Psalm 126:5-6

And now, God, do it again—
bring rains to our drought-stricken lives
So those who planted their crops in despair
will shout hurrahs at the harvest,
So those who went off with heavy hearts
will come home laughing, with armloads of blessing.

Seven months ago, our family embarked on a journey to bring a little girl home from Serbia.  We knew little about her, we had not been seeking to adopt, and although we are financially blessed, we did not have fifteen to twenty thousand dollars sitting in an adoption fund.  What we did know, is that God intended for her to be a part of our family.  So, with a leap of faith, we committed to bringing her home.

To save you the trouble of going back and reading about the beginning of our journey,  I’ll paint a picture of what our life looked like at the time.  My husband was in Iraq from January until June of last year.  While he was deployed, I dealt with a health scare.  As we prepared for our children to return to school in the fall and we were trying to adjust to having two parents in the house again, we discovered that we would have to move.  Oh, and I had just gotten my real estate license and I was finishing up degrees in business and psychology.   We had also just begun hosting Dave Ramsey’s Financial Peace University at our home and we had made a commitment to live a debt-free life.  So, in the middle of trying to find a house that would allow our children to remain in all three of the local schools, starting a new career, finishing an education,  and attempting to eliminate all of our debt, Ana Sofija Calvaresi came into our lives.  We were unexpectedly paper pregnant.

This  has not been an easy pregnancy, but it has been one full of spiritual growth and character building and purpose.  When a child is growing in your womb, you anticipate the end of the pregnancy, not only because you want to meet your child, but because you are sick and tired of being pregnant.  When a child is growing in your heart, it is different.  The last trimester is the waiting period.  You do not feel your baby moving inside of you.  Your feet do not swell.  You do not pee your pants when you sneeze or cough or laugh out loud.  And unless you are up at night obsessing over paint colors and names and travel dates, you sleep pretty well.

Galatians 6:7-8

You cannot fool God, so don’t make a fool of yourself! You will harvest what you plant. If you follow your selfish desires, you will harvest destruction, but if you follow the Spirit, you will harvest eternal life.

It does not matter where God allows your children to grow.  There is one thing about parenting that is an absolute truth.  If you are seeking and following God’s will, you will harvest blessings.  My three oldest children are not perfect and neither is their mom or dad.  My children are blessings.  They watch their parent’s always attempt to put God first and in return, we get to watch them always have faith that God is on their side.

Throughout this long journey, God has constantly reminded us that He is our provider and that as long as we have faith, all of our needs will be met.  Sometimes those needs have been met at the very last minute (literally), but every single dime, piece of paper, signature, or appointment that we have needed, has been there.

After all that has been sown in these past seven months, tomorrow…is the harvest.

At 12 noon Serbia time, on April 27th, 2010, we will become the proud parents of a five year old little girl, whose name (at least for now) will be Sofija Calvaresi.

If all goes as planned and our visa mess gets worked out between the Washington DC USCIS office and the US embassy in Belgrade, we will arrive at Dulles airport, on Friday evening, laughing (we hope), and with armloads of blessings.

I assume that when any family is called to adopt an older child, they begin to mourn the firsts.  You know what I’m talking about.  We missed her first smile.  We missed her first laugh.  We missed the first time she sat up or crawled or walked or ran or spoke.  Of course missing out on some firsts is not so sorrowful.  The first time she used a toilet, for example.  Or, the first time she slept through the night.  We have had seven months to come to terms with the fact that our new addition is a big girl and that we not only missed out on many firsts in her development, but that we will never know exactly when or where any of those events took place.

Today, we were given an unexpected gift.  We got to experience a first.  A big one, in my opinion.

Sofija lost her first tooth!  All week, she’s let me wiggle her “zub”.  Seth uses Tom’s strawberry toothpaste.  She loves anything related to strawberries, so she has been very willing to let me brush her teeth and wiggle that little loose one in the front.  This morning, I could feel that it was just barely attached, but I was afraid that I would traumatize her if I attempted to pull it out.  Shortly after brushing her teeth, she slapped me across the face (still a semi-regular occurrence).  We have been putting her in a specific chair every time she hurts someone and telling her that she is in timeout.  Chad or I have to be in the chair with her, or she will not stay there.  So…While sitting in the timeout chair, with his arm wrapped her, Chad watched her push it out with her own tongue.  I had to dig around in her mouth to find it, but it has been retrieved.  She doesn’t sleep on a pillow and I doubt that she’s ever heard of the tooth fairy, but nobody will ever be able to take away the fact that her family got to witness her losing her very first tooth.

