Brady and Heath

This post is pure agony.  Plain and simple.  It is the post I wanted to write when our plane first touched down in Virginia 3 weeks ago.  I fully expected to start advocating for Brady and Heath as soon as we arrived home.  The urgency is real.  The reality that the door will not stay open long for them to find families made my zeal to write about them my number one goal.  I intended to begin yelling from the rooftops about these boys within days of arrival.  I tried.  I prayed.  I couldn't do it.  The words died each time I sat in front of the computer.  At night I would lay awake and think about them, especially Brady.  Words would formulate in my mind, thoughts would begin flow.  But when I sat down to try to to capture those thoughts, they would flee and I would be left gasping for breath.  My heart ached deep within me each time I would remember them.  It still does.  Writing about it hurts.  What makes the hurt worse is that we never got a chance to say goodbye.  We just left. 

I didn't know that the last time I saw Brady that it was for the last time.  I thought I had more time.  It rained on our last visits.  When it rained they brought Aaron to us in the infirmary and they kept the rest of the boys inside the buildings.  So we missed watching the daily parade.  On Gotcha Day, they refused to let us visit Aaron's bedroom or his building.  We were cut off from seeing the caretakers or nurses one last time.  It was a bitter ending.  We had to walk out without a goodbye.  We never saw the Lost Boys again.  If I had known, I would have reacted differently the last time I saw Brady.  I would have picked him up.  I would have hugged and kissed him.  I didn't get the chance.

He was always trying to run away.   His tiny little legs pumping just as fast as he could go whenever someone accidently let go of his arm.  The nurse on duty on the last day that we saw him was the least experienced.  She was a jolly woman, who dearly loved the boys and they were always happy under her care.  Brady was in rare form.  Happy, laughing.  She fed him snack and laughed with me over him.  Aaron finished his drink, I gathered his hated cookies and we left the shed.  When Brady's group came out a few minutes later, I was standing in the driveway, watching from a distance as I always did.  The nurse had hold of him and the other precious little DS boy who was Brady's best buddy.  Somehow Brady got away.  He came flying up the driveway, straight for me.  The other little guy took off down the opposite lane.  It was comical and fun.  I wasn't allowed to pick Brady up though I wanted to so badly it made me want to scream.  I could only catch him, turn him around and lead him back to the nurse who was rounding up the other runner. 

If  I had known that was the last time I would see him I would have picked him up.  I wouldn't have cared.  Just one time I wanted the opportunity to give that child a kiss and a hug.  I didn't know it was our goodbye and because of that, I have shed many tears.  I never got to hold him in my arms.  So many times he tried to get to me.  So many times I had to turn him away.  That rips my heart out. 


Brady. What can I say about him as the tears flow down my face.  Just thinking about him reduces me to a weeping puddle on the floor. You can't help but laugh when you are around his tiny little self. The ultimate escape artist. Always trying to run and climb and get away. Brady. Dragged along by the bigger boys lest he take off. Precious, filthy, in desperate need of a bath, Brady.

He just plain wants a Mama. So many times he would reach for me, climb across the table for me, long to be held by me and all I could do was push him away. It was so hard to follow the rules of 'don't touch', 'don't look', and 'don't talk'. I had to pretend he wasn't there. I was reprimanded often for watching him too closely, for helping him with his drink, for quick attempts to pat him on the head.

He was in Aaron's group.  He slept in Aaron's room. He ate at Aaron's table. How could I not watch him? How could I not want to reach over and pick him up? It was so incredibly hard. He was so quick to laugh when the caretakers were loving and took the time to help him with his food and his drink. His little tongue makes it so hard for him to swallow. But with gentle help, he could swallow his bits of food and drink. Oh what joy!

On days when he knew he would not be fed, he came to the snack shed weeping. He'd grab for the cup only to have it taken away. No bits of candy or cookies on those days.

Brady. In tattered clothes, girly white leather shoes that constantly fell off his feet and hats that fell down over his eyes. There is no way he deserves to spend his days as a lost boy. He is a funny little monkey with so much life in him. He is the tinest boy of all the 65 boys who are brought outside. Yet he is beating the odds and is surviving.

Some of the caretakers care deeply for him. They will hold him, play with him and keep him occupied. To see him crack up laughing when they give him a bit of attention is precious. But they have so many who demand so much. Brady needs so much more than five minutes a day of a harried caretaker's time. He needs a family. He needs a Mommy who wears tennis shoes and is willing to chase him across the yard. He needs to climb and jump and play. He needs to be held and kissed. He needs to sit in a bathtub surrounded with bubbles. Dear precious Brady.

Then there is Heath.

Heath was more elusive. We saw him only from a distance. It took us weeks to be certain it was actually Heath we were watching. He looked so small for his age, just plain tiny.  He shared a wheelchair with another boy. Never did we see him walk. Off in his own little world as he rode by on his little two-seater throne. I couldn't help but smile sadly at Heath. I called him the little Burger King. Chubby cheeked, dirty, neglected little lost boy. Each day they took his group to a shed or a shady area and the boys were put on pieces of carpet on the ground. Heath sat. Nobody spoke to him. He sat hour after hour playing with the dirt or a piece of string or trash. Occasionally he would laugh at his own well-kept secret, but most of the time he was just plain lost in his own world. He needs so much. His group of boys was one of the lowest functioning. They just sat, rocked themselves for comfort, hit themselves in the head and groaned.


Brady and Heath. Two precious little ones among the 100+ Lost Boys at Aaron's institute. Two of many needy, desperately, lonely boys. But they are unique. They are the only two who are available for adoption at that institute. Just two little boys out of so many.

I do not know why only these two are available.  I don't understand why the other precious children at that institute face a lifetime behind those walls. Some have families. A pitiful few even get visits. Most are completely alone, abandoned years ago but because of their disability, their age or their behavior, they are deemed unworthy. Most of them never had a voice when they were young, living at the baby orphanages. They never had a chance for adoption. Their files sat in dust heaps on the floor. There wasn't a Reece's Rainbow around for them when they were little. They were lost from the beginning. They will live out their days institutionalized. No longer little, cute or worthy of a family. It hurts deeply to face that reality.

