May 1 - June 12, 2009

"Your tools are my tools." Are tools vices? No, vices are tools. The boys have a limitless desire to use my tools. After learning how to say "Mama" and "Papa" I taught them "very, very dangerous." They are now quite skilled and reasonably careful with hammers, screwdrivers, clamps, hand saws, drills, miter boxes, levels, hydraulic jacks, Dremel tools, jackhammers, and 6-ton wrecking balls. Of course they like Legos, but they also like to help me with projects at home. Together we replaced a door handle, painted part of the house, and installed new window shades and brackets for a curtain. We disassembled a car dashboard, to fix the radio, changed the oil in the car, and disassembled the car door, to fix a broken lock. I used to have a lot of scrap wood. Now I have a lot of scrap connected to others crap. So far they have created toy airplanes, a skateboard, a chair, and a hammock. I could tell you I've seen them swinging from the ceiling, but you wouldn't believe me. Believe me.

Jonathan needs a haircut, or a makeover.

Sasha wants a bowl cut, if anything.

The boys speak to each other in Russglish. This means we can play language games! For example, a sandwich in German and in Russian sounds like "butterbrot." (Be sure to roll your r's.) At lunch one day, Sasha proclaimed that the last piece of bread on one loaf looked like a boat. I called it a butterboat. Sasha got it. Did you? Likewise, English words are now Russified and conjugated. Instead of us saying, "Wash your hands, and stop giving your beans to the dog" the boys police each other: "Vash your gands, e no beansu dogu!"

















Well, we had our first visit to the hospital last Friday evening :( Jonathan fell off the playground equipment and had a long deep gash on his head. I carried him home, Pam and our nurse neighbor Heidi cleaned him up a bit, then we took him in. He was brave, but I think the sight of a needle will cause him to recoil now. They gave him a nice green stuffed animal to distract him, and we used it to sing silly songs like: “Five little monsters jumping on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head. Momma called the called the doctor and the doctor said, 'No more monsters jumping on the bed!'” (Count down and repeat, louder each time. The last time should be ear-piercing.) It took 12 stitches to pull together a 6 cm cut. By the end he was smiling again, and the nurse said he would be a charmer. He told each one “Thank you” before we left. So the next day they sent him a satisfaction survey. As soon as we got home he had to tell Sasha all about it. Although I'm not sure what all he said, it sounded very dramatic, like he should be honored with a Soviet medal. Then they took their first shower. I know what you’re thinking. Not true--they have had baths.







We learned from Orest that Sasha remembers days when he and his grandfather went fishing together. Once Sasha saw pictures of lobster and crab and said, “Yummy!” We asked how he knew those foods, and he said his grandfather brought them. We shared these stories with Pam’s parents. They wish to honor those memories, so they gave fishing poles to the boys. They tested the poles at home and caught tree branches. Our neighbors have frogs in a small pond. They have not caught the frogs--yet. I decided long ago that fishing is for the flies. I am as dumb as a walleye about good fishing spots or techniques, so I asked Ivan and Ekaterina to call us next time they went fishing. Memorial Day weekend was wonderfully warm, and we went to a picnic at a nearby lake with the Tereshchenko family. We had shashlik and torts too and we went swimming in the lake, which was fun. Each also caught their first fish, small little white perch. They carried their poles with the fish dangling from the end of the line for 10 minutes, showing everyone their catches. They take awhile to clean, so I’m glad they didn’t catch more!

One Sunday in May, after church services in Seward, I brought Sasha and Valera to Inna’s church in Lincoln. This is one of several churches in Lincoln where Russian-speaking people meet to worship. The people are very gracious, and we know a good number of them already, having attended quite a few weddings and other events over the years. I wanted the boys to know about these friends. It is also important for them not to lose their ability to speak and hear adult Russian. The service began with beautiful singing by Inna and two other girls. Inna's husband Ivan controlled the music and video electronics. Sasha is a good reader even now, so he sang with everyone. Valera likes to sing also, but mostly he likes to make us laugh. He smiles all the time. After the singing, the younger children move to the basement for classes while the pastor speaks with the adults. Sasha is not shy—he went right down and joined a class of students he had never met before. Valera went for a little while, then came back and stayed with me. Afterwards we went to a Russian grocery store, owned by one of the members, and the boys loaded up on pelmeni, caviar, and stale KGB truth serum--for their dad.

The boys are very athletic. Sasha can do handsprings and gymnastic jumps. Valera dances well also, as we saw him perform at the Detsky Dom in Kramatorsk for International Women’s Day. The boys love to ride scooters in our driveway, and sometimes on Concordia's campus--when there aren't many students around. Our neighbor Anna, who is 7, likes having friends to play with. She's great with them, and shares her smaller bike. I didn't get to teach Sasha how to ride. Dolores said Anna explained it once, he put on a helmet and rode away. So now they beg for bikes. We are trying to use bicycles as an incentive for them to save money, obey rules, know our address, and pay our taxes.





















Pam takes the boys to the library every week for new books. We're doing a lot of board books. Pam likes contests, so they are now entered in the Seward Library Summer Book Reading contest. How much credit should they get for "Fire, fire, said Mrs, McGwire," "It's Pajama Time" and "Oops?"

This week they went to Vacation Bible School at St. John in the mornings. There were 150 kids in groups of 30, but with Pam attending to Jonathan and either Kjersten or Adrienne attending to Sasha, it worked out pretty well, and I got to hear all about Gizmo the robot and crafts and snacks and how big Jimmy Juergensen is compared to Sasha and how eating popcorn can remind us of the Transfiguration of Christ.

On June 15th we will take Kjersten to Atlanta, where she will start a 3 1/2 year graduate program in architecture. We will all go, taking two cars and leaving one. It is hard to have Kjersten so far from home for so long, but we are thankful for all the good experiences we've shared so far, and look forward to many more. The boys got on their knees and begged her to stay. This will be their first car trip of more than 45 minutes. 30+ hours. Should be an adventure!

April 7 - April 30

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! I John 3:1

Saying "Goodbye" to friends and constant companions from the orphanages.