Yesterday, after our sleepless night, we ventured to the Belgrade zoo.  Our apartment is located about two miles from the zoo and in an effort to drain every last bit of energy out of our little hummingbird, we walked there.  Along the way, we came across many interesting sights, but only one screamed to be used as a backdrop for our daughter.  Although we are making a constant effort to give her praise and love and positive reinforcement, she has been spending a fair share of her time in ‘timeout’.

So much so, that before we left the zoo, Chad called the social worker who is her current guardian, and attempted to cancel the visit by the foster family that was scheduled for today.  After a night filled with screaming and hitting and biting and a trip to the zoo filled with testing her boundaries, we were fearful that we would see more regression, if she spent time with them.  Chad is famous for saying, “Fear is the tool of the devil.”  and “Fear is just the absence of faith.”  Unfortunately, neither of these statements came to our memory when we started discussing the possible effects of the planned visit.  The social worker doesn’t speak or understand much English.  Chad’s phone call to her resulted in her meeting us at our apartment when we returned from our outing.  She came equipped with a “Serbian for foreigners” pocket-book and an “English for Serbians” pocket-book.  Between the two, we had a very fruitful conversation.  She explained that part of Sofija’s bonding with us involves her realizing that people do not just disappear.  She needs to know that even though we are now her family, the foster family still care about her and they are still a part of her life.  These three people who took her into their home, were the first people to get through to her.  They were the first people that she showed love to and they were the first people that she ever communicated with.  By the end of our conversation, I was very convicted for allowing any fear to enter my thoughts and I felt like an idiot for not realizing how important the visit would be.    You would think that having a psychology degree would have helped me put this one together all by myself.

We had a fair night’s sleep.  I can’t say it was good, but it was better than the night before.  After straightening up the apartment, painting baby girl # 2’s nails on her fingers and piggies, and preparing for our guests (and a few timeouts), we walked to St. Sava’s cathedral.  Sofija decided to play the rag-doll game.  She would walk a few steps and go limp.  She would then lie on the ground and laugh.  She did this, every few feet, for about a mile.

It was joyful.

I have to admit.  The visit was wonderful.  No matter what the situation has been leading up to our arrival, or how things played out once we were here, I have nothing but gratitude for the people who have loved my child for the past two years.  She came to them in June of 2008 with no verbal skills.  She was not toilet trained.  She did not allow anyone to touch her.  I can not begin to imagine her being that child.  Because Jovana began caring for her at the orphanage when she was only five months old, she has a wealth of information about her life.  I learned today that Sofia had no name until she was six or seven months old.  I will write another blog post about her name, but this new information provided me with a great deal of freedom.  I have been under the impression that her name was given to her by her birth mother.  I know that her birth mother went straight into an institution after her birth and that she went from the hospital to an orphanage when she was ten days old.  I guess I just never thought that her mother may not have given her a name.  Anyway, like a said, that’s an entire post in itself.

The visit with Jovana and Elza was wonderful.  They have not only provided our daughter with a loving home for nearly two years, but they have provided us with a picture of her past and they have given us photos of her from five months old until now and they even made us a four-page translation sheet of the things that she is most likely to say.  Those sheets of notebook paper have been our biggest God-send for the past week.  They are almost worn out from our constant folding and unfolding and we panic when we can’t find them.  Chad and I noticed that she has figured out what we understand and that she uses those phrases over and over again.  She dumbs-down her Serbian for us.  It’s become very clear that she is doing it.  When she comes across someone who speaks Serbian, she will just explode in her native-tongue, like she’s been holding her words for days.  Then, she will turn to us and say “Hoce mo…” or “Neci mo…”  The phrases mean ‘I want’ and ‘I don’t want’.  She follows up with words that she knows we understand.  I can’t imagine how frustrating it must be for her to have to do this.  We have a stack of Serbian books and our computer program and we are able to look up and communicate just about anything that we want to her.  She is stuck with four pages of phrases that she must use over and over and over again.  But, if it were not for the foster family, we would not even have those four pages.

Another first took place during the visit.  She has been referring to me as ‘Mama’ since our second or third visit.  She screams it or whispers it, whenever she is in need of anything.  However, it has been hard for me to jump for joy over this title because she also uses it on occasion for Chad and Chase and I’m fairly certain that I’ve heard her use it in reference to strangers on the street.  Today, Jovana said something to her about Elza (the foster mom) and used the title Mama.  My daughter jumped across the room, grabbed my arm, and said very loudly, “Ovaj si moj Majka!”  “This is my mother!”

At this moment, it is so hard to even think about my state of mind one week ago.  It has only been seven days since I felt that I had no place in her life.  Today is very different.  I am so head over heels in love with this little girl.  She is extraordinarily beautiful and funny and intelligent.  And…she is the strongest little person I have ever known.  I am not just referring to her physical strength.  This little girl has spirit.  She was born to a woman who may not have even comprehended that she had just given birth.  She spent more than half of the first year of her life with no name.  She made it through infancy and toddler-hood without being held or rocked or talked to.  She was given big labels and little hope.  Yet, she found a way, to not only survive, but to learn and to grow.  And to my sheer delight, somewhere along her path, she acquired the ability to grab me and declare me as her mother.

