Thank God for Tindemax

A very sick Keri sleeping on the floor of Sheremetevo
airport Moscow.

I'm not sure if I posted on my blog about this yet, so forgive me if this is repetitive. Nastia,Bridget, Kim and I did not come home from Siberia alone. We brought critters with us. Little teeny tiny ones you can't see but wreak havoc on your system. Yes, Giardia.


I've had it before. Nastia had it most of her life before she came home to me. It's pretty much part and parcel of living in that part of the world. I won't disgust you with all the lovely details of what Giardia is and what it does, but suffice it to say it is NOT FUN and for some sufferers (like me) it means feeling like absolute crap and not leaving your house for many, many days. The good news is, there is a medication that has an almost 100% success rate in wiping out Giardia. It's not widely used in the US, but it was the only thing that worked for me back in 2005, and I begged my doctor to prescribe it again, so I wouldn't have to wait so long to feel better.


Great news. I got the prescription a few days ago and today is the very first day I've felt better since June 2nd! Thankfully I learned some other important health info in the process. I've been sleeping 18-20 hours every day since I got back and was very worried about what that level of exhaustion meant. Turns out it is simply anemia and a recurrence of EBV (Epstein-Barr). I didn't know you could get mono twice, but evidently you can....kind of. The EBV virus stays in your system for life, and some adults experience a recurrence in times of stress. Stress? What stress..lol?


Anyway, I'm just so relieved to know what's going on, and to know the best medicine for me is to learn how to de-stress, rest and take it easy. Lots of fluids, iron, B supplements...and I should feel better within a few weeks. God answers prayers in very surprising ways sometimes. I had been dealing with incredible stress from all corners of my life recently. It felt like I was being attacked from every angle. I could NOT catch a break. Stress begets stress, and so by the time I dragged myself into the doctor's office, I felt like I was on my deathbed! He explained that I really needed to find a way to not be stressed, because my body was not taking it well. He encouraged me to delegate jobs, rest ALOT and sleep whenever I felt the need to. Otherwise, he said, I could be battling this EBV thing for months.


So, I'm working very hard to take his advice. I'm delegating. I'm cutting away unneeded stress. I'm surrounding myself with helpful, loving friends. I'm working at a pace my body can handle, and I'm asking for help. It's working. Today is the first day in ages that I have felt remotely human. And I need to. I need to get better so I can get back on that path that will lead me back to Russia again.


So, thank you, God, for Tindemax and kindly doctors and friends (hello Caroline!) who go above and beyond to help me with my work. I'm grateful and looking forward to feeling better every day!

Things My Father Taught Me

"I talk and talk and talk, and I haven't taught people in 50 years what my father taught by example in one week." -- Mario Cuomo

I miss him, my Dad. He died six years ago this week. It was Father's Day, actually, and I had to mix my 'Happy Father's Day' Greeting with my 'goodbye' to him on the phone. He couldn't respond to me verbally, but I knew he was hearing every word, and I could easily fill in what he might say back anyway. My Dad was a talker, and he was giving advice till the last minute, even if I couldn't physically hear the words.

People tell you it gets easier as the years go by, dealing with the death of someone you love. And I guess in some way they might be right. But the missing them doesn't change much. I have felt cheated of these years without my Dad, mostly because I know he could have still been here if he had taken better care of himself. Sometimes I yell at him out loud still, when I'm going through a particularly hard time and he's not here to add his two cents. I know he doesn't mind.


My Dad was quite the character. When your Dad is as magnetic and well-loved as mine was, you have to share him with the world most of your life. But I liked that. I felt so proud to be his daughter. When I was young, if some adult I didn't know recognized me as his daughter, I felt like I could burst open from the pride of it. " You must be Bobby Cahill's Daughter"..I heard more often than not. I actually used to wonder what great selfless thing I must have done in another life to win the reward of being his daughter in this one.

But my Dad and I did not always get along. I don't want to paint a false rosy picture. There was hard times and times of not speaking to one another and, if I'm honest, even knock-down drag-out fights. We were alot a like. Others would back down from him when he raged. Me? I gave it right back to him. He didn't like that. I remember once in 7th grade my mom brought me up to his room for talking back. ( He was bed bound for awhile that year after open heart surgery.) My Dad got up out of his bed and asked me to apologize to my mom. I said no, and he slapped me. Most 13 year olds would cry in shame. Me? I slapped him back and ran. I ran, because I was smart enough to know my Dad was stronger than me even if he did have a torso-long new scar running down his middle. I ran and hid in my cousin's treehouse until I felt the storm had blown over.

