Your Prayers Are Healing

I feel your prayers. I dare say Anya does too, and Nastia. There is no accounting for waking up feeling peace, except that God is hearing your prayers and bringing us relief.

I want to thank everyone for not only their prayers, but for caring enough to send advice. Forgive me for not being able to respond to each suggestion. Most of them have already been attempted or looked into. Anya cannot remain here on her own, because she is not mentally stable enough to make the right choices for herself. She is incredibly vulnerable. For those of you suggesting she stay here under another's care, I want you to imagine Anya as a newborn, my newborn. She is that reliant on me. I cannot possibly leave her in the care of another. And this is not my trying to be a martyr. I am living with her. I know. I know like a mother knows.

Rosemary, can you imagine ever leaving your dear daughter anywhere without you? That same level of love and concern is what I feel for Anya. That is why I must stay. Please don't worry, or if you do, please do not share your fear with me, because it only serves to bring me down. I know my God is with me. I know He will find an answer, even if it is the one I do not want to hear -- moving here permanently. I am open to whatever God asks of me.

As to living in another country, we have been looking into that for over a year. It is a long difficult process, but it is one of our options. As to Anya applying for a tourist visa -- been there, done that. The US govt will not allow her to travel to the US on ANY kind of visa right now. We live in a very very upside down world. A world where a mother and child are forced to make painful choices every day in order to be together. A world where our govt is worried more about setting a precedent than it is concerned for the precious life of a battered and sick young girl. A world where a hundred different people could step forward to help us (you know who you are) but are unwilling. I pray you who have the power to fix this are never abandoned the way you have abandoned us. It is a terrible feeling to be abandoned.

Your comments lift me up and help me keep my head above water. I am grateful beyond words. I do ask that if possible, you keep your fears about our situation ( if you have them) to yourself right now, out of care for us. I'm barely keeping my head above water. I need uplifting and support, not a light shining on the fears that already loom in my heart. I hope you understand.

Please know that as sad as I am, I trust my God. I get up at 6am every morning and spend a full 90 minutes in prayer and meditation. I say the rosary, I say prayers to St Raphael and St Jude, John Bosco, and a host of other saints, I say the mass, I read scripture, I lay myself at God's feet and wait for His reply.

I do not doubt He will help us.  My fear and sorrow is just a side effect of being human. I do not truly fear being abandoned by Him. God has proven Himself utterly faithful. His love is so evident here in our family. I just wait on Him, and ask for your prayers to join with mine.

Heavy Heart

I'm not sure if I will leave ths post up for long, but I desperately need to share this now, as I feel so very alone. Anya continues to amaze me with her level of sharing, but I'm finding out why she is so open to telling us everything now. She thinks she is going to die.

I feel somewhat wary sharing this, but I know the facts will help all of you prayer warriors to pray that much more intensely. Anya told us that she actually almost succeeded in hanging herself not too long ago. What saved her? Her friend Katya serendipitously coming by in the middle of the night. Anya was unconscious and Katya called the police. Anya said she had the rope marks on her neck for weeks and weeks. She was taken to the hospital, but they let her out the next day. She promised Katya that she would do her best to not do it again, but now it seems Anya thinks this end is inevitable.

When we came here I told her I hoped to be hearing from someone in our govt very soon. It was true, and I needed to give her something to hold on to. Well, now that we are here going on 3 weeks, and no news from the US, she is convinced that it is never going to happen.  She just wants to enjoy every minute she has with us "until we have to go". I knew her openness was too good to be true. Her openness is her way of connecting with us in what she thinks are the last few months of her life.

I cannot tell you how deep in woe I am, because there are no words for it. I am sick with sorrow. Tonight the girls are in their old neighborhood  (where they were born) and I am here, alone, with time to grieve and pray.

If I weren't living this, I would not believe it.

A Very Boring Post About Nothing and Everything

I'm trusting you, my faithful friends and readers from afar! You keep telling me to write and that no post is too long, and write whatever is going on. Well, right now not much is going on, and that's fine with me!

I'm giving myself the Siberian version of a spa day...lol. I am holed up in the Internet cafe while the cold rain falls outside. I am drinking a coke and eating mushroom soup and awaiting a salad and am convinced nothing in the world could be better than this moment.

The girls are back at the apartment, sound asleep after an all-night cookingfest. Svetlana is busy teaching her students, all of Kemerovo is at work, and it is just me and 7 waitresses passing the time here at the Traveller's Cafe.

I hate posting without some photos, but hopefully you will forgive a post or two without them. This will be a kind of random post...typing up whatever comes to mind. Her are a few things:

OK, hate to admit it, I'm starting to settle in. Homesickness is at bay, and my eyes and heart are open for new experiences and new people to meet. It may just be the coke talking, but I think I am honestly happy today. Last night was a wonderful night of lying in bed listening to the girls laugh and laugh as they cooked french fries from scratch and some kind of soup.

Ok, I just saw what I *thought* was the first American of my trip. I just went over to introduce myself, but he is from Israel. Oh well, I tried. He spoke English at least! He's here visiting his girlfriend who is from Kemerovo. He was dressed like an American, so I thought I'd stick my neck out and say hi.

The National TV piece about us is set to air any day now. I'm hoping it will catch the attention of the US Embassy Moscow and someone, anyone, will try to help us. I've already decided, I cannot in good conscience leave here in December without Anya. I need a miracle. I REALLY need a miracle.

