Because Every Child Needs a Family

"Whatever you did for one
of the least of these . . you did for me." Matt 25:40

Us

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Halloween Drama




The bride, the movie star, the witch and the haul!
It was coming. That fever and cold thing that was going around. Rolan got it on Thursday, I got in on Friday, and I knew the kids were next.
Halloween is the Disneyland of holidays. The way the girls were anticipating it, you would think it was the second coming. Anna had not one but two Halloween costumes ready to go.

The morning of, Sophia dressed up and knocked on the door just for practice (at 7:30am). It was going to be a long day.

At 1pm, Anna started to get drowsy. Sure enough, she had a fever. I never thought I would pray that someone could go trick or treating! We gave her some medicine and put her to bed. A few hours later she still had a low grade fever but there would be certain death if she were not allowed to go trick or treating with the rest of the American children.

She survived. I manned the home front and Rolan took them out. He said, when they came back from a house, they would run screaming as if they had found a vein of gold.

Later, Anna reveled in her haul, "I've never had so much candy!"

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

American Scary



At the local pumpkin patch. You never know who you will meet.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

This is the House That Josh Bought -Sarah Too


In a desperate attempt to get in on the great Obama tax deal, our young heroes purchased their first home. They moved in on the 17th. It could use a gutting of kitchen and bathroom but everything is strong and in working order (like the roof, walls and floors!). Okay, it could use a little more curb appeal but guess who gets to be in charge of that? Ha! My mouth is watering, my chainsaw warming up, and the landscape plan possibilities abound.
I just have to avoid plants and flowers Sarah is allergic to.
I also need to find the time.
And the weather needs to co-operate.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

FRUA picnic in Colorado Springs

Good to meet the adoptive community is Southern Colorado.
Took some pictures. Been a long time since I added pictures.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Why I Love America, by Sophia Christofferson

"America is not as hot as Ukraine. My family not hit me every day like in Ukraine. I like the supermarkets, they are bigger than in Ukraine. I like my house, because I don't have a house in Ukraine. I don't have a computer in Ukraine. It is beautiful outside in America. I like America because we never in Ukraine go to camp, and not go swimming and I never saw before fire trucks. I like America because the school helps me learn English. In Ukraine we learned a little English be we cannot understand, but in America I learn a lot. I like America because in Ukraine I never had good house, but slept outside. I like America because all my sisters are close to me. In Ukraine I was never very clean, but in America I can take a shower. I like America because there are no boys hitting me. I like America because the teachers never take money away from me."

Sunday, September 6, 2009

What not to do

Ann learned a lesson this week. Don't wear a T-shirt to school, if the T-shirt has the name of the rival high school. Within an hour, she called: "Please bring another T-shirt, right now!"

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

What's up?

Summer is over?? Rats.

In June, we had a vacation in a beautiful home on Lake Elmandor in California.
The girls lived in their swimming suits for a week.


In July, the two little girls lost 3 teeth in as many days. Sophia had a loose tooth, and worked very hard to take it out, but the tooth refused. She was in tears, partly because it now hurt. Before putting them to bed, I gave them a small glass of warm milk. Sophia looked at me, and said, "I swallowed it." Sigh. The next day, she found another loose tooth, and worked that one out. Two nights, the tooth fairy visited her pillow. Then, I was driving Sophia and Anna from the swimming pool. Sophia had gotten Fritos, and the girls were eating them, when Anna said, "I broke a tooth." Knowing how rotten some of her teeth are, I believed it. She leaned out the window so she could spit blood. Finally, she gave me the tooth, and it was obvious a baby tooth had come out. It did have a hole in the top.

Then there was Josh's wedding. Eileen's brothers and her mom came out. For many, this was their first time to our house. The groomsmen got to wear tuxes, and the weather was hot. Sarah had a beautiful dress.

And then came August. Rolan lost his job. We had to get vaccinations for the girls. Sophia caught a cold or bronchial infection that has lasted into September. School started. We have visited all three schools due to problems of one sort or another. Eileen has started working at temp jobs, doing cooking and food delivery, but is not sure that working is the right thing. Rolan had a birthday, too. I can now play a card for every year of my age.


And now the whining. We sure thought we were doing God's will when we set out on this adoption trip. We tried to believe that God owns the cattle on a thousand hills, and He would take care of us if we took a chance and went to get these girls, even though the economy was not good. After all, what is faith without action? And now we have medical and dental bills and no income. The stress level is high, there are tears and anger and frustration. Did we bring the girls from poverty in Ukraine, just to show them poverty in America?

We have been through hard times in the past, so hard that we cried out and said, "Enough! I can't take any more!" And now here we are again. Here is how I am feeling: #%!^*#@. No, that's not a regular expression (programming term). That's confusion and anger and fear and exhaustion. The only hope I have now is that I came out of those other times, and maybe I can make it through this one.

This week is Sophia's birthday. She wants to take "pupcakes" to school. :)

Rolan

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Brief Update

[Rolan]
Things are going well, a lot is happening. All the kids want to be on the computer, and it's hard to make time to update the blog.

That just changed. I get let go from work.

The roller coaster ride continues. *sigh*

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Just About Three Months

I'm pooped today. Do I say that every day? Naw.
Life is settling down slowly. When you take two steps forward and one step back, you eventually get somewhere, be it ever soooooo slowly. No longer hyper-vigilant wondering if my new children are thieves, liars, bullies, homicidal maniacs of some sort. Getting to know people a little better makes them easier to live with.
I thought we would never get through May. School getting out and the anniversary of the girls' mom's death. Birthdays and injuries and tooth work. I'm not kidding, I panicked, realizing I would only have a few more days to get the things done that I wouldn't get done with the girls home, so I scheduled dentist, doc, eye exams all in one week. Then I got mad at myself because the days were so beautiful and I should be spending them outside in the garden. It made for one grouchy mama.
Now June is here and the days are getting hot and really, the optimal time to plant is gone. Sit back and enjoy the kids! Okay, its raining. Something has gone terribly askew with the weather. I don't remember when I've seen Colorado so wet. Or GREEN! The two younger girls have started half day summer school. The school bus picks them up (it still makes me cry), and someone even feeds them a light breakfast and lunch, and then the school bus brings them home. No muss, no fuss. I hope they are learning something and not just eating. Hmmmm. Wondering if this program is out of compassion to find a way to feed starving ESL students in the summer. There are many stereotypes surrounding ESL students, I'm finding.

Some *&$!@ counselor down at Tanya's school (yeah, those guys) told me she finished High School and therefore has no more rights to public education. I made the mistake of submitting Tanya's General Education Certificate which she received at 15 years of age in Ukraine. I really just wanted to find out what she needs to get an American high school diploma. After an embarrassing meltdown in front of my family, I decided that we needed to hire an attorney. Not an easy decision for me who believes in using lawyers for only the most dire of circumstances. Yes, I knew that someday I can tell Tanya she means that much to us. I prayed. Even as I was praying, the lawyer called me back. In less than a week, it has all turned out as we hoped and the district called yesterday re-enstating Tanya's rights to summer school and High School in the fall. The lawyer did minimal work and will not charge us! Don't know where this will lead in the coming year but I so very much want Tanya to have choices for her future.

We deal with issues that are sometimes new and sometimes revisits of stuff we have seen before and thought we took care of. This is common. All in all the girls are progressing well. There are a few things that concern us but we have found a great Russian speaking therapist in Denver that has been helpful. We may end up putting Sophia in a private school in the fall because she has some behavior issues we are concerned about but she seems to be there academically. Fortunately, we have all summer to think about it.

Hope to post some photos soon!

Monday, May 11, 2009

Not Over-protecting

They say that if you never take your kids to the hospital, you are over-protecting them.

Saturday, Eileen and I worked many long hours trying to cover up our dirt and clay with flagstones. We had a nice size patio before the construction started. We took pictures of the stones before we moved them out of the way, so when construction was done, we would be able to put them back together. The pictures helped a lot. We should also have numbered or lettered each stone. Guessing is fun, but time consuming.

Sunday, my muscles were achy. We had a picnic planned for Mother's day, but the weather did not cooperate. So I took Sophia and Anna swimming. I was going to spend a long time in the hot tub, relaxing the sore muscles. After 10 minutes in the tub, Anna wanted me to come slide down the slide with her. OK, I'll come back to the hot tub later. We got to the child's pool, and were then told by one of the life guards that everyone had to get out of the pool. OK, not sure what was going on, but I can follow directions. Anna and I waited near the locker rooms. Where was Sophia? Anna, go check the ladies locker room. No, not there. I wandered out to the pool area and asked a life guard, "Did someone get hurt?" "Yes." "Was it a 10 year old girl?" "Yes." Sigh.

I found Sophia strapped to a board with her head immobilized. Supposedly, she had tried a back flip from the diving board. The life guards thought they saw her hit her head on the diving board. They did not want to take any chances. After I got our gear together, Anna and I changed into clothes, and we followed the ambulance to the hospital.