Belgrade, Serbia Friday April 23, 2010

The weather is beautiful and I am feeling much better.  It is 10:33am and Chad and Kira are still sleeping.   No, they aren’t being lazy or giving themselves another day of rest.  They are sleeping now, because they did not get sleep during the night.  Sofia decided again yesterday, that she wanted to nap.  She changed into her pajamas and climbed in bed around 3pm.  After two hours of slumber, we woke her up.  She went back to bed around 9pm.  Kira, Chase and Seth went to bed around 10 and Chad I got to bed around 11.

At midnight, Sofia stood up and announced that she had peed the bed.  We got her changed, cleaned up the bed and tucked her back in.  She was having nothing to do with going back to sleep.  At 5am, she was still banging her head on the wall and radiant heating and squealing the most high-pitched squeal you’ve ever heard.  When Chad and I would tell her to stop (stati) or to be good or go to sleep, she would let out a deep raspy laugh and tell us that she did not want to be good or sleep.  It was a long night!

We have these moments, where she is just hysterical and inconsolable and those moments are usually accompanied by violent outbursts that she finds amusing.

By the end of our second visit with her, I began to question whether or not she has autism.  Last night, after all of the kids were in bed, I did some research.  I am now absolutely certain that what we are seeing in her is institutional autism.  In the middle of my research, I discovered that the world’s leading expert on institutional autism happens to be located in our county in Virginia!  And…everything I have read indicates that most of the behaviors we are seeing will rapidly diminish once we are home.  Thank you, God!

When the rough moments come, I find myself attempting to empathize with her.  I can’t even imagine what she is going through, but this is the picture I paint for myself:

Five strange people that she has never heard of or seen before showed up and began  referring to themselves as her family.  The strangers do not understand her and they speak to her in a language she has never heard.  After several days of coming into her home and visiting with her, the strangers took her away with them and began telling her awful things like, ‘no’ and ‘be good’ and ‘wait’.  In less than a week, every single detail of her little world changed, and there is no one around that can answer any questions she might have about why this is happening.

I keep thinking that she must feel like she has been kidnapped.  What would that be like?  I would be horrified if a group of strangers that I could not communicate with took over my world.

While there are moments that it is very clear that she feels like she belongs with us and that she is a part of our family.  There are also moments when I see fear and confusion take over her thought process.  Would it be any different for you or me?  Would I be able to peacefully sleep in a strange apartment, surrounded by strange people?  Probably not.

I sit and look at her this morning and I know without a doubt that she is mine.  That I love her.  That God is going to use our family to change the course of her life.  That God has a purpose for her life.  That we are blessed to be a part of that purpose.

Side note: Any input on treating institutional autism and rhythmic movement disorder will be appreciated!

It is Thursday evening and we’ve lost hope that our adoption ceremony will be tomorrow.  It absolutely must take place on Monday in order for us to all travel home together!

I woke up before the sunrise with an ache in my belly and sweat on my brow.  The vomiting quickly followed.  We had plans to wake up early and go to the zoo.  Kira, Chase and I were planning to visit the orphanage and hold some babies after the zoo.  Our favorite Serbian doctor is in a choir that sings with a local orchestra and she invited us to a concert tonight.  To sweeten the deal, she got permission from her conductor for Chase to play a piece on his trumpet.  On top of the vomiting, I could hear the rain pounding down on our roof and cold wind blowing in through the bathroom window.  Before the day had even started, I knew that our plans were not likely to happen.  It was to be a day of rest.

Today’s down-time has provided an opportunity for some reflecting and I realized that there have been some interesting moments on this journey that I have yet to write about.

The Chicks

I have mentioned my daughter’s affinity for kokoska (chickens).  We were told on day 1 that she loves them and on all of our visits we dealt with her begging for them.  On our last visit to the foster home, Jovana pulled me aside as I entered the door.  She looked me in the eye and said very quietly, “We have guests.”  I was a little confused.  I knew that the social workers and some of the family friends were there.  They had all greeted us at the door.  What guests could she be referring to, that I did not already know of?  “Boba brought Sofija a gift.  Chickens!”  Boba has been her nanny for the past year.  Chase is absolutely certain that her last name must be Fett.  Boba loves Sofia.  So much so, that she gave her chickens to take to America.  Yes, that’s right folks.  We gained not only a daughter, we became the owners of three baby chicks.

