The Other Valla

What should I tell you about yesterday, our first day of the whirlwind post-court decree paper chase?

I could tell you about the car that Luda hired to get us to Aaron’s birthplace. She couldn’t get Slava, our usual driver, so we hired a local man from our little village. We spent several alarming hours bumping along in a tinpot rattle trap Russian jeep that was just barely up for the journey. Our driver almost killed a man, then almost killed us, and both incidents were within a hundred yards of one another. This also happened TWICE:

I could tell you about the seatbelts. A fairly new law requires front seat passengers to wear seatbelts. The tinpot crap can had belts, but no CLASPS for the belts. Oh, but where’s the problem? Just hurriedly sling the seatbelt over your shoulder and PRETEND they are hooked in order to fool passing policemen.

I could tell you about the room the locals in Aaron’s birthplace provided so that Luda could do her paperwork: it was the wedding chapel in which the justice of the peace officiates at weddings. This is it:

We renewed our vows.

I could tell you the rules that apply when you’re trying to break the national record for completing paperwork in three widely separated towns in one day: Don’t ask what you’re doing now. Don’t ask what comes next. If you should come in contact with any local official, say nothing-- you might make him suspicious, which could take up precious time. Don’t drink any liquids-- there’s no time to indulge your bodily functions. Carry food with you, because you’re not stopping. Don’t walk, trot. Sign where you are told to sign, pay whatever and whenever you are told to pay. Keep your eyes on the ground and your mouth shut.

I could tell you about our 2nd driver, the one we hired after we sent the first one packing (we did rather want to both complete and survive the trip). This new driver was a fast professional with a modern car, but we thought we were in deep trouble when he was stopped for speeding. For some reason he didn’t appear nervous. When the officer came to the window, our driver pulled out his ID, and suddenly the pair were the best of friends. It turned out that our driver was a retired police officer. We told him (through Luda) that the police protect each other in America as well. He responded (through Luda) that “this little corruption is everywhere.” He proved that when he pulled the same stunt again a little farther down the road.

I could tell you about returning to civilization, to towns in which one may actually choose from more than one restaurant, more than one type of food. Towns that actually have hotel beds with private bathrooms and HOT SHOWERS AND BATHS! Towns that have McDonald’s restaurants and Baskin Robbins ice cream shops.

But what I really want to tell you about is one of the sweetest moments of our trip. Today we got to visit the baby house where Aaron lived for his first five years, and there we met the Other Valla.

This Valla is a dear, precious old lady who took special care of Aaron from birth. She held him, rocked him, washed him, prayed with him and loved him from his infancy. When Aaron was christened, she became his godmother. When he was baptized, she was the one who held him in her arms. There simply are no words to express how I felt when I saw in her eyes how much she cherished our precious son.

She cried when we walked in the room. She clapped her hands together, covered her face with a handkerchief and cried. When we found out who she was, we cried too. I was so overcome with emotion that I almost collapsed into a mound of jello on the floor. I was so blessed to have a chance to meet the Other Valla.

It was a beautiful meeting. The director welcomed us with open arms and let us take pictures freely. She told us that she had followed our journey and that everyone there rejoiced when they read that the judge ruled in our favor (We’re not quite sure how she knew all of that!). We toured the place and asked plenty of questions. We saw the bright and colorful rooms that were his home for five years. We saw Aaron’s playground, his toys, and his crib. We saw the rugs that we knew from his pictures. We met some of the other loving caretakers and saw some of the children who shared his life there. There was so much to learn there that we hardly had time to take it all in.

When our time there was over, it began to sink in just how much Aaron lost when he was transferred: He lost his godmother. He lost his friends and playmates. He lost the only family he’d ever known. He lost everything. Even though he spent his first five years in an orphanage, it was a safe and loving orphanage. His caretakers truly and deeply loved their bossy, particular little Vanya. When he arrived at the internat where he lives now, he must have felt like he was being punished for some terrible crime. I cannot imagine what went through his mind when his godmother dressed him for the last time. I can’t imagine his grief, or hers, as she placed him in the car, promising him as she did that he WOULD find a family. She had prayed too hard to believe that her prayers would not be heard. I can’t imagine Aaron’s shock when the car pulled into the internat grounds. The contrast is so striking that it takes your breath away. Through the eyes of a five year old boy, it must have been beyond comprehension. I can’t imagine how he felt when he spent his first nights in a place as scary and overwhelming as that internat, with its frightening noises and smells. I can’t imagine the feelings of numbness and betrayal that must have swept over him when, day after day, the whispered promises of his godmother failed to come true. I can hardly believe that after a year in a place like that, he still has the capacity to laugh. I just cannot believe that he has survived. It can only be by God’s grace and the prayers that began when he was just a broken little baby, abandoned by his parents, but not by His God.

We are still trying to process what we saw at the baby house. I’m crying even as I write. I am utterly blown away by God’s tender mercies, lavished freely on our precious son. I am still reeling from the testimony of his first caretakers and their fervent desire for him to have a Mama and Papa of his own. I am completely humbled by the simple faith of the precious Other Valla, who steadfastly believed against all evidence to the contrary that Aaron would find a family. Our time with her was too short. We were only there for about 30 minutes, but they were the most precious 30 minutes of our trip. I will carry the words spoken, the hugs shared, the tears shed and the great faith and love exhibited in my heart for the rest of my life.

Today made all the agony of the last few months melt away. What a precious gift we received when God laid Aaron on our hearts in January. I am on my knees in grateful thanksgiving that we chose to jump. If we had missed the joy of meeting the Other Valla, missed seeing the faith in her eyes and listening to her humble voice, it would have been a great loss indeed.