The Journey Home - 2

We woke up after Nanna arrived feeling much refreshed. Even the girls could tell we were all on the mend. Their attitudes perked up even. Feeding times went much smoother with an extra set of hands mixing and wiping while Joe and I did the feeding. And we had a second room to retreat to when housekeeping came, so we finally got a little of the yogurt-in-the-carpet smell out of the room. Enough to not get sick again. We still didn't eat anything.

Monday morning, we started preparing for check out. It took a long time, because Joe and I were still so weak. Bending over and lifting luggage was difficult. And he and his mother had to go back to the airport because her luggage finally came the day we were about to leave. Another near-miss. This was the day that we would load all of our gear up, and take the overnight train from St. Pete's to Moscow for our exit interviews and doctor's visit.

Before I get much further, dismiss any romantic notion you may have about train travel in Europe. This was not the Hogwart's Express. It was a Cold War remnant. I'm pretty sure I heard the word Chernobyl while on the train. We had a berth all to ourselves, which sounded pretty swank at first. But then we actually got to the train station late and had to run to avoid missing the train. Our translator, who picked up our tickets, shoved them at the boarding agent's face at our car, showed her all our passports, then handed us the tickets and put us in our car .... with all our luggage. There was no checking luggage. Didn't they know we were going to have five carry on bags, four large suitcases, three grown ups, two babies, ... and if we hadn't had to run, I wouldn't have had to leave behind my partridge in the pear tree.

Somehow, because my husband is still an Eagle Scout at heart (although I didn't know there was a badge to earn for "packing an infinite amount of junk in a finite amount of space") he managed to make it all fit and still leave three of the four bunks open for us to sleep - ehhh - on. Just as we were squeezing ourselves into the room, the ticket agent came around and asked to see tickets. We handed her the same tickets our translator had waved at her earlier. She snapped and tore and handed us our stubs, and moved on. She came back after we had been moving for about ten minutes. She showed her pieces of the stubs. There were four of them. Then she held up five fingers. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!! My stomach dropped.

We pulled out our tickets. King, J. King, J. King, P. King, A. ... searching ... searching ... I showed her who all the tickets were for. The A was Addie's. There wasn't a ticket for Anna. I looked up confused. She pointed to the two babies, then held up one finger, then two.

Inner monologue: "What is she asking me for? One ticket for two babies? Are they two years old or one year old? Is this like flying, where you pay lap fare for an infant? Do we have to buy one more ticket?"

I pointed at both girls. I held up two fingers. I held up one finger. I made a baby rocking motion. I don't know. I was just so scared that some of the nightmares I had been having in the past two weeks since court were about to start coming true. I started praying inwardly for peace. She just made a confused look with her face, sniffed, snorted a little, held up one finger then left. Not very long after that, the train lurched one last time and got very quiet.

OH DEAR LORD, ARE WE STOPPING?!!

As it turns out, no. [I haven't ridden a train since I was in kindergarten in Mrs. Thomas' class. The big event was to ride from Hattiesburg to Laurel on the Amtrak. Our parents met us at the station afterward. Mine took me to lunch at McDonald's. Then I got purple velcro sneakers from Sears at Sawmill Square Mall.] I didn't remember that once trains get up to speed, all that lurching and noise subsided for a steady, soft click-click-clicking. I couldn't hear the clicking for the pounding of my heart in my ears. I thought they were about to make us leave the train, or stop at a nearby station for another ticket. I kept waiting for that moment. But it never came. Whatever I said with my fingers, I either got the combination right....or I confused her even more, enough that she was willing to let it slide.

Once we could all calm down enough to think about sleep, we settled into our bunks, dressed in what looked to be unsanitary bed linens and a horse blanket. We all threw our horse blankets into crevices and crannies so the girls wouldn't get fingers pinched or feet stuck in their sleep. I still shudder when I think about the condition of the pillow cases. We covered them up with the sheets we were provided. Those at least looked a little cleaner.

Anna slept great in our Eddie Bauer infant travel bed. It folds up to the size of a laptop bag. So she got uninterrupted sleep. In fact, we were all awake before her this morning, and when she realized the party had started without her, she yawned, put her hands up to her face, pulled them away and said "taa daah" with a big smile. Addie, on the other hand, had to be under my arm all night so she wouldn't try to get down and tear all the linens and packaged breakfasts off the fold down dining table. Needless to say, I didn't sleep at all. And she didn't sleep that well.

We got to Moscow early, only to spend all morning doing the "Hurry Up and Wait" dance. You know this one? We ran to the vehicles because it was snowing really heavy and we didn't want the kids out in the wet cold for very long. Then we first went to the Russian medical clinic to have the children examined by another doctor that would sign off on their U.S. Embassy paperwork. We had to get there early so the driver could get the forms to the Embassy before 11am, the point at which they take no more new files for the day. Missing this window would mean filing on Wednesday, and making it by the skin of our teeth to have all our documents ready in time for our flight home.