The poor baby chicks did not fair well.  We took them back to our hotel in a box and Sofia wanted them to go with her to the hotel playground.  She squeezed them.  She threw them like baseballs.  And when Seth began to cry because she was hurting them, she laughed and stomped on them.  That was the only moment that Seth has said that he did not want to adopt her throughout our entire journey.  His exact words, accompanied by tears and wailing, were, “I don’t want to adopt her anymore.  She’s a murderer.”

We assured him that the chicks were still alive (although barely) and that we would not allow her to kill any animals (God, please help us keep this promise.  Amen!).  They were still alive that afternoon when the social workers offered to take them away and I think we’ll just choose to remember them that way.

Note to self: Avoid small animals in the near future.

Chika

On our first few visits, our daughter was determined that Chad was a handyman and she checked his cargo pockets over and over again for his hammer.  The word for handyman in Serbian sounds like “Maister”.  So, for three or four days, she called him both Tata (Dad) and Maister.  On Sunday, came a new name.  Chika.  It means uncle and every time that she is in timeout or told no, that is his name.   She points her finger, bobs her head and goes on and on in Serbian about Chika.  During our last visit from the social workers on Tuesday, they asked her who each of us is.  She called everyone by name except for Chad.  His name that day was “Chika Maister”.

At the end of our park adventure, on our second night back in Belgrade, she acted on her love for all things aviary and began chasing birds.  Within seconds, she was half a football field away from us and Chad was running with all his might to catch her.  Kira, Chase, Seth, a few dozen people at the park and I watched in horror and screamed as she ran towards a very busy highway with absolutely no fear.  There were four lanes of cars and buses speeding by in both directions and trolleys going down the middle of the road.  We all saw her little life flash before our eyes and I envisioned Chad and I sitting in a Serbian jail after being charged and convicted of neglect.  As she approached the flowing traffic, she tripped over the curb and landed inches from a passing car.  Just as Chad reached her, she stood up with a goose-egg on her forehead and a skinned up nose.  As he carried her back towards the staring crowd, all you could hear her screaming was that it was Chika’s fault.  We’ve got a ALOT of work to do in the boundaries, danger, and personal responsibility departments!

Chores

While visiting the foster home, we watched our daughter, who just turned five, stand at the stove and make pots of coffee.  At our ministry appointment, in the midst of receiving every sad little detail about her short life, we were told that she is very good at household chores.  I think that Chad and I both let that one go right over our heads because of all the other information we were trying to absorb.  Since we’ve returned to Belgrade, we’ve discovered what they meant.  This little girl, who has no concept of right or wrong and who has already managed to scar us with her hitting, scratching and headbutting, is capable of washing dishes, vacuuming and helping with the laundry.  We’re not talking putting away the spoons and forks from the dishwasher, she stands at the sink and hand washes every single dish.  She will do this repeatedly, until the dishes are sparkling clean.  Yesterday, she moved all of the furniture and vacuumed every single corner of the apartment.  She also helped me hang the clothes on the outside drying rack and then helped me bring in the dry clothes and fold them.  And…she made the beds.  I don’t know whether to cry, or scream, “Hallelujah!”  It breaks my heart that she has missed out on so many important lessons and valuable experiences, and the skills that she has are way beyond her age.

I hope and pray with all that is in me, that the Godliness and character of my older three children pour into this little lost child.  That being said…You won’t hear me complaining if her house-cleaning skills get passed on to them in return ;).

While in time-out today, Sofia kept saying something over and over again to Chad.  I searched through our Serbian-English dictionary until I found it.  She was telling him that she wants to be good and asking him if he is deaf.  Bless her little heart.  She does want to be good.  She just has no clue what good looks like.

There are probably a dozen more interesting facts about these past ten days, but whatever illness I am dealing with has zapped my energy and I need to get to bed.  Over the weekend, our dear friend Charity reminded me of the promises in Isaiah 43.  I prayed tonight over my child as I tucked her into bed and I claimed those promises.  I ask that everyone reading this claim them with me.

Isaiah 43:1-4

But now, God’s Message, the God who made you in the first place, Jacob,
the One who got you started, Israel:
“Don’t be afraid, I’ve redeemed you.
I’ve called your name. You’re mine.
When you’re in over your head, I’ll be there with you.
When you’re in rough waters, you will not go down.
When you’re between a rock and a hard place,
it won’t be a dead end—
Because I am God, your personal God,
The Holy of Israel, your Savior.
I paid a huge price for you…All of Egypt and more.
That’s how much you mean to me!
That’s how much I love you!
I’d sell off the whole world to get you back,
trade the creation just for you.”

We may be here feeling like we are in way over our heads.  God is with us.  We are only passing through this tough time.  It is far from being the end of our journey.  God already paid a price for us.  For all of us.  He has called not only Chad, Kira, Chase, Seth and I by name.  He has also called Sofia by name.  He would trade this entire planet for her to walk with Him.  She is His!