Only Brady and Heath have hope for a family. The door is open for them but Rob and I both know the reality of that open door. After having been there and after walking those paths, we know it will only be open for a short time. Unless someone steps up and gets those boys, they will lose their chance.

I can't forget. Brady, Heath and the rest of them. I can't forget because I fell in love with those boys. All of them. My heart is broken deep within me. Honestly, I don't want to forget. I am trying to figure out where we go from here. In the meantime, I pray. Rob and I both pray. We pray for a family or two to take a huge leap of faith, cross an ocean and rescue these two lost boys who have a chance of escape. THEY ARE SO WORTH SAVING.  Their time is running short. 

We also pray that somehow, in some way, it would work out for God to make a way for His church to move into that institute in order to minister Christ's love to the rest of those Lost Boys and to all the weary workers who care for them.

$23,516.00

Do you see that number??  That is how much precious Tori has in her Reece's Rainbow account.  Oh my goodness - that is an amazing number.  TWENTY THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS!!  I came home tonight tired from a meeting.  Discouraged about our own financial issues.  Weary and heavy laden about the blogs I am trying to write.  Rob told me to check out Tori's account on the RR website.  Unbelievable.   Amazing love.  I am completely in awe of God.  He has moved in so many hearts for this one little girl.  I am so grateful to be a part of something so precious as the rescuing of one little lonely, but not forgotten girl.  I know right now there is a family out there who is struggling deeply tonight.  We need to pray for them.  We need to pray that they will step out in boldness and faith and answer the call they are hearing in their hearts.  We need to pray that God will fill them with His perfect peace.   God is moving in their hearts.  Pray that they answer His call.  I can't wait for the announcement!!

REECE'S RAINBOW LINK FOR INFORMATION ABOUT ADOPTION

LINK TO TORI - SCROLL DOWN TO FIND HER....

Grieving for the Lost Boys

Life would be so much easier if I could just forget.  If I could just erase the images from my mind.  If I could walk away without looking back - Oh the bliss.  It would be so nice to just slip back into our old lifestyle, worrying about the worries of our 'past life', stepping in time with the flow of our schedules from a year ago. 

But I can't forget.  I can't walk away from what we saw.  I can't stop the memories.  I wake up and think of the boys.  I walk through my day and remember the nurses. I see their faces.  I hear their words.  I drive in the car and am caught up in thoughts of the workers - the buildings - the gardens.  I am reminded about life in that institute wherever I turn.  I can't rid myself of the pictures in my mind.  Because pictures were forbidden, we have few pictures on our camera that drag up the heartache that plagues me, but I don't need to see physical reminders.  I acquired a lifetime of pictures in my mind from the six weeks of twice a day visits to Aaron's former home.  I cannot forget. 

I struggle with what I remember and I struggle knowing how to respond.  I don't know how to communicate what we saw to those who weren't there.  What do we do with our knowledge?  How do we go on from here?  I know that unless we become a voice for those Lost Boys in that village, in that forsaken institute, that they may become lost again. 

I shudder, knowing that Aaron's little bed, in that lonely place, has a new boy sleeping in it.  Beds are never empty for long.  I grieve for that new little lost boy.  I grieve knowing that he arrived from some orphanage in some other part of that country.  Scared.  Oh so scared.  The noises, the smell, the chaos.  Nothing like what he has known all his life.  My heart aches for that unknown little boy.  I ache for all the little boys.  For the older boys.  They don't get to stay there.  They will be moved again.  Though it is harsh there, where they will be transferred is a much darker place.  An empty bed in the adult institute will open and they will be moved.   For life.  My heart grieves deep within me.  I cry out at the process. 

We couldn't help but fall in love with those boys.  They scared us at first but in the end - they were our Lost Boys.  Each one that we saw day after day.  Sixty-five boys.  We fell in love.  Dirty, grimy, smelly, crazy boys.  It wasn't supposed to happen.  We were not supposed to notice them.  We were told to look away.  We couldn't.  They became our Lost Boys.  I cannot rid my mind of them.  Their smiles, their waves, their groans.  The ones who hit themselves in the head.  The ones who had to be restrained lest they flee.  Dear ones who came over and shook our hands.  I miss them.  And so I struggle.

Only two of those lost boys have any hope of getting out.  Only two have a chance at a life outside those gates.  Brady and Heath.  Over the course of the next weeks I want to share some of what we saw, what we experienced.  Not to sensationalize but to educate, to encourage and to be a voice of hope and life for all the little ones in the orphanges and in the institutes across Eastern Europe who are waiting, day after lonely day for a family. 

We Do Play

Lest you think that all we do around here is make Aaron work, here's proof that we do know how to play...

Working Man

A beautiful Saturday gave us the chance to do some much needed clean-up work around our house.

We were getting rid of old rotten wood that we can't use in our fireplace.

Aaron was beyond excited.

Rob and the boys figured out how he could help. 

One little boy... one yellow wagon... one very willing heart...

Pulling that wagon with his little hands is unbelievably hard work but our little guy was up for the challenge.

I'll say it again... this boy is DEFINITELY a keeper!

He falls

I hate it when Aaron falls.  It makes me want to grind my teeth and cry out in utter frustration against a system that prevented him from getting the treatment he desperately needed when he was just a tiny baby.  His helplessness breaks my heart. 

Last night he was outside, pulling the wagon around our circle driveway.  It is his favorite outside activity.  He puts his treasures inside the wagon and off he goes.   He dearly loves that rusty old wagon.  Somehow last night, in his circling of the driveway, he fell.  None of us saw it happen.  The boys had just come inside to grab some pizza and had left the door open for Aaron.   He didn't follow them in.  We didn't hear him fall and in Aaron style, he fell, hurt himself and cried with tears flowing down his face in utter silence.  When we went looking for him (all four us when we realized he was 'missing'), we found him sitting in the driveway, sad, ashamed, alone, wet tears still running down his cheeks. 

He doesn't understand comfort.  He is not used to kisses and hugs.  It overwhelms him.   He just wants to be left alone.  I hate it.  I hate not being able to hold him close to me when he hurts himself. I hate that he cries in silence.  I hate not being able to prevent him from head diving into the pavement. I hate that he can't use his arms to soften the blow.   It is so hard to watch.  I want to fix him quickly.  I want him to have the freedom to run and play without fear.  All we can do is watch, pray and hope that God will protect his body until we figure out the best plan of action to get help for his little body.