Of course, Sophia was scared. She did not want doctors poking on her. And her leg hurt. A doctor came in, checked her neck, and declared it to be ok. The neck brace could come off. After a long wait, we were wheeled down to the CAT scan room for pictures. Not too scary, and a warm blanket to boot. Back down to the trauma room, for another long wait. This time, the X-ray technician came in and took pictures of the leg. Another long wait. A nurse wheeled in a cart for doing sutures. Another long wait. Sophia was ready to go home. So was Anna. Anna reached under the little stool that can raise or lower, and got grease all over her hand. We walked down to the bathroom and got the grease off. And of course, the doctor who wanted to do the sutures came in while we were out. When Anna and I got back, we had to wait some more.

Sophia was now quite scared. She did NOT want stitches. She saw this in Ukraine, or had it done, and was certain it was going to hurt like blazes. Her leg had had a topical anesthetic applied, and was changing colors nicely. I don't remember which came first, the local anesthetic or the washing. The local hurt a little, but I don't think it hurt as much as Sophia thought it would. The nurse who came to do the washing brought a huge syringe to squirt saline in the wound, and Sophia almost had a cow. She had to be shown that there was no needle on this thing. She had to be shown that it squirted water, by making the bed wet. OK, now she could accept the washing.

Finally, the doctor came back in. Sophia saw the used hypo in his shirt pocket, and started panicking. The doctor pitched hypo onto a counter, which helped calm her down. Then he took out the needle and sutures, and again the fear reached great heights. With the help of other nurses, they held her leg still, blocked her view, and got the first stitch in. With that, all fear was gone. Hey! That didnt' hurt!. Now she wanted to watch the next stitch go in. I think she would have done it herself if the doctors would let her.

Two stitches done, all bandged up, ready to go... except for the final papers. So we waited another long while. I think the whole process took more than three hours. Now the girls have seen an American hospital (this is twice for Sophia). Maybe next time won't be as scary.

Rolan

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Enough About Me

Thank you for that little diversion, Dear Readers. (Read below)

The kids are doing great. I still get tears in my eyes when the school bus pulls up to take or deliver Sophia and Anna. Hey, I know I'm not alone. You know who you are. Admit it. School buses do the same to you.

I'm getting used to the differences between boys and girls. My guys were never interested in "The Suite Life of Cody and Zach," or "The Princess Diaries" or "Strawberry Shortcake." But they also never covered an ordinary rock with glitter or sat with a lap full of dandelions and wove crowns of flowers (I've always wanted to know how to do that!). I never had to scold them for clothing that didn't cover properly or tell them they can't wear lip gloss for eye shadow. But its nice not to have constant discussion about body functions, explosions and other forms of destruction. I love my boys and brothers, don't get me wrong. I just find this change in environment . . . refreshing.

Ann (alias Tanya) has gotten her first report card. "A"s and "B"s. I'm proud. She was concerned about one N/C grade from a teacher that didn't finish her point count in time. This week she decided she wants to be a flight attendant. I'm thrilled. She has settled down and isn't quite so restless or blue. The phone calls to Ukraine have lessened. She has found some other teens that speak Russian and connected with some good Christians in the Russian community in Denver. She struggles with the shock of having spending money and sometimes I see temper tantrums over what we can't buy but I think (hope) she is catching on to the concept that any bankruptcy and God-fearing parent has to have a budget and can't give their children everything they want. I wish we could still get her out of her current High School but there are only a few days left so we are bearing with it. I've enrolled her in summer school and have heard great things about the teacher who teaches ESL at Boulder High, where Ann may go next fall. We are getting her High School papers from Ukraine transcribed to find out what her options are. If the school district accepts her Ukraine education then we can go from there, either putting her into a final year of high school here, just for fun and further English education, or move her on to the community college where she can learn skills that will help her with her future plans. We will give her that choice. Right now, she just wants to live with mom and dad forever and I take that as a good sign.

Sophia is hardly the same girl we hosted last summer. She struggles, still, to be as independent (and free of guidance) as possible but has learned our boundaries and those at school too. Her teacher is an angel and e-mails me constantly with joys and concerns. She loves Sophia and has solicited the help of the whole class to make Sophia comfortable. In the almost 10 weeks the kids have been home, she has changed more than I thought possible. That girl needed a family!

Anna still remains passive and reserved. I wonder who this girl is. She is happy but I think it will be awhile before her true heart comes out. She needs more one-on-one with us. In the mean time there is much love and guidance to give her the structure and safety she needs to open up when she is ready. I long to heal her too.

The first anniversary of bio mom's death is the 22nd. Ive been told to put her photo in a frame on a little table with some bread and meat and a little alcohol and a candle. There is also a liturgy to be read. I may need to call an orthodox minister to help make this comfortable for the girls. Does anyone know of other cultural practices I may have missed that would help?

So Much Time, So Little To Do

Uh . . . wait. Reverse that.
For those of you who don't know me well, I have to tell you I am a Dirt Head. A Plant Nerd. A perennial, foam-at-the-mouth, pull-me-in-at-night gardener. The months of April and May are torture for me. I WANT TO BE IN THE GARDEN. When it snows or rains, as it does frequently here during those months, I stand and the window and whine incessantly. It's rather pathetic.

I knew of this malady when I adopted kids. I knew there are 10 other months of the year when I could be a somewhat acceptable, caring, attentive mother-type but I knew May would be difficult. "Self-discipline," I say to myself. It's over whelming. I've dished out for myself a huge yard of delectable blooming plants that all need attention. "Feed me! Trim me! Transplant me! Divide me!" They all shout as I walk by to my car for yet another child-related appointment. "Quiet!" I shout back. I know you will be unbearably beautiful if I stop and take care of you before next month but you will just have to wait your turn! Jesus, is there some special reward for this sort of self sacrifice?

Monday, April 27, 2009

English and Math

What do you call those little breath mints that come in a clear box?
According to Anna, they are "tic-tocs".
What blooms in the Spring? Flowless.
What do you call a bathtub full of water? A drink.

My Russian must be just as bad. They laugh at me, but I am silently laughing at them, too.
They are learning English very quickly.
Most nights, when I put them to bed, I practice comprehension with them, though they don't know it.
"What color is our car?"
"How many quarters in a dollar?"
"Yes or no: you put food in your nose when you eat."

We have gone through Dr. Seuss so many times, they are already losing interest in them.
I need more books with many pictures and simple words. Spoken English is progressing nicely, reading and writing are much slower. Why must English be so hard. Even reading Dr. Seuss, so many words are not pronounced like they are spelled. There are so many exceptions for common words.

I found some software to help with multiplication. Check out TimezAttack.

Last night, I had a fire in the fireplace. At midnight, it was such a nice fire, casting light and dark on the ceiling. The girls were asleep. The house was quiet. I was at peace. Not since being in Ukraine have I been so at peace. Good things happen, bad things happen. We continue to learn about them, they continue to learn about us, and what a family could be. Still so much to learn. Good thing we have years to learn all that family stuff.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Easter



All my children including my daughter-to-be! Sarah and Josh

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Sank You

No, it isn't short for "You sunk my battleship." It's short for "Thank you."
Short, of course, because its hard to say that "th" sound when you haven't been raised with it.
The girls are learning English at the expected turbo rate. Anna being less noticeable than the others because the others always speak for her. Get her apart from her sisters and she is just as capable of in depth lively conversation. Well, sort of.

I have to wean myself off of the little Russian I'm using to make them practice a little more. In a few weeks, we will request English only at home. Not because we want them to forget their native language but because there have been some harsh words spoken between siblings and we need to intervene. We are expecting the two younger to mostly forget their Russian but I'm hoping Tanya will be able to keep hers. Our relationship is ever-growing and she trusts my judgment more and more. I may be able to encourage her to actually build her Russian skills for employment.

Oh, by the way, Boulder High gave us the cold shoulder a couple of weeks ago. The next week, some big ugly gorilla at Tanya's current school, punched her in the arm. I oscillate between feeling helpless and angry enough to call the National Guard. I just can't believe caring parents keep their new-to-the states kids in schools like these. There must be another option. I know, I should pull her out and do home school but you have to understand this wonderful teen. Honestly, she is 90% social. If I were to keep her home, I would find a shriveled shell of a girl in the space of a week. Despite the opposition, she is much happier than she was even a month ago because she has "friends." I say "friends" because they don't speak much English and nether does she. I have no idea how they communicate.

Sometime within the next few weeks, I have to sit down with one of the people from the school district and find out what Tanya needs to get a High School diploma. She has a diploma from Ukraine but Ukrainians graduate at age 16. We will give it a lot of prayer then go and see if I can talk to someone who is knowledgeable and genuinely helpful (is this possible?!). Okay, sarcasm aside, I hope they can give me good the news that Tanya really needs only one year.