In my childhood, I do remember wishing he were more nurturing at times. He wasn't one to hug or say " I love you' until I was an adult. But he was such an amazing Dad in so many other ways, I sometimes still can't believe I was lucky enough to have him. He was always bringing us on some sort of adventure or another. Like the times he would take us out of school for Opening Day for the Red Sox or for the premiere of a really great movie. Sometimes he would take me to work with him. I remember spending time at the State House with him, and feeling so very proud to be by his side. And catching lunch with his co-workers at a little pub nearby. I remember Mike Dukakis had a desk next to his and he cleared off a space for me to sit and write. I remember years later visiting my dad at the Salem Jail  (he was Sheriff) and getting to bring food trays to the prisoners. In some ways, I guess it was my first experience with volunteer work!


My father taught me so many valuable lessons that I honestly think I'd be handicapped without them. He was determined to prepare us for life. He never coddled, never comforted, but in his own way, he prepared me for this life better than any other father could have. He used to always remind me when I was whiny about some unfairness or other  'Of course it's unfair! LIFE is unfair.' Or sometime he'd say ' Life is hard, dahlin' - get used to it.' Might seem harsh to think of someone saying that to a ten year old, but his words have stood me in good stead for 46 years. I wouldn't trade them for anything.

I often wonder what my Dad would think of my life right now. I know he'd have alot to say about it. He always did. When I first brought Nastia home, He called me no less than five times a day 'What is she doing now? Write it down!' or 'What is she discovering today? Write it down!' My Dad was a writer, so he always wanted me writing everything down to save for later stories. I wish I had listened.

Dad, if you can hear me, I want you to know I miss you as much today as I did that Father's Day six years ago. I think about you every day and easily ask myself a dozen times a day 'What would Dad say about this?' I would give a million dollars to hear your voice again, and listen to your laugh. I can't wait to see you again, and dream of the day I can listen to all your stories again. Keep close, Dad. I need you these days. As you told me, life is hard, and lately its been harder than I'd wish for. Give me the strength to meet it the way you did -- head-on and with the courage of a soldier at arms. I love you, Dad. And I know how lucky I am:)

Love, your little girl.

Keeping The Faith, No Matter What

Anya communicating with us via ipad translator.

Sometimes it feels like you can't catch a break. We all have days like that. Sometimes I feel like I've had six years of that, when it comes to Anya. Last week, while I was in transit to coming home, someone emailed me and asked how I keep hoping for a miracle when all the signs point to no. I don't really have a practical answer to that, but it is true..I do still hope.


This week I came home to a weakening body, a suffering business, a non-existent bank account, and a pile of bills higher than the uncut grass in my overgrown yard. Normally I'd be a ball of anxiety over just one of these, but I'm choosing to have faith and keep walking forward. We all know it does no good to worry, but we fill our days with it anyhow. Of course I wish I weren't sick, and for certain I wish my business were doing better, but stressing over it will probably only make both things worse. I need to rest, pray, and do all I can do make things better. I can't change what's on my plate right now, but I do have control over my attitude about it.


God has shown me time and time again that He cares about the little things. He knows the state of my health, and my business. He sees my bank account. He knows the exact height of the weeds in my backyard jungle. If I put my trust in Him and do all that is in my actual power to help the situation, He promises that He will work everything out for my greater good. Sometimes suffering is part of the plan. Sometimes living in the unknowingness is what will teach us best.

Last night I awoke at 3am gasping for breath. I had been dreaming about D. He was being taken away from me forever, and I was reaching for him, screaming, as a ship pulled away with him on it. I woke up drenched in sweat and shaking all over. That is when my anxiety shows up -- at 3am when my conscious mind is asleep and my deep-seated worries find their way into my dreams. So I prayed. I sleep with my rosary beads ( they are my Grandmother's), so I take them out from under my pillow, and I begin the comforting litany of 'Hail Mary's and 'Glory Be's and soon my heart is at peace again.
I feel very sad of late, but not without hope. I always feel sad for the first few weeks home from Russia. The faces of the children haunt my waking as well as my sleeping life. I have trouble eating, thinking, and just plain functioning. Being sick is, in some ways, a welcome distraction: at least my body manifests how my heart feels.