Well, the doctor was late. Something about freezing rain, a fallen tree and blocked driveway. Okay, no problem. We were traveling at that point with another US couple who also adopted siblings, a real rarity to have two sets in one group. This created another problem that led to more waiting. Not enough copies of all of the paperwork. They had all of theirs. But we didn't have all of ours. So our new driver was going through all our documents as fast as possible, tying up the clinic's copying machine making new copies of whatever was missing. Another US couple from a different agency had all their ducks in a row, so they got in ahead of us. Then the clinic officially opened for the actual Russian guests for the day. We had to give up our seats in the waiting area. (Call me sensitive, but that actually hurt my feelings.) All the other US couples had come and gone, and we alone were left.

Finally, we got in to see the doctor for what must have been the most cursory exam ever. I was thankful because at least we got to strip the girls down to their pampers for a little while. They had been so overdressed for the bad weather on arrival, but because we kept thinking we were about to go in, we didn't want to start getting them out of the baby backpacks and coveralls. They both had a heat rash by the time we got in there. Other than that, and suggestions about therapies to start with Anna, they got a clean bill of health.

We signed papers we hadn't even had time to fill out because they hadn't been copied earlier, and the driver promised to finish filling it all in for us. We bolted out of the clinic and held our breath that we'd get to the Embassy on time.

Parked finally, I remember looking up at the clock in the car at 11:16am and hoping the U.S. government wouldn't once again be our only real roadblock in adopting. Apparently not, because he came back a little while later with our invitation to have our interview tomorrow at 2pm.

Every step in the process is its own little Ebenezer, its "stone of remembering", as doors that look to be on their way shut leave just enough room for us to slip through. Just one day had enough emotional ups and downs that my mother-in-law uttered the statement that I think has become my new motto.

"This is not for sissies."

No, it's not. It's for a really BIG God.

The Journey Home - 1

I have so many days to catch everyone up on. Sorry if it seems I'm putting in several posts at once, but this way you can start here and know where you left off so you can keep up with our story about picking up the girls to bring them home.

The last thing I shared was about our Christmas Vacation that was becoming eerily similar to the Griswold fiasco in the film of the same name. Since that post, -on Christmas Day, coincidentally - I came down with the same stomach virus. Things went from bad to worse in a hurry. If there was an upside, it was that Joe had almost stopped throwing up when I started, and that his mother was due in St. Pete's that same day. The girls were all out of sorts because they had only seen Joe in passing, and sometimes at mealtime as he tried to spoon food into Addie - who can shovel it in pretty fast - before he'd have to excuse himself to throw up because the smell of her baby food triggered the gag reflex again. Once he had to do everything for them by himself because I was laying down with a cold rag praying for mercy, it took them all a while to get reacquainted.

That afternoon, he had to leave to go get their visas and pick him mother up at the airport. So I was sick and alone with the girls. He came back earlier than expected (a blessing for me) because her flight had been delayed....then delayed....then she was delayed coming through customs because her bags had not made the last flight. So our fears were peaked when an hour after the new flight was supposed to have landed, the driver called and said she didn't get off the plane. He waited while we called home, called the travel agent, called home again, called the St. Pete's airport - that was not helpful at ALL - then called the travel agent again, then called the connecting airline. Finally, we got confirmation that she had been ON the flight. So we waited to see what the holdup was at the airport. They again were unhelpful. Two hours after that flight had landed, she found our driver. She had been filling out lost-and-found paperwork for her luggage that somehow got her into a customs security office filling out four forms - that it turns out she didn't need.

By the time she got to the room, we were exhausted. I went straight to bed. And I lounged around the next day while she backed Joe up. We tried to keep all the primary contact with the girls like we've been told to do by our social worker, only using her as an extra set of hands but not the ones to feed, soothe, and change a diaper. But after such a rough couple of days, we slid into letting her help a little bit more. And it was so good of her to understand the role we were needing her to take. Those girls are just so precious and huggable and giggly and ticklish and sweet that you immediately fall in love with them.

I just want to say in closing: This probably happens to everyone who's about to be a parent for the first time, or who's about to have their second child while the first is still an infant. Everyone says, "Just wait. Everything is going to change. You don't know the meaning of the word [choose one: tired, dirty, cranky, busy, broke, strung out, crazy....] until you have had to go through _____[some personal experience that was really, really bad-but still an exception and not the rule]______ with your own kids." And then they either jokingly or not suggest you practice with their kids.

