You've Always Been in My Heart

It smells funny. It's plain and it's in the bad part of town. The living room furniture consists of a bicycle and three pairs of shoes lined up under the window. A Wal-Mart lamp is plugged in and stands by the dingy, front door. The refrigerator door is covered with rust and the pipes under the sink leak. The bed is nothing more than a sleeping bag laid out on the carpet. Books and a Bible are scattered around.

This is my son, Honor's, apartment. It's the right place for him to be, for now, but it's a sad place for all of us. He doesn't want to be there; he wants to come home.

But, we had to do it. We signed a three month lease, so that he could have time to reflect and pray.....and so we could have time to heal.

Changing, growing and learning so often comes with a price. This is one of those times.

So much turmoil,
so much pain,
just so much......

So, we rest, work at relationships, and wait. Honor wants to come home to stay by Christmas time. We all want it, too.

One of his new jobs in life is to learn to share his heart----his real heart, not the made-up one. This has been a tough assignment for him. It's been so tough, I didn't know if it would ever happen. Words don't come easily for him.

A few days ago, I stopped by to pick him up for a few hours. As we walked out his apartment door, he handed me two sheets of notebook paper that had been prepensely folded into a little square.

Honor slid behind the wheel and I warmly held my mysterious papers in my hand. I carefully unfolded them. Honor kept his eyes on the road, mine were glued to the lines before me.

It was a letter. In fact, I would have to say, it was the best letter I have ever read in my whole life. In fact, when I die, my kids will go through my stuff, and they will find those two non-descript, very normal pieces of paper. It was the kind of letter that can direct paths and heal hearts and give hope.

We stopped at red lights--he looked ahead-- I looked down. He navigated turns, I tried to navigate my heart. I don't know where he had been hiding those beautiful words, but somewhere deep inside of him, he found words that painted the most beautiful picture of his heart, thoughts and feelings. My eyes were already brimming, but when I got to the end, I had to weep.

I've tried to explain to Honor, that he was always meant to be my son---God just wanted him to learn Russian first! I've tried to explain what it feels like to adopt a son--how I tied my heart to his and felt like he had always been mine. I've tried to explain that he always belonged to me. I tried.

But, he found a better way. At the end of his letter he penned a few words.

P.S. You've always been in my heart.

Now I know, we're going to make it.....we just are!

Smelling Coffee

I'm at the Starbucks inside a Barnes and Noble. The drunkenly-sweet smell of chocolate cake and the exotic aroma of coffee beans make my mouth water. Hmmm, wish life could always be this easy.

As you can guess, with 12 kids, my life isn't always that easy. Sometimes, it's easy---but, not always.

I've resorted to being here, for example, before I actually try to write on this adoption blog! I'd like to keep this blog going because I'd like to think that someday someone would read it and adopt because of reading it! I've shared about past adopted kids, and about my recent one involving easy and very happy boys.

Now, I'd like to tell you about another adoption--one that hasn't happened yet. I don't know who's doing the adopting--but, I know who's being adopted---it's a 14 year old boy named Andrei. He lives in Odessa, Ukraine in orhpanage number four. He's a great kid. He's one of the ones who doesn't get into trouble. Not only that, but he's really, really handsome. He wants a family---badly.

He started in the orphanage in the 1st grade along with a group of other orphans. ALL of the other kids in his class have been adopted. He's the one who hasn't been chosen from his class. Recently, he asked someone why he was never chosen. There's no answer for that question. He went on to say that, no matter how tired he is, he won't go to sleep st night until he has said a prayer to God asking for his very own family.

That's not all. He went on to ask that person if they would help him find a family.

I'd like to help, too. I have his picture! He's a doll! If you, or anyone you know, might be interested (oh, please, please be interested) please email me at:

manymusic@gmail.com

I'll send you the picture and tell you what I can about adopting him--or some of the other kids there.

You know, I'm going to trust that there will be a day when Andrei will be sitting in America at a Barnes and Noble, feeling like life is easy and---smelling the coffee!

I Have a Family

He's so happy, that 16 year old Roma son of mine! He dances around the house---literally. The only time he doesn't dance is when we ask him to show off for us!

He's been in America less than two months--and, he's happy!

One day, a couple of weeks ago, I took Roma shopping and out to lunch, just the two of us. We had so much fun. Of course, he had more fun. He always does! As we got home and he leaped out of the car and towards the door I mentioned to him,

"Roma? You know what I like about you?"

"What?"

"Your'e just so happy!"

"Why, of course!" he exclaimed!