For those of you who think adopting an older teen is a pain in the neck, it is. But not because the teen is a pain in the neck, Tanya is delightful, but because the system isn't prepared for them.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

"Family" and other funny words

I keep having to reminding myself these are not foster children. There is no chance I will have to give them back. Unlike the other child visitors we have had living in our house, these girls are not going anywhere. There won't be some frenzied social worker popping in once a month to check on us and make sure I haven't sold the little darlings into hard labor or asking about the bruise on their arm. I am free to dream about the extra Christmas socks I need to make, the camping vacations this summer and of college educations no matter how unrequited those dreams may be. These girls are MINE, I tell you! And no one can take those dreams away. Now, I just have to believe it.

It is so good to see the language barrier being peeling away, day by day. Like a parent of a child learning to speak, it always delights me to hear they now know the seasons or kitchen implements or action verbs. We have been concentrating on learning our name, address and phone number in case of emergency. I found myself chanting our phone number to the beat of a rapper being played in the car as I drove Tanya to a friend's house nearby. Hey, it worked. Now she can't listen to that song without hearing our phone number. (I just hope she can remember the phone number without the song.) The spelling of the last name is another challenge, not easily mastered by any Christofferson. I'll give them more time with that one.

On the war front, I have met with the Principal of Boulder High School. Josh graduated from there. I know it to be a school that is academically excellent and very diverse culturally. Emphasis on the diversity. (I've also heard there are Russian speaking kids there.) Mind you, I didn't want to talk to the Principal, he was just kind of in the way while I was waiting to talk to someone else. They are never positive, those principals. The assistants are always more accommodating.
"I'm not running a babysitting service," says the Principal.
"I don't see why she can't come," says the Assistant Principal.
"There are only six weeks left," says the Principal.
"Sounds like she could use the connection," says the Assistant.

All that said, the assistant still has to talk to the grouch to get his final approval. I got on line after returning home. I found a name in the staff that I recognized. There was a particularly helpful counselor at Josh's middle school that is now a counselor at Boulder High. I shot her off an e-mail with our story. I should know by the end of the week if my efforts were in vain . . .

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Don't Mess With Mama (Bear)

I like to think that I'm something of a quiet, gentle, people-pleasing sort of person. The kind of person who has more patience than most. One who counts carefully the cost of making trouble before making it. I try very hard not to use the "L" word (lawyer) flippantly. Honest!

I will put up with a great deal of abuse at the hands of the uncouth. But my friends, don't even think about messing with my kids. I will know. Some cosmic force in this otherwise unyielding universe has allowed mothers of all makes to have superhuman-I'm-going-to-permanently-maim-you-if-you-touch-my-kid focus and drive that overcomes me, like all healthy mothers. It's like the peripheral vision is lessened and destruction of the offensive object becomes the soul desire. I often yield.

I called the principal of the school last Friday and made my complaint known. My daughter, new to this grand country of ours is not given equal opportunity to learn in a system that is paid for in part by my (husband's) hard earned dollar! I would like (1) a student handbook in her language, (2) a translator for perhaps a week, to help her understand the culture and rules of the classroom and (3) a little more understanding of her situation by her teachers!

I checked school policy. The school district is obligated to provide a translator to parents to help them understand school policy, grades, and conferences. They are provided with a school handbook in their language to assist them in helping their child adjust. (I was given a handbook two weeks after my daughter began attending classes.)

The principal patiently heard my complaint. I thought I was exceedingly controlled under the circumstances. She promised she would call the district and see what could be done.

I received a call yesterday. She told me she voiced my complaint to the district, she was sorry they could not grant my request.
As my hero Bugs Bunny would say, "You know, this means war."
I asked for a name. She gave me one.
After the steam subsided from my ears and my face returned to its original God-created color, I called "Jorge." Once again, I forced myself to unheard of highs in personal control. My voice steady, I told him my problem and hopes to help my daughter who was being treated unkindly by a school district that I knew, had better standards.
He told me the principal of Ann's school had said I wanted a private tutor for her.
What?!
I said nothing of the sort. You can go back and read it for yourself. Its right up there in the second paragraph.

Now that odd remark implies a great deal. It could mean that the principal misunderstood me. That would be obvious. It could mean she was ashamed of her school and was trying to cover. Or it could mean she just wanted to blow me off. Or Jorge misunderstood her.
At any rate, Jorge was a dear. He was quiet and thoughtful for a time. Then he said, perhaps the school district could purchase a translator gadget (does anyone know of a good inexpensive one?), provide the handbook in her language and hire a translator (in person) for maybe part of a day.
"Lets keep in touch," he said. ""Are your other daughters doing well?"
"Yes, thank you."
The razor sharp claws involuntarily retracted.

Humph, we will see.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Routine?

I don't think so. It still feels like fruit basket upset. 'Course its been only 2 1/2 weeks since we have been home . . .
Then Josh announced last weekend that he is getting married!!! OMG! We are so happy. We love Sarah and are looking forward to the wedding in July. I'll try and get a photo out soon. I had zero daughters in January, now I have 4!

The two younger girls are adjusting well to their classes with gentle and gracious teachers. Tanya (alias 'Ann') is having something akin to a nightmare amidst the "fairytale" she is experiencing here. She loves America and called it 'like a fairytale,' but her school is like a reformed school for thugs. They have made no effort to understand her incredible life change and are far more concerned with her minor rule infractions than with making her feel comfortable and encouraged. I haven't been asked about a way to communicate with her in her language (like google translation on line) but they become infuriated when she tries to call an interpreter for help. Ann has called home in tears on more than one occasion in frustration and she has only been there for two weeks! Even Anna and Sophia have not been treated this way and they have also been in error of not knowing and so breaking the rules. Have others found this to be true of other Newcomer schools? Hey, welcome to America. You must be completely uncultured, uneducated and a hardened criminal. Yes, I have some forgiving to do.

Needless to say, I'm aggressively looking into other options. Let me know if you are aware of any. So far I'm leaning heavily toward a private school.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Heading Toward Routine

We have been back in Colorado for a whole week.
What have we been doing?
  • Going to school
  • Learning English quickly
  • Shopping at CostCo
  • Buying food at supermarkets
  • Swimming pools, twice!
  • Uncounted phone calls back to Slovyansk (What's the rate? Not too high, I hope. Vonage soon.)
  • Making friends with other adopted Ukrainian kids
  • Getting enrolled with insurance
  • Shopping at Kohls for 2+ hours
  • Trying on every shoe at Famous Footwear
  • Learning what it is like to be in a family
  • Bedtime rituals (I LOVE it!)
  • Reading Dr. Suess
  • Cooking meals

And again, the girls teach me about my relationship with God. We had a big session, trying to enforce a timeout. Why was it so hard? Because we are taking away control. This part is speculation, but I assume that in an internot, if you do not look out for yourself, you won't get the things you want. If your parents were alcoholics, then you had to always be thinking about the next meal, and how to help your parents. And if your parents were abusive, you had to always be aware of the emotional situation. So being in control is the difference between life and death. Sure, adults can be trusted to a point, but not very far. And now, these new adults are trying to make you do something you don't want to do. You don't understand this stupid senseless rule about sitting in one spot for an extended time, so you try to get control back. Hitting, kicking, pinching, biting, screaming, anything to keep control. And this is a lot like me and God. Sure, God is trustworthy, but only in things that don't matter too much. Try to put me through things I don't like or understand, and I will do anything to "keep" control.

I love my girls so much.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Stretching Time

Last Thursday, when we were running from embassy to medical buildings to embassy, my faith was pushed to the limit. Beyond the limit. I had prayed earlier that week for Tanya's birth certificate to be done quickly. It did not happen. Instead of being able to get everything done in Donetsk in a day, we would have to find a hotel and continue the next day. On Thursday, we were running to the embassy, and I was sure we had to be there by 3:00 PM, and I was equally sure we could not do it. Things had been delayed enough that it looked like we would not complete our paper work that day, and so we would have to wait until Monday to finish a few small items.

I complained to God.

"This is too much. I no longer believe that you are capable of working in our favor. You have allowed enough delays that we will be further delayed. I'm sorry, God, but you, the God who likes to wait until the last minute, have waited too long for me. I wish I could trust you to get this done quickly, but you have not acted earlier this week when I asked, and I don't expect you to act now."

Of course, you know that we came home in record time.

So now I have another experience of a loving God who is trying to increase my faith in what he can do.

I think I did one thing right in this example. When the rich young ruler came to Jesus and asked what he needed to do, eventually Jesus told him to sell everything, give it to the poor, and follow Jesus. The ruler went away disappointed. That was the mistake. That was the mistake I avoided. I could have (not really) given up on trying to trust God. Just turned away with no intention of turning back. Instead, I wrestled with God. Like Abraham, over Sodom and Gomorrah. The rich young ruler should have argued with Jesus, or asked more questions, or anything else except turn away. I was able to tell God that he was asking more of me than I thought I could give. Maybe next time, I'll be able to believe that more is possible.

Friday, February 27, 2009

The Rush to Get Home

After I finished the last entry, I showered at 1:45 AM. The alarm woke up Eileen. We started the process of waking up the girls. Sasha the driver appeared at 2:30. We dragged the luggage to the car, and went to the airport.

