Yesterday I stood in the world's most perfectly timed rain. Although endless tears poured out of my own tired and shaking frame, it was not sufficient until the heavens joined with me in weeping for the hurt living inside these children in our home.
Let's pick back up where our story left off. Church, tserkov...whatever you want to call it, it seemed miles away from God's hand. The meeting started at 9:00 and we were doing pretty well until about 9:01, when a loud sigh and some eye rolls came from down the pew. Fidgets and comments continued, but we were content that we had at least made it this far. I really wish I had snapped a picture of the 9 of us sitting there, but photos in worship service seemed a little sacrilegious. You'll just have to imagine it in your mind.
9:15 Sasha asked for Aaron's phone and typed him a message. "If you ever make me come back to this place I won't go to court." Did that translate right, we wondered? Does that mean if we make him go to church he doesn't want to be adopted? Who knows. But one thing was for sure. He hated it there.
After the service it was time for Sunday school. After being met with intense protests, we gathered the 5 Ukrainian children (our 3 and the Lynn's 2) into a room with a translator (a beautiful young woman from Ukraine who speaks fluent Russian, Ukrainian and English) and held a simple class about God and his love for them. It was interesting to hear the kids speak about their view of God and their belief/unbelief.
At the end I spoke to the kids through the translator. I wanted them to know how much God means in our family's life and that by following Him we are happy. Their response crushed me. They said we are "not nice people, especially to each other". So basically what I just said was null and void because they don't see the happiness of which I speak in our family. That statement was so far from the truth of who our family is and how we live (OK, so most of the time - let's be honest here).This whole week we have been so successfully focused on being patient and kind as we know it is only our example, not our words, that will teach them. Why their view was so vastly different is a question I am repeatedly wrestling.
As if church didn't dampen all our spirits enough, we pulled out a shovel and dug a little deeper into their disappointment after it was over. They asked to go to the park and when we rolled the car to a stop at the park they started shouting, "FU, FU". Not F-YOU, thank goodness (although that probably wasn't far from their thoughts). Just fu. Pronounced like "foo". I gathered that fu meant stupid. So on we ventured to another park with a soccer field. Double fu. After that one Sasha played some charades with me and I finally figured out the problem. Amusement park. That's what they wanted. Dang you, language barrier. And dang you kids for not appreciating these lush green parks with endless grass, shade and expensive playground equipment.
What happened next was the beginning of an unraveling we should have seen coming. If you're a guy and you've ever been to our house, you've undoubtedly gotten the lecture from Aaron about sitting down to pee. True story. Sorry, guys, but he has a valid point. We don't want to step in, lean on, or wash with your pee all over the place. It's not so much the aim, it's the splash, and we don't want any part of it. Aaron chose tonight to kindly ask Sasha to sit down when he did his business. "NO!" hollered Sasha. And then this:
Aaron explained that he, too, was not a girl but that was not the point. Sasha just shook his head in disbelief. Who ARE these people?
We changed the subject by watching The Incredibles, and then went to bed.
10:30 Monday morning rolled around and I gave the kids permission to wake Sasha up. I understand that teenagers feel entitled to the up all night/sleep all day thing, but that leaves me up all night/up all day and keeping those hours is slowly turning me crazy (as if I needed any help). I wasn't there to witness the waking up ritual, but apparently it was not appreciated by Sasha. I was in my room and as I walked out and met him in the kitchen, I could see a cloud of irritation.
He asked to use my phone and wrote this:
Round and round we went. Finally I asked:
I desperately wanted to understand him. Something bigger was going on but I couldn't help him communicate what it was.
Minutes later the kids ran in to tell me he was gone. I went out the front door and saw him in the distance. Walking down the road in his old clothes that minutes before were tucked deep in his drawers, shoulders slumped, dragging a suitcase behind, thinking of things I can only imagine. I watched him until he turned the corner and was no longer in sight and then I prayed. And for awhile I stood there frozen in a cloudy haze while my thoughts collected themselves.
