March 12 - 16

The slim chance that our court date could be Friday did not work out. The signed papers from the SDA were indeed faxed to Kramatorsk, and perhaps the state attorney would have accepted them, but a criminal case took precedence, and the opportunity evaporated. So I won’t be back in time for Monday classes. I am sure my students are disappointed. Especially since I made up some grueling e-work for them to do. (How can I use that word ‘gruel’ twice in one blog? Is there a subconscious connection? Perhaps it is because my students are saying ‘Please, sir, I want some more.’)

Oh, well. Pam is not so sad. We decided to catch the next train down to Mariupol to see Sasha. It left at 4:19 am. It was a little awkward because some other passengers had decided that our berths were more convenient than their berths, so the cabin attendant had them move. They didn’t seem put out at all, but decided since they were now awake, they could chat the rest of the trip. Russian chatting is not like Muzak.

It was a rainy weekend in Mariupol. There was so much rain, in fact, that the taxi drivers could not see the potholes. Uuugh.

Sasha was happy to see us again. He gives us big hugs. He liked Pam’s pretty parasol, so we did made up our own version of the little men in tights dance you saw earlier if you’ve had the patience to read this blog in chronological order. (P.S. Pam asked if you knew Handy Blog Tip #312, that you could double click on any picture and see it full screen.)

I had found a 3-in-1 Lego train in Kyiv. Sasha was SO excited about it. He rapidly put all 79 pieces together, following the instructions for train variation #1, then more rapidly used his teeth to take it all apart, then more more rapidly put together variation #2, then more more more rapidly used his teeth to take it all apart, then … STOP. I thought that surely there is a more elegant way to take apart Legos, so we got out a nail file that somehow made it through airport security. But it was SLOW in comparison to teeth, so he went back to that amazing God-given Swiss army knife of a mouth.
The next day he made his own train, using all 79 pieces plus some spit. Here's a picture. At one point he thought a piece had fallen to the floor. He didn't realize I had already picked it up, and wanted me to search under every couch section. He found a few other treasures there, such as a pin for a bulletin board. He dutifully put that on the teacher's . . . (I know what you were thinking) ... desk.

I think we know most of the staff at the Priazova Hotel. It’s a pretty good setup, quite convenient to Sasha’s “Internat,” with a restaurant that let us chat with Alison for another 3 hours. She is a linguist and we really enjoy the way she crafts words and stories—and she enjoys people. The hotel also has wireless Internet. Here’s where I stayed up late cooking gruel. Tee hee.

Sunday morning we ended up at the Church of Christ Our Savior, an A-frame church right on the Sea of Azov. They had a young adult choir of about 40 voices that was very good, with piano, 4 violins, and soloists as well. We only understood 4 words. Still, it only took Pam 5 minutes of visiting afterwards to get ourselves invited to dinner. The fellowship of saints is indeed amazing, where there is no Jew or Greek, …

Alison and we went out walking. We had some photos printed at a hole-in-the wall computer specialist’s office. This means I set my laptop on a box so that his USB cable can reach my port. Then we share viruses. While the pics were printing we et omelettes in a restaurant in the basement that had no sign, so I don’t know how they attract customers.

Then we looked at clothes for the kids. We had a pencil drawing of their feet that we can use to help size shoes. Pam had visited a second hand store in Kramatorsk that was once a flight of stairs to a grander (in the Soviet sense of the term) building, but now was partitioned off into little stores and offices. You “step in” to the store, and then keep “stepping in” until you are at the upper back, then you back out. We bought a pair of jeans there that we thought would fit Sasha, but I think they’ll barely fit Valera. And then he’ll grow. I guess that’s what “raising boys” means.
You can't see it in the video clip, but there is a ball here that Valera is pitching up onto the green, or whacking out of a sandtrap, or launching through someone's window. I'm guessing you won't be inviting us over for a while.

Time to speed this up. We took the slow train back to Kramatorsk, arriving at 1:00 am. We got up at 5:30, because THIS IS OUR COURT day! We are SO excited!

We sat in the judge’s office, along with a stenographer, whose job is to make sure the computerized audio recordings are working well, the regional social work administrator, the orphanage legal specialist, the state attorney, and two jurists, who are selected from one of the local factories that have pre-identified pools of workers who can be spared for a day. It’s a good deal for them because they get paid for a whole day, even though our hearing took only an hour. The Mariupol regional social worker and orphanage legal specialist had written letters of support and asked to be represented in absentia.

After reading some relevant law and establishing basic stuff, the judge asked questions of us. For example, would we have adequate something-or-other to provide for these children. I didn’t quite get the translation—it could have been resources or ice cream. When Pam was asked how she felt about the children, she got kind of teary as she spoke of how dear they have already become to us, and the jurists, who looked like mothers to me, were with her 100%. Closed case. We are SOOO happy. Praise God!

We went to play some with Valera. He had found a length of semi-elastic cord, and was playing Spider-Malchik with it. I am certain he will know all the doctors in Seward on a first-name basis. Then we celebrated by eating at the nice restaurant (the one with funny English translations) across the street. Pam had the “tongue in a bug.” I decided not to include a picture, either of the food, or of what Pam did afterwards.

I’m writing this from an airport in Donetsk, preparing to fly to Kyiv, where I’ll stay part of a night with S. & O., then I’ll get on to Amsterdam, Minneapolis, Lincoln, and home. Kjersten and Adrienne, this means it’s time to clean the house.

One last thought. The judge read a letter written by Sasha that had three sentences: “I like them. I want to be adopted. I want to go to the USA. I like tongue in a bug.”