P.S. - For those who have wondered - we have looked into helmets.  We have delayed making a decision about getting one because we want to meet with the doctor's at Shriner's in November to see what they would recommend.

Lazy brothers...

Yep!  Aaron's brothers have been laying down on the job...

But NEVER FEAR... The newest Nalle LOVES to work! 

He is DEFINITELY a keeper!!!

Yesterday Aaron went with his brothers to the dentist's office.  We had NO IDEA if he would be willing to get up in the chair and get his teeth cleaned.  When we brush his teeth at home he acts like it is pure torture.  The groans and moans and cries of agony that erupt from him are enough to make us think that we are torturing him beyond belief.  (Washing him in the bathtub ellicits the same response)!  So convincing him to let a dentist look in his mouth and getting his teeth cleaned was definitely going to be interesting. 

He watched Elijah get his teeth cleaned.  He watched Ben get his teeth cleaned.  We told him it was his turn.  I fully expected him to run out of the room.  Instead, he let me put him in the chair and he let them do everything they needed to do without so much as a whimper.  No moans.  No groans.  Nothing.  He even smiled once or twice.  He also received a clean bill of health.  He doesn't have any noticeable issues (X-rays were not taken) and everything looked good.  I about fell over.  So last night when he started the moaning and groaning while I was brushing the little stinker's teeth, I was not moved.  Nope.  I brushed those little teeth without stopping.  The drama king has lost his audience. 

Sadly I left the camera at home so I wasn't able to capture the king sitting in the dentist's chair with his sunglasses on and a smile on his face!

I also didn't get pictures of Aaron's first time in a swing and his first time eating a soft beef taco from the Mexican restaurant.  He loved the taco and was terrified on the swing. Go figure!

Update on Tori

Tori's numbers are going up.  Thank you to everyone who has donated for precious Tori.  Every single 5.00 bill helps.  Between what is in the Chip-in above and what is in her grant at Reece's Rainbow she has close to 3,000.00. 

Please pray that a family will step forward and bring this child home.  Just yesterday the news of the death of one of the children on the Reese's Rainbow site rocked everyone's world (picture to the right).  It hurts to see these children die without a family.  Precious Anne Marie died.  In an orphanage.  Alone.  She needed surgeries that they refused to give her because she was deemed without value.  So she died. 






Tori needs a family soon. 
She sits in a crib day after day.  The chances of surviving long in that condition are not good.  So please donate if you have not donated and pray that God will raise up a family willing to cross the ocean to take this child home.  Below is a short description about precious Tori.

This little angel can just light up a room with her smile and her giggle. She is constantly happy, very alert and playful, and is an orphanage favorite. We are waiting for some new photos of her, but she is registered and available to be adopted now! She has had surgery for her spinal hernia (not spina bifida), but it was unsuccessful in her country. She is not able to pull up or stand/walk on her own. We hope she would have much better chances of correction here in the US, but we will not have any x-rays or other records available prior to your trip to share with a doctor for review. She has decompensated hydrocephaly as well.

He Throws a Fit

We had to laugh.  It was the cutest fit I have ever witnessed.  Up until now Aaron has only cried with silent tears running down his face but last night, he threw a fit that had us both smiling, even as we comforted the little guy in all of his misery.

He didn't want to go to bed.  He wanted to stay up and watch 'discs' with his big brothers.  Oh the agony as he was carried up the steps for his bath and bedtime.  He stomped, he cried, he hollered, he bounced, he growled and we very quietly, so he could not see us, laughed.  He cried big crocodile tears until he was sitting in the midst of his bubbles in the bathtub, alone, without an audience.  The pain of being little.  The hardship of being in a family of big people who love him dearly but also need a few hours each night without him underfoot.  All was forgiven after bathtime when he lay snug in Mama's arms for book reading time.  Then Pooh, the squirrel, the racoon and Bob the Builder were all tucked safely under his covers and after kisses and prayers, the little fit thrower fell promptly asleep.

He had a big day yesterday.  He went to school.  Though we are a homeschooling family, one day a week we drive into Charlottesville to a huge homeschooling Co-op (450 students). The boys can take up to 5 classes each while I teach history and creative writing classes.  Aaron is enrolled in the Pre-School/Kindergarten classes and yesterday he went to his first classes.  We started him slowly.  He only went to two of the classes but it went amazingly well considering everything.  Dad and Ben were with him in his classes.  He loved it.  I heard all about his classes on the way home.  Of course I could not understand 90% of what he told me but he didn't seem to mind.  He had a lot to say about his 'skool'.  Life is good.

Thank you for all the comments and suggestions concerning the food and language issues.  In regards to the language, we do have a lady (Tatiana) here in the area who has been helping us out on the telephone.  Before we take Aaron to each big event (Dr. school etc), she has been explaining to him on the telephone what he will be doing.  He does not talk to her on the phone but he does listen and it has helped considerably.  She speaks both languages that Aaron grew up with which is a great benefit.  Tatiana explains everything to him in both languages.   It is working.

In regards to the eating issues, at the institute, Aaron was fed by the caretakers since he can't get his hands up to his mouth.  They crammed the food into his mouth at breathtaking speed.  It made me ill to watch them shove cookies and candy into his face during snack time.  (Most days the snack consisted of pieces of wrapped caramel candy).  He was never given time to chew but had one after the other shoved in without any regard to what was already in his mouth.  I had a hard time watching the practice.   They made him drink his juice at the same speed.  After a few weeks, they allowed us to give Aaron his snack which was a great relief to us and also to him.  What was interesting was that if we carried his snack out to where we played, he wanted nothing to do with it.  He would not eat the cookies - ever.  He would only eat the candy if he was allowed to unwrap it and was able to chew it at his leisure.  If he was given a rotten apple, I usually tossed it.  In our last weeks, we brought Aaron bananas, oranges and other snacks that were healthier and much more satisfying. 

