Six Months Later…

 

Our 13-year-old daughter, Samantha, came home on May 21, 2011… and for a few minutes, we want to look back on our last six months and praise God for the joyful little lady He brought to our family! 

Today we celebrate her!

The entire time we were in St. Petersburg, she kept her English to a minimum.  She depended on the translator to say everything.  Once we were “on our own” in Moscow, I informed her that she was “mom” as long as we were in Russia.  Once we got on the plane, I would resume the role.  She took charge… and we ate pepperoni and cherry pies for dinner!

Later that night, our little girl made sure I had the camera ready to capture the moment she ran from the bathroom to her big, fluffy bed… and jumped… head first, big smile, and unending giggling… into her future life. 

She is incredibly playful.  She kicks Chad out of bed so that she, Ashley and I can have a “sleepover” in my bed.  She runs to the car everyday after school with a big smile and yells something funny at me, like, “Hey chicken, I’m hungry.  Can I eat you?”  She walks into the kitchen and in her little sing-song voice, says “Hi mommy!  What ‘cha burning for dinner?”  When Colorado had its first snow of the season, she grabbed her swimsuit and ran to the empty pool… to swim! 

That is the girl I kiss goodnight each night.   

She’s Becoming My Shadow…

After a month in America, she joined me on the mission trip I had planned for my youth group.  In a week, she learned what it meant to serve those less fortunate, she saw the way American teenagers serve one another and work hard for complete strangers.  She learned that best friends and complete strangers find any excuse to play together.  She learned that her mom talks a lot about God and His love.  In one week, her English doubled and the American girls’ learned Russian… but only enough to pick on the boys.    

In July, we introduced her to camping as a family.  Sadly for her, she still had to stick to our home-schooling lessons.  She got even with me by making the family walk a million miles up a mountain so that she could play in the snow!  
Then, a few weeks later, she came with me on our youth group camping trip.  Again, she found snow to play in and friends to laugh with.  In August, she went with me on another week-long retreat in the mountains that I was teaching at.  By this point, she had camped, ziplined, canoed, fished, and roasted more smores than most people do in a lifetime. 


 

 The greatest part of these trips was watching her mature into the role that was required of her.  On the first trip, it was just about exposure and learning to be grateful for the blessings in our life.  She found her best friends on that trip and still loves them to pieces.  She was innocent and naïve on those early trips, but by our last retreat, she realized that she was the camping expert.  She became the nurturing and encouraging big sister to all the younger campers.  They still call her today, and I can see my daughter easily taking over my role one day.

Mastering the Language…

There are moments when you wish you could just follow your child around without them knowing.  Her first day of school was one of those. 

In August, her first class of the day was English as a Second Language.  My darling little girl was called over the teacher for what I imagine to be a chance for him to evaluate how much work he had cut out for himself. 

To begin, he asked, “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, do you understand me?” she sassed right back at him. 
He pointed to the chair, and asked, “What is this?”
“A chair?” my confused child answered.
“What is this?” he asked her, holding up a book.
“A book.” She stated, thinking he’s a weird teacher.  “Why are you asking me silly things?”
He replied, “To see if you speak English.”
“Of course I speak English, I’m in America.”

He only dealt with her bossiness for the first quarter and kicked her out.  She’s now in Social Studies for first hour!

What’s free time?
The 1^st day of school was so hard for me!  I felt cheated!  Most parents get to have their babies for at least 5 years before they send them off to school.  I had three months.  But, it’s hard to pout since she loved school right from the start!

By the end of the first week, Samantha had decided to try out for the volleyball team.  When teams were decided, she bounced all the way to the car screaming, “YES!” as she pumped her arm in the air.  We drove as fast as we could to dad’s soccer practice, she ran straight at him and jumped into his arms from a few feet away!  She made Varsity!!

During the 2^nd week of school, Samantha jumped in the car and shrieked, “Mom!  Guess what?!  My friends picked me to be the ‘Counselor of Students’!”