"hmmmmm,"I was thinking. "Of course? Of course why? What does he have to be so happy about anyway? Life hasn't been so great to him so far! Why can't I just be like him--one of those the glass half-full kind of people---the kind that wake up hearing the birds sing? But, then, maybe he was just born his way and I was born this way and I'm always going to feel deeply and be more melancholy, and see through dark glasses, and why can't I be more like Roma, and was I this happy when I was his age, and why, and what, and, and, and........."

My philosophical thoughts were a big, selfish, jumbled mess. But, as we got to the door I pulled myself out long enough to respond to my Roma.

"Of course, why, Roma?"

"Because, I have a family!"

Enough said?
Yup, enough said.

The X's Have It

My street is eclectic country. It winds around corners and skates past yards littered with throwaway tires and runs past a mailbox crookedly standing from the center of a ringlet of faded pink and orange plastic flowers. Then it skoots on down past privacy driveways with some kind of fancy houses hidden back in the woods. It skips on past a few cows and the like, and rises up over the railroad tracks, and then, with a sigh, settles back down into a meandering country walk.

Right about here there's a little bungalow. This is one of the houses that was here before there was any 'eclectic' to the place---- back to when a country road was only a country road and didn't try to put on any airs. Buddha, Trouble, Fever, Ed and Frankie mark time in the fields, swish flies, and wave at the passing train with their tails. They wait around until the warm, tanned hands of either Derrell or Honor(aka Sasha or Sawyer) snuggle their noses and sneak them a treat.

The chickens don't make too much fuss in their coop and Bobby the goat is behaving himself. The air is pretty still these days, and the grass is browning in the heat.

Out back, stands a Texas type of obelisk--a monument to the Texas way of life and a sanctuary for a man's kind of man--a rusty, corrugated tin barn. Treasures abound in this place. All manner of tools, wires, and equipment decorate the walls and equestrian gizmos burnish the place with cowboy ambience.

Like I said, it's a 'real man' kind of place.

You might not notice the calander on the wall, if you weren't looking for it. It's a regular size calendar pinned up at the eye level of a tall man---like Derrell. It fits the decorating scheme---cowboys and their horses printed on the top half, and those what-you-would-expect calendar squares on the bottom half.

But, this is when 'ordinary' stops. You see, many months ago, my son, Honor, started feeding Derrell's horses-----sometimes. That left the other times for Derrell to guess if the horses had been fed or not. Sometimes the horses got fed two or three times more than they should've! So, Derrell came up with a system. Whoever feeds the horses picks up a marker and makes an X in the upper corner for the a.m. feeding and in the lower corner for the p.m. feeding. That way, whoever comes to feed the horses can see if they've been fed or not.

So, the X's began accumulating.

But, there came a day in May when Honor and we got on a plane to go to Ukraine for a month--or so. That month turned into two. Then that month turned into three for Honor, who took a u-turn into a dark, lonely, lost place. He should've been home---but he wasn't.

The days on the calendar marched past me. Some of those days I was throwing Honor's things away--with the belief I'd never see him again. Most of those days found me crying. Many of the days found me in despair. But, regardless, one by one the days on the calendar just kept passing.

Honor did finally come home. He was nervous about facing anyone---and about facing Derrell. He knew he let a lot of people down---and his dear friend, Derrell, was one of them. Honor was scared.

I nearly had to walk him down there myself---but, he finally overcame and went on down. Like I knew he would be---he was there awhile; you never greet a true friend after a long absence in only a minute. He came back, as the sun began to wither, with a grin on his face. He sat in the kitchen and watched me wash dishes while his eyes glistened with something that had moved him. I knew something affected him before he ever opened his mouth. It was this:

The days that Honor was lost, the days I was walking the rainy streets of Kiev with a broken heart, the days I gave up hope, the days we all thought the pain was too much to bear, Derrell was doing something else. He was making two X's every day on his calendar---one in the a.m. and one for the p.m. Every day he checked to see if there was already an X before he fed the horses.

Derrell never gave up.

I had to have a peek at this calander myself. So, a few nights ago, when Honor was there, I made my way down to the corrugated tin barn. There it was....the month of August already well on its way with X's. I lifted the corner of the August cowboy to see July----yep, full of X's----then I had to check June--yep, full of X's. In fact, there were three months full of X's-----all waiting for Honor to come home.

It's hard for us humans to really understand love and forgiveness and repeated chances. It's hard for us to understand how it is that God can forgive us and keep waiting on us to come home. But, every once in awhile, God sends us humans a visible picture of love and forgiveness and perservance.

This time, for us who live down the street from Derrell, it came from a cowboy calendar marked with X's, on the wall of a rusty, corrugated tin barn.