Well, in response to that, I would like to say:

-Begin Rant-

There is no American parenting experience quite like that of having both parents down with a stomach virus while stuck in a hotel room in a country where you can't get a bucket of ice, while trying to care for two infants, one of whom is immobile and cannot sit unsupported, neither of whom speaks your language or knows you as a trustworthy adult and loving caregiver. All you have is food you can't eat, water you are dying for but know you can't keep down, the smell of baby food and spit up reeking around you because you can't pull up the strength long enough to leave the room for 30 minutes for housekeeping to come change sheets and clean the bathroom. You have food and utensils the infants are not accustomed to, and no high chair which means wrangling the acrobat while propping up the marionette, trying anything possible to get them to eat something that you bought for them, because Lord knows - you're not getting out anytime soon. This leads to gas, tears, diaper explosions - or worse: Not! And then the drool kicks in and you realize - Holy Cow, they're Teething Too?! And there is no neighbor, no friend, no Mamaw, no one you can call in for relief for two days. Anything we have to go through from here on out will be gravy compared to what we have endured this week, because at least we will be home, with US doctors and nearby friends and family, ice and filtered water that comes out of a magical silver box called a refrigerator, filled with food options for gassy or picky children! And let's not forget the coffee pot!

-End Rant-

Joe and I pondered the rationale behind people making those comments about preparing for parenthood to disrupt what was a formerly peaceful existence. It's not very encouraging. I wouldn't even say that it is in step with Ephesians 4: 29, being good for the building up of others, giving grace to all who hear. What's the point of it then, really? To give those new parents the head's up that it's going to be hard? I think we're all aware of that. To quote a conversation one of my friends and I had this week - every sane parent has that moment when they look up in the midst of trauma with their kids and wonder why they didn't just get a dog. Then is it to just mess with them, poking fun, commiserating? Okay, I guess for most folks.

But when you've sat through years of childlessness, quiet mealtimes, boring Saturdays, clean kitchens...well, maybe not that last part...you'd gladly give up all that "peace" for the "pieces": of cookie ground into the carpet, of Barbie's body clogging the toilet, of cake that stick to their faces on their next birthday, of dog food that get taste tested, of kleenex left in a pocket getting picked out of the lint trap after wiping snotty face after snotty face.

And I can't wait for you to see their little faces.

Random Thoughts...

I just paid $4 for a 12oz can of Dr. Pepper that was imported from Belgium. God Bless Belgium!

Planning our New Years Eve arrival party menu: Good old American food - Thin crust pizza, Rotel dip and tortilla chips, and $1 2Liters of Dr. Pepper and Diet DP with Ice, Ice, Baby! This hotel doesn't even have an ice machine for the public. That's how rare it is for people to drink things with ice here.

So, I too got the stomach virus, hence the preoccupation with food and drink and ice. Days without incident - 2. Days without nausea - 0.

Here's what I've eaten in the last 6 days:

2 nutrigrain bars

3 servings of sour cream and onion pringles

1 granola bar

2 packs of nabs

2 pouches of chicken ramen noodles

half of an apple

It's the apple that turned the tide and put me on the mend. It's true what they say, I guess.

If I needed a jumpstart to kicking back in on my WeightWatchers regiment, I got it.

Chance I'll be able to consume the desired amounts of homey goodness like we're planning, given this week's adventures in keeping anything on our stomachs - 30%.

Chance I'm gonna TRY - 110%.

Christmas Vacation...

My family knows this movie inside and out. One year, my oldest brother threatened to print off the script and just have us act the whole thing at the dinner table that Christmas. We quoted from it REDICULOUSLY. To the point that my two and a half year old niece (who's 19 now) started quoting the dinner table scene when she heard someone on a Christian radio station we were listening to say, "Blessing".

Only the true believers will know what comes next.

My point about that movie and my Christmas vacation is that they both had all the makings of a truly magical experience. Snow, decorations, unexpected family....

But they have also had the pitfalls of such high expectations. For Clark Griswold, it was overloaded fuses, redneck cousins, a rottweiler, and a couple of episodes with fire.

Ours: A mean stomach virus. Here we are in Russia, with the girls in a hotel room. And rather than playing and smiling and cooing and curling up in the bed, I am corralling the two girls by myself and trying to keep them out of Joe's wake. I don't know if he picked it up in the US and brought it with him, or if he got it at the baby home the day we came to pick them up. Our translator called us today to apologize for not checking in on us yesterday. Apparently, she got it too.

I hesitated even posting anything about it, because everybody wants updates on how wonderful motherhood is, and how beautiful St. Petersburg looks in the snow and lights.