I had no idea what she was talking about.  In our nightly conversations, we have talked a lot about the role of the “Camp Counselor” and how they take care of the kids and help when needed, so I knew she understood that word.  But, I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.  I had her “use her words” and tell more so that I could understand.

“I will make dances.  I will make parties.  I will make posters.”

Oh!  Student Council.  Got it!  Driving her to school before the sun is up is not my favorite thing, but watching the pride she has when she spends an extra Saturday at school preparing for a dance makes it all worth it.  She loves being involved and keeping busy. 

Sleep With Me…
Last summer, I would play my guitar and sing Samantha and Ashley songs at bedtime.  Now, we have a new routine.  I get to give her my goodnight kiss, but every single night, since the very first night, she pulls me into her bed and squeezes the air right out of my lungs.  She curls up in my arms and shares everything on her mind. 

Those first nights, it was mostly just me talking.  Two words at a time.  Short sentences that convey all my thoughts.  I’d say, “Mom happy.  You here.  You home.  You mine.” And always, “I love you.”

Within the first couple nights, she let on that she could speak plenty of English.  It was broken, and we got really good at using many words to describe the same thing, until we both understood.  It was in those bedtime conversations, where minutes turned into hours, that she began to share her past.  She held nothing back.  She shared every memory she could find words for, and if she couldn’t find the words, she would draw it.  We talked until we were both falling asleep. 

As the months go on, our conversations have grown in length and depth.  She holds nothing back, but trusts us with her entire world.  She looks at all of us with pure love and joy.  She picks on her siblings and they give her plenty of reasons to.  She makes fun of her daddy, and he gives it right back.  As for me, she’s my teenage handful of chaotic love.  I think love is God’s most creative gift to us.  In a single heartbeat, I can look at all three of my little trouble makers and have my heart break with pride, laugh at the way they keep me entertained, and cry  because I’m so undeserving of their powerful and unconditional love.

It’s been six month since Samantha’s been home, and I never would have imagined God would bless us in so many unique ways.  His creative story continues to unfold… and we are just beginning.    

The Neva

The Neva River teases the city of Saint Petersburg.  You can walk a few blocks and cross the Neva, walk a few minutes more in the same direction and you’ll cross it again.

Just like the Neva, I have gone to places I would never have dreamed I’d go.  I have flown over the Atlantic five times.  I can say enough Russian words to embarrass myself.  And, one lesson I have learned is that no two adoptions look the same.  There are three of us families walking along the same Neva and we have become the very best of friends.  Each time, our visits to see our children have been only days apart and yet our views are rarely the same.  Our stories are as unique as the children we are adopting. 

But some things are the same.

Every orphan came from a family.  On our first trip to Russia, we met our daughter’s sister.  She was the captain of our journey in many ways.  Our child has a lot of family out there, and because her sister was brave enough to be her voice, she was able to help us take the first steps in making our daughter ours.  On this third trip, she presented us with an envelope full of baby pictures and photos of her birth parents and other relatives.  Then, she lovingly introduced us to more of our daughter’s birth family.  To our surprise, her babushka (Grandmother) speaks English very well and greeted us with warmth and love.  Our minds can relax, knowing that she trusts us to love her grand-daughter.

Every orphan has a best friend.  For our daughter, her name is Sasha.  We arrived on Sasha’s 16^th birthday; a day that brings fear for an orphan because they are no longer required to be in the orphanage.  We asked the director if we could be permitted to steal Sasha for the day and play in the city.  She is a wonderful woman and allowed us to take both girls for as long as we wanted.  The girls spent hours giggling and posing for pictures together at certain popular sites… and ironically close to a Baskin Robbins!

 

Every orphan has a name.  One day, we walked into the orphanage to a scene that could break your heart.  Three little girls in plaid dresses and braided hair swinging on their shoulders, walked down the hallway carrying tin buckets with soapy water splashing out.  One carried a mop in her right hand and moved slowly behind the others.  The others struggled under the weight of their buckets.  That morning, they were just three cute little girls.  A few hours later, they had names of their own, personalities that drew you to them, and smiles that stole your heart.  After several days with these little girls, they have changed my life forever.  

