Hindsight

  Then he raised his head and announced, “I think we are supposed to adopt.”

  Taylor jumped up and down, screaming, “Yes! Remember my little friend in first grade from Russia? I have always wanted to adopt.”

  Austin chimed in, but I mentally shut down the chatter.

  “Rhonda, what do you think?” Troy asked.

  “Well, I think you are crazy. That’s what I think. I’m forty-five years old and we have two beautiful, healthy children. Why would we want to adopt another child?”

  “Will you pray about it?” Troy asked.

  Ugh. What was I supposed to say to that? My mind slipped into a whirlwind. Something could be wrong with an adopted child. Troy is going off the deep end. I’m not doing it.

  We laid in bed motionless. I couldn’t think about anything except reasons why we should not adopt. Troy didn’t push the subject, but how could I refuse to pray?

  The next morning over coffee, Troy suggested that we visit our pastor, Rick, and his wife Patti. They had adopted an older child from the Ukraine when they were in their fifties. They also had two grown daughters, so their situation was similar to ours. I agreed to meet with them.

  Rick was excited to talk with us. He said he rarely had the opportunity to discuss joyful subjects since most people visited him with problems. I knew about that all too well, but I wasn’t convinced this was a joy-filled subject, either.

  Our pastor had such a presence about him, so kind, warm, and full of wisdom. We had never before met privately with him, but after entering his office we enveloped ourselves in the softness of a large leather sofa that made it easy to bare our feelings.

  He did not tell us we should or should not adopt. What he did tell us was to turn our request completely over to the Lord. He said to pray that the Lord would make apparent to us what we should do by opening doors wide or by slamming them shut in our faces. It made sense to me. I just wondered how God would be that obvious.

  Together, we prayed simply and believed strongly.

  Well, I’m here to say that God has a sense of humor. From the day we left Pastor Rick’s office, conversations with others turned into discussions about adoption—and not from our own initiative. It didn’t matter where we were or who we were with, the word adopt would just pop up out of nowhere.

  One rainy, cold December day, Troy and I decided to do some Christmas shopping. We went to Target and he dropped me off at the front door while he parked. I stood in the glassed front entry, waiting for him to join me, when a man stopped to put on his jacket before going outside. I casually asked, “Are you doing some Christmas shopping today?”

  To which he replied, “Yes, I am. For my two new adopted daughters.”

  I smiled and said nothing else. When Troy joined me he knew immediately that something was wrong from the expression on my face.

  “You are not going to believe what happened,” I said.

  I shared my story and he just giggled, saying, “The Lord seems to be opening some doors pretty wide.”

  I knew God was trying to show me, but I was holding out for that moment when I knew He was trying to get my attention.

  I had a dream that not only confirmed what we were to do, but it changed my life. I dreamt that Troy and I walked in the front door of our home holding a boy and girl in our arms and introduced them to Taylor and Austin for the first time. I awoke to the caress of tears, knowing the Lord had spoken.

  I shook Troy, and through tears shared with him what had happened. God was indeed calling our family to adopt, and not just one child, but two—a young boy and girl.

  The following morning, we sat Taylor and Austin down to talk with them about what it would mean to their lives if we actually adopted. Their eyes began to light up with excitement.

  Austin said, “I want a brother.”

  Taylor said, “No. I want a sister.”

  Troy and I just looked at each other. Are we really going to adopt two?

  This is a mistake. These kids have no idea how their lives will change. What are we doing? This is crazy.

  Then I heard Troy say, “Well, you both are going to get what you want. We are going to adopt both a boy and girl.”

  Our children jumped up and down, screaming and clapping. I silently prayed that their joy would be contagious because I was shaking in my shoes.

  There’s no turning back now. Taylor and Austin would be so disappointed. What are we doing? How can I work with four kids? Troy can’t go on any more missions trips. I mean it. He’s done.

  While Troy made a phone call to start the process, I went to the basement to pray.

  **********

  Pastor Rick and Patti had used a nonprofit organization from Franklin to facilitate their adoption. We found out International House of Hope is not an actual adoption agency, but a nonprofit that purchases homes in the Ukraine for Christian families if the family agrees to adopt three or more orphans. It was a way to keep the children in their homeland. International House of Hope only assisted in a small number of adoptions per year since that was not their primary focus.

  We trusted Pastor Rick and Patti, and they told us we would love Anna Walker and Andre Komar, who were the founders. Anna would be responsible for expediting our paperwork here in the states and Andre would take care of all our needs when we actually went to the Ukraine to adopt.

