A Family for Christmas

For those of you who are not Ukrainian adoption blog junkies, I need to tell you a little story. A little background: we have the great blessing of being part of a community of families that live reasonably close by that are all adopting from Ukraine. There are seven families (I can think of) that are in the process of or have adopted from Ukraine. We share needed information and wisdom obtained from the process and travel to the said foreign country and most importantly, we allow the children to visit each other in hopes of letting them know they are not alone here in this big alien country. There are other children here just like them.

One of our families we sent off in early November with much love and prayer. As is expected, they spent long and sometimes frustrating days in the old country waiting for impossibly slow paper work. They were there for some 45 days. It looked as if they would be there for Christmas. At the last minute, the last of the paperwork was secured (thank you US Embassy!). And on Christmas Eve, at 4:15 pm, the new family entered the main terminal at Denver International Airport. I was there, all smiles and hugs to welcome them home at last. I wasn't sure how many of our community would be there seeing it was Christmas Eve and all but eventually almost all the families came with Russian speaking children in tow. It was wonderful.

It was a child's Christmas in Colorado this year. What an awesome gift. What a beautiful memory.

Nesting

We have officially asked for our third child, a sweetie named Vika (or Victoria) who turned 10 last summer. I smile as I look at her picture taken last March with hair cut super-short for lice control, she kinda looks like me. I overflow with empathy. Naw. She's cute. I'll be able to show photos later but I have to be careful for reasons I will tell later (if I don't, remind me). With Nastia turning 8 on the 22nd of December, Sasha at 11 in September and Vika at 10 last July, people will think I really cranked out the kids! Hey Folks, this is a great way to have a passel of kids close together and not have to go through the multiple sleepless nights of the infant/toddler phase. I feel like I got away with something. At least until college. Hmmmmm. ("Honey, how much do we have in our college fund?!")

Finishing up the house. Out comes the paint. I noticed a few spots on the ceiling in the purple room, the one that will house two girls. I can't imagine trying to finish this with people actually living in it so best fix it now. I remember when I first painted this room. Its the first room I ever painted a feminine color. Josh had moved out to attend CU and I wanted a guest room for Mom and buddy De. When I had the paint mixed, the guy put the can on the counter and said flatly, "Here's your ugly purple paint, lady." I saw the twinkle in his eye. My cue. I let him know in mock self-righteousness that I had put up with three brothers and two sons and was ready to openly embrace my feminine side! Well, I didn't say that exactly, but I could have here in Boulder, Colorado. Didn't know then that I would invite others to "embrace my feminine side" so personally. Ah, life does have its twists, doesn't it?

We have been fortunate to find a great deal of needed furniture, used. The only thing we need now is two twin bed frames. Canopy beds please. White iron prefered. Without the little hump in the top. Cheap. Less than one hundred each, thank you. What? You aren't Santa? Bummer. Guess I'll have to go shopping tomorrow. Not such a bummer. Bed frames, even canopies aren't very much more than that and I should be able to find them new.

Photos: UL- One brave husband, painting the house. With every weekend we spent painting it ourselves, we were sure we saved $10,000 more bucks.
UR-Moving back into the bigger family room (excuse the disorder). The new part is marked with a line next to the mantel, since painted to match the rest of the room.
LR- Extended breakfast room. I got the biggest window I could without having to go to a more expensive shatterproof glass. Note classy cat door on lower left. Sliding glass door is just to the left in that room.

I'll try and dig up a "before" photo for our out-of-state friends.

Plane Tickets

The first thing you do after recovering from the shock of learning your appointment date is to buy plane tickets. I've been reading blogs on people who have gone, are going, or are in Ukraine right now adopting kids. Even if they are infrequent writers, they always write about buying their plane tickets. I've wondered about this odd, subconscious response to the invitation to come. Buying the ticket is logical. Blogging it seems odd to me. I think it is the globally verbal acceptance of the invitation.

If that's what it is then "I do." I'll come and adopt these kids. Here is my proof for all to hear. A purchased plane ticket. I'm coming. January 16th at 10:15am, we are getting on a plane that will take us to points east and the next leg of our life's adventure.

I'm calming down some. Last week, I resembled the apparition from "The Scream," but his week, having bought the ticket, ordered money, and prayed over and kissed another Ukraine-bound friend goodbye, I'm settling down a little. With one exception. The truth is I'm a homebody.

I love living in Colorado. There is very little about it not to love. But there are about 8 weeks in the winter when I wish I were somewhere else. God in his great mercy and grace has blessed us with another place to be during that time this year, it doesn't matter that its Ukraine and not Cancun. I'm coming home with impressive souvenirs! But we are going to be gone very long and we don't know when we are coming home! Home, where my friends and family roam. Where the cats purr and the coyotes yip at night (really!). Home, where NPR reports on lipstick on pigs and my womens Bible study meets on Wednesday mornings. Where Tchaikovsky plays and my books lie waiting silently for me. I love home. I'm rather attached to it. I don't even like long vacations. It's not being in a foreign country or not understanding the culture or not speaking the language and being misunderstood or even wondering who God will give us as children, I dread. We have been down that road before! The worst thing is having the whole affair drag on and on. Seven weeks, eight weeks, Rolan must return to the job he left. I'm alone in Ukraine. Arg! Even a pregnant woman knows the thing must end after a fashion. It always does. Okay, does anyone out there know of anyone who went and never came back?

Of course, I'm being silly. Even so, could you please pray for a quick adoption? Thank you.