Every orphan has a future.  We will never know day to day what lies ahead, and I’m sure there are going to be days when I’m holding on tight to a life jacket and doing whatever it takes to keep my head above the water, but every parent has those moments.  The thing is, when I look into her eyes and we hold our stare, I can see how desperately she is holding onto me.  Her eyes plead for me to love her.  I am so full of joy knowing that I get the chance to show her that I love her every single day.  I know that our family is her hope, and she is trusting us with her entire life.

But my little girl isn’t an orphan anymore. 

This little girl’s past is a mystery, and like the Neva there will bridges we have to cross.  Her future is patiently waiting for her to discover who she is going to become and the best part is… I get to be there for it all from this day on!

As for me, I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more.
Psalm 71:14

Catching Fish In A Mailbox

I’ve never been called a fisher-women.  I don’t like worms, fish, or smelly things, and as I’ve mentioned before, my patience level isn’t very high.  I think that title probably belongs to men anyways.  

So, naturally… one of the evening events this past July with the Russian tour was spent putting creepy, wiggly, smelly, brown worms on some hooks and throwing them into the family’s pond… and waiting.  Then, after we did that for a few hours, they suggested we eat!  With the same fingers that had just minutes earlier held the creepy, wiggly, smelly, brown worms!  Really?!?

That night was not my favorite! 

So, naturally… it was our little girl’s!  She screamed and wrinkled up her body every time someone put a worm on the hook for her (thank you Pop Pop).  She swung that pole over her head, and about half the time, she remembered to release the hook out into the pond.

Once it was out there, she waited.  Patiently and full of hope.  In her mind, she knew that some innocent fish would bite that creepy worm and she would be rewarded for her patience.  

     

We have officially been apart for five weeks!  FIVE!!! 

While we were in St. Petersburg, our process took off and we completed a lot of official paperwork and did all that we could do at that time.  Since then, we have waited for a little, bitty letter to arrive from Moscow.  Once the letter arrives, we can file for a court date and order ourselves some plane tickets. 

That letter usually comes… about two weeks ago.

Today, it was a beautiful spring day in Colorado, and if I thought walking myself down to the closest pond would help.  I would dig in the dirt with my own fingers until I came across a creepy, wiggly, smelly, brown worm.  I wouldn’t even call my dad to put it on a hook.  I would bate that little thing and throw it into the pond, muster up every ounce of patience I have, and wait for my reward. 

My little lady caught her first fish that night.  I pray I catch mine… in a mailbox on Monday morning!

Ice Cream in the Artic

"Is it too cold for ice cream?"

The great thing about the way our trips are organized is that everyday allowed us time to take our little girl out for a date.  We would have been fine with just sitting with her at the orphanage, but she was anxiously waiting for us after school each day and had no intentions on staying in the home. 

The city was at her fingertips, and each day we presented her with ideas we had gathered from the tourist book in our hotel.  She thoughtfully considered all her options, and then told us and the driver, “To the airport!”  Our baby girl just wants to go home!

Knowing that I’d be sent to jail for any attempt of just taking her now, we convinced her to stay in St. Petersburg and treasure every second together… hand in hand.  On Tuesday, we laced up some ice skates and ungracefully glided across the ice.  We laughed so hard as we took turns pushing each other backwards and spinning each other around in circles.  Then, of course we ended our time together with ice cream… I mean it was only -9 outside!

“Can I dance here?”

Wednesday we had her to ourselves for the entire day!  There is nothing quite like the Hermitage Museum, which is housed in the Winter Palace.  The palace is like several White Houses placed side by side and painted just beautifully.  Just looking at it takes your breath away.  We assumed it would be too common for her, but she was in awe of the chance to visit because she hasn’t been since she was 9 years old.  She asked to start with the Egyptian artifacts because she had just studied Egypt in school.  She had the translator tell her every little detail and she nodded along excitedly. 

Art pieces by Monet, Da Vinci, Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Michelangelo… all impressive.  But… when your little girl stands in the main ballroom of the Royal family and slowly spins in a circle… time freezes and the music comes alive.  She is my Russian princess, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.  She smiles at me, grabs my hand and my heart dissolves.       