  Our first step in the process was to meet Anna. I did not know what to expect in that meeting, and nothing could have prepared me for the wealth of information she needed to know about our lives. Sitting before us was a beautiful, soft-spoken blonde, not at all what I had envisioned. I thought surely the door would slam shut once she heard about my troubled past and multiple marriages. Surprisingly, International House of Hope agreed to facilitate our adoption.

  The process was incredibly long and arduous, including FBI background checks, mountains of paperwork, and a lot of waiting. Once we received approval that we were fit parents and could provide a safe and financially secure home in the states, we could apply for adoption in the Ukraine. In our application, we applied to adopt a boy and a girl between the ages of four and seven.

  The Ukrainian Adoption Center would have to grant us an appointment before plans could be made to enter the country. Days turned into months.

  Waiting was so frustrating. Taylor and Austin didn’t think it was going to happen. Every day they questioned when they would get their brother and sister.

  Ukraine’s procedure is quite different from other countries. We would actually get to choose which children we would bring into our family. Anna explained that when we received our appointment in the Kiev Adoption Center, books would be laid before us with pictures of children who were in orphanages.

  There was one little stipulation. If a child had received any communication from a relative within 365 days, they could not be adopted. It didn’t matter if it was a single phone call from a distant cousin of a cousin, the child could not be adopted.

  Finding out the details of how the process worked caused anxiety. How in the world do you choose a child when there are so many to choose from? We knew it would be impossible to take Taylor and Austin with us, regardless of how hard it would be to leave them. Their list of attributes would be quite different from ours.

  We took the time to meet with other parents who had adopted from Ukraine and asked, “How did you choose?”

  Their answer was always the same. “God will tell you.”

  Faith and trust usually develop over time. It seemed God had placed us on a fast track to maturity. We were learning to lean on Him daily, and not our own understanding.

  More time passed.

  Our paperwork expired. We had to pay more money to update our documents. We questioned if God’s hand was still in the midst of these barren days.

  A year passed.

  Everywhere we turned, people kept telling us that it was all in God’s perfect timing. If there was one thing I learned through this experience, it was our timing and God’
s timing are not always one and the same.

  And so we waited.

  TWENTY-ONE

  “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.”

  Matthew 7:7

  To wait causes distress. Waiting also opens the floodgate to doubts. I knew all too well.

  God surely didn’t mean for us to adopt.

  I knew I needed to stop these thoughts. Why do I question God? The battle in my head continued and I couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard I tried.

  The kids left for school and Troy had an early morning meeting, leaving me alone at my desk to catch up on paperwork. However, the assault on my mind rendered me incapable. I stared blankly at the computer screen in front me as random pictures from our files changed every fifteen seconds.

  The toothless smiles and silly grins on Taylor and Austin’s faces usually made me smile. Not today. I bowed my head to pray. I was weary from waiting and I was sick to death of all the people asking when the children were going to come. “I don’t know!” I screamed aloud, as though someone could hear me. I could feel my breathing grow deeper and the warmth of tears on my cheeks.

  I opened my eyes and before me was a picture that Troy had taken of three orphans while in Ukraine. I was looking into the eyes of two little girls and a boy who would melt anyone’s heart; then the picture faded into another.

  “No. Please, no. I want to see their faces!” I cried out.

  I searched frantically for the same picture, but to no avail. I slid from my chair to my knees.

  “Lord, why is this taking so long? Please, Lord, I’m begging you. We are all so tired. Why did You bring us this far only to make us wait? We trusted you.”

  One hour passed.

  I heard the ping of an incoming email. I arose and with one single click I read these words:

  Dear Mr. and Mrs. Troy Madge:

  You have an appointment at the Ukrainian Adoption Center. Plan to depart for the Ukraine on Easter Sunday, April 11, 2004. I will be in touch shortly with additional information.

  Regards,

  Andre Komar

  **********

  After eighteen months of waiting, the door had opened. We had less than two weeks to prepare for our departure to the Ukraine. Although we’d had months to plan for this very day, there were a lot of last-minute details.

  The week prior to our farewell happened to be Taylor and Austin’s spring break. We decided to squeeze in a small family vacation to the Smokey Mountains, knowing it was the last time together we’d have as a family of four.

  Life will never be the same.

  I had to choose to take those thoughts captive. We are going to be a family of six with much to look forward to, I said to myself over and over.

  But it wasn’t only me allowing reality to settle in. Taylor and Austin were overwhelming us with questions. It was understandable. We had never been apart from them longer than a week and we were told to plan to be gone for thirty days. That’s a long time to be separated from your parents. Not to mention, when we returned they would have to share us with two new siblings.

  I’m not sure if I could have left them had it not been for Mother, my pillar of strength. She agreed to live in our home and care for the children while we were away, regardless of how long it took.