I’ve disliked that slogan since the Army first transitioned to it, but this journey we’re on has put meaning to it for our family.

I woke up this morning with Ezra’s words from Nehemiah 8 running through my head.  “The joy of the Lord is my strength!”  “The joy of the Lord IS my strength!”  “THE JOY OF THE LORD IS MY STRENGTH!”

With these words ringing over and over again, I opened the first Bible I could find and read verses 1-12.  I climbed out of bed with joy in my heart and God-given strength.

After all of the conviction brought on through Chase and Seth’s words on Saturday, we checked into our hotel in Velika Plana with determination and certainty.  The day was rough, but better than the day before.  After dinner, Sophia announced that she wanted to go back to “her house” for just a little while.  The social worker wanted her to happy and to be honest, the rest of us were completely exhausted and had no problem with waiting another day for her to begin sleeping with us.

Around 2am, I began thanking God for the delay.  The hotel appears to be the only event venue in town and there was a wedding taking place when we checked in.  The wedding reception was still going strong and the music was so loud that the walls were literally shaking at 2am.  To add to the joy, Velika Plana is Serbia’s Sturgis and this weekend was the bike festival….in the field behind the hotel.  All night long, we listened to music blaring, motors revving and glass bottles breaking.  Happy Happy.  Joy Joy.

On Sunday morning we went back to the foster home, grabbed her things, and headed out for the beginning of our life as a family of six.  We went through the day in a cloud of sleeplessness and the only facts of the day that I am absolutely certain of, are that our daughter knew that she belonged with us and that something in her was changing.  She knows every street in town that leads to the foster home & every store that sells ice cream. She would point out the roads and tell us (in Serbian), “That way to my house.”  As we drove back to our hotel, after going out for a dessert of sladoled (ice cream), she pointed to her street and said, “Neci idemo mo kunci.”  I don’t want to go to my house.  An hour later, she fell asleep, rocking her head from side to side, singing herself a Serbian lullabye, touching my face, and warming my heart.

Monday was the end of tolerance for Kira, Chase, and Seth.  We spent the entire day waiting to hear something from someone (we weren’t quite sure who that someone was), about what would happen next.  It rained all day and Sophia has a serious case of ants in her pants, so being inside is torturous.  She touched every square inch of our two hotel rooms and the rest of us used every hat trick in our repertoire attempting to entertain her.  She was restless, but sweet.  All of us received lots of hugs and kisses and cuddle time.  We were told that she never takes naps.  We were told wrong.  Around 4 in the afternoon, she climbed in bed and asked us all to leave the room.  She was asleep in about 30 seconds and she slept for two hours before the social workers showed up to tell us that we were leaving.  We checked out of the hotel, went back to the foster home for a going-away party, and returned to our apartment in Belgrade.  The send off was emotional, but not necessarily sad.  Sophia has had two nannies in the time that she was in foster-care and they both came with special gifts.  Chad and I had noted that she had gone the entire day without being overly aggressive or violent towards any of us.  At her party, we silently watched her slap and punch everyone present (except for us)She told everyone, “Hocu edemo America du Mama i Tata i brat i brat i Kira.”  She told them that she wanted to go with us.  She also told them that she did not want to come back tomorrow.  Chad, Kira, Chase, Seth, and Sophia’s guardian from the center in Belgrade rode home in our rental car.  Sophia and I had to ride with a social worker and a gentleman from the center (I still haven’t figured out what he does), in a yugo.  The workers smoked continuously (without rolling down the windows) for the entire 100km and Sophia rocked and sang one verse of a lullaby to herself, over and over again.  The driver would turn up his techno pop to try and drown her out and she would simply sing louder ;).

Our first night, at this home away from home, was peaceful, and full of uninterrupted sleep.  Thank you, God!

On Tuesday, the workers from the local center came by for our final visit.  They assured us that their report would be a good one and that it would be submitted to the ministry today.  We are praying for our adoption ceremony to take place on Friday.  Please claim that with us!  Having it on Friday would ensure that we finish the process in time for us to all travel home together on the 30th.

Before the final visit, we ventured out to New Belgrade and went shopping at the Rodic Mega Market.  We were able to find the ingredients for a few meals so that we can stop eating out so much (restaurants are very inexpensive, but Sophia’s etiquette still leaves much to be desired).  And, we finally found a pair of shoes to fit Sophia (we’ve been looking for three days).  There was a Nike outlet at the market and we were able to find her American size.  She wears a 13.5 and her feet are pretty wide.  I brought a pair of size 6 pants from the Children’s Place with us that fit her perfectly.  I had forgotten about them and as I tried to figure out what on earth she would wear yesterday, I found them in the bottom of a bag (Thank you, Dena!).  She will not be able to wear them if she grows much, but for now, she can wear a size 6.

