Part One Family Connections
C.S. Lewis, who wrote over 70 books, including the Narnia series and Mere Christianity, once said, "I never actually made a book. It's rather like taking dictation. I was given things to say." I understand exactly what Lewis was talking about, because I too have been "given things to say." Everything I have recorded that has been of significance comes from God. For all the tripe, I take full ownership.
C.S. Lewis, who wrote over 70 books, including the Narnia series and Mere Christianity, once said, "I never actually made a book. It's rather like taking dictation. I was given things to say." I understand exactly what Lewis was talking about, because I too have been "given things to say." Everything I have recorded that has been of significance comes from God. For all the tripe, I take full ownership.
Why do I feel compelled to share my little stories? Because they point to God! God is the Author of my significant
stories! They draw me closer to Him, and ultimately to a place of overwhelming
peace and JOY, regardless of the daily challenges!
Many readers of my book, But the Greatest of These is Love have reported mopping tears as they read. The most commonly asked question is
about Liana, Roma's sister, age 17 at the time of Roma's adoption 13 years ago.
Are we in contact with her?, they eagerly ask. I have always been sorry I have to say no.
In Roma's "profile" (his life summary prepared for
prospective adoptive parents) I first learned of Liana. Roma, seven at the
time, had a younger brother, Rostilav, age two, and an older sister, Liana, age
seventeen. How could anyone split up a family? He was a "social
orphan," meaning he had at least one parent living. The paper trail of
Rostilav had ended abruptly before we began our adoption search. Our case worker speculated
that he had been adopted because of his young age. Most adoptive parents choose
children under five. Once over five, most children are never adopted.
I was profoundly sad when learning of Liana. I cried when writing about her, and every time I read
the book again, I cry again. And yes, I have reread many times. When I hear from a
reader saying, "I am on page — and I have laughed and cried." I pick
up a copy that is always nearby and start reading at that page to see what has triggered
emotion. I get caught up in the story and keep reading, laughing, and crying, like
I haven't read it before, like I didn't LIVE it, like I don't know how the
story ends! And, as a matter of fact, I don't
know how the story will end. It is ongoing. It continues to be a good story. It
is God's story, so I will not diminish
it with false humility.
The powers-that-be did
have the authority to split up a family. Liana was not eligible for adoption. Rostilav
was already adopted, and Roma was on adoption parade, being displayed, by way
of his circulating profile, for international adoption. Although I was fighting
God about His idea of adoption, He had made His Will unmistakably clear. We
were taking a small step toward that end by hosting Roma when he was part of a
group of five children, ages seven to twelve, who were flown to American
for a five day visit. All Sacred Indicators pointed to this little boy. A few
short, hectic months later, God led us to Russia to bring Roma home.
Upon our return home, we gradually went through the mountain
of paperwork requiring our attention. One was a translation of the official document
Liana had signed releasing him to what she hoped would be a better life than
what she could give him. She was not yet 18, shy just five weeks. She had no
rights to contest the adoption; her signature was a formality. We were later
told that had she been 18, she would have had rights to custodial guardianship.
With guardianship of a minor brother, she would have been granted government
aid and an apartment. I wondered. . . had the accelerated schedule to adopt been a calculated plan. We filed papers in
late January. Six weeks later, we had a court date. A month after that, we
found ourselves, deer-in-the-headlights panicked, on a plane, bound for Russia.
On the return trip, nine days later, we had our new son in tow. Waiting parents
before us had waited a year, or longer, and had been required to make two, and
sometimes three trips, some trips lasting several weeks.
In the past 13 years, I have never forgotten Liana. Always
in the shadows of my imagination was a teenage girl who had lost her family. I got
to know Liana through Roma's stories of her. He talked about her as if we knew
her, and pretty soon we did! He told us she was beautiful and she told him funny
stories. She visited him at the orphanage with gifts of candy. I was always touched
by this gentle act, but Roma was always reminded how miffed he was that the
caregivers insisted that he share his treasured gift with the other eager children.
Liana was only six weeks younger than my tender-hearted daughter,
Kellie. I am thankful that God put Roma into a home with three older siblings, and especially an older sister who had
not yet left for college, who is beautiful, who doted on him, who read him
stories and played games with him, and gave him candy. Not a substitute for
Liana, but a reminder from a Loving God who provides for our needs.
For the first three years, home visits were required and
paperwork sent back to Russia, to document Roma's well-being. I requested, at every home
visit, that the officials in Russia please get word to Liana that Roma was
loved and thriving. I watched as the social worker wrote the request in her
notes, every three months, as she pronounced that Roma was bonding well and in
good health.
A few years ago, I registered with several adoption groups
whose purpose is to find family members lost through adoption. Separating
children from their families causes trauma. I worried about Liana, as well as
Roma. Some children never recover. We
had been so naive at the beginning. We believed we could love Roma enough for
any pain of lost family to heal. Roma seemed to be thriving. He is, by nature,
a happy-go-lucky child. He was distracted with many activities of his own
choosing. He seemed eager to embrace his new life. Roma appeared to be ready to close the heavy door on the previous chapter of his past. I, on the other hand, was
unable to shut that door completely.
As he grew, he didn't want to talk about Liana anymore, and
didn't want me to mention her name either. Was it too painful?
"Mom," Roma would try to comfort me in Roma's
blunt manner. "She is probably dead."
Is this how Roma dealt with his
loss? Of course it could be true, but his effort to forget Liana was to wipe
her out completely? He couldn't conceive that his sister could be somewhere
"over there," continuing life, maybe even having fun, without him!
He turned 18, then 19. Roma is 20 now. Life happens fast. It
is unbelievable that he has been my son for almost 13 years! Liana knew him for
only seven. Is he mature enough to deal with what might be an emotional
experience? How can they even communicate? He doesn't remember Russian, and it
was doubtful Liana, now 30, knows English.
Does she have a family? Does she ever wonder about Roma? Does
she think about us as much as I think about her?
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