I said all that to shed light on some of his possible eating issues.  Though he had soup and bread every day and would be most familiar with those foods, like the cookies, he has not wanted any of these foods after he left the institute.  We have tried soup and we have tried bread but neither food brought him pleasure.  So we stopped offering either after a week or so of trying.  Finally, on Sunday night, for a bedtime snack, Rob was eating a bowl of Campbells Chicken Noodle soup - the only soup Rob could eat every day of his life.  Aaron was watching him eat the soup.  We did not consider offering it to him since 'Aaron doesn't eat soup'.  After a few minutes Aaron went over to Rob (who was sitting in Aaron's seat) and head butted him off his seat.  Then he got up in his seat and started staring at Rob's soup.  Okay.  We fixed him a bowl, put an ice cube in it because he is terrified of hot foods (past experience??) and offered it to him.  He inhaled it.  Go figure. 

The next day I went to Walmart and bought a loaf of bread that looked like the loaves they sold in his country.  I cut him off a piece (mind you, I've tried this before) and put it on his plate for dinner.  He ate it.  He loved it.  He also ate mashed potatoes with ranch dressing mixed in that night.  The little boy is starting to eat.  We do not spoon feed him most of his meal.  We cut everything up in bite sized portions and let him feed himself.  We buy yogurt he can drink with a straw.  He is a very polite eater.  You hardly realize he is taking the food with his mouth.  He loves the freedom of choosing what he wants to eat and he loves chewing at his own pace.  We only feed him what he can't do on his own.   Hopefully we are turning a corner.  The horror of having food shoved in his mouth is over.   Though the memories will last a long time, he is learning that they are now just memories.  We will not pour soup down his throat and cram bread in his mouth.  He can enjoy these foods with pleasure instead of agony.  Life is good.

LIFE IS ESPECIALLY GOOD WHEN LITTLE BROTHERS CAN HELP BIG BROTHERS CARRY IN THE GROCERIES....

How's Aaron??

We have had a lot of people wanting to know how Aaron is doing.  The little fugitive has been in our possession for almost three weeks and to be honest, we are still in the 'figuring out how Aaron is doing ourselves' stage.   We've had good days, we've had hard days and we've had the 'scratch your head, not sure what happened' days.   Three weeks is not long enough to understand what goes on in the mind of a child who has been taken out of the only world he knows and thrust into a world so big and strange that it takes his breath away.  All the props have been knocked out from under his feet and the poor little guy is trying to figure out a way to stand again.  Aaron is a rule keeper by nature and he is struggling to figure out the rules in this new world.   His world at the institute was based on a rigid schedule - the same foods, the same nurses, the same activities (nothing) to occupy his day.  He knew every person at the institute - their job, their schedule, their personality.  He knew what was supposed to happen and when at every minute of his day.  Aaron found security in that knowledge.

Our world is not regulated by the same system.  We do have routines that we have established for him and those have become his lifeline.  Morning routines, dressing routines, bathtime routines and tucking in bed routines are strictly followed in order to give him a sense of sameness and security that he craves.  The rest of our day is dependent upon the schedules of the four older people in his family.  Sometimes Papa is home but most of the time Papa is away 'at work'.  This is a difficult concept for a little boy to grasp and at times it shows in his anger at Papa when he is home.   Ben and Elijah move in and out of the house at breathtaking speed.  It is hard on him.  Aaron came out of a world that was black and white.  Everything was the same, day in and day out.

So how is he doing? 

In terms of bathroom and sleeping, he is doing wonderful. 

In terms of eating, it is definitely a work in progress.  We have yet to find food that he not only likes but that also satifies his hunger.  As we became sick of soup in his country, we know he is sick of yogurt, cucumbers and fruit here, but they are the one constant that he is willing to eat consistently.  When he is hungry, he is willing to try other foods but he is clearly not happy with his food choices.  We are trying.  Many quiet tears down his face have been shed over the eating issue which breaks our hearts, but each day is a little better than the last in the food department.

In the social realm, he is very shy around anyone outside our family.  Since he holds celebrity status in our world, (the power of blogs) it makes it rather difficult for him in public.  Everyone knows his name.  This causes distress in our little fugitive, as he would choose to stay hidden at this point.  But all in all, he is slowly getting used to going out.  The joy of riding in the car is slowly outweighing the discomfort of mingling with the masses.  We are seeing progress in his willingness to being carried into buildings.  He loves the stores, loves seeing the trucks on the roads, loves pointing out the cows and other animals (we live in the country).

As far as language issues go, Aaron is understand more and more of what we are saying to him in English and is very slowly incorporating some English words into his vocabulary.  Sadly, though he talks to us in Ukrainian/Russian non-stop, we rarely understand what he is saying.  He uses foot motions, mouth pointing and every other trick he can think of to try to get us to figure out what he is say but we are often left scratching our heads.  His patience with us in this area astounds us.  I would be beating my head against a rock if I was dropped into a world where no one understood a word I said.  He just patiently tells us again and again until he realizes the futility of his words.

Emotionally, Aaron has good days and bad days.  At his institute, he survived by bossing, manipulating and using a rather developed silent treatment on the adults who cared for him.  These were valuable tools he desperately needed to survive, but in a family, they are no longer necessary and healthy.  Giving them up is terrifying for him.  The battles have begun but we are committed to winning the war.  Each day is a new opportunity to teach this love-starved little boy that no matter what he choses to throw our way, we will not abandon him or withold our love from him. 

As far as his physical disabilities go, we will begin addressing his Arthrogryposis issues next month with our first visit to the Shriner's Hospital in Philly.  Until then we are working hard at keeping him safe from the ever-constant danger of falling.  He has been doing extremely well about not falling outside (grass play is so much better than concrete play) but inside is another story.  It is sad to learn lessons at the expensive of Aaron's poor little head.  We are removing slippery carpets, no longer dressing him in the bathroom and overall watching for things that would cause him to trip and fall. 

We are loving our little guy more and more as the days goes by.  He is funny, creative and just all around precious.  We take great delight in his smiles and laughter.  The fact that God chose this little boy to be in our family still causes us to marvel at His wisdom and grace.  Not every day is a walk in the park - we are adjusting to a new normal and it is stretching each one of us.  Love is very much a choice, but we are learning to take delight in how God is weaving our family into a new design that includes a very special former 'lost boy.'