A Late Night Ride

I didn't know I was late and the plane was early. I sat on the baggage claim carousal and opened my Bible while I waited. My son was already there; I just didn't know it.

Within minutes he stood before me. I jumped and threw myself into his arms. He held on to me for dear life while I shook with tears. Airport activity went on around us; we just stood there, he was clinging and I was crying.

He was determined to know his consequences, he really wanted to know now. So, we pulled into a Starbucks and talked awhile. It wasn't any fun. We sat with my journal open between us. But, it wasn't too long before I closed it again and said, "Let's go."

He was in no state of mind. He wasn't the contrite, broken prodigal I was hoping for, at least not at that moment, not like he'd been on the phone.

With Silence buckled in the car with us, we began our journey home once more. He fell asleep.

He slept and he slept and he slept and he slept--a result of jet lag and readjusting to his medicine.

By the time he awoke, nearly 18 hours later, I was gone. It was my parents' 60th wedding anniversary and I had to get there to help set up. Hours later I saw him, truly, for the first time, in a room full of aunts, uncles and cousins.

Another big hug from him.....

We got another chance to redo our silent car ride after the big Texas sky turned starry and dark. This time, he drove through the countryside, with a full moon cheering us on and we talked, we really talked. I relived one particular day by speaking the day out loud and I cried and I cried and I cried.

He grabbed my hand and said, "I'm sorry."

The man on the moon's smile got tiny. I was both relieved and forlorn. This dark night was a beginning, but it was only a beginning.

The late night ride came to an end...but,another ride is beginning.

You Sweet

My life swirls around me; like the tilt-o-whirl at Six Flags. I have children in life stages from toddler-hood to nearly-getting-married-hood. I have kids in all stages of adoption---from new to seasoned. I plan meals, school lessons and doctor visits. I practice piano for my son's recital and watch my kids do hand-stands in the water.

I live.

Yesterday I was sitting on the deck level of a pirate ship, while being sprinkled with both water and toddler squeals, when my almost-four-year old looked over his shoulder at me through over-sized, neon goggles and grinned from ear to ear. He then sped away from me as he swooshed down the slippery slide taking him away from me and down to the blue, one foot deep ocean.

As his night-dark head slid away from me I was thinking about words. I have survived on the Words of God this past month, and I've treasured your words written to me, and I've kept my sanity by sorting my thoughts through the sieve of words. I have been a bit forlorn at times, since coming home, that I haven't had time to think through very many words or to put them down. In fact, this is the 3rd time I've tried to finish this post! So, my time on top of a pirate ship became my 'quiet time' of sorts---the time I could think through some thoughts and some words and even reflect on the power of words on my busy, crazy, tilt-o-whirl life.

I began this blog a few months ago with the hope that I could somehow find the words to show others down to the very bottom heart of adoption. I've shared quite a few words already. Since we have shared words together, you and I, I would like to fill you in on a story you've been waiting to hear more about, and a few more adoption words.

My far-away son is coming home tomorrow. For the past week and a half, words have traveled back and forth on a cloud of hope and mercy and perplexity. Words have revealed some answers and some more questions, but they have also given this family back hope----and a son and brother.

Words have become important to another adoption story---that of my new son Till's. He has finally gotten confident enough to come tell me long, detailed stories. He uses all kinds of words-- some in English, some in Russian, and some with pantomime. But, his words are becoming the visible sign that he is coming to know me.

Two days ago my other new son, Roma, gave me a very precious gift of words. He and I and my daughter, Elyza, were talking about how to be sweet and how to treat other people and such things as that. All of a sudden, Roma turned around to me,
squared me with his chocolate brown eyes and said,

"You sweet. For you, no problem."

Ah, the power of words to fill a mother's heart!

So goes my stories. They all need words. I have already shared both happy and sad stanzas to my Life of Adoption song.

And I want to give you one more thought about words.......there are so, so many kids in this world who are waiting to look at their very own mother, and with their very own brand new English words say,

"You sweet."

Anybody out there want to hear them?

Questions

I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think.

We have to wait another week for a flight out of Kiev for Sawyer to come home.

But, in the meantime, I'm at a loss as to why all of this happened.

Nothing makes sense.

He says that one thing he has learned is how much God loves him and how much we love him.

But, as the story unfolds more and more; I feel MORE unloved by God and MORE unloved by Sawyer.

The story seems to bring him answers and it brings me more questions.

Someday, maybe I will have some answers. But, right now, all I have is questions.

P.S. God has shown me His love through you all, I think more than any other way, throughout this month of July. I appreciate the time you take to write me. I really, really do---I'm not kidding----I treasure every word from you all, even though I don't seem to find ways to write you all back. Thank you.