I've done everything asked of me and more, I'll followed every lead anyone has sent me or told me about, I've emailed hundreds upon hundreds of people, I've written my senators, my congressmen, my state dept, the USCIS, Hilary Clinton, The Consul General, my local state reps, the Governor of Kemerovo..and the list goes on ad infinitum. I've prayed my little heart out for 5 years, I've travelled over her every chance I've gotten to check on Anya,...heck, I'm LIVING here now! What else can I do but wait on my God?

It's such a simple problem: I have a daughter who needs me, my daughter has a sister who needs her. We wish to live a quiet life together in my home country of the USA. I have ample funds to care for her. She has nothing. She will die if we leave. She is sad enough and lost enough without us, that she has sought our acceptance of her killing herself if we leave. A simple problem deserves a simple answer, don't you think? America, let her in!

Where are the answers? God, I'm listening. My ear is to the ground, waiting for the sound of your feet rushing to our aid. Please come soon! Please! I'm asking and knocking and seeking. Please open a door!


Ok, stepping off soap box, moving on to eating the salad. Comments always welcomed with open arms!

This Is What I Breathe In Every Day

This is typical Kemerovo --this particular tract of factories is directly behind the building across the street. I can see those chimneys from my kitchen window. Nastia and I have constant runny noses and burning eyes. I cough up mucus at least once a day, and rinse off black junk from my face every morning and evening.

The lung cancer rate here is astronomical, but no one equates it with this pollution. Heads in the sand. I can smell the horrific stench emanating from the rubber factories every night.  (Well, someone told me that is what I am smelling.) And I have had to close the window more than once to keep from gagging.

I will never take clean air for granted again. God knows how much we are shortening our lives by breathing this in every day. I hope my otherwise healthy lungs will hold out till December 1st!

Our Apartment Building

I know that my mom, for one, has been worried about where we are living. No need. We are in the most upscale part of Kemerovo, though I hate to admit that. but I chose it because it is also the safest location, and that is important to me, and to my mom!

So here are some photos of our building, as requested. it's nice. if you've been to Kemerovo, you know we are very lucky to live on Vessenya Street. The first door in this photo is the one we use to get up to our apt.

Looking straight up, you can see our bedroom window. It is the top window in the middle column of windows...

If you stand at our front door and look to the left towards the entrance gate, this is the view...

And finally, the piece de resistance, here is our view out the back of the apt, towards the river and memorial. Those of you who have adopted from here will recognize this local landmark...

There always seem to be military people  practicing marching here, and today was no different. These are young girls learning how to march. If you look closely, you can see the poofy white signature hair ribbons on their head! The memorial is to the men lost in WWII. There is an eternal flame there, though you cant see it very well in this photo.

Hopefully this post will put my mom at ease. I know it's always easier to know exactly where your children are.

Pouring Her Heart Out

If anyone doubts the power of prayer, give them a few hours with me and my life and they will leave convinced. Case in point : Anya. It has been incredibly difficult to reach her, but today, after two days of shutting us out completely --today the floodgates began to open.

I can't share what she shared, but I will say that as terrible as I imagined her early life, it was far worse. Today she shared with both Nastia and me what happened to her from ages five to eleven. I don't think I've heard a more heartbreaking story in my whole life, and I thought what I knew about her life was bad enough. I can tell you a little part -- Anya lived alone in a tiny cottage with her father for ages 5 through 8, and he worked days and nights, so she was alone, sometimes for weeks at a stretch. Sometimes he would leave her with a few potatoes and leave for weeks in search of work.

She witnessed things in her early years that grown men should not witness. She also told me what Nastia's orphanage had told me -- the woman who took them in after their mom abandoned them beat them both so severely, they were both in the hospital for months. Like Nastia, she still has scars.

When her father got out of prison  a few years later, he went back to that neighbor and "paid her back" for her treatment of his girls.

Anya told me today that she wants a new life. She wants to leave Russia and never come back. She said she is done living the way she has, and she is willing to make any sacrifices she has to to make our family work. She cried, I cried, Nastia cried. Some of the things she shared were so shocking to Nastia she wouldn't translate them. Anya then had to explain in the simplest terms she could, along with some "charades" until I  understood.

I understand alot more now why she is so depressed.  She has seen more and experienced more trauma than even Nastia. She said she has never shared any of this with even Katya her best friend, but that she felt God prompting her to share with me, since I have asked her to for 5 years now. She said she was "tired of carrying it."

It was hours of sharing and crying, and now they are cuddled together in our bed, watching Glee in Russian and eating soup. I'm still in stun mode, but trying to adjust to all this new information.

Thanks to all who continue to pray for her healing....

Homesickness Rears Its' Ugly Head

I promised myself I would be as open and honest as possible in this blog. Sometimes it's tough, because I fear my honesty shows an ugly picture of who I am. I feel shamed admitting how homesick I am. It's like a disease. I don't want to feel this way, but the feeling keeps coming back, and it's sometimes debilitating.

The homesickness is worsened when Nastia and I are ill-treated. It just makes me miss the daily kindnesses we take for granted in America. Right now I am staring out my 4th floor window which overlooks the dumpsters to the most expensive residential building in all of Kemerovo. There is a parade of homeless  people that eat from these dumpsters every morning. I am tempted to run outside every morning and deliver them a hot breakfast, but as Nastia keeps telling me, " Mom, we cannot save all of Kemerovo. Remember who you came here for..."  And I hate to admit she's right.