We were quite early, so we were in the front of a line, one of four. The lines grew longer. Still we waited. Finally, a hole was opened in the barriers separating us from the checkin terminals. A small hole. The four lines vanished into a mob, trying to get through the hole. We still got through fairly early, and were fourth in a line to check in. But then we waited for an hour, while a sports team checked in their gear. They must have had 100 checkin items. We were exhausted, and now we had to stand and do nothing.

After checking in 7 bags, we had to go through passport control. Our agent was a bit grouchy. He asked to see a specific document. I did not remember which one it was, so I handed him a packet in a clear paper holder. He left the booth, and went to examine the papers. More waiting on our part. After 10 minutes, he came back and asked specifically for the document. I dug through my pack, and found a document that had a sticky attached that read, "save for later." Now was later. I gave this to him. He read it, gave a sigh, and asked for a passport from me or Eileen. The were both in my hand, so I gave him both. "One," he said, again sounding exasperated. OK, just one. He read through the two page document, and then stamped the girls passports and let us through. Big sigh of relief.

We walked down a hall, and got in another line. Why are we not moving? The boarding passes had to be checked. And who was at the front? A member of that sport team. These guys were not winning friends or influencing people. The time for the flight to leave passed, and we were glad we had a 6 hour layover in Frankfurt. OK, a little less unhappy about the layover. I did not think we would miss it.

The flight was no problem, except I sat behind one of the sport guys, the ones who stalled us for so long. The row in front of us was the exit aisle. The sport guy was quite large, and I suspected he would want to recline his chair. The seats in this plane were installed like bus seats. My knees were already against the back of the chair in front of me. So I got aggressive. I moved my knees to press hard against the back of the chair in front of me. I am becoming Soviet minded.

In Frankfurt, some reality hit us. We had left over Ukrainian Grivney. Would they exchange it? No. I had to exchange some US bucks for Euros. Ouch. The Euro was twice as good as the dollar. And the food in the airport was expensive. A one-scoop ice cream code for 6 dollars? Even McDonalds was not cheap. We wandered through the terminal, waited in more lines. We had to rescan us and our carry on bags. While waiting, a man cam to the front of the line. "I need to get through, my plane is leaving soon." The line keeper said, "There's nothing I can do." The man said, "Sure there is, you can let me through." "No," she said, "I cannot do that. Those are the rules. Contact someone from Lufthansa for help." What an attitude. I would have let one guy through, to spare him the hassle of missing a flight. We rode a train to take us to another location in the terminal. If felt like someone had designed the terminal, and after it was built, it was found it did not suit the real needs. So blockades and trains were added to make things flow correctly. We waited. I took Nastiya for a long walk down the concourse. On the way back, Sasha ran to meet us. "Come on," she yelled. Everyone was in line, and the line went a long way. What was up? For security reasons, everyone was being rescanned. We crept slowly to the front. We were allowed to use the business class line. "Pretend you are business class," the clerk said. "Adoption, hmmm?" More waiting, and we were allowed back in the waiting area. And more waiting. Everyone waiting for the plane was herded onto buses. We were carried out onto the tarmac. 10 butt-numbing hours later we landed in Denver.

We did not get to ride the underground train at DIA. I think Tanya is the only one who has not seen this. We were sent to the citizens (yay!) line. Waiting. The officer looked over the paper work and took Tanya's finger prints. On to secondary processing. We did our favorite thing: wait. The girls were finally processed. The magic manilla folders were opened. More finger prints for Tanya. The visas were stamped. And we had 3 new American citizens. It sounded like this is still temporary. More paper work and waiting are in store for us.

We let slip the fact that we had some sliced summer sausage in our packs. We weren't going to eat them, they were getting old and had been on the "shake and bake," so they might not be in the best of shape. But now we were an agricultural problem, which meant we got to wait in a line. The meat was removed. Our bags were scanned. And we were finally allowed to get the rest of our bags. And then we stepped out of the transitory world of customs into the airport and the arms of friends who met us with joy. Welcome home!

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Coming Home!

Tuesday night, I had trouble sleeping. Many dreams about getting in line to buy train tickets, only to discover I was in line at a bank. I would run to the train station, get in another line, only to find that this line was for a bus. I would take the bus, and it would not take me to the train station, but somewhere in Donetsk. At this point, I would be without phone or knowledge of where I was.

We got up early. I was in a hurry, so I went over to the train station (not the bank). What could I do? Nothing. I headed back to the hotel, and there was Olga, coming toward the train station. We went in. Did they have more berths today? Nothing yet, but if we put down some money (the whole fare), the ticket seller would watch for more available berths.

There were several things to do, and they would be quick (said Olga), so I went with her in a taxi while Eileen entertained the kids. [Eileen insert here what happened with the girls.] The first place, we both went in. We waited and waited. Olga went in, did her talking, came out with papers. I sat. The next place, Olga said I could wait in the car. So I waited. Another half hour went by. Finally the third place. Again, I should just wait in the car. Much more waiting. And then we had the passports. It was 11:30. We would never have made all the appointments Tuesday afternoon. And I really didn’t need to go to any of these meetings.

Engrish aside: in the glamorous part of downtown, an ad for something expensive, a watch I think. The ad said, “A toutch of elegance.” Very prominent, very funny. Our hotel had the guide book for behavior in the hotel, laundry rates, etc. trying to understand the page on unacceptable behavior, loud noises, paying for damages, was impossible. Like a legal document, except it really made no sense. Well, I guess exactly like a legal document.

Checkout time at the hotel was 12:00, so we dashed back. First, were there enough berths on the train. And finally, some good news. We got a whole coupe and two other berths. We had a ride to Kiev that night, and a place to sleep. The train would leave at 7:40, so what would we do for the next 7 hours? For lunch, we ate at Potato House, which is part of the family that Chelentano’s Pizza is part of, so my discount card would be accepted. We were told that Potato House in Kiev was good, and it certainly was a step up from Chelentano’s. After lunch, Olga had more translation work to do, and faxes to send, so she and Tanya took off. Eileen and I took the girls shopping in the outdoor malls just by the train station. We bought socks and shoes for the airplane. Then we went back to Potato House, and got something hot to drink. Hot cocoa for fifty cents really hits the spot. Sasha and Nastiya were hungry, again, so I started feeding them sunflower seeds. After several hundred, Sasha and I took a walk.

We went through the train station. We watched a train pull out, and felt the ground shake. We helped some old ladies climb up from the track level to the boarding level. We gave some coins to some beggars. Like many places, there were stairs leading to underground tunnels, so you don’t have to cross a street or walk over tracks or some other really good reason. In many of these places, there are a pair of flat tracks, a couple of inches wide, about 18 inches apart, that go down the stairs. I finally saw that these could be for baby buggies. But here, they were made of marble, and they had snow on them, and Sasha was able to slide down these without getting hurt. I watched her do this a dozen times, and then we went back to the restaurant.

Olga and Tanya came back, and we had dinner. It was just easier not to move. I had ribs and a baked potato for dinner. These were excellent ribs. Lots of meat, very little fat. After dinner, Olga helped Eileen fill out documents for the visas, until it was finally time to get our bags. We lugged them into the train station, so we could find out what track to board on. It took another 15 minutes to find out this information. And then, the loud music started. You would think that if you were seeing a loved one off for a long period of time, and they were just about to get on a train that would take them away from you, that you would want to say something meaningful, tender, golden promises. The train station thought otherwise. Someone thought that everyone boarding a train should swell with pride at the great achievements of some political party. So we heard loud, Ukrainian music. Finally, the announcement came for our track. We carried our luggage outside, and waited. The train was slowly pulling in. Where was our wagon? Another hike down the platform, in the snow which had been falling all afternoon. It was cold. We pulled a lot of luggage into our coupe.

This train was not quite as good as the one from Slovyansk. Older, less comfortable. But there was something special about this trip. There were balloons in the wagon. There was free tea in the evening. It must have been an anniversary. We made the beds, got the girls into pajamas, had a snack, and watched outside as best we could, which was very little since it was dark. Tanya and Olga had the two other berths in another wagon. The cars were hot. I had a thermometer: 80 degrees. Shake and bake is an appropriate phrase for the night train. I tried opening a window in the aisle. I even used the curtain to direct cold air into our coupe. The wagon matron discouraged me from continuing this activity. Tanya came over with a bottle of champagne we bought earlier in the day. Sasha and Nastiya had non-alcoholic champagne. Another night of difficult sleep: harsh screeching of brakes, banging as the train stopped or started. Do you open the door to allow some circulation of air? Or do you close the door so all your worldly possessions are safe, including that stupid money belt?

At 7 am, the king of the train decided we should all enjoy more patriotic music. At least the coupes had volume control. What is the deal with loud music in this country? Why must every restaurant, store, public building, and park have loud music and televisions? Do they have these even in the libraries? OK, time to get the blood pressure under control. We put away all our sleeping gear (pads, sheets, pillow cases), and got ready for the day. The sun was shining. We were met by Sasha the driver. We managed to get all of our luggage and all 7 people into his car. Amazing. It was 8:45. What could we get done today?