Andrea Roberts

Imagine spending 70 hours a week advocating for hundreds of special needs children across the globe-- and NEVER meeting one of them. Imagine sitting at your computer for hundreds of days, communicating with hundreds of families, raising funds for hundreds of adoptions, and handling hundreds of thousands of dollars in donations. Imagine writing thousands of emails and managing a massive website. Imagine spending your days putting out fires, calming frantic parents, praying, reassuring, and being a voice of hope for the unborn and the unwanted. Imagine doing all of this day in and day out, yet never getting to meet the families you are serving.  Imagine working this hard for four years without ever seeing the fruits of your labor with your own eyes.

Then imagine how it would feel to finally see, hold and enjoy one of the precious children your ministry had helped to rescue.

Today Andrea was finally able to hold one of her rescued children.  My son Aaron had the great privilege of becoming the first Reece's Rainbow child whom Andrea Roberts has ever met in person, apart from Meredith Cornish's children (Until just a few days ago, Meredith was on the Reece's Rainbow leadership team). Today I had the wonderful blessing of being one of the first Reece's Rainbow parents to meet Andrea Roberts and her son Reece. I was stunned to learn that she had met so few of her children. It was hard to believe that this dedicated woman, who has given so much of herself to so many, has almost never gotten to meet any of the hundreds of children she has helped to place in far-flung homes across the globe. It was an honor to meet her, and humbling to realize that without her tireless work, we would never have been able to call Aaron our son. 

The time went by too quickly.  We had only a few minutes to talk.  Both Reece and Aaron were bothered by the crowds and the confusion at the Richmond Buddy Walk, and so our time was short. At first, neither of the boys would cooperate with our picture-taking efforts. I never did get a good picture of Reece, as his smiles for me came at the end of our time together when I didn't have the camera handy.  Aaron finally agreed to be held and hugged as we were getting ready to leave. I was so glad he granted Andrea an opportunity to hold him and hug him. I consider that moment to be priceless.

Tori

I've struggled since I have been home. We saw so much.  We left behind so many.  I'll be honest - I haven't found my voice yet.  I haven't figured out how to put into words what we saw, what we felt.  I've been praying and I know that eventually I will be able to put into words what is deep in my heart.  There are two boys that make my heart bleed each time I remember them.  But my thoughts can't seem to make it onto paper.  Until they do, I am choosing to be silent about Aaron's institute and the boys there.  For now I am praying, considering and waiting for the right words and the right time.

But this little one can't wait.  She is running out of time.  She was transferred a year ago.  Just like Aaron she is stuck in a mental institute.  Like Aaron, no one has ever adopted from her institute.  Unlike Aaron, she doesn't have a family pursuing her, and unlike Aaron, she can't walk so she lays in her crib day after lonely day. 

Her crime - she has cerebal palsy. 

She needs a family. 

Two weeks ago, Stephanie Nance (a fellow RR friend whom Rob and I met in Aaron's country) contacted me about Tori.  God had laid Tori on her heart and she was trying to be obedient to that call.  She asked me if  I would stand with her and help raise money and awareness for this precious child in order to encourage a family to step up and bring this child home.  I agreed but told her it would have to be on my timetable as I wanted the right words to say.  I haven't found them.  All I do is cry.  But precious Tori is running out of time. 

She needs a family. 

God didn't just lay Tori on Stephanie's heart.  At the same time that Stephanie was beginning to advocate for this little lost girl stuck in a crib so far away, another lady, unknown to Stephanie, also began to advocate FOR THE SAME CHILD.

That completely blows me away.

Though this little girl is stuck in a crib in an institute that is cut off from the outside world, she has not been forgotten.  The King of Kings and Lord of Lords has stirred in the hearts of two separate women, at the same time, to advocate for His precious treasure.  How can we not respond?  I can't wait for the perfect words.  This little girl needs a family.  She needs a family brave enough to cross the ocean and wade through unknown waters to rescue a little girl from an institute that until now is sitting in darkness. 

Only one family has been called to bring this little one home.  The rest of us - we are called to support, pray and give.  One of the biggest obstacles for those struggling with the decision to adopt is money.  It is an expensive process.  Most people do not have 25,000 dollars sitting around in their bank accounts.   Sadly, money becomes the deciding factor for many who would love to welcome the 'least of these' home.  That is a big part of Reece's Rainbow's ministry.  To open accounts for the individual children and provide grant money to help families bring these children home.  It is a beautiful ministry.  Advocating for children without voices.  Providing funds to keep the special needs children from slipping through the cracks. 

Tori needs money in her fund.  She needs money so that the family that God has called will not stumble when they see how much it will cost to ransom this precious little one from a place of no return.  We gave to Tori.  We took the leftover money from Aaron and placed it in her account.  Please consider giving too.  It doesn't matter how much.  The vast majority of the money given to us to cover our adoption of Aaron came in increments of 25.00 and less.  Yet each gift, each little bit, added up.  Whether it is $5.00 or $25.00, please consider putting it into Tori's account.  And pray.  Pray that a family will heed God's call and step forward. 

Tori desperately needs a family.

God is moving in hearts for this one little forgotten girl.  As in Aaron's case, if Tori is saved, then the institute where she is living will then be open.  Other children may find their way out of darkness.  I still have no words for Aaron's institute and the boys we left behind.  But I do know that God's plans are bigger than just these two little children. 

Tori and Aaron are just the tip of the iceberg. 

For those asking how to donate to Tori's fund - you can use the chip-in at the top of our page or you can connect to Tori through Reece's Rainbow - she is the second one down the page - follow this LINK.. Make sure you designate Tori as the child for whom the donation is intended.  PLEASE DONATE!  Every single dollar helps!

Pooh Bear Woes

The little King came down the steps this morning quite disgruntled.  Papa put him to bed last night since Mama was out and about with Elijah.  Well, Papa forgot the most important part of going to bed!  He didn't put Pooh Bear in bed with him.  Pooh Bear HAS to sleep with Aaron and then Pooh Bear HAS to be brought down the stairs and placed right in the middle of Aaron's toys because Pooh Bear needs to play.  Pooh Bear is not called Pooh Bear by our little Ukrainian king.  He has a Ukrainian name for him and Papa must not have understood last night when the king told him that Pooh Bear was missing.  This morning I heard all about it.  He came storming down the stairs, fussing and carrying on in Ukrainian about that wicked Papa who left his Pooh alone on the floor. (I guess that was what he was saying because he was fussing, pointing at Pooh and saying "Papa").  But all is well.  Pooh has been hugged and kissed and the king and Pooh are now happily playing with all the toys in the middle of our den. 