Wow! We have had Sasha and Valera at home now for 3 weeks. What all has happened and how are they doing?

Andy and Masha, our facilitator, after the judge approved our petition to adopt!

Alexander Paul and Jonathan Valera reunited after being separated for two years.

Well, a century ago (actually, just a month ago) I was working hard to get the house ready for two new boys. I moved Kjersten’s bed and related bugs downstairs, and dragged a full-size bed up. No one was home to see me do this, so you just have to trust that I didn’t get another hernia. Beth Pester and friends had collected some clothes and toys, and she came over with 4-year-old Tara and did an extreme makeover. That was so great!

Meanwhile, Valera was battling a tough illness. For 3 days he didn't eat anything and had a fever. He's in the 5th percentile of weight for his age, so he didn't have a lot to fight with. Most importantly, the members of Christ Church as well as many friends and family here prayed for him, and we are so thankful for his recovery. Pam wasn't sure he would be ready for a 24-hour journey on Monday, filled with taxi rides and terminal lines and long flights and time changes, which is hard on healthy people, but he really perked up later Sunday and Monday he was his usual happy self.

I met Adrienne, Rachel, Pam, and the boys at the Omaha airport about 9:30 pm. The boys were wearing flight goggles, so I didn’t recognize them. (Не правда!). They had so much to tell me: how much they loved flying, and drinking Coca Cola, and eating airplane food, and getting bowled over by the terminal rush of people oblivious to pint-sized kids at JFK, and how Sasha only threw up once, but that it was okay, because it ended up on the seat of someone who was complaining about the rhythmic tapping on the back of his seat.

After a sleepy drive back to Seward, Nienke couldn’t believe her doggy eyes that Mom actually came home again after a 6 week absence. Nor could Nienke believe her doggy brain that we were about to change her life. Let’s put it this way—she no longer begs for treats or attention from me. The boys loved their new room and all the toys and love that Beth had put in it.

They woke up to a warm spring day, and quickly discovered Adrienne’s old scooter (along with Kara Einspahr’s, who was graciously willing to give hers up if her parents would buy her a jeep). We share a long driveway with Dolores, so you would think they could safely scooter away the day. Not quite so. Speed, challenging turns, and trick riding are all highly valued. We are on our second box of bandaids.

They discovered we have a soft-sided waterbed. As I said above, Valera is a lightweight--he weighs about 42 pounds if he’s wearing 2 pounds of clothing--so I can easily flip him head over heals onto the bed, and it makes him giggle and the dog go crazy. Sasha requires that I do the same for him. I still have not had another hernia.

I have given up noon basketball so I can come home for lunch. It’s fun, because they run to greet me and tell me all about the new experiences they had that day with Mom: “Папа! Папа! Я супермалчик! Мама машина банк и пошта и магазин и библіотек и парк!” I wish I had subtitles. That one was “Papa! Papa! I am super boy! Mama took us in the car and we went to the bank and the post office and the store and the library and the park.” Anyway, I think I’d rather hear this than “Air ball. Air ball.”

How do we teach English? We’re trying the “Triangular ESL Curriculum: Swedes Teaching English to Ukrainians” In other words, we play ABBA’s Greatest Hits.

And we mix the Russian and Ukrainian we know in with English and pantomime. The boys do the same now for us. They realize that to get us to understand, they have to add big gestures. Usually they don’t care whether we really understand or not. They can prattle on between them and we occasionally nod our heads, smile, and say, “Да, да, да.” They keep on prattling. Actually, since they are mostly interested in concrete things, like “Papa, can you show us how to jump start a car whose lights have been mysteriously left on?” or “Papa, can you show us how to unlock a bathroom door when no one is inside?”, or “Papa, can we disassemble Kjersten’s dashboard and CD player because *somebody* stuffed 3 CDs and a quarter inside?” communicating is pretty straight forward. You home schoolers out there, how do you like our curriculum?

Playing in Stas's old car.

Working out a puzzling world.

Eating is fun. They like pretty much everything. Except ketchup. For the record, I have seen them clamour for cauliflower, beg for broccoli, eat entire pears, work through half a loaf of bread each, then eat whatever Pam had designed for the meal, and still have room for potato chips for dessert.

Now they are sleeping. If it is not a bath night, we start putting them to bed around 8:00. We’ll read some stories in English, and then Sasha will read from a Russian children’s Bible to his brother. Then prayers and lights out by about 9:00. They go right to sleep, unless they have squirreled away some new toy for nighttime fun, like flashlights. We have to cajole them big time to get up by 8:00 am.

On Saturday April 11th, Sasha had read the crucifixion and resurrection story in Russian and explained it to Valera. He seemed to know something about Easter already. We asked Inna Tereshchenko to ask him how he knew what he knew. He said that a ministry team left a children's Bible at the orphanage and he had been reading it. Our first church service, then, after 6 days in Seward, was Easter at St. John. That means over 700 people pressed together, trumpets and handbells, the Hallelujah Chorus, and lilies everywhere. On the way home they were chattering about “Alleluia.” I think they know what it means, but they also know they can get a reaction out of us if they use it in an unconventional context, like after “Let’s have ice cream.”

Next week we will have a baptism. Now we know that we have been blessed beyond all that we could hope for. But seeing our children blessed as members of God’s family will be super special.

April 6

Hooray!

S. said, "We haven't gotten any frantic phone calls from the airport, so I guess they're on their way. Valera showed no signs of being sick this morning. Everyone left in high spirits with lots of stuff. The girls left really nice thank-you notes on their pillows. We really enjoyed having them and getting to do things with Sasha. We enjoy being surrogate grandparents. And I thoroughly enjoyed sharing the experience with Pam. I sure wish Nebraska wasn't so far away. We're going to miss you all!"















O. took Sasha around Kyiv to see a few sights. This is the funicular, a cog train ride that takes passengers from river-level up a steep hill, where St. Michael's church is. Adrienne and Rachel also took this ride, and sat next a romantic couple. Adrienne and Rachel had flight bags at hand, just in case.


















