Election Day
Today Ukraine is holding parliamentary elections, an event that has been anticipated since last spring. It's a critical election between Russian- and Europe-leaning candidates over the future of Ukraine.
If you want to read more, see
www.kyivpost.comKeep Ukraine in your prayers, especially that the election be peaceful and fair.
Memory Lane
Two days ago, Bogdan was eating a banana at breakfast. Twelve-year-old that he is, he pretended to throw it like a boomerang. "Like a boomerang"--who would think that my U.S. upbringing is evident in that thought?
Olena looked at me and said that he was holding it like a scythe. She told how her Ukrainian grandfather had owned four of them, in different sizes, to cut grass.
Usually, the children recall their past life after we've been to a Ukrainian service or eaten some Ukrainian food. But occasionally, even routine times like breakfast contain a triggering event that sends them down memory lane.
"Babysitting"
At church yesterday, I had fifteen minutes between services and decided to pull out my Bible. Turning to my favorite book, Philippians, I scanned the first half. One phrase really jumped out at me--"Do all things without complaining" (v. 14). Ouch! I debated whether I should erase my last post. Instead, I'll tell you what God did on Saturday to help me heal from a difficult week.
While I was driving around Chicago on Friday afternoon, Jonathan was teaching a class for parent's weekend at Concordia. As a thank you, the Office of Student Life invited Jonathan and me to join students and parents for a cruise on Lake Michigan and the Chicago River. Two good friends, David and Susan, agreed to watch the kids for the evening. They had a good time with them--grilling hamburgers in the backyard, decorating cookies, and getting to spend some time together.
It's very difficult for us to find "babysitters" (Ruslan hates that term, and after all, he IS thirteen). Many, many people have kindly offered to watch the kids, but our children are very active, and there are five of them, all at different levels of maturity (or not!). But even more, they are leery of being left with anyone besides us. They know that, in a moment, one can lose family and community, because it happened to them in Ukraine.
Over the last two years, they've gotten better about Jonathan and me being gone for a few hours. The first time or two, we noticed they were acting out for several days ahead of our "date." Even after several times away, Olena always hugs me more the day that we're leaving. Before our boat cruise Saturday, Misha showed the most stress. About an hour before our departure, he took a framed picture of his first-grade class and gift-wrapped it, complete with a greeting card, ribbons, and ancillary gifts (like a paper cross, since I "work in a church.") He carefully presented the entire package to Jonathan and me, making sure we got a good send-off on our journey in case we didn't return. The next morning, he ran pell-mell into my arms, SO relieved we were back.
To handle these fears, our "babysitters" must work in pairs, and they have to be people the children know very, very well, and have seen in other situations multiple times. That's the only way the kids are willing to let us leave for a while, since the fun of visiting with their adult friends can balance their fears. David and Susan gave both us and the children a wonderful gift Saturday. The kids had a great time, and Jonathan and I shared a quiet evening on the water. Of course, we talked about the kids most of the time!
Chicago Traffic (ugh!)
I try not to vent too much on this blog, but it's been very full week. That's why I haven't written in a while. So, if you don't want to hear my complaints, just skip this entry!
Besides my normal workload at church and home, our tax info went to the accountant on Monday, the proposed music budget for '08 was due Tuesday at church, confirmation music classes started on Wednesday, and a loyal member of the choir and bells was buried on Thursday. So on Friday, I took a deep breath and thought, "Things will be a little easier today." Was I ever wrong!
The younger three children had a holiday from school, and Jonathan had to work all day. So I had planned for weeks to visit the Museum of Science and Industry in south Chicago. We have a membership there that expires on September 30, and yesterday was our last chance to go. Our visit was great fun--the kids were well-behaved, and we all got to see our favorite exhibits one more time. At 2:00 pm we left the museum on what should have been a 45-minute drive home. Traffic was bad, and at 3:30 (double the normal time!) we finally pulled up at home. Bogdan was waiting for us, having arrived on his bike from school.