After our final visit with the social workers, Chad returned the rental car and we all walked to a nearby park.  Chad and I watched, with smiles on our faces, as our “Fantastic Four” played together.

We watched our fifteen year old, kick off her shoes and climb and slide and swing like she was five again. We watched Seth take on the role of big brother as he showed Sophia how to climb up the slide for her very first time, and then allowed her to hold on tight to his neck as they slid down together.  We watched Chase both enjoy himself and never lose track of where Seth and Sophia were or what they were doing.

We watched our children bonding, as we experienced God-given joy.  And through that joy… we have the strength of an Army.

For the majority of the weeks of my life, Fridays have been an occasion to celebrate.  This week was an exception.  This Friday, was attack day.  You name a negative feeling and I probably experienced it.  I woke up to a breakfast of doubt and fear and for lunch I feasted on guilt, anger, and anxiety.  By dinner time, I was in a full-fledged depression, crying inconsolably and ready to walk away from this journey.

When we arrived in Velika Plana, we were excited to learn that we were taking Sophia to the park for a few hours.  Next to this park was a yard full of chickens.  She loves chickens.  She wanted to see the chickens.

The old lady who owned the chickens initially came out and shooed us away. Sophia wanted to see them from outside the fence, but she was too short to see over it.  I got down on the ground and asked Kira and Chase to help her onto my shoulders.  They both asked me if I was sure I wanted to do that and, without a second thought, I told them yes.  Big mistake!  When I attempted to walk away from the yard, she flipped out.  She does this often, but this was the first time that I realized just how awful her outbursts can be.  She began kicking my chest and grabbed fistfuls of my hair with both hands.  It felt like she was trying to scalp me.  I dropped to my knees and had to lie on top of her to get her to stop flailing around.  I laid there crying and whispering to her until we were both limp from exhaustion.  This entire incident was witnessed by two social workers, a psychologist, Jovana (the foster sister), Kira, Chase, Seth, Chad and all of the families at the park.  This was the first time.  Within an hour, it happened again.  And in the next hour…again.

After driving back to Belgrade, we went to check in with the American embassy and pick up the needed forms for Sophia’s visa.  Getting the visa will be the last thing we do before coming home, but I thought while we were there, I might as well get the needed paperwork.  I can’t say that it comes as a huge surprise, but the wonderful lady at the Washington USCIS office has not yet bothered to send our visa approval to the national visa center.  This means that the embassy cannot access it and that we cannot get Sophia’s visa.  New prayer request: That our I-171h be sent to the national visa center within the next few days.

We had McDonald’s for dinner.  It was almost as good as the McDonald’s in Seoul, Korea when I was 9mos pregnant with Seth.

After dinner, we walked back to our apartment.  Chad emailed the lady at USCIS and I emailed our facilitator to let her know how things were going.  Most families see her daily during their adoption process and are able to have her by their side through any difficult moments.  We have had exactly five minutes of alone time with her since we arrived in Serbia and, other than the time that we spent sitting in the ministry office on Wednesday morning, we have not even been able to communicate with her.  None of us wanted it to be this way, but after the appeal by the foster family, this is the situation we’re forced to work with.  This situation means that our family has spent the past two days surrounded by people that we can barely communicate with and have simply guessed that things were going as planned.

Our facilitator has wanted to meet up with us and give us a cell phone so that we can at least keep in touch, so I asked her to come by before we went to bed.  When she arrived, I fell to pieces.  All of the negative emotions that had been planted and watered and fertilized throughout the day, came spilling out of my mouth and tear ducts.  Her response to me was that we are free to walk away at any point before the adoption ceremony.  Judge me.  Call me names.  Think what you will.  At that moment, I felt relief.

I cried myself to sleep after my amazing husband prayed over me and assured me that this is still the journey we were called to.  I woke to realize that the attack had moved to Kira.  She was full of doubt and fear and certainty that she no longer wants to share a room with her sister.  As Kira and I packed our bags to go stay in V. Plana for a few days, we both cried.  Chase walked in just in time to hear me say, “What have I gotten myself into?”  Without hesitation, he responded, “God’s will.”

I got it, God.  I apologize.  Please forgive me.

When we arrived at the foster home on Saturday morning, Sophia was in the window waiting for us.  She was rocking from side to side and rolling her eyes, but she smiled and clapped and touched each of us as we walked in the door.