Honestly, I've been too tired to notice. My only reason for writing now is to elicit prayer support from anyone that might read this. Joe is sick in his heart because he can't get down and play with the girls, or help me. We had great plans about walking in the snow about a block to a neat little European cafe that serves meat pies and napoleons for lunch, with the girls in their baby backpacks bundled up like baby Jesus.

Pray that in the last few days we have here, I'll get to enjoy being the mother to these little girls, and more so, for Joe to get to enjoy being their father. He's been too sick, and I've been too worn out.

Hallelujah!

Holy Crap!

Where's the Tylenol?!

The Journey of A Thousand Steps...

Is nearing its completion. Below is the copy of my very first post on this website. I just reread it, and it is crazy to me how God answered all of the questions that were in my heart.



What you ought to know is, when we first started this journey, I wasn't ready. We went through three interviews, spaced through about six months, and I chickened out. I really needed to try through medical intervention to get pregnant. We did that for about nine months until March of 2009, when God told me that it was really time to stop.



And now here we are.



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Little Footsteps.

It's about the little one whose footsteps we are anxiously awaiting to hear, and about our own little steps in the international adoption process.

This is going to be a long, LONG journey, not to mention an expensive one. But worth it.

Already, at this point of just finishing the initial application, we've already had to make a decision about what country, what age, and siblings-yes or no. We've also had to come to terms with a few things.

One, this child will not be coming from my womb. I had to get okay with that. Well, better than just okay. I had to be sure that in my heart, adoption was such a strong desire that it was not just a "Plan B", because my danged ovaries didn't work.

Also, all my life, I wanted to be pregnant and have a baby. My husband isn't primarily the nurturing type. And I'm not too dependent on anybody, but dadgummit, I'd like to be pampered a little bit. I thought, for longer than a weekend or anniversary, I might get waited on hand and foot without any expectation. And there was the question - will I feel like this child is mine? Will I be able to bond in the way that I'd throw myself in front of a bus for a child? Well, yes. I teach school, and I'd do that for (most of) my students. I can't see any child get hurt and not take action. But would we be able to bond like mother and child with it already being a year or so old?

This leads to my second big leap of faith, this child will not be a newborn. There are all kinds of questions about the child's physical and emotional history that I just will not be able to get answers to.

My husband, the Eagle Scout adventurer, got to a place of acceptance with these facts faster than I have. In fact, the impetus to adopt really started with him. Originally, we held it off in the distance, like our late 30's if we still had not gotten pregnant. And we would extinguish every avenue for natural childbirth that we felt was ethically acceptable for us before we considered this road. But God had other plans for us, including a major heart change. Isn't that His way?

Therefore, convinced of the special burden and relationship God has with orphans and abandoned persons, and convinced of our role in being the hands and feet of God in the world, we answered a call to pursue an orphaned or abandoned child to bring into our home and our waiting arms. I daydream about paint colors and names. I price flights to Asia, and plan fundraisers. And I think about how soon until we begin the process all over again for our second child, if we don't get siblings this first time through.

And in my mind, I hear a tiny voice and little footsteps, and see beautiful almond shaped eyes shining under black hair looking up with expectation, waiting to be held.

How could this possibly be a Plan B?

"This is it.....

Don't get scared now."

McCauly Culkin said this in "Home Alone" just before the bad guys started breaking into his house. It's ironic, because he was - well - home alone. We're saying it because this is the last time we're ever going to be alone.

Just before we left the house, Joe gave a little speech.

"Dear house, we'd like to thank you for this past year of peace and quiet. Thank you for the tranquility you brought to our lives, being our haven from this hectic world. But, house, this is the last time any of us are going to see any of that. We'd just like to apologize now for the throw-up, temper tantrums, and toys strewn everywhere. It's been great, and it's all about to change."

We've had dreams this week about something going wrong, or being surprised by new information when we get to Russia. Joe dreamed there was a triplet. I dreamed we left one of them behind, and we'd have to wait six months before we could go back and get her. We've been on edge ever since. Even right now, we're sitting at Joe's mom's house with all the family in the office, talking about paperwork, visas, tickets....Oh, good Lord! There's just so much to handle. I'm so nervous.

So, in case you were wondering, here's the prayer list for this trip.