Our first stop was the embassy. There was a long line of people, waiting to get in. Since we were American citizens, we moved to the front of the line. A short wait, and we were inside. We had to pass through security as tight as any airport. Then we went to the department that handles immigration and adoption. Although there were a number of people waiting, we were helped very quickly. Eileen started doing paper work, and I took the girls to a waiting room with toys, although the toys were more for toddlers. We had just started to play store, when Eileen came in. She had good news and bad news. The bad news: One necessary document needed translation, and the embassy would be closed on Friday. The good news: if we could bring back all the needed paper work by 3 PM, they might be able to complete all the work for the visas that day. Was this possible? We would try.

Off to some medical facility for exams. We got to the building, and found we did not have Tanya’s passport. This was bad. This was really bad. What happened? It was possible that her passport was still at the embassy, since it had been pulled aside for special treatment. After all, Tanya is special. Olga said the medical work could be done, because they should be able to start with just a fax of the passport. Assuming it was still at the embassy. So the girls get X-rayed, and blood drawn, and vaccinations. Olga never said, but I saw a black and white paper with passport information on it, and I assumed that the passport was still at the embassy. Which turned out to be true. The medical work was done, but we could not get Tanya’s medical papers until we had her passport. So Tanya and I and Olga got in the car, and zipped back to the embassy. It turned out that the lady who was doing our visa work was an old friend of Olga’s, so after we got the passport, the two chatted for what felt like a long time. Come on, don’t we have a tight schedule to keep? We got back in the car, but instead of going to the medical facility, we went to Olga’s house, I presume. She wanted to translate the final document. Tanya and I sat in the car, and Tanya slept. I sat. I’m getting good at it. After getting a lot of practice at sitting, Olga had the document done, and we went back to the medical buildings. We went inside, and waited. And waited some more. I got tired of waiting, so I took Sasha and Nastiya outside, to play in the snow. At about 2:50, Olga had the last paper work. We had all the pieces, could we get to the embassy in time?

The traffic was not bad. Sasha is a fast driver. Although we did not make it by 3 PM, it was not too far off. Olga told us that we had to go knock on a window, and let those inside know that we were adopting. There was no window. OK, there was a window, but it was for couriers. We knocked on the heavy metal door. We could see inside that some people were going through the security, so we waited. They let us in. Did we have an appointment? No, but we had the phone number of the woman who was doing our processing, and she told us we could come back. After a phone call, we were allowed in. The long talk Olga had earlier may have helped a lot. It’s good to know people inside. Once again, back to the adoption windows. This time, there was only one man from Ireland, who was adopting 3 boys from the west side of Ukraine. We submitted our papers, and then had to wait. Again, Sasha and Nastiya had troubles sitting, so I took them back to the larger waiting room, and we played store. After a while, we were all called back to the processing room. Eileen and I had to raise our hands, pledge to take care of the girls, we signed some papers, and some more papers, and then we had the visas. We were done with all of the paper work. The girls were ours, and they could come into the country.

Now it was time to go to our place for the night. We had help from our friend Becky. She had an acquaintance who had an apartment in downtown Kiev. We met the landlord there. The apartment was beautiful. But it had one bed. And it had a couch. OK, we needed to make this work, and we did not want to spend time looking for a cheaper hotel, so we took it. We said goodbye to Olga, and we paid Sasha in advance for taking us to the airport. After all, he could fit us all into one car. Then we got on the phone to try to find tickets home. And the big question was, could we do it Friday morning? Eileen was in the middle of the call, when the phone died. No more minutes left. Fortunately, I had another card, and we quickly put time on the phone. She called back, and we had 5 seats for America on Friday morning. That was only 12 hours away. Thanks to everyone for praying. After several delays, and what looked like even more delays, everything came together at the end.

If there are no problems, we should be back in Denver at 3:20 on Friday afternoon. The flight we got is a direct flight from Germany, so we have to go through immigration at DIA. We are coming home!

The five Christoffersons.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Donetsk

Now there are 6 of us traveling. And at least 10 bags.

Olga got up early and started working the system. Eileen and I had our last breakfast in the Europa Hotel. We packed and were ready to go at 10. Olga came back and we went to get birth certificates changed for Sasha and Nastiya. This place had a door that had no restraint on shutting, and banged loudly with every person that went through. It had broken glass on the bottom half. No wonder. Then we went to the internot. We were delayed by a funeral procession. It was a short procession, but 2 buses were part of it. Out of respect, we stopped and waited. The procession went only 50 yards after we stopped, then they started getting on the buses. We continued to the internot.

We delivered two bottles of champagne, signed papers, and the girls were no longer in the care of the internot. The director gave us some ceramic pieces. Then we went to the girls' classrooms, for one final goodbye. First was Nastiya's class. Anya's (the local translator) mother gave a small goodbye speech to the class, and explained what would be happening. It got to Sasha, and she teared up. Several of the little girls came up to Nastiya and said a final goodbye. Then we went to Sasha's class, and the same speech. Again some tears.

We went outside to our taxi. Before we left, Sasha got out and gave Anya's mother a long, long hug. She obviously loves this woman very much. She also said goodbye to another woman, another teacher possibly. Then we drove downtown, where Olga did more paper work. I got out and checked the exchange rate. It has been rising very quickly over the past few days.

We traveled to the trade school, where Tanya attends class. We delivered two more bottles of champagne, and the director released Tanya into our care. Then we went to the electronics store, to finally pay for some equipment we were buying for the internot. However, the equipment had just arrived. And we did not want to pay for it until it had been inspected. Which was taking a long time. So I had to leave some money with the internot's technical guy, and we left.

Back to the hotel. Now we had a second taxi. Six people plus driver plus bags would never fit in one car. And it was "off to Donetsk!" Which meant 90 minutes of driving through one town after another, on poorly maintained roads, followed by 30 minues of cruising on well maintained roads. When we finally left the towns, we got to see the hills and valleys. It reminded me a lot of Oklahoma.

Then we came into Donetsk. A big city like Kiev. We arrived later than we wanted, and it took a while to find the correct office. And then it took a very long while to get the last birth certificate. So no luck getting on tonight's train. And the train for the next night looks doubtful: there are only upper berths left. This means we would be split among at least three cars. Not a good situation. We were told by the ticket seller that there might be a chance that more berths would open tomorrow at 8 AM. It's going to be a short night.

We booked some rooms at a hotel next to the train station. We went to a restaurant called "Sun City", which even had menus in English if you asked for them. Now the big question is, if we make it to Kiev on Thursday, can we still be home this weekend?

On the move again

Monday, Olga came back to town. We went to Kramatorsk, not far away and about the same size as Slovyansk, to do more notary work.

Today, we will work on birth certificates, and hopefully passports in Donetsk. If all goes really well, we may take the train tonight to Kiev.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Day 35, 36

Answers to frequently asked questions:

Should the Lord bless, and paperwork go through we could be home next weekend. (Yes, that is a prayer request).

If you choose to try and adopt the children you hosted, send the director back with a big thick photo album of pictures. We were like celebrities when we arrived here to get the girls! The staff treasures the photos and want to keep them (I’m pretty sure forever).

Learn the numbers in Russian. That is totally invaluable as you do business in the city.

After the “Honored Ambassador” experience, yes, we will be hard to live with.
We have learned from our foster care experience, that not every relative is benevolent. You have to be protective of your children first. The children may care deeply for these relatives but it may be necessary to screen all correspondence.

And now ...

Close Encounters of the Babushka Kind

Up to school to pick up the girls. Anya asked us to come early. She has class at 1pm at the college close by. Could we come at 12:30, there is a gift for us. We were presented with two beautiful metalwork pieces of art. One was a framed piece and the other in the shape of a circle. Anya’s father is something of an artist. I had marveled at his work earlier in our trip when Anya pointed out something he had made in a shop we visited. What a lovely gift to receive these two pieces created by hand! The bishop like dude is St. Nicholas. The other is of a country scene (please see our pix photo album).

Nastia was being treated for head lice. Her sisters found some nits on her head the night before and informed the proper authorities (school). The “treatment” should take 2 hours. I wondered how they could make it take so long. I began to worry about her being exposed to the chemicals they were using. However, I hadn’t brought any treatment meds with me so I’m glad they’re trying to catch it before it spreads or (gasp) hatches. That left us with some free time with Sasha.

We taxied Anya to school and stopped at the supermarket for a few things. Then we hopped the trolley for the hotel. It was overcrowded as usual. I was trying to balance myself and not step on the toes of the elderly lady whose fuzzy pink hat was just inches away from my navel. Sasha started to talk to someone in my direction. This isn’t unusual. She has many teachers and caretakers. We are in their obvious stomping grounds being so close to the internot. The trolley stopped and we wedged ourselves free of the crowds. Sasha waved at someone sitting near the exit.

“That was my Babushka!” she said of the lady in the fuzzy pink hat.

What?! The Babushka?! I smiled and waved as she turned to get another glimpse of her grandchild.

She took no notice of me but looked at Sasha with the full realization that she may never see her again.