"Can I have some soup?"

The children know that they will be asked if they had soup while they were out.  She can proudly say yes, and much, much more.  Our coordinator had taken us to a little restaurant that makes the greatest soups and pies, and we knew we should take her there.  She ate twice as much as I did and savored every bite!  The best part of each meal was that she would come alive with chatter while we sat around the table.  She asked so many questions and told us a lot about herself.  I can’t wait for the day that we can just talk straight to each other… because that little girl can talk!

“Now to the airport?”

After lunch, she tried again to get the driver to go to the airport.  He just laughed with her and said he would get in trouble!  So, instead, we visited the original island of St. Petersburg and went inside the St. Peter and Paul Cathedral.  It was so majestic!  The most detailed carvings and all covered with a thin layer of gold.  Again, she hungered for the history.  She wanted to know about each historical detail and royal burial.  We have a smart little girl, and it fills me with joy to know that she loves history too!

And also, just like her mama, she loves her chocolate!  We had some time left before we were expected back at the orphanage, and she didn’t want to go back until she absolutely had to, so we hit the town for the famous Russian Pilini.  I ordered mine with chocolate and bananas, so did she, with a smile beaming across her face!  Normal people fill it with meat, pork, potatoes… but not us!

As we inhaled our treats, she took the opportunity to ask us about how we celebrate the holidays in our family.  Her eye lit up at the thought of presents from two sets of grandparents and aunts and uncles.  We told her, that we read two different stories on Christmas Eve and then cuddle together in our bed… 2 adults + 3 kids + 2 dogs… this year will be interesting!  She loved the idea and can’t wait to be a part of it!

“My Russian Sister”

Months ago, her sister “friended” me on Facebook.  What started out timidly quickly grew into two loving people, sharing the same hopes for a little girl they both care about.

Her sister has shared their entire family history, pictures of our daughter as a baby, a toddler, and all the stages up to now.  She tells me the funny things, like how she refuses to wear a coat in the winter, how she is a stubborn child, how smart she is and can do anything she attempts to do.  She has taught me about my daughter’s past, and I am forever grateful. 

She sent me her phone number, and while we were there, our coordinator arranged a lunch date for us to meet.  We walked into the small café and noticed a tiny, little thing sitting by herself in the corner.  She looked scared.  I walked over to her, varified it was her, she nodded and stood, and we quickly hugged.  Her tiny body felt tiny in my arms and our hearts raced with an overload of emotions.  That’s all it took before the tears filled our eyes.  As she looked deeply into my eyes, I could see every emotion she was feeling.

We both had dozens of questions for each other, and to say we were grateful for our translator is an understatement.  She’s young, very young, and has two children of her own.  She works hard and is very talented.  But, the burden of taking in a teenager is just too much.  I can see that it breaks her heart, but she assures me that she knows a family is what is best for her sister.  She loved hearing about our families and our kids, and we’ve agreed to meet her kids on our third trip.  Then, after two hours of constant chatter, the fear was out of her eyes and a smile spread across her face.  I think it's hard for others to understand my need to know this girl, but her happiness means the world to me.  She is part of my family now.  I plan to visit her and share many wonderful years together... as sisters.

We drove her home and held on to each other the whole way.  Finally, my curiosity got the best of me and I had to know how good I would look in her beautiful Russian hat!  We got silly and took some pictures together as we giggled like sisters!  Priceless! 

“Funny Faces and a Little Surprise”

“To the airport!” she tried again on Thursday!  We compromised with bowling and ice cream.  I remembered how much she liked taking pictures with my camera when she was out in July, so as we took turns bowling, we took turns with the camera.  There were more pictures of my backside that had to be deleted then there should ever be!  After every roll of the ball, we knew we had to turn around and strike a pose or make a face because that camera would be flashing at us!  She was so playful and silly the whole time.
 