It was a quick turn-around--feed the dogs, make some coffee, and give the kids a snack--and we got back in the car at 4:00 to attend Ruslan's cross-country meet. We were leaving late, but within time to make his race, which was the fourth of the meet. The location was La Bagh Woods, part of the Forest Preserve network that is such a wonderful part of Chicago. Jonathan and I had both agreed that La Bagh Woods was the site where our former church, St. John's, holds their picnic every June. It's in far north Chicago, with no good route on freeways. So I took back streets all the way there, and managed to get lost once. The younger children were difficult, but I could hardly blame them after all the time riding in the car. Finally, at 5:15 we pulled into the Forest Preserve, which was strangely empty of people, and to my dismay the sign said "Linne Woods." Unfortunately, Jonathan and I had confused St. John's picnic location with their site for the Easter sunrise service.
I had no cell numbers for the cross-country coaches, so Bogdon and I pored over the Chicago map, looking for La Bagh Woods. We finally found it, and headed south on the crowded freeway. About five minutes away from La Bagh Woods, my telephone rang. "Mom," Ruslan said, "I just won the race!" He had been first in a field of approximately 100 seventh- and eighth-grade runners, and had run despite the pain of a slightly-injured knee. I was simultaneously very happy and disappointed at the same time. He had achieved something quite extraordinary, but we had missed seeing it.
He told me that his coach could take him back to school. Five minutes later, we passed the freeway exit for La Bagh Woods and just drove past it to start the long drive home. We never even stopped the car. The children were cranky until I started crying, not because of their behavior, but at frustration and disappointment from the afternoon. We arrived at the school at 6:00, after almost four straight hours in Chicago stop-and-go traffic. We dropped off Bogdan for a Scout event (that's another story), and headed to a fast-food restaurant for some supper. That was Jonathan's gift to me, to help out the bad afternoon. We had time to eat, since the cross-country group was finishing the meet and then returning. So the three younger children and I ate, and then headed home.
That was another miscalculation on my part--the cross-country team had returned more quickly than I thought. Ruslan had already returned to school and ridden home on his bike. When we arrived, he was sitting alone in the house, watching TV. No one had been there to greet him. A mother's nightmare!
I went in quickly, congratulating him on winning the race. He was very excited and could hardly believe that he had won. I tried to give him a hug, but he wouldn't let me. I tried to pat him on the back, but he pulled away. In my heart, I know that he's thirteen, when it's hard for a boy to receive physical affection. He's also been through very hard times, much of which he blames on women. In addition, he was reared in Ukraine, which is more patriarchal than the U.S. I know all that. But I wanted very badly to acknowledge his achievement.
So I bowed before him.
He understood the gesture, and bowed back.
What's Missing?
Over a year ago, Misha lost the second of his front top baby teeth. One tooth came out on its own, while our dentist had to pull the other due to decay. Even without front teeth, Misha has managed to eat carrots, apples, and other hard foods--either by using his other teeth or by chomping down with his front gums, which must be calloused by now. He does ask me to cut apples for him when we're eating at home, which I always do. After he asks, however, it's a given that Olena wants her apple cut, too!
Just yesterday, as we were walking together after school, Misha showed me that one of his front permanent teeth was just starting to peek through the gum. He said it felt like a mosquito bite in that spot, but overall he was happy about the new development. I would be, too, if I was him!
He also asked me if I could spell "Mississippi" with only one "i." I remembered hearing this joke years ago, but couldn't recall the punch line. I tried various ways of spelling "Mississippi" out loud, like quickly eliding two syllables or pronouncing it without the last letter. From Misha's face it was obvious that I wasn't getting it. I gave up, and he told me, "Just put one hand over your EYE, and spell it 'Mississippi'!" He then looked up at me in delight, and his face shone with a beautiful gap-toothed smile.
Multi-tasking
From the very first day we met, the kids often talk to me all at the same time. I have a pretty good system worked out to listen to them in order, and they now know they must wait their turn.
But yesterday, we were late to a dinner at church, and I needed to dispatch things pretty quickly. Four of the five were talking to me simultaneously, and I managed to answer them all without making them take turns. Interestingly, the conversations suited their ages and personalities:
Ruslan, 13, who doesn't like to wait, asked me to unlock the rear hatch of the van with my remote control key. He forgot to add "please" to his request, but I didn't insist due to the other three conversations that were going on. My response to him was the easiest, as it didn't take any words to unlock the car!
Bogdan, 12, our businessman and entrepreneur, expressed concern that the church dinner would preclude time to fill out forms for a school fundraiser. These forms were very important to him, since any students who returned them by the next day would receive prizes. I assured him that there would be time before bed to get the forms completed.