It was the look of unmistakable grief.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Day 33, 34

Honored Ambassadors

We were told we were late. They were waiting.

We scrambled up several flights of stairs to the auditorium. It was decorated with balloons and curling ribbon. A small table was set up near the stage with a blue tablecloth and a vase with live flowers. As we entered 200 children cheered. What a rush. Definitely one of the high points of my life! The English teacher came over and introduced herself holding my hand as if she has been a devoted fan all her life.

I smiled warmly as we were ushered to the table with the blue cloth and invited to sit down. Anya was at my left.

The English teacher addressed the crowds of children and teachers.

“We love to study about many countries of the world and we are learning to speak and read English. We are so happy to have you here as our honored guests,” she said turning to us. “We would like to show you something of our culture and ask you some question about yours. Is that okay?”

“Absolutely!”

One girl, who looked to be about 14, stepped up to the microphone and gave a short speech about her town. She did a good job, I thought, but at the end she stumbled on her words a little and put her hand over her mouth as she rushed to sit down (it is the way of 14 year old girls, I think).

Traditional dances, an older group and a younger group of kids in full traditional costume. Everyone who travels longs for this sort of cultural treat. People even pay money for it. Eat your heart out. Not only was it just for us and free of charge but it was also done by the pure of heart. There was some joke telling, skit style. The reciting of poems much loved by the Ukrainians both by individuals and groups, en mass. We had a special visit by a fellow who was dressed like Abe Lincoln, sans the beard, named “Mr. ABC.” They all sang a version of the ABC’s that I’m not familiar with. Probably created by those Brits.

Then the floor was open for questions. Three brave souls dared to approach.

“What do you think of our town?”

“What do you eat?” I told them anything but bugs but I should have elaborated.

“Tell us about your town.”

I was presented with the flowers and 2 reports written by children in class on the topic of America. Back at the hotel I noticed that the US has a rule making body called the “govern meat.” No comment.

Then the children were dismissed.

We went downstairs to the principal’s office where I got out the cakes we bought for the girl’s classroom celebrations. Sometime earlier in the week, Rolan caught a glimpse of an interesting room off the library and asked about it. It was a “heritage room.” The staff were proud to share it. I was mushed down the hall. What a beautiful room! A mock fireplace occupied one end of the room with ceramic pots and painted spoons. On the upper walls, traditional clothes were pinned up, dating back to the 1800’s. At the other end, a mock well and a low fence made of twigs and branches with pots turned over the fence posts. A beautiful mural covered the far wall. I was told there was a gifted artist on staff. The school has more murals than I’ve ever seen in a school. The walls never seem to have marks or are dirty. It’s really one of the cleanest schools I’ve seen. There was a long low table in the middle with 2 samovars (big urns for tea). We were invited to sit down and were given wooden spoons. Mmmmmm, lunch? No just photos. I grabbed a ceramic pot sitting on the table and mocked eating whatever imaginary oatmeal might be inside. Ah, these Americans are so funny!

On our way back to the office I took Anya aside and asked her if it would be okay to take photos of some of the kids that needed homes. Maybe we could share the photos with friends and see if we could find families for them. Anya was sure that would be okay.

After cake was served, we found our way back to Nickolas’ office. Pen in hand, Anya carefully recorded the names of each of the children that were brought in along with their ages. Rolan took pictures. I had to fight tears. I hope this orphanage in Slavyansk has many American Ambassadors in the coming months. I hope these Ambassadors come for the love of children, choosing to share their hearts ... and their homes.



This is Fedya (12) and his sister Maryna (13). Fedya has been very helpful to us. He seems like a wonderful boy. We came looking for girls, but this guy is a real sweetie.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Day 31, 32

We wanted to buy disposable cameras for the girls. We tried to describe to Tanya what we wanted. Throw away the camera?? Nyet!! Tanya called Anya. She had never heard of such a thing. We called Olga, so we could get the point across. It turns out there are disposable cameras in Kiev but no disposable cameras in Slavyansk. But Tanya said she knew where we can get cameras for 100 Grivney, or about $12. Great, let’s go get cameras. The first place we shopped had shiny new digital cameras, but nothing less than about $100. Next place, same story. The next store had digital cameras for as little as $60. But we could not buy three cameras for that price. As we were walking toward another mall, I tried to tell Tanya that it’s ok for the camera to be cheap, because film is cheap. I could buy 3 or 5 or 10 rolls of film, for each of them. Tanya heard film, she heard cheap, she heard many, and she became very happy and very excited. At this point, I became suspicious. Why did she become so happy? We must have a case of “faux ami”, as the French say: a false friend. A word that sounds like it should mean one thing, but it means something else. A Russian example is the word “machina”, which means “car”. The only word I had been using repeatedly was “film”. And it was pretty clear that film meant movie. We make it clear that we were not going to buy a lot of movies. Eileen looked up the word for “camera film”, which is “plyonka”. The big smile fell from Tanya’s face. Now we were communicating again. We walked to another mall, which feels more like a flea market but stinkier. And there were cameras for $10. We picked out 3, and then I discovered I had left my Grivney back at the hotel. We decided to do the cameras later. Passed our bank and saw the guard outside on the landing. “California!” he said. No, “Colorado!” I said.

We dashed to the internot. We talked with the director about a multimedia projector we could get for his school. I wanted to see the room where they would use the projector. It was the library, which was about the size of a classroom. The head of teaching showed me this room. Then she took me across the hall to another room, the Ukrainian room. There was a wall mural of a Ukrainian village. There was Ukrainian furniture, other neat stuff. I should have taken pictures, dumb, dumb, dumb. I’ve already forgotten what was in the room.

Changing money at our favorite bank. The guard there now knew we were from Colorado. We are getting to be friends. Changing money at the bank still took a while. We were the only ones in line when we started. The cashier had to close her window, walk out and lock her cage, and go into the bank proper. A line started forming. Why can’t this be easy? She finally came back with the currency. As we left, the guard told us, “good luck.”

What happens when you get a camera for the first time? You take pictures of everything. And what happens the first time you get a camera that actually uses film? You need to examine it. Within a few hours, Sasha had opened the back of her camera, to look at the film. Nyet Otkrit! Don’t open! OK, OK! Sasha came back the next day, and said the film was broken. What did that mean? After miscommunication, we figured out she had used up the film, and the camera had automatically rewound the film. She heard this noise, wondered what had happened, opened the camera, and the film was gone. Only a can was left. She took out the can, broke it open, then threw it away. That was a $2 mistake. We’ll get more film.

Nastiya was imitating her sister. She too had to open the camera and expose the film. OK, I won’t do that again. The next day, Sasha told us that Nastiya’s camera was not working. This camera has a manual film rewind. Uh oh, I can see what happened here. So I rewound the film. It went on and on and on. Why wouldn’t it finish? Sasha showed me that it still takes pictures. OK, now we were double exposing the film. I locked myself in the bathroom, after explaining to the girls, Don’t turn the lights on (OK, OK). It takes a while, but I was finally able to get the film out of the camera. How many pictures were taken? How many were exposed? How many were double exposed? Another $2 adventure.

Babushka had her moment. She had been informed about the court date and other things. (Darn, we could have been on TV). She came to the school in the morning and took the girls aside. Sasha said Babushka railed on them until they were in tears. She asked them what they would do in America and that we would harvest their organs. I’m glad I wasn’t there. I would have boxed her ears, senior citizen or not. I’m thinking maybe she is finished with the kids now but I will ask the staff to keep her away from the children from now on. She has no more rights and is only hurting them.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Day 30

What happens when you visit a market too many times? They run out of the things you like. The large market now only has rubbery cucumbers and bruised tomatoes. The little market no longer has instant soups or “sesame brittle”.

What do you do with kids when you only have a two room hotel “suite” and it’s cold and rainy outside? We eat. We play Uno. We go shopping for food. We go for a walk in the rain. Mud, ugh. You do laundry. Again.

Now, a little about the washing machine.

Ladies and gentlemen, I would ask that today you appreciate your washing machine. That’s right, that utilitarian appliance that is unsung, unobserved by the many honored visitors to your home, often hidden in closet or an unadorned room of your house. For my sake, stand in front of the thing and utter a prayer of thanksgiving. Observe every item you place inside its oft used interior and imagine trying to wash each of those items in a basin not created for that use. Standing over bathroom sink or shower, back aching, no they don’t come out as clean. For my sake, be grateful this day for this humble appliance. Thank you.

Now back to our regular programming.

We went shopping at the big market in the morning, and bought a lot of food. The girls wanted to take a taxi back to the hotel. They always want to take a taxi. What is it with taxis? Is it some kind of status symbol, to be able to afford a taxi? We went to the pizza place in the afternoon. Tanya came, and we fed them all. We went to the little market after lunch. It was raining, so we took a taxi to the hotel. Even though we just had lunch, the girls started eating again. Nastiya decided she was sleepy, so she and Eileen lay on the bed and watched TV. A Jackie Chan movie, dubbed. Sasha and I played cards. After a while, I went in to watch TV. Sasha cleaned up the room, and did a great job. Then we all ended up on the bed. We quickly went from tickling to teasing. Oh well. Back to the internot by bus. Hugs and kisses and a choop-a-choop (lollipop). Eileen and I walked back in the mist. It’s easier to walk back to the hotel, it’s downhill.