Today I watched a very old woman try to hike herself over the side of the dumpster to get at the good stuff. She sat/stood in this dumpster for well over an hour picking out plastic bags and stuffing them in her pocket....choosing food that met her approval, and eating it....all while standing in a dumpster. Another man, encased in oil and soot, all black from god-knows-what  walked away with three bags of trash and a kitchen sink. I took photos . I'll post them later.

Nastia and I have sadly experienced our share of people going out of their way to be rude. Crossing a very busy street, we waited and waited for a chance to go. Finally a car stopped for us and the man waved us across -- until we were in front of his car. Then he lurched forward while leaning on the horn, which sent Nastia screaming, and he drove off laughing.

I don't even want to share the countless other stories we have like this, because #1, they are depressing and #2 they only serve to put this country in a bad light. I'm looking for goodness, I am. Svetlana has it is spades and I cannot even imagine being here without her help. But on the whole, people are wary, rude, abrasive and do not even want to acknowledge our presence. Neighbors included.

We comfort ourselves with tending to the homeless kitty population,  which seems to have its headquarters outside our building. We feed them scraps at night. They really are cute to watch. This is Nastia's #1 past time right now.

as for Anya, you may wonder why I have not said much about her. She is as well as is to be expected. she is struggling mightily to adapt to 'family' life. She does not understand about preparing for tomorrow -- only today. therefore, I am having to do what I did when Nastia came home -- only buying enough food for that day. If I try to buy for 2, 3 or 4 days at once, the food will be gone by morning. No amount of explaining will fix this. I've tried. The fear of going hungry is too deep.

She and Nastia have hit a wall this week, and are sending more time apart than together, but it is all part of the adjustment. I just try to have infinite patience with the process. I am slowly trying to introduce Anya to the concepts of sharing and also individual ownership. Also, slowly trying to get her to have better self-care habits ( teeth brushing, hair washing) but that is slow going at best. She is deeply depressed, and it is obvious. There is not much I can do but pray and love her, and hope I can find a great Russian-speaking therapist when we get back to the US.

guess that's enough for now. My toes are tired..lol. ( I have to stand tiptoe to reach any wifi out the window off the apt!)

Keep us in your prayers...

Great Kids/ Terrible Life

I am counting the hours till we return to the orphanage this Friday. It was so evident our 2 day visit  made a huge impact. I want to get back there as soon as possible. And this time we'll have three days with them! Three hours squished in a taxi with a chain-smoking, techno-blasting, speed-hound is actually worth it, as much as my heart was in my throat for the ride back last week.

But here are more photos of the kids. They speak for themselves. Although I do know the names of these children, I can't post them -- especially with this hosting program in the works. But next week I will be creating a private album on my facebook page where you can see photos and read bios on many of these children.  

My new friend Tammy from Project 431 and I hope to bring six of these children over for Christmas. Tnen, God willing, more in the summer. We have tentative approval from the local DOE and the Orphanage Director is beside herself with excitement. I'll ask tammy if I can post her contact info here if anyone is interested in hosting. For now, enjpy these other glimpses of these awesome, forgotten children...

The younger cuties

This boy above told me thank you at least a dozen times.

Sweetheart trying to sleep in a room full of noisy teenagers..

A-- and S--. I met them first 5 years ago. They are still here...

This is S--. He's been here forever too. I have him on video at four years old singing for me, in 2005.

This sweetie adored Nastia and followed her everywhere. She also loved her barbie so much, she clutched the packaging everywhere she went too!

They all need your thoughts and prayers. Print out their photos and post them in your house. Remember them. There are millions just like them, all over the world....

This Place I Love

A woman carries a loaf of bread home, near the orphanage.

Siberia -- take it or leave it -- is a place of luminous contrasts. Darkly magical, mysteriously primitive, yet still singularly beautiful. It is not a place that submits easily to pithy descriptions. It is a holy and blasphemous place at once.

Life here is lived 'at the pitch that is near madness', as one of my favorite poems so aptly puts it. You cannot live here and not be awake. Depressing? Yes. But hardly forgettable. It is a place of profound loss and, therefore, a place ripe for redemption.

And did I mention that I am in love with her?

Not the easy kind of love, but the kind that beats you down and grinds you in a crucible. The kind of love that transforms you because, well, it hurts. It is like that Shakespeare's sonnet, where he so perfectly describes the 'fever' that is his love. It is a fever. It burns. It hurts. And yet it also purges something in you.

Siberia, I love you.

I'm sure this confession must come as a surprise, after my week of moaning and homesickness, but those are just the birth pains. They go hand-in-hand with this journey-romance. What value can love truly have if there is not some honest suffering? God knows it. We tend to forget. But nothing transforms us and thrusts us forward like suffering does. Myself? I crave it like I crave sunlight in winter. I seek it, because I know what gifts it brings.

Our American world of quick fixes and fast answers and comfy couches and shiny new cars stands in stark contrast to the concept of suffering. We Americans not only, as a whole, detest personal suffering, we think of it as a long, lonely spiral in the wrong direction -- the direction we are not headed towards. But this is sadly so far from the truth. Suffering, true suffering of the heart and spirit, is a spiritual gift that catapults us into the arms of God.