I don't always share my intimate spiritual experiences, because I have a diverse reader base and I love that. Sometimes talking shop, spiritually speaking, can alienate people I have grown to love. But in this case, I'll make an exception. you can call me crazy if you like, I really don't mind. So... the other day, when I was praying my daily rosary for Anya, I received a very comforting and irrefutable word from above that Anya will be home someday. I was told to keep praying and keep trusting. Only minutes after finishing that prayer, I received a very hopeful email concerning Anya's situation. I'm not at liberty to share, but know that many people in a position to help are still working on this. For me, this email was simply a confirmation that what God had revealed to me was true...she will be home some day.


Who knows what good God is bringing about in the waiting. Look at Kirill's story, if you doubt that.


Today I am sick and sad and fairly pensive, but I am also hopeful. I know that my God is Love Incarnate and He is bringing His daughter Anya home to us in his infinitely perfect timing.

Building A Dream

Road from the orphanage into the village above.

Although I am still in the midst of an adoption and that, along with keeping my business afloat, is my priority right now, I can't help but spend a good few hours before falling asleep, dreaming of that little cottage in the village of Visotky, above the orphanage.

One of the homes close to the orphange.

If you've been reading my blog, you know this vision has been there for awhile, but I didn't exactly know what purpose it was to serve. it's becoming clearer. First, I want to share that I pray for wisdom and insight about this every day. Slowly, in prayer and through the inspiration of others, I am gaining the confidence to move forward.

One of the bigger homes, with beautiful window-work.

We now know that a decent house in that tiny village costs less than $2,000. That is a manageable fundraising goal for the next few months. We also know that the children at this orphanage need so much more than the orphanage staff can give them. They are desperate for everything from being taught basic life skills to job training to emotional support to all kinds of advocacy. And there is only so much one can do from here abroad. Having a home base there will solve so many problems.

My FAVORITE house in the village..an artist obviously lives here!

The purpose of the home can evolve, too. Perhaps first it functions only as a home base for volunteers who wish to go over for stretches of time. Maybe later it can offer a place for job training -- computers are new to the area and any kind of computer training will mean work for those trained! Perhaps further along, it can evolve into a half-way house for those aging out of the orphanage.

Further up the road that leads to the school.

No matter what initial form it takes, this home will first and foremost show all that 'we mean business.' We are not going away, we are not trying to put a band aid on a bleeding wound and then leave. We are not going to forget them once an adoption or two is finalized.

I told the Director about my idea and of course, once again, she thought I was crazy. Not crazy because I was naive..but crazy because, as she said,  'Why would you want to spend time here?' I told a select few kids about our "dream" of buying a house there, and they were beyond excited. I told them that it would take a great deal of planning and time.

Coal delivery! It's common to see big piles of coal in front of the homes.

So, please weigh in. Of course I know I need to get the 501c3 status first. And of course I know I need a business plan , etc. All these things have been in the works for awhile. But do tell me about any ideas that have been percolating in your own mind about this. What do you see? How do you see it working? Do you envision yourself being a part of it? Fill me in!

And in the meantime, for the sake of the children there, don't forget to vote for this blog, here-- if you haven't already. 

Happy Brainstorming!

Yes, someone lives here. Another reason we could be of help there.

Kirill -- Just One More Reason Why I Believe in a Loving God

This is Kirill and his brother Clayton. You probably know all about Kirill, especially if you've been reading my blog for more than a month. Actually, if you've been reading ANY Eastern European adoption blogs lately, you know Kirill's story. Kirill is not supposed to be home. Kirill was refused a family by a very backwards judge and the chances of getting that decision overturned were, well frankly, almost impossible. But Kirill had more prayer warriors than his family could even count. And in a nothing-short-of-a-miracle Russian supreme court hearing a few weeks ago, this horrid decision was overturned --- Kirill won the right to his family.


Of course all of you reading this know that Kirill and every other child in this world has the right to a family. Kirill shouldn't have had to wait, but in God's penchant for turning horrible situations into something out of a fairytale, Kirill's wait was turned into some mighty good. If you didn't know, Kirill's story went pretty viral when it was learned in the adoption community that he was denied adoption. Everyone blogged about it, everyone prayed, and soon  an adorable little boy in a remote Russian orphanage was on everyone's minds and hearts.


The word spread so quickly and so far (actress Patricia Heaton even taking up the cause) that Reece's Rainbow's site nearly crashed  (or DID crash, I think!) Word got out -- about Kirill. About Down Syndrome. About special needs children adoption in Russia. About adoption in general. About the type of parents we all should have -- Tesney and Greg who went to the ends of the earth more than once to bring their little boy home.


And so, in God's miraculous way, MORE good came out of that silly judge's decision than bad. One person whose mindset was so limited as to think a child like Kirill would be better off in an orphanage...this ONE person's wrong-minded decision ended up being one of the conduits that opened the flood gates for special needs adoption -- something none of us could have imagined.