Later, while once again inhaling ice cream in subzero temperatures, I turned the camera to play and asked her if she would like to see a surprise.  She nodded.  I clicked to one of pictures of her sister and I, turned the camera to her, and watched her face closely.  How would she react?  Her eyes widened and she smiled!  “When, how, where???”  She couldn’t believe that we met, but you could tell it pleased her!  I explained everything to our translator and she told her about our lunch date.  I spared no details.  I wanted her to know that protecting their relationship is very important to us.  That made her happy, too!
 
Before long, it was time to take her back and say our goodbyes.  She cried her own tears as she wiped away mine.  She told me, “It’s ok.  It’s ok.”  And it will be.  We knew we wouldn’t get to see her on Friday, and then we’d be headed home… which is where we are now, as I write… somewhere up in the air past Ohio, on our way home! 

As long as I write, I can smile and imagine each second replaying through my words.  Each time I talk about her, my heart skips with love, excitement and joy.  Leaving the St. Petersburg airport was the worst feeling I’ve ever felt, my heart felt broken, my lungs felt crushed, and my mind raced.  But now, I can look forward, knowing that there is nothing to do but trust in God’s perfect timing.  And soon (hopefully in 6 weeks)... I will see that precious little face again!

From Lukas... Anything to avoid bedtime!

Dear America,

Hi, I’m Lukas and I’m Shannon’s son.  Yes of course this is about my sister. Oh… she is very nice and I just love how she plays soccer and in Russia, Americano football! One thing I’m excited for is that she can help me pick on my other sister Ashley. She also very fun to play with!!!!! As I think you see, I love sports, and I love that there actually  is a family member (other than Dad) that might actually beat me. :( But hey the world is not sports so there has to be more! Correct there is more! So here! She is very playful, so Ashley and I can play games with her! Also she’s very understanding.  Once more, another good thing! SHE’S KIND! She’s very nice to other people!

Wow! There’s a ton of things that are good but I must have to go on! So now I’m going to write about the great memories I had with her over that week she was here! Well here’s one good thing that happened over that week!

Earlier that week we had to miss smores with the group, so one night we went outside around 9:00 and while we were waiting for our smores to cook I grab a soccer ball and started kicking it at the shed and she said “Pass”, so of course I passed it to here and we went back and forth passing and trying to see who could get by each other first! I don’t remember who won but it was still so much fun!

Another thing happened that night and it was when we were supposed to be going to bed and instead we hopped in mom and dad’s bed and wrestled to stay and their bed. But sadly dad carried us out of his bed.

There were a ton of great things about her and great memories but now I have to go to bed. So I guess this is bye.

Bye America,

          Lukas

The Humbled Plea

I’m taking a deep breath and asking for God’s blessing as I begin to write this entry.  It’s very hard for me because I deeply want to set a good example of following the call of God and accepting and understanding the adoption process.

Every part of my being, believes that everyone is called to care for the widows and orphans...

“Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God means caring for the orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.” (James 1:27)

... but certainly, not every person is called to adopt an orphan.  We were.

If you’ve read any part of my blog then you surely know just how deeply we love this little girl.  We will do anything for her.  But, we can’t do this alone. 

When we first started talking about adopting her, a friend said it would cost about $15,000.  My mind shut down there, and I tried to convince myself to walk away from this adoption.  At the time, that was more than I made in a year.  There was no way this could go any farther.

Then, we put that little stinker on the plane after our fairytale week together, and I didn’t care if it cost me every penny that I would make for the rest of my life.  That little child was not going to go through life hungry for a family of her own.  Money was irrelevant.  SHE was all that mattered. 

Now, seven months later, our savings have run out and we are applying for grants.  So far, we haven’t received anything, but we are being patient and prayerful that our hearts will be heard by the right organization, and they will help lift this financial burden.  The amount of $15,000 was just a fraction of what it would actually end up costing.  The final number we are looking at is $35,000.  In some odd way, it’s less intimidating because it’s just so unimaginable to us.  But the bottom line hasn’t changed.  Whatever it takes to get her home!