Thank you, Russia, for sharing your pain with me. Thank you, Siberia, for the cold and luminous face you turn to me. Thank you, God-Of-All-That-Is, for counting me worthy of such a rare journey. I am grateful with each step up this steep hill.

My daughter, walking along the road of her childhood.

Move Over, George Jetson!

Ok, so you see I was NOT kidding about our new apartment! What do you think?

The wall behind the couch.

Our Front Door

"Gorgeous' accents throughout...how lucky are we?

This scary light fixture hangs over our bed. Nastia is terrified we will be impaled while we sleep...lol.

Nastia even matched the decor!

What a thoughtful designer...she didnt even forget to add elements to the ceiling!
This is hanging over our head near the pointy light fixture...

And there you have it! Anyone wanna visit?

Things I'm Getting Used To

I hope I'm not coming across as an American snob in these posts. I do love many things about Russia, and will always have a special place in my heart for her, because she is part of my daughter. But being in an environment that is soooo different from what I'm used to is difficult and fascinating at once. I don't want to seem like I am judging this place, but only comparing. We're used to what we're used to, right?

So here is my growing list of what I am slowly getting used to here in Siberia.  Some of it may seem like no big deal, but it is when you are thousands of miles away from home, ever little thing takes getting used to!


1. cold showers
2. brown faucet water
3. Wearing clothes until they are stiff with dirt (socks, especially!)
4. The sound of a hundred high heel shoes walking to the bus stop at 7am...click, click, click
5. Being freezing outside and sweating like you're in a sauna inside.
6. Not seeing people smile
7. Getting yelled at. Alot.
8. Taking my life into my hands when I cross the street.
9. NO personal space. ANYWHERE.
10. canned food.
11. walking everywhere (this is a GOOD thing!)
12. homeless people and beggars at every turn.
13. Washing soot off my face every night.

What I am NOT getting used to and probably never will:

1. Indoor smoking. I despise it like nothing else in the world.
2. emaciated homeless dogs....often travelling in packs in the park.
3. Coughing up brown mucus from the pollution here.

Tonight we move into our new ultra-modern-retro apt. Wish us luck getting our bags up 8 flights of stairs. I budgeted an extra hour for getting up there! I'll post photos of our place as soon as I can. Don't know when we'll have internet access there. There's no telling when you are relying on a Russian technician!

I'll leave you with Nastia's favorite photo, which she took in Prokopyevsk. it is a few cows waiting at a bus stop. Believe it or not, it's a common sight. I guess everyone wants to get out of the village once in a while...

We Have Digs!

Lease signed, first month's rent paid -- we finally have a safe convenient home in Kemerovo. God has a great sense of humor, because, let me tell you, this apartment has PERSONALITY.

Imagine the Jetsons moving to Siberia and you get an idea. Its a fourth floor walk-up apartment right by the river. It's very "high-end" for Kemerovo, and the owner was a 20-something wanna-be model with 8 inch stiletto heels, braces on her teeth, hair slicked back and nails a mile long. She was so proud of the apartment, and I had all I could to keep from laughing the whole time. It is painted neon yellow...and I DO mean neon. It has a tiny balcony, weird "tomorrowland" looking features right out of a 50s era movie about the future.

Things I like about it:

1. We can get cheap internet. 500 rubles a month.
2. It has a washing machine.
3. It is 4 floors up so I will get lots of exercise.
4. It is 4 floors up, so Nastia will get lots of exercise.
5. It is in a very safe, convenient area that I am familiar with.
6. It has a tub!
7. It has a pull-out couch so Anya can have her own space ( which she requested)
8. Heat included.
9. View of the river if you crane your neck to the left:)
10. Nastia loves it, bc it has a tv AND a swing and playground in the courtyard.


Although the decor and color may give me a headache, it also makes me laugh. It has giant plywood geometric shapes painted neon blue stuck to the walls, and a spiral thingy on the kitchen bar that leads up to the ceiling which holds glasses. The couch looks like something out of a cartoon -- and it is upholstered in wall to wall carpeting!

Even have a shag white rug to seal the deal. So funny....

PS: If you want to write us, send me an email and I'll give you our mailing address. We are right on Vesennaya street, for those of you who know Kemerovo!

What I DON'T want you to know...lol

Ok, time for a breather.  Time to show you my sense of humor is still intact. At my summer theatre program, we do an activity called actor/audience where we share what we truly do not want others to know about ourselves.  This is my light-hearted take on that. Here are some things from this trip that I honestly don't want you to know, but am sharing just because I have a very 'what the h*ll' attitude this morning.

What I don't want you to know about this trip is:

~ After sleeping in a cockroach infested room at the orphanage, where I picked them off me like flies all night,  I found one yesterday still stuck in my hair ( dead of course.)

~ After finding myself in a particular Russian bathroom that-shall-not-named without toilet paper once again, and NOT wanting to do the shaky-dance again, I used a scarf I had around my neck and then stuck it in a plastic bag to wash later. OK, now you can tell me how disgusting I am.

~Nastia and I both experienced bad runny noses while in Prokopievsk , which has the distinct label of being the most polluted city in the world. We were without tissues out for a walk, so Nastia taught me the Russian way of blowing your nose without tissues. We were both disgusted by the black boogers that came out! Thank you, coal dust.

~ My current diet consists of green apples, nutella, coke, water, rye bread and butter. I don't think this is very healthy, but I'll be damned before I eat another piece of sausage or another bowl of soup.