I have a bachelor’s degree in missions. Not that I ever wanted to go somewhere. I had a domestic people group in mind, but that isn’t important. In missionary school, they assume everyone is leaving the country, so they prepare you for that. I remember a thing or two they said all those years ago about leaving your country to be assimilated into another. The first month you observe and appreciate the similarities and differences of your new surroundings. A kind of honeymoon, if you will. You have respect for their culture, traditions and daily practice of survival, who they are in the grand scheme of things called the “brotherhood of man.” After about a month the delight of the new land starts to get on your nerves. You begin to miss the things unique to home (or the things home does better). The thought of a McDonald’s hamburger would not, even under the most dire circumstances, appeal to my snobbish American taste buds while on American soil, but being so far from home for this length of time and observing somewhat closely the quality of the equivalent here, I would pay; yes give actually money, for even a small bite of said burger this side of the Atlantic.

This is the sort of thinking that goes through one’s mind, one month into the process. Why don’t they turn the lights on around here? Its dark enough even in the daylight! Stop littering people! You really must pass some laws to keep the average person with reasonable bladder control from eliminating wherever he pleases. To say nothing of the dogs. The rant will stop here. However this should give you some insight as to why a person who has been here for 4+ weeks starts to forfeit little bits of sanity to stay afloat on the sea of alienation. Bear in mind those who have questionable sanity to begin with, stand even more to lose.

My husband is on the floor squishing ants.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Day 29

We walked into town for the first time. We have always taken the trolley or bus so we have never checked out the sidewalks between here and the city center. Bought soap, deodorant at a tidy store chain called “Eva” much like Walgreens in the US. We may look funny to the locals but we still want to smell good.

Walked back to hotel. I caught a bus to the internot. The girls were waiting in the play area. When we got back to the hotel, everyone ate. Don’t want all that food to go to waste! Tanya arrived while I was getting the younger girls and gave Eileen a beautiful golden ceramic tea pot, sugar bowl and tea cups. A gift from Igor’s mom Oksana. Sasha and I were going to walk to a park. When Tanya saw us leaving, she joined us. Nastia and Eileen stayed behind to take a nap.

Tanya talked while walking, very upset. Sasha urged me give Tanya some money for a ride to visit friends. Sasha and I walked to an old amusement park close by. It looked like it had been built in the 1950’s, and poorly maintained. Trenches were dug everywhere. They must be working on the water system. The dirt (mud) was piled everywhere. The place looked like a swamp. The melting snow and rainwater hadn’t drained, creating large puddles everywhere. Wondered if this was a mosquito amusement park during the summer. Sasha climbed on the decrepit rides. She wanted me to join her.

We watched the crew dig in the mud and get ready to pump water out of the trenches. Sasha wanted to go to another park, I wanted to walk back toward the hotel using a different route. Walked past another monument, soviet style. A guy holding a 1930’s style machine gun. I choose to believe he is a war hero and not a Ukrainian mob icon. As we approached the hotel, we saw that the entrance was crowded. There had to be 50 people. As we got close, we noticed a couple was dancing in front of a nice car, possibly a limo. One or two more joined the dance. An older man had a red sash with gold threadwork. Soon the dancing stopped, and a bride and groom got out of the car. The bride mostly in white, the groom with sashes and other colorful garb. Rice was thrown. A dish was broken. Coins were tossed. Then they went inside for the reception. This was at 1PM. The festivities are still going at 10PM. These people know how to party!

All four of us went into town to Chelentano’s (beloved pizza place) for some food. Tanya and Igor joined us. The place was packed. Could be because of Valentine’s Day? Igor gave Eileen a Calla Lily with red coloring. As we walked back to the hotel, we noticed the flower market in all its Valentine’s Day glory. Some of the sellers had moved their wares to the street for quick pickup by the forgetful and rushed. We bought some heart-shaped helium balloons for the girls. It was encouraging to see these people in the dingy darkness of the day and place, cheered by the beauty of flowers, balloons and celebration. Here’s to you St. Valentine.

Day 28

Breakfast served by Kate. She speaks English. Eileen bought some loose leaf tea by mistake and wanted to have it served to us in a pot. Kate was accommodating. We blessed Kate with the whole box trying to explain that it would be great to have for the next 10 mornings. Wonder if we will get it tomorrow.
Washed a lot of socks.

Tanya arrived. We went shopping for food. We took a trolley to the market. There wasn’t the usual money taker and we couldn’t figure out whom to give the money to. Free today! We saw a book store before food shopping, and bought Tanya two cookbooks. It seems like a fitting gift for a girl who loves to cook. Now she can take the traditional and classic foods of Ukraine with her to her new life, and I won’t benefit at all. Purely a selfless act of generosity on my part. I’m glad you agree.

We bought a lot of food at the market. They had some instant soup we had been looking for as well as a small cutting board to slice the much loved cucumbers and salamis. Ah Pringles ,(a replacement for the hamburger). Living in a hotel, we’re eating obscene amounts of instant foods. We generate so much trash that the hotel clerks have taken up leaving us our daily trash bag when they remove our full ones each day. We had so much to carry today, we took a taxi to the hotel. Having packed away the munchies, at 2:00, I went to get the girls. They were not done with school, so I had to wait a few minutes. Other kids came out, wanted to practice their English. “Hello, my name is Maria.” We walked back toward the hotel. We walked with some kids that Sasha and Nastiya knew. They had a guardian that was taking them into town. Tanya was gone by the time I got back. We played card games, watched ‘Mary Poppins’ and munched.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Day 27

Ladies and Gentlemen Friends and Relatives
(Ahem)
It is with great joy that we announce the adoption of:
Tatianna Ann Christofferson
Born: January 4, 1992

Sophia Ann Christofferson
Born: September 3, 1997

Anna Renee Christofferson
Born: December 20, 2000

Adopted this 12th day of February 2009
Parents Rolan and Eileen are dazed, uh, fine.

After 4 years, we finally found what we’ve been looking for!

The day started with a bit of rare sunshine. Clouds moved in but we remained hopeful. Tanya popped in looking beautiful at 11am. Rolan went and got the girls at 12. They showered, dressed and ate and ate and ate (but that’s another story).

At 1:40, we caught a cab for the courthouse. I still think we are going to see a big beautiful building instead of a post-soviet cinderblock box whenever we have to go some place official. They are always practical and not extravagant in any way. A steel fence surrounded the complex with an unusual winged hammer and sickle symbol mounted in the iron. The small parking lot was dirt. The girls were very excited. They ran ahead up 2 flights of stairs and down a narrow hallway lined with benches full of waiting people.

Olga was there. Tanya cornered her instantly blanketing her with chatter.

The court assistant came out and announced something. No one moved. She went in. Then she came out a few moments later to tell Olga something. Our boisterous mob filed in leaving the hall quiet again. It was 2 sharp.

The courtroom was surprisingly small with seating for 15 at most. In one corner there was a small jail cell with a bench. Three short pew-type benches and 4 desks. The recorder sat at one, there was one for the lawyer, one for a defendant and the judges “bench,” which was the smallest of all. The room was painted a very light pink but it was clean and well kept. The furniture looked fairly new. Each piece had a number. The flag and seal of Ukraine hung haphazard on the wall just behind the judge’s bench.

The judge himself looked to be in his 30s. He read the information on each document in a monotone voice, as fast as he could, signing each page as he went. Note to Ukrainian adopters: They do read all this stuff we send.

Representatives from Social Services, the orphanage and Tanya’s trade school were also there to give voice for the children along with 2 random guys whom I assumed to be witnesses (I guess they were ‘jury’).

We were asked why we wanted to adopt these children.

“Because we love children and we believe every child should have a family.”

“We hosted Sasha and Nastia last summer and fell in love with them. When we came to adopt them, we fell in love with Tanya too.” Olga translated for us.

Finally the monotone voice stopped. The judge and the 2 random guys went out for 5 minutes to deliberate. We talked. Contrary to my protests, Nastia wanted to investigate the contents of my purse. Tanya wanted some bucks for a gift for a friend. Sasha went over to the mic on the defendant’s desk and started tapping and talking into it.

Ah, family.

It was over before I knew it. Everybody believed the adoption is “in the best interest of the children.” There wasn’t a single voice of opposition. I bet the judge and the two random guys went out for a smoke.

We were off to “Chelentanos.” Olga bid farewell until the mandatory 10 day wait is over. The papers will be ready the morning of the 24th. We will need her here then!

We messed around until early evening. Tanya went home. Sasha and Nastia made a few more Valentines for buddies at the orphanage. We decided to have a light dinner in the attached restaurant. The food isn’t often good but pricey anyway. However this evening, the borshch was great. We were the only ones being served.