My plea to you, is to join us in “caring for the orphan.”  You don’t have to adopt a child of your own (yet), but will you come along side a family that is doing what God has asked them to do?  Are you willing to talk to your spouse, or your mom and dad, or your friends… and become part of our story?  I know how many of you read this silly blog… I know because I feel it in your prayers.  I know because I see it in your eyes when you ask about our latest news.  I know you read because you are precious friends that care about our growing family.

Tonight, I humbly ask you to be part of our journey.  Your prayers are our first and most important need, and any financial help you can provide would be appreciated more than words can say.  We have added a PayPal button to the blog to make it convenient, but you can always swing by the house and be forced to look at the thick pile of pictures from our first trip, if you prefer! 

Your friendship, your encouragement, and your love have meant the world to us… thank you for standing by our side through every step of this adventure!  We will continue to share little glimpses of our story as it unfolds.       

Much love,

Shannon (and Chad too)

At long last...

It’s our last night in St. Petersburg… and I should probably just stop writing here.

My heart is barely a few blocks away right now, and I can feel that hole that has been filled for the week, quickly draining again.  This week has been like an little adventure with interruptions from a fairy tale.

Here is a small taste of our first day together again!

Our first stop in St. Petersburg was to The State Adoption Center so that we could receive our official referral.  A referral allows you to visit a child and decide if you would like to pursue them for adoption… so I really would have liked to skip this step and jump right into the court meetings!  It’s procedure though, so we did it, had some authentic Russian lunch and drove over to the orphanage.  



Lunch with our coordinator!

Right as we first walked into the orphanage, one of the girls I met this summer on the tour was walking down the stairs, and I called out her name.  She is 15 now, which means that by May she will age out of the orphanage.  Because of that, she’s been on the hearts of many of us that met her, so it’s only fitting that I would run into her right from the start.  She turned around and came running down for a hug.  Off she went with a big smile. 

Next, we were told to wait at the top of the stairs while the adoption coordinator met with someone.  She said she would be with us in a few minutes. 

Just then, the huge door that leads to the children’s hall opened up and my beloved little girl snuck her head around.  Our eyes caught instantly, and at the exact same time, we each let out a shout of joy and ran to each other screaming and laughing.  Her arms wrapped so tightly around my neck that I couldn’t have escaped if I had to!  We just stayed in that embrace for a few seconds… and cried as seven months of waiting instantly disappeared. 

Our second hug after seven months apart!

She pulled us into the hallway, drug us around to meet all her friends and talked as fast as our poor translator could go.  We showered her with small gifts, mostly drawings and letters from her siblings and cousins and all her new friends at church that are waiting back home to meet her.  We got to see all the little places that are part of her normal day, and then… a special treat!  She yelled for her friends and pulled us into the dance studio.  She told us to sit, and suddenly, six little girls began dancing to “Once Upon a December.”  It was graceful and beautiful… and just for us!

 

The girls doing the dance in the orphanage dance studio.

As soon as the dance ended, we were pulled into the director’s office to open her file and hear all the details of her past.  In our time together, they teased me that I wouldn’t be allowed to adopt her because there wasn’t enough age difference.  Russian law states that there has to be at least a 16 year difference.  They claimed I was 26… and instead of adopting… I should BE adopted by the director!  Instead, we made an agreement that I can live in the orphanage for the next two months… wait a second… why am I coming home then???  Turn this plane around!

Once the official business was taken care of, we sat down on her bed and began to catch up on conversations that I’ve wanted to have for months!  I asked her if she thought of us at night, she eagerly said yes.  I asked if she looked through the pictures of our time together, and she does so much that she doesn’t have just one favorite… they are all her favorite.  She went on and on about her brother and sister that are waiting at home for her, she can't wait to stay up late and whisper secrets to her little sister, and she talked about Libby and Alex, who are going to lick her face all over... just to be clear… they are the dogs!  She remembers it all and misses it all! 

But the thing that this mama loved the most, was that she wanted to leave with us, "NOW!" At that very second, she was ready to gather up her things and be on her way… HOME.

Teach Me To Breathe Again

As we leave Saint Petersburg...