~ I hide food in my drawer by my bed so Anya doesn't eat it.I f I don't, I will go hungry. Nastia does the same.

~The sheets on my and Nastia's bed at the hotel have blood stains on them, and they are not from us or Anya. GROSS.

~ I sometimes pretend I do not understand Russian simply to get out of dealing with some people. What kind of person am I???

~ I have learned some swear words and mean phrases (thanks Anya) in Russian so I can scream that at the drunk men that come too close to try to get money from me.

~ I have actually let Nastia and Anya protect me from people with bad intentions and enjoyed it! Seeing them go off on someone in Russian gives me great joy. ( Sorry, just trying to be honest here!)

~ I have caught myself on more than one occasion closing my eyes so that I can pretend I am back home, and then I get mad when someone speaks in Russian and ruins my little game...

~I have gotten used to brushing my teeth with brown water and will not apologize for it:)

Any other people who've been to Siberia care to chime in?

A Star in the Face of the Sky

Fellow Elton John fans will recognize the post title right away. One of my all-time favorite EJ songs. It's always been a special song to me because first, I have a brother with this name, second, it was to be my name if I were a boy, third, it is the name of the person who probably understands me most in this world and then there's the last one....I always wanted a son named D--. The week before we left our home for Russia, I had a strange spiritual experience. I was praying the rosary and was experiencing a kind of ecstasy that I have only experience maybe three or four times before in my life. It was the feeling of God's love completely enveloping me. And as I experienced this bliss, I had a vivid vision appear in my mind. I was suddenly in the music room at Nastia's orphanage, and Jesus was there with a little boy with fair hair and light eyes. He nudged the boy towards me and said 'This is your son, D--.' Right then, the ecstasy stopped and I 'came to' and thought I had been dreaming. I let the experience go because I honestly didn't see myself adopting a boy. It just didn't fit into my plans.

Fast forward to the orphanage. We arrive and head inside, the camera people are in the hallway interviewing Nastia. I bring the bags into the music room in preparation. I am alone in there, until a little boy comes in and stands close enough to me to observe what I am doing. ' Privyet,' I say, 'Kak zavoot?' 'D--.' he answered hesitantly. It took a moment to register, but then the 'vision' suddenly came back to me and I found myself now sitting in the very spot on the floor that I had been in the vision. I honestly got scared, and instinctively disengaged emotionally. I did not want to fall in love with another child. But D-- had other plans. For the 2 days we were at the orphanage, He was my shadow. Didn't matter if I was outside walking with Nastia, inside in the girl's room, walking about taking photos, eating...wherever I went, there went D--. He stuck to me like glue, and was always staring up at my face with these big soulful eyes. When I would catch him staring, I would smile, and he would smile back and then shyly look away. The second day, all the children were at school. Nastia wanted to go visit and walk the halls and tell me about her classrooms and teachers. We made the uphill trek and entered the school quietly, walking around. She whispered that she wanted to talk to me about something. 'Mom? I keep thinking about that kid D--. I think he's supposed to be my brother, but I don't know why.' I had no spoken a word to her about him. This was completely out of the blue. As I stood there stunned, a door opened and a little boy ran out of his classroom and nearly knocked us over. It was D--.

Running into D-- in the school hallway

So, I don't have any answers for all these happenings. I leave it in God's hands, but have told Him that if He indeed wants me to be D's mother, that I say yes. I am not saying it is to be, only that I am fully open to God's desire for this little boy, whatever it may be. Who knows? But in the meantime, I pray for D-- and know I am at least meant to advocate for him. I honestly don't even know if he's available for adoption. D-- has FASD..all the obvious physical signs, and I know many of you that read my blog raise FASD children and will write me many warnings. All I can say is, if God says He is mine in the end, God will give me the strength and wisdom to raise another special needs child. He worked miracles with Nastia. Who's to say another miracle isn't on the horizon?

THANK YOU & More from the Orphanage

 I really needed those comments...can't thank you enough. Sometimes we need a reminder of our own strength and that all will be well. I did, and you provided it. Honestly cannot thank you enough! I feel like, aside from prayer, reading your comments is what is keeping me sane this week!

So, I could bore (or grieve) you with the details of today's nightmare, but what purpose would it serve? Instead, I'll fill you in on all I can about the few days at the orphanage. I know my subsequent visits there are what will keep me sane these long months. Here is how it started out:

We did not plan on tv cameras being there. In fact, I told the producer that I really did not want them to follow us there, but they were granted permission from the local Dept of Education, and so they came. She also told me I could speak about adoption, and that is always a good thing.

Nastia and Anya were angry about the tv coverage, especially when it ended up being three different stations instead of just Channel One Russia. But they were fairly polite on camera -- the best I could hope for from two girls who have had cameras stuck in their faces for 5 years now, on and off.

But thankfully, the media was there for only about an hour, and then - joy of joys-  we were alone with the children!!! Here are a few photos of giving out the toys. I had purchased a gift for every one of the 100 children. None of them had ever received a toy, and they were, well, pretty much in shock.

L-- shows her barbie to her caretaker.

I wish I could share the experience first hand with you, of seeing those faces light up when they received their gifts. I tried to give each child a choice between two toys, but that proved too overwhelming for them. I would ask, which doll would you like? Or, which car? And a look of terror would appear on each face -- the choice was too overwhelming for them. One little blonde-haired boy looked back and forth between two cars, rapidly and then started crying  'I don't know! I don't know!' and ran away. I had to go after him and coax him back into the room. I eventually chose for him, the nicest red matchbox sports car I could find. He was still clutching it tight to his chest when I visited his group the next day!