   

Crisis

When Rob and I were in Aaron's country, over the course of our 3 month adventure, we had the privilege of meeting quite a few other Reece's Rainbow families.  One family we met for but a brief time was the Parker family.  They are trying to adopt two precious Down Syndrome girls, Bethany and Hannah. 

They had court.  The judge granted them the girls.  Charley went home and Kate has been waiting out the 10-day waiting period so that she can finish the paper chase and bring the girls home.  This is the easy part.  They are in the home stretch.  Unfortunately the Parkers just slammed into a huge brick wall.  The prosecutor has decided to appeal their adoption.  He doesn't think that they can handle two more children since they already have seven other children.   This appeal could take months to process.  Kate may have to go home without the girls. 

Please, please pray for the Parkers.  They are devastated.  We know in a very real way how they are feeling at this moment.  We know how confused and helpless and frantic are their pleas before the throne.  Kate is by herself and desperately needs to know that she is not alone.  Please pray.  Please pray that the prosecutor's heart would soften and that the appeal would not go forward.  Please also support them by going to their blog and posting comments, verses, prayers and words of encouragement.  THEIR LINK IS HERE.  Please pray - please give support.  They need thousands of bowed heads surrounding them as they process this news today.  They need to know we are out there.  My heart aches for them.  It aches that two precious babies are left hanging in the balance.  It just aches.

Joy Comes in the Morning

Psalm 30: 4-5

Sing to the LORD, you saints of his;

praise his holy name.

For his anger lasts only a moment,

but his favor lasts a lifetime;

weeping may remain for a night,

but JOY comes in the morning.

Psalm 30: 11-12

 

You turned my wailing into dancing;

you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,

that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.

O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever.

God is good.

First Outing

     We took Aaron on his first outing on Saturday.  Each year our dinky little county celebrates "Old Farm Day".  We figured that since it would be outside (Aaron is not ready to go into buildings at this point), and he would see a whole host of his favorite things (trucks and tractors), that he would enjoy himself.

Getting ready...

You have to wonder what was going through his little mind!

Heaven on earth!

He would have ridden on this all day!!

Sitting in the fire truck.

Looking for the car after a long day...

    

One very tired little boy!

For his first outing, it was overall a good day, though he did have a few meltdowns and shed a few tears.  He didn't like the crowds and was happiest when he got to lead our group.  When Ben and Elijah left to find their friends he was a bit upset.  He was not impressed with the All American Hot Dog stand, choosing to eat a bag of Lays Potato Chips for lunch.   At the institute, for snack, they sometimes gave the boys the rotten apples that fell off the trees.   I found the practice a bit stomach turning.  At Old Farm Day, Aaron got to eat his first ripe apple.  It was much harder for him to bite and chew but he definitely enjoyed it. 

Coming Home

2:30 AM, waiting for Niko to pick us up

America has never felt so sweet, nor home so precious.  Simple pleasures like toasters and bathtubs and rocking chairs have brought great comfort to three weary travelers.  We are so grateful to be home.  Jetlag still plagues us, and we're still suffering the aftereffects of culture shock, but we are doing well considering everything we have been through over the last 3 months.


Poor Aaron was so confused the day we left for America. He knew we were going on an airplane, but no one told him about the lines: lines for boarding passes, lines for passport control, lines for security checks, lines to board the plane. He waited with us patiently, but his distress increased as time wore on. By the time we reached the ticket counter after a solid hour of waiting, his eyes were beginning to leak tears. We didn't know how to comfort him, but we signed to him that we were indeed going to get on an airplane.


If you're an old hand at air travel, as we now are, you know that your best bet is to get your boarding passes for each leg of your flight at the first ticket counter. That way you know you have a seat on every flight, and you don't have to stand in line again for more boarding passes. We got our first boarding passes, but our second and final flight was overbooked by 21 passengers. There were no boarding passes available for our second flight. After everything that had gone wrong for us on this trip, we were virtually certain that we would get bumped and have to spend one more night away from home, this time in Frankfurt.


Aaron happily danced his way out of the ticket line, thinking we were going straight to the airplane.  His hopes were dashed again when we entered the passport control line. Again the tears began to leak out of his eyes. We could not console our little guy, who understood only that we were not fulfilling our promises. We handed over Aaron's passport, and the officer left his stall without comment, leaving us to wonder where he had gone and for what reason. At least five tense minutes passed before he returned, handed us the passports and waved us through. Aaron perked up again, only to face another disappointment as we entered the security line. When we sat down to wait for the boarding call, his disappointment was too much to bear. He fell apart, tears pouring down his face. We bought him a drink, gave him comfort foods and tried to convince him that all was not lost.  Since he could not see an airplane from where we were sitting, the child must have been convinced that we were the biggest liars he'd ever known. 

     Finally we were able to carry the child onto a real live airplane.  He was beyond happy.  The entire short flight was pure joy for him.  We could not have asked for a better behaved little boy. 

Fortunately, the overbooking problem didn't materialize, and we were able to get seats together on our next flight with just a bit of wrangling. Our sigh of relief could be heard across the ocean.  From Germany to Virginia, Aaron watched cartoons and was just as happy and content as if he had been flying his entire life.  He slept for only a few minutes on each flight, so by the time we arrived in Virginia he was fairly exhausted.  This may explain why he elected to stick out his tongue at all of the family and friends who came to greet us at the airport. This was a bit of an unexpected greeting, since we had never seen Aaron stick out his tongue before. Fortunately, everyone took it in good spirits. Hopefully that will be one of those memorable moments that Aaron will never be able to live down.

     After a rough first day at home, Aaron has settled down. He's even made friends with our golden retriever, Summer. We expected dog trouble because everyone in his village treated dogs like, well, dogs. Our biggest issue is finding food that he will eat without crying in frustration. He is happiest with fruit, yogurt and cucumbers, and since all of these are healthy foods, we are quite happy to oblige him. Of course if there happens to be a bit of candy or chocolate on the counter, he will happily eat it as fast as his little jaws will go!  He also thinks that cake is worthy of his attention, and he doesn't mind potato chips either.