These are the steps to St. Andrew's. It is right next to the State Department of Adoption, where we started our blessed adventure. They must have thrown some fish bits down the steps, because I don't see the dogs in this picture.















Working in the garden.

They are in flight as I write, somewhere over the Atlantic. Thank you for your prayers!

April 4

Poor Jonathan is sick. He hasn't eaten anything in 48 hours. Please pray for him.

March 27 - April 3

The Power of Attorney letter, authorizing Pam to pick up guys, moved without sleeping from Seward to Leipzig, Germany and then, because it was a weekend, sat for 48 hours. Makes the whole “express” label a little hollow sounding—kind of like my bank account. My cousin, who lives in Germany, says Germans characteristically value their time off. “Es ist fünf Uhr. Wir müssen nicht arbeiten. Viel Arbeit bedeutet viel Taxes.” (It is 5:00. We must not work. Much work means much taxes.)

This would put the letter in Kramatorsk by sometime Tuesday, which would really pinch things to make our flights home April 6th. Masha said she would try again to convince Arkady, who is a decent guy, to accept a scanned copy, given the clear evidence that the original would arrive eventually. He said YES. Arkady is not your typical Ukrainian bureaucrat.

So, Monday and off to Mariupol! On the way, Masha’s brother Andrii got pulled over by Urkainian police. He wasn’t speeding—I think it was just one of those random stops to remind you that this is a country of … law and order. They determined that his driver’s license, which he got while he still lived in Siberia, was no longer acceptable in Ukraine. New rule.

So, how would Sasha say “goodbye” to his classmates and teachers and caregivers? Pam, who has been thinking about how to throw a parting party for months, was pretty pickled about the way it turned out. “Take Sasha. Leave the gifts. The party will happen later.”

Pam finally saw Sasha's room. It was not crowded like another orphanage in Komarivka we saw two years ago. Each room had just two beds and two towel bars. Clothes are kept elsewhere.

The saddest part was that Sasha was leaving his roommate Kolya, whom he had bunking with for 3 ½ years and had moved with him from Kramatorsk to Mariupol. Pam knew that Sasha understood and felt this loss deeply. He asked if he would ever be visiting again. One of the teachers, whose son could speak English well enough, shared an email address and offered to pass messages. Hooray for email. Pam gave Kolya a special gift.

Tuesday the brothers were reunited after two years. Sasha’s teachers from Kramatorsk were glad to see him. I wish I could have been there.

Meanwhile, Masha was in Donetsk, the regional capital, waiting for a passport stamp. The administrator was out of the office on end-of-month business. By the time he returned, there was no chance to catch the train back to Kyiv. So, the day we gained due to Arkady’s flexibility we lost again, and they wouldn’t arrive in Kyiv until Thursday morning. I was a little worried, because the State Department website says we must allow 3 business days to finish up embassy work, and we had 5 plane tickets set for Monday, April 6th. It would cost me $280 each to change them, and Pam had from the beginning wanted help from Adrienne in bringing them home.

The boys spent the night with Pam at Stas and Natasha’s. Imagine Pam, using her vast command of Russian, getting these giddy boys, enamored with their new environment, to take baths, settle down, and not mess up anything electronic. “Нет, ні вода splashing!” “Нет, ні компутер messing upski.”

Some think the brothers are twins. They play well together. Sasha offers to interpret for Jonathan.

There were only first-class tickets left on the train, which are relatively expensive, so Masha arranged with a friend in Kyiv to help Pam with the final steps. So Pam said teary goodbyes to Stas, Natasha, Masha, the two dogs Endora and Fido-orovich, the cat Marquis, and the unnamed fish, who survived.

They arrived in Kyiv, did the first of the two-step at the embassy, then went to get medical checks. There they (we) were given some stern advice. When the boys get to the States, it will be like they had lived on another planet. They need 3+ weeks of restricted exposure to just our family and home before the rest of the community and relatives meet them. Volumes have been written on this topic, but here’s a sample: We aren’t supposed to ask them how they feel, rather we should model emotions for them. Sorry!

They then met Adrienne, Rachel (pictured below with Becca) and Susan. Here are some of Rachel’s Facebook notes:


"The activity for today was supposed to be the zoo. But we thought it would be better if we saved that for when Pam came with the boys.

This morning, Adrienne woke up early to exchange money for her mom who was arriving today. I got to sleep in. We had lunch at the apartment. We didn’t know what to do afterwards, so Mrs. H. had us go to the grocery store to buy some things. We went to a different store than the first two times. This store was in the basement level of a mall. So we walked around in the mall before going down. In the grocery store, we (but especially Adrienne) were grossed out by all the fish. They lay in front of us chopped in half. We bought cookies, cheese, and bread. By the time we were done at the mall, it was past the time Pam and the boys were supposed to be at the apartment, so we decided to head back.

When we got there, nobody was home so we decided to watch The Mighty Ducks. About half way through, Pam and the boys arrived so we stopped the movie. We went to the door to meet them. Pam introduced Adrienne as their sister and had them hug her. Valera was a little shy. They’re both so cute!

For supper, we had hamburger (but not in a normal hamburger shape), green beans, and rice. Before we ate, Pam said a prayer where everyone would repeat what she said so Valera and Sasha could participate. To get them to eat their beans and rice, they were promised ice cream for dessert. They LOVE ice cream. They were so excited to get seconds in it.

After supper, Adrienne and I played with them. It wasn’t organized, but we kind of started playing hide and seek. They ran upstairs and we couldn’t find them. I finally did and they ran away. They kept saying “cuckoo”. After chasing and tickling them upstairs for awhile, they decided to go downstairs. On the way down though, Valera tripped and hurt himself. So we had to go outside.

Outside it was easier to entertain them. We drew a hop scotch grid. But Sasha was more interested in playing with an inflatable ball. We kicked it around until I kicked it onto the roof. To get it down we tried using a broom but that didn’t work. So we put Sasha on Adrienne’s shoulders and after awhile he got it down with the broom.