We left quickly, checked in to our hotel, and began to grasp the fact that we had her to ourselves.  No supervision.  No other women to compete for the role of Mama.  At lunch, she decided she was tired of sitting so she reached across the table and slapped Kira’s drink out of her hand.  A few minutes later, she picked up her glass, took a sip and then tossed the remainder of her drink all over the floor.  When we told her no, she bit herself.  All day long, I thought of the movie Nell.  She is calling me, “Mama”.  She is calling Kira, Chase, and Seth by name.  She has called Chad both, “Tata” and “Dad”.  She repeats almost every English word that we say to her.  Yet…she is completely uncivilized.  I have now watched her, on two occasions, pull a chair up to the stove, turn it on, and make a pot of coffee.  She then pours herself a cup of the coffee, adds a ton of sugar, and drinks it.  She is extremely intelligent and remarkably capable.  She has just never had any boundaries or limitations and she has never allowed anyone to care for her.  When we try to hug her, she is rigid.  She does not know how to be loved.  I share these things, because I know that there are many people reading this who believe in the power of prayer.  Pray!  Pray for her to accept love and give it in return.  Pray for us to reach her.

In the late afternoon, we went with a social worker and her husband to a 14^th century monastery.  She needed to observe how the day was going and her husband speaks English.  The place was beautiful and peaceful and I think that we all felt more at ease than we have all week.  The well water there is rumored to have healing powers so we all washed our eyes and hands with it and drank a sip or two.

Before we left, we stopped to observe a small cage that houses two very large male peacocks.  Seth walked around the cage and said, “I think they are like me.”  Pause. “I feel God here.”  I said that I thought it was sad that such beautiful birds are in a cage so small that they cannot even open their plumes and we headed towards the car.

Seth had been silent for a few moments when out from his sweet lips came this. “You know why I think the peacocks are like me?  The devil had me in a small cage where I could not spread my feathers and be beautiful.  Then God destroyed the cage and set me free.”

Chase was exactly right.  All of the negative stuff that I am dealing with is simply a result of walking in God’s will.

Seth was also right.  He spent several years as a beautiful creature trapped in a very small cage.  God did set him free.  He can set Sophia free too.

I’ve always been a person that prefers roller coasters over rides that spin me around.  This preference translates into how I live my life.  I try to embrace the ups and downs and I am a believer and preacher that God can put purpose to all of life’s highs and lows.  I have to believe that this will hold true for this entire adoption journey.

You know those picture books with only a squiggle on the first page, where lines are gradually added and the picture becomes  clearer and clearer as you thumb through the pages?  When we walked out of our ministry meeting on Tuesday morning, I felt like I was on the 3rd or 4th page of one of those books.  Today, that picture is almost completely clear.  The picture of how the foster family operates and of the motivation behind all of the drama that has taken place surrounding our adoption is now very easy to comprehend.

The picture of exactly what is going on with Sophia is also pretty clear and I can’t say that it is very pretty.  I am not certain that she is autistic.  She rocks her head from side to side and rocks back and forth from one foot to the other, but it appears to be a form of comfort that she has practiced since infancy.  Everything that I see about her seems to be institutional behavior.  I was shown a video clip of her in her crib at the orphanage when she was only five months old.  She was rocking her head from side to side, just as she does now.  She has never known what it feels like to be held in a mother’s arms.  She has never been taught appropriate responses or emotions and she has never been given any type of boundaries.

Today I watched her run around the park.  This was a gift.  We have been under the scrutiny of the foster mother, Jovana (her primary care-taker), the foster grandmother, the babysitter, and social workers and ministry officials.  Today was our first opportunity to spend time with her away from the foster home.  I watched her inappropriate reactions and her complete lack of empathy for any other person.  I was taken back to camping in Colorado and watching a pack of wild horses.  They were beautiful.  They had wild eyes and they seemed to run in no specific direction and with little regard to their surroundings.  They would run right up to the edge of a cliff and then just jerk backwards and take off in the opposite direction.  This is what I saw in my daughter.  A completely untamed, uncivilized, intelligent beautiful creature.

I have felt very unnecessary.  She has many mothers.  They may not parent her as I would and they may not force love on her, but they still fill that role.  She has never had a father-figure and this makes her “Tata”, a valuable asset.  She does seem to enjoy him.  She is taking an interest in Kira, Chase and Seth but I have to work hard to keep her from being aggressive towards them.  She has given me affection when she wants something from me.  When I have told her no, she has hurt me.  Today I had her on my shoulders and she began to kick me and pull me hair.  It hurt.  Physically.  Emotionally.  Mentally.  It hurt.

Chad keeps reminding me to focus on the small victories.  She never rides in a car and it took us about half an hour to convince her to ride with us to the park today.  And…she only cooperated after Jovana climbed in and rode along.  When we got ready to leave, she held our hands and climbed right in the back so that she could be by her “brat” and “sestra”.  She said (in perfect English), “See you tomorrow” to the kids as we dropped her off.  And…tomorrow night, we get to keep her with us.