Perry Mason, Part 4: In which the Lord carries the day

When we got the "good news" about our new judge, we were rejoicing over our facilitation team’s big success. Only a day later, we had another shock: we learned that in the process of changing judges, we had very nearly lost Aaron. We heard from Reece’s Rainbow that the team had very nearly pulled the plug on our case. The difficulties of working in a completely new region had almost proved insurmountable. Reece's Rainbow felt that most teams would have abandoned the effort and advised us to choose another child. We had no idea how close we had come to losing him. We had agonized over the difficulty of the process, but we never really thought that we might lose him, because we had never encountered anyone who really opposed the adoption.


Our new judge in the next town had never processed an adoption before. This might have been a benefit, because it might have meant that our highly experienced facilitator Luda could guide her through the process and show her the easiest way to manage it. Unfortunately, this particular judge was not about to let some fast-talking city facilitator lead her around by the nose. She did not understand the process, with its many foreign documents, and she seemed to carry a bias against adoption that Luda could not understand. The team's excitement about getting a new judge quickly turned to frustration when they realized how much trouble she was going to give them.


About a week after we learned about the new judge, we got our court date; but we also learned that the judge was requiring two separate hearings, one preliminary and one formal. Most families are allowed to combine the two hearings into one, but our judge wasn’t combining anything. This was a big disappointment because it meant that we would be away from home longer. Our son Ben was starting his first two classes at our local community college, and our son Elijah was going to be home alone for a good part of each day. More time away meant more strain on them, on our parents who were watching over them, and on our friends who were picking up the slack in our absence. It also meant more money, but the Lord provided: we raised the last of what we needed the day before we left home.


We flew back to Aaron's country and then rushed down to Ananiev. On the way, Luda filled us in on her encounters with our new judge. Her assessment of her was, shall we say, less than flattering. Over dinner, Luda coached us on our upcoming preliminary hearing. We had read plenty of blogs about adoption court hearings, and they seemed pretty easy, so we thought we were well prepared. So we were unnerved when Luda found problem after problem with our answers to hypothetical questions the judge might ask. We kept stepping on unseen landmines, things she said we must by no means reveal to this judge. We went from moderate calm to panic as we realized how much depended on our performance in court.


In the middle of all of this, we were anticipating our first reunion with Aaron after over a month of separation. We had no idea how he would react to our sudden reappearance, but we knew him well enough to expect trouble. We wanted a quiet, private meeting with him so that we could hold him, comfort him and promise him that we would never leave him again. So we were unnerved yet again when we found out that our reunion would be monitored by the internat inspector. When the caretakers dragged Aaron into the internat director's office, the look on his face confirmed our worst fears. Hurt and confusion burned in his eyes. He refused to look at us, turning his head away and resisting our touch. He did allow us to kneel beside him and gently soothe him. Eventually, he allowed Rob to hold him on his lap, and together we paged through our photo album with its many pictures of home. It took a few more days to regain his trust.


The preliminary hearing on August 27th was brief and brutal. As soon as the judge entered the courtroom, we understood Luda's apprehension. Her honor's harsh face and unsmiling eyes spoke of her deep distrust. Luda still tried to consolidate the two hearings into one, but it didn’t work out that way-- in fact, it was quite the opposite. After a little legalese and a few suspicious questions, the judge set our second hearing two weeks after the first. This decision took our breath away. We had expected a week's delay at most. She also required a representative from the SDA (child welfare office) to be present at the next hearing, and she wanted proof that Aaron had no siblings who were available for adoption. Even worse, she commanded Aaron’s presence at the second hearing, despite the fact that he couldn’t legally be required to appear. When it was over, we felt as if we'd been cudgeled. In the hall after the hearing, she unsmilingly told us that we now had two weeks to learn Aaron’s language. Luda laughed at us for taking her seriously, but in this instance, Luda was wrong.


Over that two week period, our facilitation team scrambled to meet these new requirements. With both the judge and her prosecutor against us, our team was almost sure the judge would deny the adoption at the second hearing. In desperation, they decided to hire an attorney to represent Aaron’s interests. This new attorney leapt into action: she traveled to the region seat, where she met with the regional prosecutor and got him on our side. This would be a tremendous help in case an appeal became necessary. The regional prosecutor in turn contacted the local prosecutor at our court in Lubashovka and got her on our side. With the backing of the regional prosecutor, Aaron’s attorney decided to resist the judge’s demand for Aaron to appear in court. We viewed this decision with guarded relief.


Throughout these two weeks, we waited and watched. We visited Aaron twice a day, every day, and worked on our court arguments. Rob worked on his language skills with little success. Luda had disappeared back to the city on the evening after the court hearing, and we spoke to her only when it rained and we needed her to call us a taxi. Her only advice was to prepare our answers for the next hearing, so that we could clearly and thoroughly explain our "motivation for adoption." We got little news, and the little that we did hear only raised our anxiety. During this time, the many prayers and blog comments we received were our best sustenance. We planned our daily blog posts three or four days in advance. We shamelessly fished for more comments and made bets over which posts would draw the most. We rejoiced whenever a comment appeared and used our frustratingly limited internet access to learn more about the people who commented.


Two days before the second hearing, we learned that Aaron's attorney had changed her mind, and that Aaron would have to appear in court. She decided that it would be unwise to antagonize our unstable judge in advance by refusing her request. We intuitively agreed with this decision; however, it added to our stress, because we were afraid that the judge would base her decision on what Aaron said, and we knew he wouldn’t say anything. We wanted to prepare him for his appearance in advance, but we couldn’t prepare him in his own language, and we had no one to translate. He finally got a bit of preparation in the car on the way to the hearing, but he was far more interested in the wonders of the world unfolding around him than in what Luda told him about the judge.


We arrived for our second hearing on the morning of September 9, well prepared but anxious. As we walked into the shabby courtroom, we reminded each other that hundreds or even thousands of bowed heads were behind us, praying for a successful outcome. It was difficult to lead Aaron into that scary room, with its steel cage for criminal defendants. It was a great comfort to know that God and His saints were there with us, and that we were not alone.