Adrienne got creative and invented a baseball game with some nerf balls and rackets and chalked bases. Some neighbor boys came by and tried to sell a cell phone to Adrienne. I scared them away by taking pictures of them. I think the boys’ favorite thing to do was crawl under the van parked nearby. Once under it, they liked to have their pictures taken. When it started getting dark we wanted to go inside. Adrienne and I finished watching The Mighty Ducks. Goodbye" (Thank you, Rachel, for providing this content!)



On Friday Jonathan wasn’t feeling well, so the zoo plans got scrapped. But traffic was a *bear*, and they couldn’t park close to the place where you get to see the embassy *seals*, and they were running late, so S. carried Jonathan like a *monkey* on her back. :)

The last signature in Ukraine has dried—now that’s a milestone worth celebrating! So they said their prayers, ate ice cream without me, played foosball, and watched Finding Nemo.

Adrienne and Rachel went to see the ballet "Romeo and Juliet" at the National Opera House. As they got closer they realized they didn't have their tickets, so they called Pam. She and Sasha met them back at the metro (the subway). Pam asked Sasha if he wanted to ride. He said 'Да да да' and was so thrilled. He came back saying to the flat saying, "Я поехал на метро! Я поехал на метро! Я поехал на метро! Я поехал на метро!" In English this sounds like "I rode the metro! If I were king of the world I would ride the metro every day! Will there be a metro in heaven? Does Seward have a metro?"

Saturday Adrienne and Rachel hope to meet their Kiev Christian Academy friends again this weekend. They’ll climb the bell tower at the 1000-year-old St. Sophia’s church and act like ding-a-lings, go to a soccer game after church on Sunday and have a ball, and generally try to perfect this hookey thingy and have as much fun as they can before they fly back and start school again. Good thing there's Good Friday off. They'll need another vacation by then. O. will take the boys on a hike in the hills of Kyiv.

I will clean the house. There’s no one to ask about whether I should keep this or that, so if you don’t see it next time you visit, blame me.

Sorry about the sideways video clip. That's what boys do to your life.

March 17-26

Today is the 10th day after the court date. Pam should be able to pick up the court decree today. As much as we respect any birth family member's desire to stay close to their children, we pray there have been no appeals.

Pam did not have Internet for most of the last week, so there is less to say.

There was a fire at the neighbor's house. Pam survived.

Adrienne and Rachel Royuk are now in Kyiv, preparing to help Pam once she brings the boys there. Or not. Probably they are strutting the streets of city center, seeing how well they can blend in with the capital fashions.

Jonathan (I'm not sure he knows that's his name yet) enjoyed his field trip to get his passport photo taken, except for one part. They wouldn't let him smile. You've seen his pictures--that's gotta be tough. Oh, well. Apparently that's not just a Soviet silliness. Adrienne needed a new passport to travel, and she likewise had to look the part of the disinterested runway model.

We had a glitch today. Apparently the new laws passed in 2008, which we are exempt from because our dossier was accepted before they were passed, are subject to the interpretation of various regional officials, who each are trying to show off by telling us how high we should jump. One has decided that the law says that Pam and I BOTH had to sign to get the care and custody of the children. A simple phone call won't do. Nor will an email or a fax of my signature.

Since I'm now in Nebraska, I crafted a roll-my-own power of attorney letter. "I, Andy, of sound mind, hereby grant Pam the power to kiss the children and pick them up." Had it notarized. Had the State of Nebraska authenticate the notary's work. Then DHLed it to Kramatorsk for a gazillion dollars. There's no such thing as overnight mail, so it could take until Tuesday. If I were running DHL, I'd have it on a non-stop plane Friday, arriving in Kyiv Saturday, catching the puddle jumper to Donetsk by late Saturday evening, then delivered by former Soviet speed skating champions to Masha's apartment by 4:00 am Sunday morning. We'll see.

Here's some leftover video footage. No matter where in the world you grow up, you learn this trick.

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.”

March 11

Here is some video of Sasha and Pam playing that gummy thingy game.

Oh, we have picked some names now.

Alexander (Sasha) Paul Langewisch

Jonathan (You Make Me Giggle) Valera Langewisch

Here are some transportation observations that also make us giggle:

Question: How many people can you fit on a marshrutka (a small bus)?

Answer: One more.

Question: Suppose you are driving erratically in rural Ukraine and the police pull you over. Why can’t they ask you to walk down the road a bit in a straight line?

Answer: There are too many potholes.

Question: When should you NEVER eat chocolate?

Answer: After you have used it on an overnight train for an air freshener.

Here's a video of me playing a giggling game with Valera.

Here are a few details about the process, as it has applied to us. Note first: We chatted for 3-4 hours with a woman named Alison from Germany whose adoption story has been FAR more difficult than ours, so please do not attempt to generalize based on what I write (which is only half-truth anyway). In both Kramatorsk and Mariupol we met with attorneys who have excessive staffs of young secretaries whose only jobs are to fetch photocopies or lock and unlock doors. After some very long conversations about how last year's new adoption regulations might be interpreted, the attorney in Mariupol drafted a letter saying we had visited these children and we want to adopt them anyway and we understand the implications of adoption and we are not crazy and so on.

This attorney, fortunately, was good enough to share his approach with the attorney in Kramatorsk, so it will look like we're all on the same page, even though I'm always a page behind. Add the usual certifications and scribblings and stamps and pretty paper presented in plastic sleeves, and the packet was ready to go to the SDA office in Kyiv to be registered.

I needed to go to Kyiv anyway, to initiate paperwork with the U.S. Consulate saying we wish to adopt these children who had these old names and lived at these old addresses and now would have these new names. Furthermore, after the court date, I will be heading back to Concordia, which so graciously let me leave for 2 weeks of school in the middle of the semester. As you can see from the picture, we have just switched from teaching 18-year-olds to teaching 8-year-olds. Anyway, I have to get back to Nebraska, so I needed to give Pam power of attorney to finish the process.