• Travel to and from the airport at really weird times of day for the family who are serving as chaufeurs.
• Health for Joe and I. He's getting over his sinus infections, picked up from the previous trip. I woke up feeling it coming on this morning. I was so loopy during church this morning.
• Travel safety and health for my mother-in-law, who is coming a few days later to help us on the trip home. She will be traveling by herself, and she hasn't been on a plane in a while.
• Health for the girls, and that they sleep most of the way home.
• Ideas of creative ways to spend our time in the hotel with the girls. We have a few days of nothing to do but wait on passports to be processed so they can leave the country with us.
• To receive favorable word from the last couple of grant agencies that we are waiting on. While you may think we have successfully raised all of our funds because the girls are coming home, this is not quite the case. We have just been blessed with a patient adoption agency who is giving us a little more time to raise/pay the last $7500. Because our process from referral to final trip went about four times faster than normal, we went faster than some of these grant agencies process applications. Some of them only do it once a year.
• That we budgeted the right amount for this trip. They tell us how much cash to bring, and how much to expect to spend on the rooms, etc. So far, things have come out less expensive than we were told to anticipate. We really need this to happen one more time.
• That somewhere in the midst of all this, we get - and TAKE - the chance to worship together as a family, praising God for everything He has done to bring this plan together.

Once we register their passports in the new names we have given them, we will be happy to report with pictures of the girls. Keep watching for updates.

And thank you.

Questions I am asking myself right now.

Will Doritos fingerprints stain my keyboard or touchpad?

Why is -10degrees in St. Petersburg more bearable than +29degrees in Mississippi? And no, it doesn't have anything to do with the warmth of a mother's heart or any of that nonsense. It is just a different kind of cold.

Does my dog remember me? Because this has not been a good month of quality time for her.

Similarly, is my dog mad at me?

How long until Monday gets here and we can get on a plane to go see my babies again? Ala, Charlie Brown: "Aaaaaaargh!"

Why does my mother-in-law get to fly over PARIS, but we have to go through Amsterdam?

Why did I think Doritos would be a satisfying lunch?

The end.

..So what DOES a youth minister do?..

I have slept four hours. And true to form, I'm awake in the middle of the night. But before I wrestle and try to get back to sleep, I read through my post from earlier.

I really shouldn't write when I'm THAT tired. I left out some important details.

Here's why that exchange with the judge was so difficult for Joe. What he really does would be lost on the judge, and on the national understanding that - to quote our driver - "religion is for grannies".

When the judge didn't respond when he told her he taught the Bible, I don't know what she was thinking. But I would guess that she thought he told the Bible stories. Maybe she was thinking - (Okay, how many of those can there be? Is there a need for such a profession that would make it stable?) Actually, because they have NO previously acquired knowledge of such things, I know the last question is probably close to being accurate.

So, in case she's reading this, or in case you are also wondering what a youth minister does, let me fill you in from the wife's perspective what she sees her husband doing.

The youth minister is a counselor with an open door, listening to stories from students about broken hearts, college and career plans, persecution at school, difficulty standing for Christ in the face of intense temptation, understanding their parents' discipline, losses that keep them from being able to talk to God, victories that remind them that God is talking to them.

The youth minister runs interference between parents and their prodigal children, and between children and their prodigal parents. He is a search party, helping them scan the horizon for the one who hasn't yet turned his heart toward home. And in the event that neither child nor parent are looking for each other, he is the neutral ground, the messenger, the interpreter.

The youth minister is a shoulder to grieving children who have lost grandparents, parents, siblings. He knows that when the phone rings at 2am, nothing good is ever on the other end. He stands at a funeral and says words that parents can't work up the strength of breath and the coordination of speech to say about how this child was loved, how his passing leaves a void, how only God can give the grace to help them continue living.

The youth minister's home is a haven for the student who has wandered too far, burned too many bridges to return home. It is a playground for the groups of students who rush in quickly, sing and play loudly, eat voraciously, clean up after themselves minimally, and leave slowly. The youth minister's weekend is consumed with activities, service projects, mentoring, and fellowship.

The youth minister lives a difficult balance between being totally accessible, yet guarding his time for his family. And somewhere in there guarding a little time just for himself. He shares his home and family with the students. He shares the love of his heart and his listening ear with his family, and with his students. He shares his leadership with his family, and with his students.

And yes, he teaches the Bible. But he doesn't just tell the stories. He teaches the application of the truth of those stories. Truth about who our God is...and MAN have we gotten to know him a lot better this year. Truth about who we are. Truth about how far off the mark we are as individuals, and how as a society, we keep spiraling further and further away. And maybe by reaching the students when they are young, we can put an end to it, or at least slow it down to the point that when one of our children, or our children's children are standing in court and also serving as ministers of the gospel, the judge won't have to ask, "And what do you do?"

I started writing that exchange with the judge last night as an attempt at humor. But the more I think about it, it actually makes me sad. After traveling to such a secular country, I don't take for granted how blessed we are as a country to have freedom to worship. Russia is free to do it now, but because it has been so many years where religious practices were illegal, they are out of the habit, and there is no church leadership. And it breaks my heart how often we throw that freedom away, because I know just a few weeks ago I didn't appreciate it.