Giving out the toys to the youngest boys

Also want to mention that the reason the children look so well dressed (compared to past visits) is because they were prepared for the media. I've never seen the place look so great! They even borrowed rugs from god-knows-where, which Nastia found very funny. She also thought it was a riot that all the caretakers were dressed in something other than a housecoat AND were wearing make-up! But who would blame them?

After the hour or so of gift-giving, the director ushered us into the kitchen for lunch:

Anya, Katya, Nastia and Svetlana eating fish soup.

After lunch, Nadezhda (the director) interrogated us about America for what seemed like an eternity. She does this every time I come. She is fascinated by a place she cannot even imagine, except from impressions she gets from American movies. I finally extricated us so we could say goodbye to Svetlana and Katya, and go visit with the children.

Saying goodbye to Svetlana

Nastia was adamant I see the forest where she used to play. I had never seen it on earlier visits. So Danil appointed himself our chaperone and guide and walked us into the woods, being sure to run ahead and hold branches out of my way:

Nastia up ahead, and D--, my shadow, waiting for me...

I will post more tonight about the visit, but this post is already too long!

Anyone Out There?

I'm sure I am just suffering from a combination of homesickness and culture shock, but I would really love to  hear from more of you. I have checked my statcounter each night and there are between 1500 and 3,000 visitors a day, but only about 3 or 4 comments. What gives? I usually donut even think about visitors and page loads and counters, but I'm so out of my element here, and so overwhelmed by the bureaucracy that keeps me stuck here, and the loneliness of being away from all that is familiar...I find myself checking this blog 3-4 times a day to see if there are comments -- something to hold on to. When there is one, I am overjoyed! It is like getting a letter from an old friend. When there isn't one, I feel crest-fallen.

Hope more of you comment, however briefly, after you read in the coming weeks. I could really use the
support!


Much Love, A very exhausted, overwhelmed and homesick Keri.

Orphanage Visit

We are back from the orphanage, but I am honestly too tired to post the details yet! I'll add a few photos and call it a night. I promise to post details in the next 12 hours! Just need some sleep first!

In their sunday best - little ones loving on their new dolls!

Nastia & Anya pass out gifts to the boys

Even older girls loved getting a doll...

Meet my shadow. Daniel followed me everywhere for 2 days. I think I'm in Love.

Local Amusement Park

This afternoon we finally talked Anya into leaving the hotel. 

We headed to the amusement park down the street...

They loved goofing around with the painted scenes....

Then we stumbled upon an open air theatre. 

Future venue for Rebel Shakespeare - Near East Contingency?

Although much of the park seemed to have been abandoned to the elements for years, it made for some interesting architectural finds. I could see an Anthropologie or Free People catalog shoot here...

Anya talked (dared) Nastia to go on this ride. I begged her not to ( I know my daughter and her fears) but she wanted to prove herself brave and went on...one minute into the ride she was screaming so

loud I had to demand them to stop the ride. The ride attendant was not happy...

As you leave the park, you can catch sight of the locally famous 'Kuzbass" sign,

 up in the hills, across the river...

So there's a little taste of Siberian entertainment for you.

Breaching The Wall

Out for a walk this morning.

The girls are out food shopping. It's incredibly quiet. Don't know if I like that. It's much easier to cope with being here when I am caught up in referee-ing sibling arguments, fighting loud music with my parental super powers and shushing my chatty Nastia, who craves her sister's attention with all she's got. In the quiet, the question marks take form and beg for answers I do not have.

Anya is depressed. She sleeps about 16 hours a day and there is no waking her from this stupor. She wants to deal with waking life in very short bursts that must be occupied with busy-ness or else she retreats into a silent prison she will not let us in, or she simply waltzes out the door to get away from the sound of her own thoughts. I'm sure she is battling insomnia as well. I know it's not just depression. But her obvious distaste for being awake can't just be a teenager's penchant for pillow-time. When awake, she has this hungry need for phone, computer, tv, -- anything to distract her. She does not want to talk. She wants to retreat from any human contact. It's so heart-breaking to watch her little sister try to break through this wall. She has such hope.

Today was to be a 'family' day. We had plans to walk the city and take photos, and simply enjoy the 'nice' weather before it gets rainy and even colder. We tried to wake her up. I mean really tried. We used all the measures we could think of, but there was just no getting her out of that bed. Nastia and I finally went off alone. We met Svetlana to look at the apartments to the south of the theatre. We travelled several bus stops on a sad soviet-era bus covered in gray dirt, filled with gray faced people who just stared at us. Svetlana is like a gigantic light in this place. She is so kind, open, sweet and big-hearted that she stands out like a lighthouse amidst the gray fog of ambivalence and resignation.

We arrived at the apartment only to find the agent once again not there. A call was made, a tired voice answered. We were told once again that there has been a mistake and we must come at a different time. Have I mentioned this is the third time she has stood us up? Such is Russia.

We travelled back to the center, parting ways with Svetlana at the bus stop and travelling on our own back to the drama theatre, the relative heart of the city. Nastia prided herself with being 'in charge'.

The bookstore in Kemerovo.