So, to expedite getting the packet of pretty paper to Kyiv and to take care of my consular business, I bought myself a couple of train tickets. I did this Sunday evening for a Tuesday evening trip. I think it's a good thing I didn't wait any longer, as I was only able to get a 3rd class, upper berth ticket. This means there are no doors and the beds are shorter. That wasn't too bad, as the trip was only 12 hours.

I arrived at the consulate at 8:30 am, and was dismayed to see there was a line outside the building with maybe 100 people in it. I asked a couple of people if there was only one line for all purposes, and a Ukrainian woman said that because I was an American citizen (my glasses must give me away), I could go right to the front of the line. Is that embarrassing or what. After all night in 3rd class, the ugly American cuts in line.

I heard some interesting stories while in the waiting area. One American woman was there with her Ukrainian husband of 5 years. He had been deported, and she had exhausted all her resources trying to sort out why. She was clearly frustrated. After some checking, it was not easy for the U.S. Consulate employee to inform her that her husband had entered the U.S. illegally through Canada. She did not know this when she married him. Boy was she mad at him then.

I gave the packet to Dennis, a friend of Masha's who submitted it, and we hope it will be ready Friday. Then Dennis will fax the approval back to Kramatorsk. We have a court appointment at noon on Friday. The judge is okay with a faxed version, but initial reports are that the persecutor (oops, prosecutor), who represents the state, is not. In that case we will have to wait until Monday.

I bought some boy toys and picked up Pam's ratty old pants from the tailor and visited my cooperating professor at Kyiv Polytechnic University and then traveled 2nd class back to Kramatorsk. One of my cabin mates was a very sharp Ukrainian marketing professional for a German machining company. We chatted for several hours about important stuff like ... world peace. I had a chocolate bar with me, just in case, but I didn't need it.

Court is a big deal. If there's any schlip up, this could change everything. So please pray for this--we know you have been, as we have indeed been blessed at every step.

March 8 1/2

Blah blah blah.

And this has been Andy Langevichky reporting live from the Sea of Azov. And now, back to your irregularly scheduled blog . . .

March 7

After having visited Valera for a couple of days (making snegforts and snegoviks) while assorted papers were being pushed, we have come to feel pretty comfortable with our role. So we decided to leave Kramatorsk for Mariupol (leaving Masha behind to enjoy her birthday and her family). We took the Moscow-Mariupol fast train. That means it gets up to 30 km/hr. Pam says that still makes for a rather airy breeze on your derriere when it’s time to tinkle. Stas and Natasha took us to the station, and made sure we got on the right wagon. We could read most of the ticket, but the Ukrainian word for city is almost the same as the Russian word for seat, so Stas enjoyed dramatizing the difference to help resolve our confusion.

The cabin attendant heard us say two words, then immediately grinned and spouted out “San Francisco, Chicago, New York.” He moved out a lady who would have been sharing our cabin into another so we could have a compartment to ourselves. Then he brought mugs of chai and sat down and chatted with us. He hopes someday to have his mug taken in the White House :D.

Officers from the Department of Motherland Security checked our passports. They looked as us and laughed. By comparison, in Germany, they radio in selected passport numbers to some central dispatcher, where I’m sure I’m on the suspiciously dweeby-looking database. There is a lot of room for database work in Ukraine. 5 ½ hours later, we had putzed through all the little ivkas in the region, and arrived in Mariupol, a smoggy port city of about 1,000,000. Pitifully, we were only slightly better at our Russian vocabulary. I think my brain has been smogged over.

We thought the visiting time at the orphanage might be only 2-4 (we don't know the weekend schedule yet), and the train arrived at 3:00 (right on time), so we took a taxi directly to the orphanage and hauled our luggage up to the door. We got some funny looks from the kids. “Gosh, they’re making you move in? I hope there’s enough gruel for all of us.”

The kids at the orphanage know the routine. When parental types show up, whichever child is nearest the entryway runs to get the child you are looking to visit. Sometimes you don’t even have to say the name—word gets around. After the right Sasha came, we asked for a room to play in. An Italian couple, from bella Napoli, was already there playing with a blonde 10-year-old who spoke English pretty well. They were trying to teach her Italiansky.

In some orphanages they are quite strict, and have someone monitor you while you are playing, which seems reasonable but can be awkward. We have not had that experience. In fact, we just kept playing until 6:00 when we figured it was his dinner time. Then Sasha turned out the lights, we went back downstairs, he got the key from the security lady, went back upstairs in the dark, locked up, then returned the key. Electricity is not to be wasted here.

I showed Sasha the video of Valera and his classmates preparing for the March 8th International Women’s Day Program. Valera is in the green shirt and yellow men-in-tights costume below. If you haven’t heard of this important international holiday, perhaps it’s because the U.S.S.R. made it up, and U.S. textbooks only have one line for Ukraine: the bridebasket of the world. Still, since all women get flowers, even beginning at age 3, Pam suggested that I write a very poignant paragraph extolling its virtues.



Anyway, Sasha was very interested in the video of his brother, whom he hasn't seen in some time. The program had poetry, dancing, and contests. And a witch (a teacher, of course), who gave out gifts. Sasha rooted for Valera in every little race, such as a race to decorate a divchinka (girl) or a teacher with a basket full of jewelry or flowers, and he recognized several other children from Kramatorsk.



Here's some leftover footage of his Janga-playing skills from our first visit:



Today I taught Sasha basic camcorder functions, and he enjoyed learning this. We taped handage and footage. We taped inside and outside—terms which we had practiced that morning but had already forgotten :<. Then we played a gummy animal game—close your eyes, get fed a gummy thingy, then guess what color(s) it was. Here’s where we learned that Sasha already knows colors and some animals in English. After that he asked to play with the computer. We mostly played with SketchUp and a little MS Word. I’ll start teaching him Excel tomorrow. Sasha also knows the English numbers at least up to 10, and the Roman alphabet, and can type his name Саша in English. We are overwhelmed.

March 6

Oy! Some complications are now sorted out. That doesn't mean there may not be more, but we should not keep you out of the loop any longer. Check out the video and pics below:

This is Valeriy. His nickname is Valera. When he walked into the office to meet us, he grinned from ear to ear, stuck out his hand, and said, "Здравствуйте!" He is 6. Valera is a bundle of smiles and energy. His report describes him as tender, friendly, social, not aggressive, healthy, active, likes jokes, and athletic. You can trust this report.