How many more Down Syndrome or HIV+ or otherwise special needs children are being (or will be) adopted because of Kirill, we may never know. But God used him and his family and their pain for GOOD. That's what God can do -- take a seemingly tragic, hopeless situation and turn it on its head. I know that is what He is doing with my Anya, too.  I know a greater good is being served by our suffering. I may never know what it is, but I trust it. I know it. God is faithful and good ALL the time. Not some of the time or when its convenient or when it 'looks' likes He's helping us...but ALL.THE. TIME.


Thanks for the reminder Kirill. Love wins. LOVE WINS! In the end, love always wins.

A Message to YOU from the Orphanage Director

Blogger friends, you have been so generous. Over $1600 was donated by you this spring towards the 'art room' and 'clean water' funds. Then, close to $500 towards are overage charges for baggage. Can't possibly thank you enough. This was your trip, too, you know!

Anyway, when we arrived for the first day (with the chaperone) I told the Director and the Head Social Worker about all the funds donated and they were speechless. I told them what I hoped to do, and the Orphanage Director asked if she could show me something. She took me upstairs into two of the 'groupa' rooms. As you know, the orphanage is divided into 5 sections. Each has a bedroom and common room for about 20 children. She walked into two of the common rooms and pointed at the furniture, if you could call it that.


In one room, the two chairs were being held together by pieces of cardboard, and one was propped against the wall to keep the back from falling off. The couch was so beyond repair that the seats sunk down towards the floor and a large opening appeared where the back should meet the seat. It had bricks in the back to hold it steady. This was all the seating for one of the girls' groups.


She then took me into one of the boys' groups and it was the same story...only their chairs were completely gone because, as she said, they had fallen apart beyond repair. All 20 boys were using half a couch they had salvaged and the upholstery was ripped off. They were sitting on foam, and filthy foam at that. Then she asked me, 'Keri, I hate to ask, but if you could use that money to purchase new furniture for these two groups, I think the need is much greater, but I leave it up to you.'


Now I knew this was not my money and I did have a moment of anxiety. After all, I had said the money would go towards the art room I envisioned. But I realized quickly that the children preferred to wait for the art room and actually have places to sit to do work, watch tv, etc. They themselves said they'd rather have new furniture. And so I said yes. The responding 'HOOORAH!' was a riot. I guess it's the Russian equivalent of 'Yay!!!' or 'Yippee!'


If there is anyone of you who donated who is even remotely upset I chose to use the money for furniture without consulting you, I will not be offended in the LEAST if you ask for a refund. I did what I thought was best and had no way to consult any of you at the time! I have promised myself to take on an extra school job this winter and pay for the 'Art Room' project myself. I give you my word.

News spreads quickly that the furntiure truck has arrived.

In the meantime, enjoy photos of some of the furniture arriving. It may look ghastly to you (it does to me) but the kids were sooooo happy and the Director was very proud of her choices. She gave me the receipt from the store for my 'records', too. All in all, she got two gigantic couches with pull-out beds for the overnight caretakers, as well as matching chairs that would be delivered the next day. The couches were HUGE and they first brought them to the music room so I could photograph them. Enjoy!

First glimpse of the couches. Ghastly by our style standards, but VERY cool by Russian standards!

The teen boys helped move it all in by sections.

Here is the boys' couch. It also has a pullout bed !

Another shot of the boys' couch. They got matching chairs, too.

And an orange 'delight' for the girls' room! They LOVED it!
It is far bigger than this photo shows. Can easily seat a dozen people!

Blogger Woes...But Catching Up!

Sorry to worry some of you! We were so busy Saturday, I was unable to post and figured I'd post from Moscow on the way back. I tried posting from Moscow, but the connection wasn't strong enough and it wouldn't go through. Then we had NO internet in London due to the network being overused, and then I was so sleep-deprived Monday night when we arrived home, and yesterday, that I simply couldn't put my fingers on the keyboard for more than a minute. I slept pretty much all day and night yesterday...43 hours straight with no sleep will do that to anyone!

I'm rested now, and gathering my thoughts and will post all I can today and tomorrow. It was an eventful trip, that's for sure. SO much to report, and I have no idea how to share it all. Some of it I cant. I also cannot post as many photos as I used to. I can post a few, but not with any names. Hopefully you'll recognize kids. I need to go do some adoption stuff, but will be on in a few hours to post about the 2nd trip to the orphanage. For now, here's a photo of me with someone you may recognize!