Point of Grace had a song in the late '90s that I haven't heard since then, "God Forbid". The words come to mind in the background setting of a people who have lost all touch with God, turning His churches into museums. They have the form of godliness but are denying the power.

The more I know your power, Lord
The more I'm mindful
How casually we speak and sing your name
How often we have come to you
With no fear or wonder
And called upon you only for what we stand to gain

God forbid, that I find you so familiar
That I think of you as less than who you are
God forbid, that I should speak of you at all
Without a humble reverence in my heart
God forbid

So, what does a youth minister do? A youth minister takes students to summer camp where they learn to be God's servants, and in the process he hears a testimony from a woman who adopted a little girl from China. And in listening to her story, he realizes that God is telling him to become a father to abandoned children. And because he is a man of God, he responds obediently. And in less than ten days, he will be holding those children in his arms.

And I will be right there by his side, because that's what a youth minister's wife does.

Two Days Worth

Sorry, folks at home. I haven't done as well with the time change this trip. I have slept during every car ride to and from the baby house. By the time we get back to the room, I'm dragging. And then we both wake up in the middle of the night and fight to get back to sleep, only to finally be awakened by the unwelcome sounding of my alarm.

Today, Joe has already gone to bed. (He didn't sleep in the car.) I'm willing myself to stay up at least one more hour before hitting the sack for the night (at 8:30pm) which means Joe should be updating his status in about six hours (at 2:30am). So be on the lookout.

Now..here's Thursday's update: Court Proceedings.

We were supposed to be the first family on the docket Thursday. But the court secretary had double booked the courtroom with another family. Since they got there first, we had to wait. We had about thirty minutes of mentally preparing, going over answers to questions we thought might be asked. Then, I saw the doctor from the baby house get out some medical files she would need to present to the court, get out her cell phone to make a call, and jot down some notes. She was talking loud, at a fast rate, and seemed pretty worked up about whatever she was trying to get worked out. It's so unnerving to sit around all these people whose expressions you can't read, knowing that they are talking either about you or about the children, but not catching even a word of it. I figured if there were any surprises left, we'd hear them out in the courtroom.

The court appointment was formal, routine, with much of it read or quoted by rote through our translator. She has done this for twenty years. We made our petition to adopt. We were questioned about our decision, about our work...We planned some answers to these questions, but focused more on things that would relate to our actual interactions with the girls. Things that just had to do with us, not so much.

Judge: What do you do?

Joe: I work for a church.

Judge: What do you do there?

Joe: I'm responsible for children and teenagers, from birth to 18 years old.

[Now, at this point, every person in America who has ever attended church or known anyone who has ever been involved in a children's or youth ministry would nod their heads and go, "Oh..." and that would be the end of it.]

Judge: Yes, but what do you do?

Joe: Teach, plan activities....

Judge: What do you teach?

Joe: The Bible?

Judge: (silence...looking for more of an answer)

Joe: ...How to be respectful...compassionate...

After our court appearance, we spoke to the other couple going to court with our agency - the husband of which happens to also be a minister - and Joe prepped him for the question. Our translator also said something to him, asking him to be specific about the nature of his work if he is asked.

Next, we were asked about our readiness to disrupt a perfectly good marriage and quiet lifestyle with two children. They very rarely have couples coming to adopt two. I mentioned that I'm responsible for classes of 30 children at a time with no problems, and I'm not scared at all about having two children. The judge said, "Yes, but the other children you can send home. These are yours. If one cries, they will both cry. And you are the only mother."

Because Joe told me to keep my answers short and sweet, I didn't go into my life story about how I've always wanted to be a mother, how I've always sought out children, worked with children, kept them, taught them, played with them...I didn't tell her how my heart would be completely broken inside of me if I never had the opportunity to be a mother. How my life has been too peaceful, my house too clean, my modus too self centered. How I long for chocolate fingerprints to stain my white cabinets, how I long to find Barbie's head stopping up the bathroom sink, how I want my peaceful Saturday morning sleep to be disrupted by children hopping in the bed begging me to make pancakes. I could have, but I didn't. They were on a schedule.

After we got through the lifestyle questions about me and Joe, they heard reports from the baby house doctor and social worker, and a representative from the Ministry of Education-which was responsible for reviewing our home study, references, and our background information. We got stellar reviews from all of them. Then the doctor went into her full spiel about the health of the girls. While we consider Addie healthy, she does have a couple of conditions related to being born prematurely that needed to be shared in court. Then they got in to Anna Claire's health report. The doctor painted it in a positive light, stating that this girl needed to be adopted by us so that she could get proper treatment, and gave her an optimistic prognosis under our care.

From there, the judge spent the rest of the time counseling us about the difficulty of taking on this challenge with her, while also caring for the other girl. She asked us about twenty times in all if we were really ready for this. I don't know how many ways to say yes, but we kept saying it. Then she deferred to her chambers to make her decision in private. She came back about two minutes later, having approved our petition.