In the video, the context is this: It was outside playtime from 10:30 - noon. The caretakers led us to a section of the play area where we could be more by ourselves. I think he went down this slide a hundred times. He should not have gone down at all, because the slide was rusty. I'm sure the laundry crew wishes that we will eat bad mushrooms tonight.


In the first picture, he is giving this truck through us to his sibling. In the second picture, we had been playing together for about an hour, where he had not stopped smiling and showing us all the fun he could have in a special playroom, when I showed him our videocamera. More curious than any cat, he was determined to figure out the function of every button. So we know he can be calm. :)

This is Alexander. His nickname is Sasha. Kjersten, you can call him Littler Sasha. Yes, Adrienne, two boys. I know, you told us your stipulations. Look at it this way. I doubt they will want to borrow your clothes. He is 8. Sasha's report describes him as smart, doing well, healthy, bright, and enjoys playing with Legos. Before being transferred to an orphanage in Mariupol for somewhat older children, he lived in Kramatorsk with Valera, his brother. He likes drawing and reading and dancing. His teachers at Kramatorsk remember him well. They said his main desire was to learn, and that he wants to be an architect. (Insert smile here!) Though the boys primarily speak Russian, Sasha began to read the "Twelve Dancing Princesses" to us in Ukrainian and didn't want to stop.

In the video, Sasha is playing piano for us. This song sounded so Russian--kind of somber and heavy. The next was lighter and more fun. In the first picture he is smiling for his brother. In the second we are playing Janga. He is very careful and coordinated. After we had taken out all the possible blocks and the stack still had not fallen, we began to build up. We had it balanced on rows alternating between one and two blocks until just before we ran out of blocks.

Then we played with Google SketchUp. I can hear you chortling, but think of it. It is immediately rewarding and fun, and teaching SketchUp doesn't require a lot of complicated English-to-Russian translation. We played for an hour and a half. I think it was his first time using a computer, but he is a quick study, and soon we had him isolating subcomponents of a car, coloring them, and putting it back together. I wish I could show it to you. It looks kind of like a cross between a pizza delivery car and Concordia's pimped up admissions van.

March 5

As I write this, Kjersten and Adrienne are looking at pictures of the kids we have started paperwork on. As soon as they calm down, I'll post them for all of you. So go ahead, bug them.

Here's a picture of the orphanage where one of the children is now. Note the daggers of death. It might look a bit dreary, but it's a lot cozier once you step inside. That's typical of Ukraine.






















Meanwhile ...

We were looking for an Internet cafe in Mariupol. The first one we took a bus to was closed. So we decided to ask a taxi driver. He checked with his dispatcher, but came up empty. We asked another taxi driver. He seemed more confident, so we hopped in. He started taking us to the closed location. When we sorted that out, he started driving around, asking his other taxi buddies that he would pass. He wished he was younger--then he would know. Finally we found one. Here it is:

















Now I'm thinking about what we teach in marketing. Let's talk about brand management. I'll guess I'll have to go through detox when I get home. I probably picked up a nasty Ukrainian Trojan Horse worm bomb just taking this picture.

Speaking of marketing, here are some pictures from an English translation of a menu at a nice restaurant across the street from the orphanage pictured above.
























































This one turned my stomach, so I played it safe and ordered the ox eggs. They are what you think they are.

When we're trying to save money, which we usually are, we eat on the cheap. Here I am trying not to make a mess with my Ukrainian Chinese dinner in a box.

March 1

Sunday morning came with a surprise peak at the sun and some worship of the Son.

Breakfast with Jim and Margaret was, well, entertaining. E.g. A mission team was arriving from the States, so Margaret talked to the kitchen staff about what would and would not make a good first impression on the jet-lagged visitors. (Pause while you stop eating and make sure you have a bucket nearby.)
...

Fish


(raw)


served with


fish entrails


on the side.


Yummy.


The mission group members pushed the food around on their plates, then someone heard about Jim's cooking. Eventually the whole group was at Jim's, and for two weeks they never set foot in the dining hall again.

The 12 full-time students at DCU and their families gathered in a classroom to sing familiar worship songs in Russian ("Shout to the Lord," "As the Deer," etc.), celebrate the Lord's supper together, and be exhorted from the word. Our translator for the service was Lawrence (Wright?), who's been serving here for 11 years and is originally from CO. It was fun to learn his daughter is a freshman at UNL in Lincoln this year! I offered to deliver something small they might like to send home with us. Their Christmas gifts sent Nov. 29 arrived mid-Feb.!

In the afternoon Nurlan again helped us as he called a taxi for us and made sure the driver knew where the school was we wanted to visit. The DCU property is right next to a horse stable and one of the homes of Renat Aktmetov, a billionaire Mafia leader whom we’ve read about in the Wall Street Journal. Several people here said he blew up a hotel with his brother in it. No one can prove it, of course. Our taxi driver said he was an engineer for a company that Aktmetov demanded and got. He was still cheerful and animated in our attempts to communicate. He called his daughter at least 3 times to ask for some English word he couldn't come up with. We liked him, so we asked him to help us shop. He didn't charge us for shopping time, only for distance traveled. 1.5 hours for $11. Go figure!

Spent time correcting. I'm offering my students extra credit for coming up with names for our new kids, if they cleverly weave them into their assignments. So far we've seen:

Emilie, Emily. Emiliee
Kathleen, Cathleen, Kathlene
Espen, Champ, Boss
Владилена, Спартак, Горазд, Ипполита


Did they get extra credit?

No.

Ukrainian rules.

February 27 - 28

I know that Masha is a professional, but in a weak moment, we goaded her into telling this story:

The quota for international adoptions had been met very early in 2008, before our dossier was ready to be processed. (So some of our documents got stale, like our wedding certificate. So we had to get to married again, or something like that.) Anyway, by November, some of the approved dossier slots had gone unused, so the SDA announced that they would accept a small number of additional dossiers yet in 2008. First come, first served, must be in person, on November xx. Now, think back to the cabbage patch kids craze.