'Well, mom, you really don't know the language that well, so you need me to navigate....' I love seeing the pride my daughter has here in her Russian heritage. She loves knowing more than I, she comes out of her shell more readily. She engages perfect strangers in conversation, and for the first time in my life I saw her proud of her history. While in the bookstore, she engaged the cashier in conversation. In Russian she said " These books we are buying are for the Detsky Dom. I'm an American, but I used to live there, but now I live in America with my mom. This is my mom." She was so confident and so poised and stood ready to answer the inevitable question that followed with a smile on her face.

Did she like America? yes. Did she miss Russia? Sometimes? Could she speak English? Yes, very well. Why was she back in Russia? To visit her sister. And then began the complicated explanation of why her sister was here and she in America. She didn't flinch. She seemed proud to share. I was in awe.

There are many gifts like this in being here. These little moments are the ones I live for. It's lonely here, and depressing, but like my friend Laurie reminded me, we are here to share our light. I need to remember that. My daughter is learning that faster than I am. God bless her.

I look forward to tomorrow's trek to the orphanage. I know the joy I will find there, and I'm craving it. I may not be able to blog from there, but I will try. Keep us in your prayers.

Ok, I Hear You...

So my posts have been a bit 'heavy' lately. Please forgive me, those of you I have offended. I am truly sorry. The harsh reality of life here makes it hard to be light-hearted. I'm finding my way. I'll get there.  But to show you I still see the humor, too, here are a few observations of Russian life here in Siberia.

~ It is close to zero tonight and yet there is a group of men drinking beer and singing outside my window right now. Their jackets are unzipped and they hold these beers in UNGLOVED hands!

~I saw no less than five newly married couples getting their photos taken by the big soviet Memorial downtown today. One group's bridesmaids had thigh-high neon pink fake leather boots, fishnet stockings and poofy neon pink mini-dresses that matched! Their "limo", if you could call it that, was wrapped in neon pink ribbons and fake plastic flowers!

~I get stared at everywhere I go, but I can't figure out if it is A) my birkenstocks B) my very American looking winter jacket C) my lack of 6 inch high heels or D) My speaking English. Any guesses? I might just ask the next person who stares..

~Anya still has the CUTEST English mistakes that I don't want to correct her on! She still says "bless you" when she sneezed, coughs o burps...as she heard me say it when she sneezed once. SO cute.

~The girls are already fighting over clothes and I LOVE it. A taste of normal sibling rivalry in an otherwise absurd existence

~What is it with Russians and sweeping? It is below freezing and still everyone is out in front of their apartment of place of business sweeping away the dirt!

OK, time for bed. Getting up at 8am to go look at an apartment. ( who shows an apartment at 8am on a Sunday morning???)

I Thank God

I thank God for asking me to travel to this place. I asked Him to let my heart break with the things that break His heart, and He is answering that prayer. I can only survive this sorrow by clinging to Him -- another gift from God. To say that life here is hard is an understatement of massive proportions. The number of homeless, especially elderly homeless, is sickening. How do they keep warm when I am freezing in my below freezing Northface winter jacket? I can only imagine the daily death count due to cold here. cold alone is killing people.

Today while we filmed the tv piece on the girls, we walked through a park and encountered so many homeless dogs, you would have thought it was a dogpark in the  States. Tons of them...injured, dirty, scared, hungry, ribs visible. Nastia wanted to take every one of them home.

There are 22 orphanages in Kemerovo alone. Anya's former orphanages housed 400 children. Nastia's houses 100. Even the best orphanages cannot afford the number of caretakers truly needed to give these children even  a semblance of normal life.  The directors of the orphanage make the equivalent of $60 per month. I make more than that a day.

And I am only reporting from one small city in one suffering country. There are thousands more just like it!

Enough already. Enough with America living in its selfish stupor. Wake up!

WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!

WE ARE NOT ALONE ON THIS PLANET. Our brothers and sisters are suffering because of OUR inattention, OUR gluttony, OUR self-serving. WE ARE THE PROBLEM. If you don't realize this, you are in great denial and I can only hope God opens your heart and eyes before it's too late.

This world will go on and on as it is, crumbling into oblivion and taking millions of lives with it, if we privileged few do not PUT DOWN our phones, our  designer bags and our ignorance. If we do not stop self-medicating with booze and drugs and television and shopping and all the other things that lull us into a state of numbness. My heart hurts so much. But I'm grateful it hurts. I WANT it to hurt because that tells me I am awake to the truth. If your heart does not hurt, you are OUT OF TOUCH.

God, my prayer is that you will keep waking people up, as you have graciously chosen to open my eyes. I see You working in so many lives, calling others to be your hands and feet in this world. But there need to be ARMIES of compassionate people, battalions of caretakers. Call them! Wake them. I beg you!

I'm not judging, I'm one of them...

I feel sick thinking of the insular, self-indulgent, vapid world I just left. I'm not judging. I was and am a part of it. How easy it is to live our lives in the imagined peace of our tiny little worlds. How easy it is to forget the unimaginable suffering of so many people. We have music and tv and facebook and shopping and gossip and Hollywood and politics and a whole host of ridiculous causes to keep us occupied and oblivious to the raw and very real suffering of so many other human beings.