As we were finishing up, we watched a photographer come in and set up a light in different spots, moving it from one place to another. A lady in a white fur coat came over to us. In broken English, she said she was from a TV station filming a series on local dining spots. This restaurant was to be featured on Saturday. If we agreed to be filmed, our names could be selected to win a free dinner at this restaurant. (Oh, how thrilling.)

Well, how do you like that? Hollywood finds us even in the remote Ukrainian city of Slavyansk.

After careful consideration, I said no. Though I knew she wouldn’t understand, I said something about protecting the children. We got out of there.

The girls grew up here. They know quite a few people. I don’t think anyone has the power to stop the adoption but they could make trouble should they decide to. Yeah, let’s avoid that. Sorry young starlets, no TV appearances this week.

P.S. A little something about all the Ann(s). Tanya and Sasha both chose their names. Tanya liked Ann for a middle name and then Sasha decided she liked it too. We helped Nastia to choose her name. She showed some interest in Anna but couldn’t seem to give a definite answer. Anna is a great American name and short for her birth name of Anastacia so it stuck. Funny thing: the girls chose their names before without knowing my middle name is also . . . Ann.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Court Date Update

We had our court date this afternoon. Much reading of documents. At one point, the judge pulled out one of the documents and set it aside. That did not look good. However, after reading all the documents out loud, the stray paper was put in the folder with everything else. After saying the right words, the judge and recorder stepped out to make the decision. We waited 5 minutes. The judge came back in, more reading of documents. And we were approved.

Day 26

Little Doggie in a Red Jumpsuit

Another new breakfast. Something served on a piece of bread. Cheese, maybe, or salad dressing. Served by Kate, Katiya, the waitress that can speak some English. She always smiles. I like her.

In the morning, Eileen and I went downtown to get some money exchanged. Hopped on the trolley, and almost fell down as it started. Eileen may have bopped the ticket lady. She gave us the evil eye the rest of the trip.

Found a bank with a good exchange rate. Depending on the size of your town, there are always many places that will exchange. You can do a little shopping around for the best deal. The bank we chose this morning was pretty small. You had to file in single file. While waiting our turn, the security officer showed Eileen a place to sit. He was obviously looking for a little conversation. After 4 weeks, I (Eileen) still don’t know how to say, “I don’t speak Russian.” He was amused. Meanwhile, one of my 100’s was rejected. It had a spot, and some slight scribbling on it. The security guard came over and tried to talk to us. Was it about the hundred? He was talking to the cashier, and both were laughing. Eileen got out the dictionary. The guard mimed that he needed glasses to read. We found the word: country. What country were we from? Finally got across that it was America. “Colorado,” Eileen said to further amuse and confuse the man. As we left, he patted me on the back, reassuringly. I like that bank.

We did some shopping, then hopped back on the trolley. It was the most crowded I have ever seen it. It was the kind of squishing Felix told us about, where you wonder about the ethical place to keep your hands (not that you get to move them). People kept jumping on. Reminded me of a Weird Al song, “Another One Rides the Bus”: I think I’m missin’ a contact lens, I think my wallet’s gone, and I think this bus is stoppin’ again to let a couple more freaks get on. It sounded like the ticket lady (the same one Eileen bopped earlier) was shouting at people that they should take a taxi. She shoved her way past people, and I was able to pay her. We were lucky to get off at our stop.

Tanya came over, starved. She may be staying at friends, things may be rough between her and Igor. She ate most of the food we had. I read my mail. Found out I needed to fax some things back to the US. We ran downtown to the Post Office. Successfully faxed a document. Ran to the printer store, also a photo shop of sorts. Printed a document and signed it. Tanya produced a tiny photo of her mom. Could they blow it up a little? How much? One dollar. It would cost more at home. Like 10 times more. Sure, let’s get three copies. One for each girl. Ran back to the Post Office. Faxed another document. We were slow about our business and a line was forming. A lady came in with a little dog, yes, in a red jumpsuit. No leash, mind you. The little fellow wandered around but never went more than 8 feet from his lady. Judging from the food in the markets, I think this is mostly the cat-for-pets part of town. The apartments are too small. It’s hard to say for sure, however. How many of those street dogs are really following someone they know?

Tanya helped us find a taxi that dropped her off at her house, but then the taxi guy shut off the engine. What’s going on? A few minutes later, someone wanted his parking spot, so he drove down the alley, turned around, then drove back to the now vacant spot, and again shut off his engine. I called Tanya. No, she is not coming back. We convinced the guy to take us to the internot. Sasha and Nastiya were waiting, as we were about 30 minutes late. Lots of kids playing outside and hovering around. It looked like S and N were pretty happy to be whisked away in a taxi. We all went back to the hotel.

Sasha and Nastiya and Eileen worked on valentine cards for a while. We brought paper, lacy hearts, stickers, markers and glue. A great project for them. They loved making cards for teachers, friends and mystery people. Then we all went downtown for dinner. We wanted to go to a burger joint. We walked inside, but burgers were not being served. Humph. So we went back to good old Celentanos, the pizza place. We managed not to order too much even though we were hungry. Then to the market. We told the girls they could pick up one thing. Sasha went for big. Nastiya went for fish. That got Sasha’s attention. She wanted fish, too. She wanted a big fish wrapped in plastic. What do they do with this? Just dig in? Is it like sushi without cutting the fish into pieces? Do you just take a big bite out of it? This was supposed to be a snack. We told Sasha the big fish was out. She tried to find something else she wanted. This was taking far too long. Finally she found a bag of dried fish pieces, sort of like beef jerky. All I can say is, Yuck. Then I told the girls they could have ice cream. Another flurry of trying to find first, something huge, then second, something cool. We finally made it out of the store.

We caught a non-crowded bus back to the hotel. The girls ate their ice cream, giggling and teasing each other. Ah, after cokes with dinner, maybe this was just a little too much sugar? I walked with them back to the internot. I walked to the big supermarket and got some more items. Maybe we can keep ahead of the need for instant soups! Shopping is fun. Then I walked back to the hotel. Walking is fun. By this time, it was foggy and drizzling. It was easy to imagine that I was not in Ukraine, but in Yellowstone National Park. It was cold, wet, dark; perfect camping weather. It must be perfect, since that is quite often the weather we get when we go camping. I had heard that December was the warmest month in Ukraine in hundreds of years. Well, now we are here, and now the weather is perfect.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Day 25

A Day of Firsts

Awake in the night. The first time I've heard a siren of some emergency vehicle downtown somewhere.
The first hotel breakfast I've served that I didn't like. It was an egg and meat omelet. I took a few bites and had to quit. It tasted fatty.

I planned on eating one of the many bags of instant oatmeal imported by our own loving hands, but didn't have much of an appetite.

Got a call from Olga. It's set. Court is Thursday and the girls will attend. Ah. I'm looking forward to it.

Tanya came by about a half hour early. She talked about family and how good it was that we were a big family. I think this is something she and Anya have been trying to communicate to Sasha. It seems to be at the crux of some wayward thinking on Sasha's part. Like we could choose to adopt individuals.

Off for a manicure. Tanya completely occupied one lady for 3 hours. I had no idea fake nails would take so long. I was going to just get some simple polish, but ended up requesting artwork reminiscent of the painted plates I had seen in souvenir shops in Kiev. It should compliment my outfit for Thursday's court. Okay, it's a little over the top for me, but a treat for a weary traveler, far from home. (I would never do this in Boulder, eh Wendy?) My fingernails are works of art!

Three hours and 50 painted fingernails later, we caught cabs for 'Absolut Cafe'. Not a chain, Anya says. Borshch, cabbage salad, chicken fried steak, cheese dumplings were consumed in a flurry. This is a clean cafe with lovely curtains, tile floors, TV, and lighting. A delightful ambiance. I catch a glimpse of a gray tail moving across the floor. Then a small gray cat jumps on one of the chairs at our table. A cat in a restaurant? That's a first! He came over to where I was sitting, and I stroked his soft back fur, then scratched his back. I think he was begging. I have a strict no-cats-in-the-lap rule while I'm eating. I scooted closer to the table. I tried not to think of my own beloved beasties at home.

We stepped out into early evening. The rain had turned to snow. Time to take the girls home.

We had dropped the girls off and turned onto the boulevard when the cabbie pulled over. He got out and went around to the back of the car and back in again. He sheepishly said something in Russian and got back out. We could walk to the hotel, and I told Rolan but I couldn't get out. The left back door was locked form the outside, and he was working on the rear right wheel where I was sitting. If I opened the door I would hit him in the head. The back hatch opened. Tools removed. Jack the car. A few minutes passed. It appeared he was moving quickly. Rolan got out and tried to explain that we could walk. The cabbie insisted that we stay put. Rolan got back in. OK. Front hood opened. What, the engine too? What kind of car is this? Unknown. A tire was removed from under the hood. A few more minutes. He was working as quickly as he could, I was sure. Changing a tire in the dark in the snow with people in your car cannot be a pleasant moment in the day of a taxi driver. Back hatch opened. Tools returned. Front hood came down. Car started. I should have timed him. "Bistra," (fast) I said. He laughed and smiled.