Then I went after him.
By the time I reached him, I had a translator on the phone and he agreed to talk. I learned a lot about Sasha's thoughts as I sat on the roadside and it wasn't until I heard the words "Sasha feels he is a grown man and can make his own decisions" that I lost control of my cool exterior. Tears burst from me with no intention of slowing down. It really was downright embarrassing. Sasha is grown, but the very thing he needs right now is everything he is pushing away. The fact that none of this is his fault isn't helping the matter. It's fu. Downright double, triple fu. I hate it for us, I hate it for him, I hate it for Alina and Ilona and for all the people that told us we were nuts to think we could give these kids what they need and still keep our family intact.
We returned home and all 8 of us sat on the porch as the rain poured down, right on cue. We didn't say a word for a very long time. I gave Sasha a hug, but he didn't hug me back. I typed to him that I was sorry he was hurting. And I dialed the number to his chaperone so he could tell her how he was feeling. In an attempt to explain to us some of Sasha's thoughts, including the fact that he was disappointed he had been left with the women and children and was missing Aaron (the big authority figure), her translation came through like this:
Our sweet translator friend met us at The Russian House, a restaurant that was sure to make the kids feel at home. We spent over 2 hours there and it was therapeutic as well as delicious. I'm a big believer that food solves most of the big problems in life.
Sasha took a nap when we got home and the girls participated in Family Night with us. Every Monday we take the opportunity to be with our family - teach each other about the gospel, play games, eat really great desserts, strengthen family bonds...good stuff like that. Another one of our friends came over and translated so the girls could participate. They giggled a lot, but I think they liked it. And what they really loved is playing chase with Aaron at 10:30 when I was trying to herd them all to bed. Aaron is the master of bringing laughter into tense situations, which is one of the million reasons we keep him around.
We woke up this morning to some artwork the girls created overnight. They know how to write our names and I love you in English, but not much else.
A poster that hung on Faith and Macie's door had a message written in Russian. I was a little apprehensive, but I sent the picture to a friend to have it translated.
Let's pick back up where our story left off. Church, tserkov...whatever you want to call it, it seemed miles away from God's hand. The meeting started at 9:00 and we were doing pretty well until about 9:01, when a loud sigh and some eye rolls came from down the pew. Fidgets and comments continued, but we were content that we had at least made it this far. I really wish I had snapped a picture of the 9 of us sitting there, but photos in worship service seemed a little sacrilegious. You'll just have to imagine it in your mind.
9:15 Sasha asked for Aaron's phone and typed him a message. "If you ever make me come back to this place I won't go to court." Did that translate right, we wondered? Does that mean if we make him go to church he doesn't want to be adopted? Who knows. But one thing was for sure. He hated it there.
After the service it was time for Sunday school. After being met with intense protests, we gathered the 5 Ukrainian children (our 3 and the Lynn's 2) into a room with a translator (a beautiful young woman from Ukraine who speaks fluent Russian, Ukrainian and English) and held a simple class about God and his love for them. It was interesting to hear the kids speak about their view of God and their belief/unbelief.
At the end I spoke to the kids through the translator. I wanted them to know how much God means in our family's life and that by following Him we are happy. Their response crushed me. They said we are "not nice people, especially to each other". So basically what I just said was null and void because they don't see the happiness of which I speak in our family. That statement was so far from the truth of who our family is and how we live (OK, so most of the time - let's be honest here).This whole week we have been so successfully focused on being patient and kind as we know it is only our example, not our words, that will teach them. Why their view was so vastly different is a question I am repeatedly wrestling.
As if church didn't dampen all our spirits enough, we pulled out a shovel and dug a little deeper into their disappointment after it was over. They asked to go to the park and when we rolled the car to a stop at the park they started shouting, "FU, FU". Not F-YOU, thank goodness (although that probably wasn't far from their thoughts). Just fu. Pronounced like "foo". I gathered that fu meant stupid. So on we ventured to another park with a soccer field. Double fu. After that one Sasha played some charades with me and I finally figured out the problem. Amusement park. That's what they wanted. Dang you, language barrier. And dang you kids for not appreciating these lush green parks with endless grass, shade and expensive playground equipment.