The decision of the court will be effective in just a few days. We have just enough time to fly home, wash clothes, make our final travel arrangements, pack for bringing ourselves and the girls home, perform a Christmas musical, and trade the jeep in on a family sized vehicle that can hold two car seats and a stroller, and in the event she needs it in the future, any kind of mobility equipment for Anna Claire. It will be a full week.

We had another great visit with the girls last night, and then "Monica" blew in. The trip from baby house to hotel usually takes about thirty minutes. Last night, it took just over an hour because the snow impaired visibility. Of course, I slept through all of it. Today, everything was more difficult. The roads were covered with a thick gray slush that reminded me of the gulf coast sand when it is wet. The sides of the road had snow piled so high that when we parked for lunch, I stepped into a drift that was up to my knee. But it was so soft and miraculous.

Speaking of miraculous, we spent our afternoon during the girls' nap time touring the Winter Palace - The Hermitage. It is renowned for its art collection, rivaling the Louvre. I saw with my own eyes paintings by Da Vinci, Matisse, Monet, Rembrandt, Picasso...all the classics. I didn't think myself to be an art lover, but you can't argue with the greatness of some of these pieces. It was amazing.

Both visits with the girls today, as well as the one last night, consisted of several rounds of Peek-a-boo, lots of giggles and smiles, pretending to fly, and more gas. Since we figured out what it looks like when Anna Claire's about to blow (pun intended), and since we figured out how to hold her so she's comfortable and can move the air around, she hasn't cried or whimpered once in three visits.

She's already so much like her daddy.

One more day. Start praying now for the weather and the trip home. I didn't arrange for a substitute on Monday. I have to hit the ground running because I did it again - I have another musical scheduled for Tuesday. Joe and I both have a lot to do this next week, because the next trip will last a little longer, and we will have the girls with us. There will be no time for the two of us to recover on our own. Pray also for those last two grants we are waiting to hear back from. We passed through the first round of approval from one of them, and it went on to the regional committee to decide how much of our grant request they can approve. We still have a balance of $7500 due to our agency, which is the amount we requested. Pray for approval, both from this agency, and from another which will be reviewing our application this month and notifying us in January, so we might put that surplus toward paying back some of our adoption loans.

Thanks for all the prayers and supportive comments. Not much longer!!!

JK

Anna Claire's Apple Cart

....is very sensitive. That child will get in one comfortable position, or engaged in one activity, or linked to one person, and if you change it at all....here come the waterworks. We had the longest period of a comfortable position tonight with her. It was lying sideways in my arms with one of her arms and legs over mine, and one arm and leg hanging down the other side of my arms. As soon as we got into that position, she got quiet. She relaxed. And she started passing gas.

I've got to get better at reading these signs. Yesterday, I kept thinking she was teething. This morning, she must have been hungry. Then tonight....it was definitely gas.

Addie wasn't quite herself tonight. She wasn't ill or anything. Just quiet and clingy. She wouldn't let Joe put her down hardly at all. She was laying the same way Anna Claire was. And she would clap her hands, with some difficulty with one over Joe's massive arm and one under, and she would make little noises that sounded like she was singing or humming. It was too cute. So we stood, the four of us, for a while just looking at each other. We rocked back and forth, made silly sounds and faces with the girls, and just let them learn to grow comfortable laying there in our arms.

What I'm hoping for on this trip is for Anna Claire to look forward to coming to us, rather than looking forward to going back to the caretaker. For her sake, I want to know she trusts us and will be happy with us. I don't want to start our relationship with her out of coercion: "Well, kid. You're ours now. Might as well get used to it. You're stuck with us." I wish we could communicate better so I could know exactly what she wants when she starts crying like that. Is she hurting, scared, hot, hungry?

How do you people do it?

For the next day of this trip

• Continue to pray that we'll recover from the time change, and that we stay physically feeling well the whole time. We slept a decent number of hours last night - 7. But we didn't sleep the right ones. We got up at 4am. And now, Joe's taking a nap, and my logic says to fight the nap and just stay awake until 9pm so I can sleep all the way through the night. Joe's plan is to wake up at 8pm from his nap, eat a little ramen soup in the room for supper, then go back down around 11pm. I tried this last time and when it came time to lay down for real, I couldn't fall asleep.
• Pray for bonding to continue and intensify with both girls, especially Anna Claire. Pray that we'll know how to move her around so she's comfortable and can respond to us positively.
• Pray that we don't say anything stupid during our court visit tomorrow. There are only a couple of questions that we need to carefully word our answers to. One of them is: Do you attend church? What kind? Are you a fanatical believer, or moderate? Well, in American terms - moderate I guess. But our moderate would be over the top fanatical here, because of the lack of spiritually minded people. Still, I really wrestled with this question when it was asked by our court coach at lunch today. I have always heard pastors use that invitation quote - "If you were put on trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?" I just never thought it would actually happen! The other questions will be to judge if we have adequately weighed the consequences of adopting a special needs child, and mainly the question - "Why?"