Day xx came, and the SDA announced, “Never mindsky, come back tomorrow.” The facilitators (I think there are 200 or so) decided to make a list: #1 Natasha, of course, #2 Boris, #3 Olga, … Masha was #5, holding our dossier. Big Problem. A second list was started. Masha was not on this list. Big Argument. Eventually they agreed to first come, first served the next morning. So Masha and a friend sat in their car in front of the SDA office all night. They had to stay warm, of course, and by the morning they could not pass a breathalyzer test. Now we have seen Boris. He is a big guy, and ugly too. We are glad he is not our facilitator, but we are also glad he is Masha’s friend. For when the fight started and the gate was rushed, it was Boris who pulled skinny Masha through the mob. Our dossier was indeed submitted, with Masha holding it out at arm’s length with her other hand covering her mouth.

This story was shared while waiting for Olena, a regional social work director. She is an important woman, and made sure we knew it. Masha said, “Did you notice her asking for a donation?” I had not, so I asked, “Was it a subtle request?” “Oh, no, she came right out and said so.” They don’t call it a bribe. It is a bribe if the payment is to do something they are not supposed to do. It is a donation if it is their job. Masha said, “She is going to give us problems.” The social worker and the orphanage director must, by law, be present at the first meetings.

We will continue to leave out the details that you probably want to hear about. We don’t know them either. We couldn’t visit one child Friday because the social worker was busy in the a.m. with court proceedings and the director was busy in the afternoon. We couldn’t visit one child Saturday because of the law mentioned above. We couldn’t visit one child Monday because we don’t know why. We couldn’t visit Tuesday because the social worker wants us to wait some more. There is a sequence to all of this that is complicated, and we’re stuck until this process wears itself or us out.

So. On with the dribble. Friday we stayed put in Kramatorsk. Stas took us to visit one child for the second and third time. Pretty fun times. Can you picture an adorable, smiling child stepping right up and saying, “здрацвите!” While playing outside, we were given a separate section of the playground. Nevertheless, at one point five little girls stood in a row watching us play. Went down the slide a hundred times. Afterwards we learned the children are not allowed to use the slides because they are rusty and ruin their clothes. Tee hee.

We went home. They have a nice Samsung washing machine. You just need to unplug the hot water heater, plug in the washing machine, divert the water away from the house and press random keys until it starts.

In the afternoon we returned to the orphanage and played indoor games. Still has not stopped smiling. :) Enjoyed all sorts of ball games, balancing tricks, and especially figuring out the purpose of every button on our video camera. Spent more time in Pam’s lap concentrating on that camcorder than most college students spend studying for their exams.

Saturday, February 28

Masha and her daughter Lera drove us to Donetsk. Can’t say much now about our visit/non-visit there. We took a suitcase with us and connected with Jim & Margaret Parlow, volunteers at Donetsk Christian University, and we stayed there the next two nights. Margaret taught upper grades at Kiev Christian Academy when Adrienne was there, and Jim, a former army cook, used his impressive cooking skills to make friends and open doors to evangelizing everyone he met. They invited us over for fried chicken, breakfast, and stories. They should square off with Sandy Pomerenke in an outrageous tale contest.

We had spent an hour or so writing a letter, and needed it translated into Russian. Jim and Margaret tried everyone they knew (and they knew everyone), but all were unavailable. Then after dinner a missionary student from Kazakhstan who could do it showed up (maybe for Jim’s cake? Thank you, Lord!). It turns out he is a friend of Kip, a student of mine from the 1980s. We asked him if he and his wife could translate and we would pay them. They tried to refuse the payment but I said if he was going to be a missionary, he needed to learn how to accept gifts. Everyone is short on funds here, so I think this extra work was appreciated.

This campus was a former Communist Young Pioneers Camp. The main buildings are all less than 15 years old, with impressive architectural features but often ultra cheap materials. The Canadian Mennonite church initiated this project, with plans to turn it over to Ukrainian leadership. That transfer happened, but the Ukrainian leadership had no funds for upkeep. There are many signs of summer teams projects that are sadly unusable now (an extensive wooden playground with important pieces missing, a cute gazebo with a heavy tile roof that leans farther than that tower in Pisa, ...).

We appreciate your prayers!

February 26

We traveled first class on an overnight train trip to Kramatorsk, north of Donetsk. First class means just two passengers per cabin. It doesn't mean you should leave your duct tape at home.















Let me tell you about Masha's family. Masha's older brother Andreii picked us up from the train station. He is a mechanic but doesn't have much work now. Although Masha can drive, for longer, more complicated trips where extra traffic and directions and parking and watching the pretty nice car might be issues, he can be our driver. We have quite a bit of skibbling to do--from our lodging to this or that orphanage to this or that social worker's office to this or that regional official's office to this or that superdoopermarket. Remarkably, Kramatorsk is Masha's home, so we and she are very glad that she can stay each night at her home with her husband and two children (11 and 2). I don't know his name. Let's call him Yuri. Yuri is employed with a mobile phone company as a marketing manager. Masha's mother, Natasha, who also lives in Kramatorsk, is not employed other than to watch Masha's children while she and Yuri are at work. Natasha has a home with Masha's stepdad Stas that also has something like a "summer house" on the same property. Natasha and Stas offered to move into their summer house and we could rent their house. Stas can also be our driver, as he doesn't have work right now.

And it's our job to keep Masha's mom's cats from eating Masha's mom's husband's fish.
















The house is quintessientially Ukrainian in decor. The walls and ceiling and carpets curtains are all flowery. The house must be hundreds of years old and has been remodeled many times. There are holes and pipes and wires strung everywhere. This gives us compassion for what the new children will have to learn--trying to find light switches, figuring out how to use new appliances, etc. I am, however, typing on Stas's computer, using his Internet service. He's very proud of his new color printer/scanner/copier, but I won't be needing that.