What happened next was the beginning of an unraveling we should have seen coming. If you're a guy and you've ever been to our house, you've undoubtedly gotten the lecture from Aaron about sitting down to pee. True story. Sorry, guys, but he has a valid point. We don't want to step in, lean on, or wash with your pee all over the place. It's not so much the aim, it's the splash, and we don't want any part of it. Aaron chose tonight to kindly ask Sasha to sit down when he did his business. "NO!" hollered Sasha. And then this:
Aaron explained that he, too, was not a girl but that was not the point. Sasha just shook his head in disbelief. Who ARE these people?
We changed the subject by watching The Incredibles, and then went to bed.
10:30 Monday morning rolled around and I gave the kids permission to wake Sasha up. I understand that teenagers feel entitled to the up all night/sleep all day thing, but that leaves me up all night/up all day and keeping those hours is slowly turning me crazy (as if I needed any help). I wasn't there to witness the waking up ritual, but apparently it was not appreciated by Sasha. I was in my room and as I walked out and met him in the kitchen, I could see a cloud of irritation.
He asked to use my phone and wrote this:
Round and round we went. Finally I asked:
I desperately wanted to understand him. Something bigger was going on but I couldn't help him communicate what it was.
Minutes later the kids ran in to tell me he was gone. I went out the front door and saw him in the distance. Walking down the road in his old clothes that minutes before were tucked deep in his drawers, shoulders slumped, dragging a suitcase behind, thinking of things I can only imagine. I watched him until he turned the corner and was no longer in sight and then I prayed. And for awhile I stood there frozen in a cloudy haze while my thoughts collected themselves.
Then I went after him.
By the time I reached him, I had a translator on the phone and he agreed to talk. I learned a lot about Sasha's thoughts as I sat on the roadside and it wasn't until I heard the words "Sasha feels he is a grown man and can make his own decisions" that I lost control of my cool exterior. Tears burst from me with no intention of slowing down. It really was downright embarrassing. Sasha is grown, but the very thing he needs right now is everything he is pushing away. The fact that none of this is his fault isn't helping the matter. It's fu. Downright double, triple fu. I hate it for us, I hate it for him, I hate it for Alina and Ilona and for all the people that told us we were nuts to think we could give these kids what they need and still keep our family intact.
We returned home and all 8 of us sat on the porch as the rain poured down, right on cue. We didn't say a word for a very long time. I gave Sasha a hug, but he didn't hug me back. I typed to him that I was sorry he was hurting. And I dialed the number to his chaperone so he could tell her how he was feeling. In an attempt to explain to us some of Sasha's thoughts, including the fact that he was disappointed he had been left with the women and children and was missing Aaron (the big authority figure), her translation came through like this:
Our sweet translator friend met us at The Russian House, a restaurant that was sure to make the kids feel at home. We spent over 2 hours there and it was therapeutic as well as delicious. I'm a big believer that food solves most of the big problems in life.
Sasha took a nap when we got home and the girls participated in Family Night with us. Every Monday we take the opportunity to be with our family - teach each other about the gospel, play games, eat really great desserts, strengthen family bonds...good stuff like that. Another one of our friends came over and translated so the girls could participate. They giggled a lot, but I think they liked it. And what they really loved is playing chase with Aaron at 10:30 when I was trying to herd them all to bed. Aaron is the master of bringing laughter into tense situations, which is one of the million reasons we keep him around.
We woke up this morning to some artwork the girls created overnight. They know how to write our names and I love you in English, but not much else.
A poster that hung on Faith and Macie's door had a message written in Russian. I was a little apprehensive, but I sent the picture to a friend to have it translated.
"Only now we realize that it's hard for us to live without you."
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