Okay. No more fighting it. I'm going down for a 50 minute nap. Cross your fingers.

Trip 2

To start, the actual flights to get here could not have gone better. The price to check an extra bag was not as expensive as we had thought, so we got rid of some of our carry-on pieces and were able to bullet through loading on and off the planes. Also, none of the flights were totally full. We got to spread out and have plenty of elbow room. I have to say, though, that my least favorite thing in the world is when the person in front of me decides to lean all the way back while I have my tray down, or worse - while I'm reading! So as spread out as one can get, it's still not enough to be really comfortable. But things could have been way worse.

I didn't sleep at all on the transatlantic flight. I tried. I really did. Instead, I ended up catching up on my prayerlife. Mostly, I was praying for the family with the baby that was sitting about ten rows ahead of us. They were struggling, and I knew it would be us soon enough. It took a while, but they all finally calmed down. Speaking of babies on flights - on our first flight out of NOLA, there were TWO sets of twins. One set was about the age of our girls, so it was interesting to see how the family dealt with them and all their gear getting them on and off the flight. And all I have to say about that is .... This is going to be fun.

When we left New Orleans, it was a brisk 32 degrees with clear skies. When we landed in St. Petersburg, it was a balmy 32 degrees with gray skies. And snow already piled everywhere. Yet again, we brought the warm front. It hasn't really snowed since we got here. We think it snowed while we were sleeping, but it's hard to tell. Everything was already white.

As tired as we were, when our translator asked if we wanted to go by the baby home on the way to the hotel, we immediately said "Yes!" We had talked on Sunday about how we probably wouldn't, because we'd be so dirty and tired and .... All of that went out the window once we were actually in St. Petersburg.

The director at the baby home gave us a big hug when we got there. She just seems like the most pleasant person. And the caretakers were happy to see us. We got to walk into their small group area to see Addie walking totally independently, playing with the other children. She seemed to recognize Joe right away. She toddled toward us with a shy smile, but she got cut in front of by a little blonde headed boy with Down's who beat her to him. But it was enough for us to see that spark of memory there. Anna Claire was just waking up from her nap, and getting dressed when we came in, so we didn't get to see her in the group. They brought her out to us.

I guess because we had been on the plane, they made us wear surgical face masks. Addie had already seen our natural faces, so she wasn't freaked out when she saw us putting them on. Anna Claire on the other hand didn't get to see us without the masks. She was freaked out. She started off shocked, and that melted into crying and/or whimpering. But the good news is she isn't sick and croupy this time. I tried to soothe her as much as she'd let me. They kept the girls' toys we had brought, and brought those out to us. The director said Wednesday, they will bring out some toys and show us some of the things that Anna Claire has been doing with toys. They've been trying to work with her on her muscle coordination.

It was a short visit of only maybe 30 minutes. We handed the girls back, and started to walk out. As we turned the corner to exit the gate, we ran up on the older group of 3 year olds walking outside in the snow. They saw us and all went, "Oh..." And then a couple of them at a time starting looking at me and at the female translator, saying, "Mama." They kept calling as we walked out the gate to our car.

Holy Cow! How is a woman supposed to respond to that?!

I know now why people who go into orphan adoption originally thinking that they are just going to bring one child home end up going back until they have twelve kids. Because that's what I immediately wanted to do.

Now, here's the stuff everyone is going to want to know. We talked with our agency representative who will take us through the court logistics last night. She said she doesn't expect that the judge will waive our ten day waiting period. They discussed Anna Claire's physical condition with the judge, and also with the director. She said that a week ago, a family adopted a child in a wheel chair, and their waiting period wasn't even waived. The director wouldn't sign off on anything stating that she thought Anna Claire would need any kind of immediate surgery - the only kind of thing they will waive for these days. Anna Claire's follow up visits have all come back with favorable reports, recommending massage therapy, physical therapy, and love and attention. But nothing medically invasive.

So once court is over with, we know we will be coming home without the girls. But that's okay, because we will be better prepared for the final trip. Also, it will be easier to make travel arrangements for Nanna Peggy, who will be meeting us in Moscow to help get them through the long flight home. And that trip will be over Christmas break. We will be home with them on December 31.

Now it is off to breakfast, since we woke up at 4:00am. No pickled herring!

JK