We visited two delightful children today. Unfortunately they are several hours away from each other in different orphanages. They are adorable, but we've been warned not to get too attached until all the hoops have been missed once and jumped through on the second or third try.

February 24 - 25

Today Pam and I met Olga, a friend from Christ Church. We shopped for Ukrainian/English picture books. She is so gracious. She can probably join Pam at the hotel/apartment near the orphanage after I need to return to the States.

Masha called at 3:30 today. She had already bought train tickets to Kiravohrad. But then she had called the orphanage, and learned that the birth father had started an appeal to reestablish his parental rights. This information had not yet been passed on to Kyiv. Of course we would not try to come between children and their parents.

Masha also, amazingly, squeezed in an immediate interview. We were shown a couple more folders. Quick deliberations and we agreed to check it out. Masha hoped for a referral that day yet, since our dossier was already processed by the State Department of Adoption (SDA). We waited in the stairwell with 30 other people from Sweden to America, but when our time came to get the referral, we learned it was not complete. So we'll try again on Wednesday.

Wednesday

We took Pam's nice wool pants to a tailor to get new lining. It looked like she had mice in her pants. :)

Off to SDA, and then, we think, to Donetsk.

February 23

There's a line from an Ani DeFranco song that I hear on oldies stations from time to time:

"Wishin', and hopin', and thinkin', and prayin',"

The next part has nothing to do with what I should be writing about, so I'll spare you the details, but what does one do between 3-6 am, when the mind is wide awake but knows it should be sleeping? I tried having imaginary conversations with the agency officials. They would ask a question in Ukrainian, our facilitator would translate to English, and I would respond in Ukrainian. Then our translator would translate my Ukrainian back into English and then into real Ukrainian so the agency officials could understand.

O and S left for Turkey this morning. We're on our own! So Pam's curling iron had a hissy fit and burned out our power transformer.

We walked to the office, which is at the top of Andrievsky Uzviz, a long winding cobble-stone street lined with restaurants, art galleries, souvenir peddlers, and dogs.

Our appointment was at noon but we met Masha at 11:00. We were directed away from the front entrance to the Ministry for Families, Youth and Christian Nurture (oops, that's one of our church positions) to a side entrance. The statues in the image above are in front of this ministry building. I guess they don't want couples and their facilitators cluttering up a relatively small but nice entry. So we cluttered up an even smaller and less nice entry. Masha wisely suggested we spend our next hour having tea at a nearby restaurant.

Masha shared with us that the meeting would be with a woman psychologist, and would share with us the brief profiles of the available children. Ukrainian law states that neither of us can be more than 45 years older than the youngest child, so that means the kids would be, let's see, ... all grown up. Or older than 3 years, 10 months.

Contrary to some stories we've heard, she was not aggressive, surly, or difficult in any way. She and her coworker both had cross necklaces, just like Pam's. We had a one-hour appointment to study the profiles, which consist of names, birthdates, one picture, some medical information, etc. Our task, which we pray is blessed by God, is to determine the best fit for our family.

If I don't go into details of our deliberations and prayers, I'm sure you'll understand why.

We took a break from 1 - 2:30 for lunch and for Masha to photocopy our dossier for the orphanage director, then went back to share our good-faith decision and initiate the next step, which is arranging a time with the orphanage to visit. We will get that Tuesday at 5:00, which is when we agreed to meet Masha next. We think we'll be able to travel Tuesday evening, likely to Kirovohrad. Most Ukrainians take the overnight train, to save a night of lodging expense.

In the evening I went downtown to get Pam a new curling iron. All part of her fashion makeover.

February 21-22

We are in Kyiv, at the home of good friends, whom we'll call O & S. I've fallen asleep three times already at the keyboard. Trying to relate to my students, I guess. Or maybe I'm too old to be a new parent again?

We flew from Lincoln to Minneapolis quicker than you could say "Northwest Airlines went bankrupt and is now part of Delta but the employees are paid by Pinnacle and for sure nobody knows what's up."

The Minneapolis to Amsterdam flight was overbooked. I offered to get bumped but Pam would not let me. We had to negotiate with fellow passengers just to sit next to each other. Not the WWF kind of negotiation, more like "Would you mind if we snogged?"

Amsterdam had tulips already. Imagine that. I think they must import them at Dutch auctions. The smokers at the airport had to confine themselves to a 10' x 12' plexiglass room with special vents. Looked like a non-oxygen tent.


I was carrying two laptops, one mine and one a new MacBook for a missionary here whose prior machine went kaputski and who wanted to avoid the sockitome value added tax. I should have let Pam carry one. I looked extra suspicious, so was flagged by customs. The suitcase full of stuffed animals didn't convince the nice young man that I was a nice old man. He hemmed and he hawed. He didn't really want to charge me the stiff gift duty so he had me chase Pam down, who had already exited and had met our driver, Nina. I brought Pam back in, who looks a lot nicer than I do, and the nice young man had her "assigned" to the second laptop.

We're staying in a 3-story townhome, and O & S have graciously offered to host us for as long as we need to stay in the capital, both now and later. They'll even be gone to Ankara and Moscow during our stay, so that is amazingly kind of them. They helped out another couple doing this all last year.

We walked around the Podil part of town with O & S where we're staying, locating markets and banks and public transportation gathering spots. Nina thinks it is the cockroach corner of town, but this flat is only 15 years old and is very, very nice. Having lived in Kyiv in 2005 for 6 months, and having visited again in 2007 with students, really helps counter my natural state of disorientation. We still appreciated the warning to watch out for icicle daggers that could drop any time from building rooftops, which would be sort of like acupuncture--without the beneficial claims.



O asked why we were doing this adoption. Fair question! I think Psalm 68:5 sums it up, describing the love of our heavenly father: "A father to the fatherless, a defender of the widows, is our God in his holy mountain. He sets the lonely in families." We've seen the lonely. We've got family (cue Motown). We sort of know what it's like to be stewards of two daughters already, and we think it is a pretty wonderful privilege. We think we can be part of God's "setting" again, for another couple of Jesus' little lambs. Hence sibling set, take two.

Andy