Luda, 11, our pre-teen, asked me if we could go shopping soon for new clothes. "When, Mom, when?"
Misha, 8, our budding thespian, wanted very much to wear his cowboy costume to the church dinner. My rule is that costumes and makeup are ok at home but not in public. Of course, he remembered the one time that I let him wear his Superman costume to the laundromat, and therefore he felt totally wronged that I denied his "cowboy" request. He managed to weasel one bandana out of me.
Olena, 9, missed all these conversations, but she makes up for it at other times.
__________________________________
With everything answered, we got in the car, and "made it to the church on time."
Soup's On
Last Sunday, we headed to Lake Michigan to let the kids swim. It was a beautiful, warm day, and although the water was too cold for me (who grew up swimming in the Gulf of Mexico), the children had a ball. I just lay on the sand and soaked up the sun, enjoying the last moments of a Chicago summer.
On Monday, the weather changed and now fall is here. The kids are wearing sweaters, and the air is crisp and dry. The house is cool enough that we can again eat soup, which I haven't served since last May.
When I was growing up, my mother made casseroles to use up leftovers. My hunch is that many American families eat casseroles, and I tried them a few times with our kids. But I guess Ukrainians don't really have the taste buds for them, especially the ones with cheese! So I've learned to save all the bits of leftovers in a specific part of our freezer, and I pull them out now and then to make soup.
A few years ago, I read James Michener's novel _Poland_, which contains a character who is starving to death. In his suffering, he dreams (or hallucinates, I can't remember) about the soup his mother made when he was a child. He longed for the large pools of fat that would float at the top of the soup.
Eastern Europeans love soup, and it was served at many of the meals we ate in Ukraine. Most importantly, sour cream is always available to add to the soup, but only after it is served into bowls at the table, and not into the soup pot. That way each person can add the sour cream according to their taste, and the leftover soup can be saved for another day if it's kept free of cream.
So . . . fall is here, and the soup's on.
A Real Counselor
Counseling has helped both Jonathan and me during our journey through infertility and adoption. At one particularly stressful time of decision-making, we each saw a personal counselor once or twice a month AND met together with a marriage counselor every week.
Misha, our eight-year-old, knows that we see counselors, and he is very jealous that he can't have one, too. He's quite well-adjusted and not in need of one at this time, so we haven't granted his request.
A few months ago, he was having a hard day and asked Jonathan, "Will you be my counselor until I can have a real one?" Jonathan agreed, and the two of them went upstairs for their first session. Misha collected the things he needed, including a large box of Kleenex. After talking for quite a while, they scheduled their next session for the coming Friday, and he came downstairs a much happier child. In the months since that first session, Misha and Jonathan have continued to meet occasionally for their "counseling" time.
Last Thursday, the elementary school telephoned me that Misha had a fever. Our pediatrician diagnosed strep throat, so he had to miss school the next day. I telephoned my counselor to cancel my scheduled appointment on Friday, since I would be busy with child care, but Jonathan suggested I ask her instead if Misha could come along. She agreed, and they were able to meet each other for the first time. Our most talkative child was very shy with her. But she's great with kids and eventually drew him out. In retrospect, the reason for his shyness was obvious--he was meeting his very first REAL counselor!
My Story
It used to be a quiet life.
For many years, Jonathan would go off to teach, and Mary would spend the day upstairs in her office, writing a big book on her computer. My buddy Dakota and I would take turns watching the house, being sure to let Mary know when that person with a big bag would walk on our porch and stick papers through the mail slot. When I wasn't on guard duty, I'd find a good spot to sleep on one of the couches or chairs in the living room. Mary even called me "Diva" sometimes, since I just loved to find the perfect spot from which to stretch out and survey most of the first floor.
Every night, Jonathan and Mary would take Dakota and me for a long walk in the neighborhood, and sometimes we'd even ride in the back seat of the car to a special park where we could run free. Then after arriving home again, I'd crawl onto my big bed upstairs, leaving just enough room to let Jonathan, Mary, and Dakota sleep with me for the night.
About two years ago, when Dakota and I were eleven years old, everything changed.