We can fool ourselves for an entire lifetime that it is 'not our problem' that we 'can't save the world' that we don't carry any responsibility for this mess. But I know that is a lie of Epic proportions. It IS our problem.  We do carry the responsibility. We just choose to turn a blind eye. We choose selfishness and self-pleasing and self-preservation and fool ourselves into believing it is "ok" every step of the way. It's not.  While we facebook chat and browse the internet for the 'newest' and 'coolest', while we pat ourselves on the back for letting that person cut us in traffic, while we warm our own hearts with thoughts of our own meritous behavior, a very different world lurks outside ours, and it needs our attention. It needs our LOVE.

I could mention the 146 million orphans again, but that leaves out the homeless, the sick, the mentally ill, the criminal, the captive, the lost...

Tonight I just can't bear the pain of this world. I wish more people cared...and not just in word, but in ACTION. Where are the heroes? Where are the compassionate armies of people who could be serving others, healing bodies and minds and hearts? How can people sit in their fancy homes and fancy cars knowing that their money could serve a higher purpose? How can so many people ignore so many needs?

I am as guilty as the next person and I hate myself for it. God, please help me to understand. Please remind me every day, every hour, every minute, that LOVE is a verb.

Love requires ACTION.

A Life Without Meaning

Imagine being abandoned as a toddler. Imagine you move into a neighbor's home with your little sister whom you carry around like a little mother. Imagine your sister almost dying and being rushed to a hospital you are not allowed to visit. Imagine the nights you spent missing her and wanting her back. Imagine the hundreds of times you must have asked about her and begged to see her. Imagine she is lost to you forever.

Imagine that you live in an area that is so impoverished that your neighbors have to share the care of you. You are so poor and neglected that you don't ever set foot in a school. No one registers you, no one bothers to see to your daily needs, nevermind your education. Imagine that for eight years you live like this -- being passed around and never knowing who will care for you. What kind of wall would you have built up around your heart?

Imagine now being ripped out of this emptiness, the only existence you have ever known. Imagine being placed in a sterile institution with hundreds of other orphaned children like you. Imagine the teasing about your inability to read or write properly. Imagine the nights you lie awake wondering where life is taking you. Imagine going to bed every night dreaming about your sister -- the only family you have.

This is a tiny taste of the life Anya lived before we found her. She entered the orphanage system at 11 and a half. In many ways, as depressing and cold as the orphanage is, it is a huge step up from what you've lived through until now. You savor having a bed each night, and food to eat every day. You pour your heart into studying, learning to read and write and add and subtract. You do as you're told, and then, after five years of this stability, you are out on your own again.

I watch Anya and I grieve at her inability to make good decisions for herself, grieve at her lack of understanding even basic human values, grieve at the gaping hole in her heart that is there for all to see, if they spend any time with her. Anya is handicapped. Not in the way we usually use the word -- but emotionally, spiritually and mentally she does not have what most of us do. She lacks the inner resources that most of us develop through our years of early nurturing. She is stunted in her emotional and mental growth in ways I do not think are fixable. She walks around like an empty shell looking to fill itself with ANYTHING.

I love this girl. I want to wrap her up in my arms and carry her back to her infancy and nurture her into a wholeness. I adore this child, but she is an adult and I am unable to reach across that void in between and fill it with what was kept from her. I would die for this girl, and yet she does not hold her life "at a pin's fee" as Shakespeare would say. She doesn't care for herself. She is in survival mode, just as Nastia was five years ago. But with Anya it feels so much more insurmountable, because she is an adult and in some ways feels too old to be parented.

When it is night and she is close to sleep, she will allow me to be that Mama she misses so. I can cuddle her and kiss her and she'll call me Mama. But in the light of day, the harsh reality of her current life burns away the softness around her heart. She calls me "Keri" then, and wants to  be fiercely independent and tries to mother me instead of the other way around.

I can't help feeling very sad tonight. Anya is out with her friend Katya, Nastia is asleep, and I feel an emptiness that is only compounded by the coldness of many of the people I must interact with. I have only ever felt homesick once before in my entire adult life. I was stranded in Dublin with a violent illness and wanted nothing more than my mom and a familiar room. But I am homesick again tonight, and am only admitting it because maybe it well help someone else some day. I am ashamed to be homesick, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray.

Anya just needs to come home with us. Plain and simple. Her life is utter emptiness here. She now drinks to numb the feelings of loss that are getting the better of her, and she is too ashamed to even share much of her life with Nastia. Tonight she had to go back to the shack she is staying in to retrieve some clothes. she utterly refused to let Nastia come along, and the first big sister-fight ensued.

" I'm your SISTER!" Nastia yelled at her. " You shouldn't hide ANYTHING from me!" She was crying.

" No, I cant let you see it. Be mad if you want to, but I am not taking you there. EVER." Was Anya's response, and she headed out into the night.

Nastia cried and rocked and rocked and cried and finally fell asleep, not allowing me to comfort her in any way. I pray and wait, for both my girls to let me in . Tomorrow the sun will rise as it always does, and a new day will open its arms to us all. I'll try again, to be the Mama they both need. I'll knock on the fortress-like door of their hearts, and stand in hope of an invitation in.

Getting the Hang of Iphoto

I didn't practice on Nastia's laptop before we left the US, so I am struggling to learn the 'Mac' way as I go. Photo retrieval is proving to be complicated, though I know it shouldn't be!  Anyway, after a full 45 minutes, I managed to upload this photo I took an hour ago. Nastia on the left, Anya in the middle, and Katya on the right. Yes, they are as exhausted as they look.....haha. Teenage girls do NOT like to sleep at night! But just try getting Anya out of bed before noon:)