I close my eyes and instantly my body is pulled into a world that isn’t quite real, but at least I’m aware of it. Everything feels heavy, but at least in this world I can feel my mouth take in the air and swallow it down to my lungs. I tell my eyes to open, to be aware of the earth below me, to take in the beautiful European countryside, but there’s no reaction.  My body gives in to the darkness and my mind finds peace in the chance to relive a few moments of utopia. 

My body is shaken, and I know that I am supposed to wake up.  I resist it.  My eyes squeeze shut and try to find the music again.  It’s gone now. I open my eyes for just a second, and just as quickly as I allow myself back into the real world, my lungs close. There is no air.  There is no music.  I fight to control the crushing that is beginning to take away my breath.  I choke once and the tears fall from eyes in streams as steady as a spring river.  There is no chance of stopping it.  I grab for my pillow and hold it to my face as I stare out the window, crying endlessly.   

I can’t control this heartache; I must return to the music and allow my eyes to give in to the weight that pulls them closed.  At least here, I can breathe.... 

Dresses... Curls... Mascara... and Joseph!

Our summer was nothing short of organized chaos. 

My littlest lady spent all 3 months of summer doing Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at the Candlelight Dinner Playhouse.  

While the children were visiting Colorado, there was a pretty full calendar of fun outings planned. 

Yet, there was one Saturday night open.  I talked with Ashley’s director, and he allowed her to have the night off and sit with her Russian friend in the audience.  Ashley was excited to see the musical from the other side of the stage.  We were both happy to avoid one more baseball game of Lukas’ and take our sweet friend to something that means so much to our family.  That theatre is Ashley’s second home for several months each year. 

We got ourselves dressed up.  Once again, the girls started with their nails!  Then, our “tall daughter” took the “short one” to the bathroom and started curling her hair.  They giggled, but I’m pretty sure Ashley was expecting to have her ear burned off.  Next, I got to add some ringlets to “the tall ones” hair.  The girls added some mascara to their eye lashes, and off we went. 

I had spent the night before translating the general storyline in each scene and the songs… and printed her a “Russian program.” 

Dresses… check.
Curls… check.
Mascara… check.
Russian program… check.
Odd little girls… always check!

The camera didn’t stop clicking all the way to the theatre.  Two silly girls, passing the camera back and forth.

Blond.  
Brunette. 
Blond. 
Brunette. 
The pictures are ridiculous!

As we waited for the show to begin, she read through her “program.”  She seemed to understand.

There’s just something about the theatre.  My heart filled with joy every time the fake school bell rang and those sweet little kiddos ran out to the stage.  I watched her reaction.  Would she smile, like I do?  She looked confused, but then, laughed out loud at the chaos.  I smiled.  She was like me.  Then, she stared as Miss Melissa let her voice soar, and began to tell the story of Joseph.  I’m not sure she blinked during the whole song.  I never did either.

Each time Miss Melissa sang, she stared.  As Potiphar came strolling onto the stage in his wonderful costume, she giggled.  When his wife came out, I covered her eyes!  When Joseph cried from the chains of jail, she discreetly wiped the tears from her eyes.  One part I always enjoyed was in Canaan Days, when the brothers exaggerated a note and held it ridiculously long.  She started clapping before anyone else in the audience.  She loved it!  Who cares what they were singing about, the point was, they could sing... and she knew it!

It was a magical night, to see a young girl, so full of talent herself, sit on the edge of her seat and take in her first musical production.

The girls after the show.

There were two moments that are frozen in my memory.  When the first act was about half way in, Ashley laid her head against her future sister’s arm.  She reached over and took Ashley’s hand, and for the rest of the first half, they stayed, hand in hand. 

Later, during the second half, Ashley pulled her legs up into her dress because she was cold.  Instantly, her protective “big sister” took off her sweater and wrapped Ashley up in it.  Then, she wrapped her own legs up in her dress.  I snuck outside to get a coat from the car, and even though they were comfortable, the two little girls sat side by side with their legs inside their sundresses. 

Not knowing then what God had planned for our lives, it was moments like those that showed me that the love of true sisters is not in the words they speak; it’s the language of their hearts.