**************************

(Rob writing)


We now present our long-awaited conclusion…


Time drags by.  Perry and Julia pace the courtroom. The legal team sits whispering, wondering. No one has eaten, and no one wants to drink much because there's no bathroom. Indoor plumbing has yet to arrive in the public buildings of this rural country.


 Finally, hopeful rumors begin to filter back to our heroes. Luda is summoned back to the judge’s chambers once more. When she returns, she has seen that the judge is typing up what appears to be a court decree, hunt and peck, hunt and peck. Whatever it is will take hours to complete at this rate. The legal team chats quietly among themselves. Perry and Julia give up on trying to participate in the discussion and concentrate on enduring.


Later, Luda waits with them. Our heroes learn a bit about national politics, a bit about Luda’s family. This country’s elderly are suffering, Luda says. Their pensions are a pittance, a starvation wage. Few have any savings to supplement their pensions. There is almost no such thing as health insurance. Her mother has suffered from cancer, and it has been hard on the entire family. Many of the elderly support a return to communism because pensions were better and life was easier before independence. Perry and Julia just listen; they feel that it would be presumptuous to comment on the internal politics of distant countries. They have already learned that the local understanding of communism is utterly foreign to them.


Behind our heroes, the legal team begins to gossip about the judge. The local SDA representative, who knows the judge's story, drops yet another bombshell: the judge's biological daughter has died only a few weeks ago. It must have happened just before she got our heroes' case. She has also lost her husband within the past year. What happened to the daughter is lost in translation, but Perry and Julia realize that her grief explains much. At the height of her loss, this grieving wife and mother has suddenly found herself at the center of a life-changing adoption case. Perry and Julia reflect on God's timing. For weeks before this hearing, a host of God's people had prayed for this judge. Although none of them knew anything of her or her need, they bathed her in prayer in her time of suffering.


The anticlimactic ending comes at around 4 p.m. when the judge reenters the courtroom.  Perry and Julia watch the judge through new eyes, aware now of her burdens. All rise as she reads out her decree: Effective September 20, 2010, Perry and Julia will be the parents of Aaron Vanya Nalle. His birth certificate will be changed to reflect his new name and parentage, and they will take custody when the new birth certificate is complete. The day is won! Praise the Lord!


Perry and Julia accept the congratulations of the legal team, reflecting that it’s a bit hard to celebrate with people who don't understand a word one is saying. Should they offer to take everyone out for a celebration dinner? No, because it’s already so late that Luda and the attorney have to rush back to the capital. All are so tired and hungry that they can’t wait to get home. And anyway, where would they go for such a celebration in a dinky little village like this? The obvious choice, Pizza Hut, has no franchises anywhere in the region.


Perry, Julia and Luda visit the judge’s chambers one last time to express their thanks. Luda tactfully points out a few minor errors in the court decree. An hour passes as the judge makes the corrections. Luda effortlessly manages the judge’s corrections, the printing of several copies of the decree, and the constant barrage of one language in one ear and another in the other. She’s a skilled professional at the top of her game.


Perry and Julia (in broken language): Thank you very much, your Honor.


Judge: (finally smiling) Thank you? I expected to receive flowers or cognac (Luda translates this for our heroes only later, after they've left, for fear they will respond with shock).


Judge: Well, if God directed you to adopt this child, then he directed me to rule in your favor.


Perry and Julia look at each other in wonder. The significance of these words does not escape them. God has indeed directed their journey, but the language barrier keeps them from sharing this with the judge.


Perry:  We appreciate what you did.


Judge:  You may consider that you have come to the end of a long pregnancy, and are proud parents recovering at the hospital.


Perry and Julia chuckle and remain politely silent, afraid to step on some cultural landmine that might destroy this day’s good work. As the corrections on the decree progress, the judge wants them to know that she approves of charity. In addition to the adoptions, she has recently taken in some locals who lost their home in a fire. She has shed her court robes, and Perry and Julia finally notice the cross she wears around her neck. A thousand years and two major schisms stand between her church and theirs, but they still have charity in common.


She also repeats some of her frustration with her daughters. They have refused to study their arithmetic, she says, giving the excuse that calculators and computers render all of that unnecessary. But who will build the computers when this generation grows up, Perry wonders? One daughter, at least, has been accepted to a university. She’s happy about that. Perry and Julia want to participate in the small talk, but waiting for the translation makes it difficult. Luda is far more interested in the court decree than in small talk, and wary about our heroes possibly saying the wrong thing.  There is no mention of the lost daughter, and Perry and Julia feel that it would be unwise to pry.


The lone male juror, who has suffered through this entire ordeal along with our heroes, is still sitting there waiting to sign the decree so that he can go home. He asks how they heat their house back home. They chat about heat pumps, wood stoves, radiators and natural gas. When his work is done, he leaves. Perry and Julia will never see him again, but they are grateful for the part he has played.


The ride back to the village is punishing in the cramped car, and both Perry and Julia feel positively ill from stress, hunger and motion sickness. When it’s finally over and Luda has gone back to the capital, they collapse on the bed, too tired to think about food. Shortly, their savior and hostess Valla invites them for soup, and they’re asleep by 7:30 p.m.


*************

Postlogue


It's tempting to revile our judge for giving us such a hard time. We’ve had a few harsh words for her-- OK, more than a few-- but in my judgment, it would be unfair to condemn her for the way she managed our case. To us it seems so obvious that Aaron will be better off with a family, but the judge didn't know us. To her, we were foreigners on a strange and possibly suspicious mission. She couldn't understand why anyone would want to buy trouble by adopting a child who would need so much care for so long. She was reluctant to rely on the recommendations of the SDA and the adoption agency, as other judges do, because she had never done an adoption before. She was deliberately hard on us, but that’s how attorneys and judges test people they don’t know-- they put them under pressure and wait to see if they’ll split a seam.


She’s a country judge, unused to the trappings of international adoptions-- the many documents, the apostilles, and so on. She couldn’t let some fast-talking facilitator come into her court and tell her what to do. She had a responsibility to uphold the law and to serve the child’s best interest. She took her time and did things her way. And in the end, led by the prompting of the Holy Spirit and backed by the prayers of the saints, she made the right call for everyone.