This might just be the ride of my life, but I have to have faith that in the end it will be worth it.

turmoil –

When we rounded the corner at the foster home, she was standing on the front porch. I was very confused. This very tall little girl with straight hair was standing in front of me. She looked to be eight or nine years old. She touched all of us and immediately grabbed Kira by the hand and drug her off to the swing. The visit was strange. I lost count of how many people were watching us and it was very clear that the foster family were not comfortable with us. Communication was far from easy for all of us and Seth seemed particularly frustrated that nobody could understand him. Although I think she likes him, she punched and pushed him on more than one occasion. His feelings were terribly hurt. Her only encounters with a man have been with a repair-man that she is not fond of. She is convinced that Chad is a handy-man and she has checked his pockets and asked him for his hammer dozens of times in the past two days.

I have now been awake for 30 hours. I can barely complete my thoughts and it would probably be dangerous for me to write too much.

Sleep will come easy tonight and that is a wonderful thing. Because…tomorrow is the day that we meet her. Please pray that all goes as planned and that our interactions with the foster family are as pleasant as possible. I really need for God to give me some peace about this danged journey He sent me on.

I’m off to bed now. If you read this before bed, please stop and pray! We meet with the ministry at 11am (6am eastern).

Pray and believe with us that the next post contains pictures of our newest daughter.

Many people know that I cannot nap.  What few people know is that hand-in-hand with the not-napping is an inability to sleep on an airplane.  It is 1:25pm on the clock in front of me.  I am sitting at gate H37 in the Munich Airport.  I have been awake for 25 hours.  I do not function well without sleep and the only thing driving me at the moment is this gigantic magnetic force that is only an hour and a half flight away.  Well that, and German espresso.

The past 25 hours deserve to be documented.  We had an original plan of arriving in Belgrade by way of planes, trains, and automobiles.  There are free daily flights to Germany and Spain from both Andrews Air Base and Dover Air Base.  We live near both and we felt certain that it would be easy to get on one of these flights.  We planned to purchase raileurope passes and travel by train from where we landed to Belgrade and then rent a car to drive to our apartment.

On Friday, Chad called both bases and flights were scheduled for Saturday, Sunday and Monday.  On Saturday, he called again and things had changed.  The Nuclear Summit was underway and it turns out that the bases were hosting world leaders.  All flights were bumped from Sat. to Sun. and then from Sun. to Mon.  Then, on Monday morning, Andrews cancelled all flights until Wednesday and Dover cancelled all but one and could not guarantee that it would fly.  There was a lot of pacing going on at our house.  Our ministry appointment is tomorrow at 11am.  Chad and I both spent hours on the internet and making phone calls trying to find an affordable way to get to Serbia as quickly as possible.  Two months ago, I checked airfare from DC to Belgrade.  I checked every discount online travel agency and I checked with the humanitarian agencies.  The fares were outrageous.  At 1pm yesterday, I sent an email to Golden Rule Travel.  They book travel for humanitarian purposes.  Someone from their agency called Chad and by 2pm we were booked on flights from DC to Belgrade leaving at 8:10pm.  The roundtrip fare for five people and one-way fare for Ana-Sophia totaled about $2000 more than what we were planning to pay for our planes, trains, and automobiles adventure.  The comfortable travel and the peace of mind that we will get there on time were worth every single penny.

We made a mad dash to get packed (for the 4^th or 5^th time) and headed out for Dulles at 5:42pm.  Dulles is 26 miles from our house and the fastest way to get there is the beltway.  Anyone who has ever driven in the DC area, knows that there is never anything fast about the beltway between 3pm and 7pm.  We prayed before we pulled off of our street for God to give us a clear path.  Guess what? He did!  We pulled into our parking spot at 6:12.  There was absolutely NO traffic.  It made no sense.  I think that Chad had our mouths hanging open the entire trip.  Go God!

I don’t want anyone to think it’s been stress-free and all grins and giggles.  The mad dash brought out the worst in all of us and we were all able to identify it.  While we were standing in line to check our baggage, Seth slapped his hands together, squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and said, “God, I’m pleading with you to make the devil stop attacking us.  Please, God!  I’m begging you to help us all get along.” Talk about conviction!

We got through security in less than 15 minutes (another act of God) and when we got to the gate, they rearranged our seats so that we were all able to sit together.

On the sleepless eight hour flight, I caught up on some movies and recalled just how many things I forgot to pack.  It looks like Seth will be wearing bright yellow Keens for the next three weeks.

We are now too exhausted to argue and too excited to even want to.

At this time tomorrow, we should be with Ana-Sophia.

A ninety minute flight.  A cab ride to our apartment.  A good night’s sleep.  A ministry appointment.  A drive to a little town about an hour south of Belgrade.  And the waiting will be over.