We didn't see Jonathan and Mary for a long time (over six weeks), and when they returned they had five short people with them. We had seen short people before, but they had never stayed longer than a day or two. These people, however, never left. I could no longer find a place on the living room couches to sleep--they were either full of people or their toys--and if I tried to curl up on the floor the people would come running through and step on me. And I don't even try to go upstairs anymore, because Mary's office and my old bedroom are different now--mostly full with lots of beds. So I spend more time now in my new bedroom near the dining room on the first floor, which is a little more out of the way. But even though I found a spot to rest, the house is very noisy. We four grownups get less sleep than before.
Other things have also gotten worse for Dakota and me. We don't go on walks anymore, unless the two older boys are feeling restless and ask to take us out (as an excuse for exploring the neighborhood). When we ride in the new car--they call it a van--Dakota sits between the boys in the third seat, while I have a bed on blankets in the front seat between Mary and Jonathan. We can't stretch out by ourselves in the back seat anymore, since the short people and their stuff take up so much room that I have to curl up tight. It's hard to ride that way when we travel for three straight days to Texas.
But the arrival of the short people has brought some good changes, too. At first, they were afraid of us and spoke words we didn't know, but now they talk to us in English and like to rub our heads (just like Mary and Jonathan!). During meals, Dakota and I wait behind the gate in our bedroom until we hear Jonathan reading from a book. Then they all start singing, and sometimes Dakota sings, too, because he's happy that we'll be out soon to find food under the table.
Those pieces of food taste good, but they're pretty small, so we've both found other ways to eat greater quantities of food. Mary and Jonathan have been pretty distracted lately and don't watch us quite as carefully. Sometimes Dakota has found the dog food bag open, and he eats enough food for a week--ALL AT ONCE! His poor tummy gets really big, and he mostly sleeps for the next few days. Personally, I'd rather eat better-tasting food, so once or twice, I've watched for my chance and climbed up on the table. Some of the short people don't clean their plates very well, and I love to do it for them!
It's pretty good to have them here, after all!
Alabama
Dressing Up
We've heard through adoption circles that life starts to normalize at the one-year mark. For us, the feeling is coming at the two-year mark, but whenever it arrives, I'm glad for it.
Luckily, during the last two years, people have cut us a lot of slack. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm more impatient than other people are critical. Clothes for myself are a good example. Several times I've been walking to the car early on a Sunday morning and discovered in the daylight that I'm accidently wearing black rather than blue hose, even though I'm wearing a completely navy outfit. In the past I would have gone back and changed, but that doesn't happen now! And those navy dress shoes that are getting scuffed up? Since the kids came, I rationalize that most people at church won't see them since I wear organ shoes most of the morning. Lastly, no matter what outfit I'm wearing, the same brown leather purse is now a match. Changing purses to coordinate with my clothes' style and color? That's a luxury of time that I don't allow myself.
Last night, we held the first rehearsals at church for the adult ensembles (bells and choir). I really enjoyed meeting the groups again and letting them know what is planned for the coming year. The beginning to the school year is so manageable this time. Two years ago we were just arriving from Ukraine and I was starting a new church job. One year ago we were knee-deep in paperwork for Mikola's dossier. This year feels, well, normal. A symbol of that normalcy is quite a small, but significant, thing: before rehearsal, I took time to polish those navy shoes!
Changes
We have friends who host a party every Memorial Day and Labor Day--the wife is a colleague of Jonathan's in Concordia's music department. Our family attended their party on Memorial Day 2006 and also yesterday. The differences in the children's behavior has changed immensely between these two visits.
In 2006, we were just ending our first school year. Discipline had improved to the point that we were able to attend the party. But I spent a good deal of time that day down in the basement with the children, watching them closely to make sure nothing was broken and no fights broke out.
Yesterday, Jonathan and I were able to sit upstairs and converse with our hosts while the children played in the basement. Jonathan checked on them every twenty minutes, and I went down at one point when we heard some crying. But he and I were able to handle adult conversation with someone while simultaneously doing child care.
Oh, life is starting to return to normal. That's nice!
Entire Article Now Available
I recently found out that the text of the _Lutheran Witness_ article about our family is now available in its entirety on the LCMS website. (Previously, you had to subscribe to see the whole article.) If you haven't seen it, the _Lutheran Witness_ web address is:
lcms.org/witness
Click the "Search Archives" option and go to the May 2007 issue. Our article is titled "Full House, Full Hearts."
