my hands to My Jesus and let everything go.............

just maybe I can.............

for now.....

I just inhale....................

I am nothing, But God is----I AM (not by me)

2009-07-03T02:07:00.001-07:00

By Elizabeth Wallace

My seminary course in Trinitarianism included several class lectures on "I AM" in the Bible. I wrote the following piece to fulfill the assignment of a creative project having to do with the Trinity. I have wondered if Jesus had come at a different time how he would have communicated with His children. The following is a result of two greats in my life coming together: God, the ultimate lover of my soul, and Dr. Seuss, who had a love of the simple things of life. If Dr. Seuss had written theology books, instead of classics such as Green Eggs and Ham, I think it would have gone a little something like this.

Green Eggs And I AM

My name?
I AM.

I am I AM,
I AM I am.

I AM here,I AM there,
I am I AM everywhere.

Father, Son, and Spirit are we.
We are one, but we are three.

I AM here,I AM there,
I am I AM everywhere.

One in Three and Three in One,
Jesus is God, Jesus is Son.

Spirit's Power, Father's Plan,
Nail scars in the Son's pierced hands.

"What," you exclaim, "How can that be?
"Shhhh, my child, just rest in me.

I will not be put in a box.
I will not let you worship an ox.

I created it all-the family, the mountain, the tree-
We created it all, so you could grasp the "we."

I will call you here and there,
And I will go with you everywhere.

I AM here,I AM there
.I am I AM everywhere.

Confused, uncertain, and having doubt?
Give up now, you won't figure it out.

Father, Son, and Spirit are we.
We are one, but we are three.

Adonai, Yahweh, Savior, Friend-
The aspects of me never end.

I will not be defined by just one name,
But I will love you just the same

So what should you do?
How should you react?
Learn enough truth to guard against attack.

Then let go of questions like "Why?"
And raise your voice in praise toward the sky.

Never to leave is my promise to you.
Stay focused, listen to me, and follow through.

Wherever I lead, wherever you go,
I'll be there, too, just continue to grow.

I am I AM,
I AM I am

On a train
In the rain
In a box
With a fox
On a boat
With a goat
Anywhere, everywhere you may go,
I am I AM is all you need to know.

From Prayer Essentials For Living In His Presence, Vol. 1, p. 71-72, ©2000, by Sylvia Gunter.
Available at www.thefathersbusiness.com.

Words Have Meaning

2009-07-03T00:08:00.000-07:00

All of your comments and emails will get me through--second only to prayer. Please keep them coming. Look at these words from Mandy. They are sweet honey to me.

I'm glad you adopted the boy that runs away all the time. There are not many people who would love him enough to keep chasing him. You are that person.

I Did Cry My Heart Out

2009-07-02T15:44:00.000-07:00

There's been several times in my life when my world has completely crumbled into shreds of dust around my feet. I've never written about them before.

I did get my cry out....I think. I cried until I thought I would pass out. This hurts. If Sasha were a bad kid....it would be so much easier, but he's just the most pleasant and wonderful young man! Did I say this before?

Well, I have other wonderful young men---a whole bunch of them----Ty, Andy, Cody, Roma, Clay, Cerey Till Ezra (we don't know what to call him) Rylan and Sayer--and three beautiful young ladies.

Roma has shown a side of him that I hadn't seen yet. He is kind and compassionate to me. He tries to make me laugh. Cerey will come put his head on my shoulder while I'm crying. They are really two great boys and they've never run away before.

This is one piece of advice....don't adopt a child who has run away so many times. Of course, we didn't know that about Sasha ---no one told us.

I hurt.
I cry.
I love all my wonderful kids.
I love my new boys.
I love Sasha.
I cry some more.
I wait.
I try to trust in God.
I pray that God will give me a heart that will just let go.........let him go.......just let him go.............

I Changed My MInd

2009-07-02T12:48:00.001-07:00

This afternoon I wanted to just sleep and sleep, but my 3 year old wouldn't let me. So we went to the park where I cried some more and thought some more. I was trying to think of a way that I could survive and I got to thinking about writing. Maybe if I just really wrote what this is like, the pain would lesson a little. I don't know, but I'll try. I've cried everywhere---the embassy, the store, the park, the taxi, you name it. You'd think I'd get tired of crying, but I just keep crying.

Here's something that I am mostly thinking about today. Throughout these adoptions, I have seen God's hand in it all the way. While we've been here, I've watched God perform miracles. To be here and spend so much time with orphans has been a life-long dream full-filled for me. God has taken care of some of the tiniest details.

But, on Tuesday night, all the details started falling apart. Teeny, tiny details that you think wouldn't matter----but they did. One after another mistake and failure for about 15 hours kept Sasha and I apart and kept me guessing and frustrated. I've thought of at least a dozen details, that if just one were different, Sasha would still be here with me.

He missed the train, but he was beating on the door to get in and they wouldn't let him in because it was already moving. He missed another's night sleep, he missed another night's medication. I didn't charge my phone, I couldn't find the charger while I was on the train, when I finally talked to him the first time the phone died, I didn't call the right people at the right time, and many other things that happened. I assumed things that weren't true and I never got the chance to find out the truth before I lost my cool. And get this----if I had just handed him a towel------he would be here right now. That's all----just handed him a towel.

There's absolutely no excuse for what he did. It's bad what he did. It's really bad. But, I'm not without fault, and I've been shown, one more time, that my anger sure gets me into trouble. Why couldn't I listen first before jumping all over him? I know all parents/human beings do this at times, but I just needed to do it right this time, and I didn't. I just didn't.

So now, I have to admit that one of those details that couldv'e gone right to change everything, but didn't, is my fault. How can I live with myself and face God? This is what I feel right now. It's not my fault that he ran away, but it's my fault that I made a bad situation worse because of my anger---and I didn't have a right to be angry--I only assumed that I did.

So, what I feel like is a walking dead person right now. I feel like the most alone person in the world right now. And I don't understand how God took care of so many little details to make this adoption happen, and then all the details went awry to the point that I am experiencing tragedy----again.

I know that if you have not adopted what it looks like on the outside---well, you gave him 4 good years, just get over him and move on. But, if you've adopted you know-----if you've really been connected with your adopted child (sometimes this never takes place, I know) there is no difference between them and biological. In fact, sometimes the pain over them is more severe because you 'chose' them!

So, I've lost my son. I have no idea where he is, but my guess is he's in Russia. He's either thrown his phone away, or turned it off. I can only pray he'll check his email. That's it. That's all I can do is write him letters.

I've cried and cried and cried. We've had such a wonderful time together in Ukraine. He is such a joy and delight to me. I wish that he weren't. It would be so much easier if there were some kind of relief when he ran away, but all I feel is grief.

It's the kind of grief that makes one feel that they can't still be alive and feel this kind of pain. I think others are surprised by the intensity of my grief. But, he's my son and always will be. What if I don't get the chance to tell him I'm sorry?

My little one is asleep, the other 3 are watching a movie. I've not had a chance to cry alone, yet, but I'm about to take it. I'm about to turn this off, go to the other room, and cry my heart out.

Please pray for Sasha and all of us. His whole family is suffering.

Thank you----I could sure use the encouragement. I can't really see people or talk---but I can read emails. I'm so alone right now.