  **********

  Easter Sunday arrived. Our flight didn’t depart until 1:05 in the afternoon, allowing us time for sweet family traditions. It was obvious we were all trying to be strong for one another as we eyed the hands of the clock.

  We were filled with excitement, sadness, joy, fear, happiness, thankfulness—a windstorm of emotions. Yet how does one express their mental state with such a range of feelings?

  No words were necessary, really. We sat in the middle of the floor and held on to one another as though our lives depended upon it.

  The time came to say good-bye as we gathered in the entryway to hold hands and pray. I knew in my heart our circle was bonded by the love of our Heavenly Father.

  Troy prayed, “Lord, please shield us and bring us back safely to our children. We trust You will lead us to the ones You have chosen.”

  I looked Taylor and Austin in the eyes, and as I told them how much I loved them, my heart ached sorely with every word. We all embraced as long as possible, knowing that our friends, who had asked if they could take us to the airport, were waiting in the driveway.

  As we walked to the car, we turned back to see Taylor’s face pressed against the window. Troy blew her a kiss and her little hand returned the gesture. Austin, face red from crying, stood in the doorway, waving frantically. Mother had her arms around them to keep them from running after us.

  After loading our two fifty-pound bags into the trunk of the car, we crawled in the backseat. We turned one last time to look at our babies as the car slowly backed out of our driveway. It seemed more than my heart could bear. I laid my head on Troy’s shoulder, unable to contain myself any longer. Sounds of weeping filled the car.

  What are we doing?

  **********

  The hum of the plane overtook the thoughts running through my mind. I looked out the window and tightly gripped Troy’s hand. It was hard to believe that every moment we flew farther away from the familiar, we moved closer to the unknown. Neither of us spoke very much, nor did we sleep.

  Not in a million years would I have ever believed we would be flying to Ukraine to adopt two children. We were two broken people with less than stellar pasts, but God had chosen us for this purpose. Trust. I was learning to trust.

  Our itinerary took us from Nashville to Washington D.C., to Vienna, and finally to Kiev, Ukraine. As we set foot on foreign ground, my heart beat faster. The Bible says to pray continually. For the first time in my life, I understood why.

  Andre was supposed to pick us up. It was strange to be so dependent upon someone we’d never met. We were told he was a rather large, strong-looking man with sandy-colored hair.

  We made our way to the baggage claim area, but Andre was not to be found. I sensed that everyone was looking at us oddly. I laughed and said to Troy, “Toto, we aren’t in Kansas anymore.”

  He didn’t find my humor very funny, but it was because of him that we were getting so much attention.

  Troy likes new white tennis shoes, and he was sporting a brand-new pair just for the trip. The problem was that Ukrainians did not wear anything other than dark footwear. You could see them snicker as they looked at his feet.

  “Rhonda and Troy, over here,” a voice yelled. The guy did not fit the description of Andre, but it was certainly nice to hear our names.

  “I’m Andre,” he introduced himself.

  Troy was skeptical and alarmed because we were carrying a lot of cash. I could tell from his face that he was concerned.

  Obviously, Andre saw the fear, as well, and said, “I’m not Andre Komar. My name just happens to also be Andre. Why don’t you call me Little Andre?”

  As we waited on our luggage, Troy leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I’m not sure I trust this guy. What if this is all a scam to take our cash?”

  “Troy, we are going to have to trust God in this,” I whispered as I took his hand in mine and squeezed it tightly, trying to calm myself as much as him.

  We made our way outside and found the car. We got in the backseat as Little Andre began to tell us his testimony. “I was once a pickpocket.”

  Troy jerked his head toward me and whispered, “See? I knew we shouldn’t trust this guy.”

  I hit his leg and reached into my bag to find a piece of paper. I scribbled a note: “Troy, he wouldn’t tell us if he was going to take our money.”

  I wasn’t born yesterday.

  Little Andre took us to a very small yet clean apartment. Every square inch served a purpose, from the compact kitchen to the living room with a pull-out sofa for our bed. He left us to rest and said that “Big Andre” would pick us up for breakfast the next morning.

&nbs
p; We collapsed on the makeshift bed, but not before we prayed. We knew we had to completely depend upon God. There was no other way.

  We had heard so much about Andre Komar and couldn’t wait to meet him. He arrived right on time, and the second he walked through the door, Troy and I both exhaled our anxieties. We knew immediately we could trust him.

  We drove to a local restaurant called Arizona Barbeque. I guess Andre was trying to make us feel more at home. I ordered bacon and eggs and Troy decided upon sausage and eggs, both of us thinking we should keep it simple.

  My stomach churned a bit when the waitress sat an iron skillet before me with barely cooked, thick pieces of fat covered two jiggly eggs. Troy’s plate was straight from a Tom and Jerry cartoon, with two eggs in the center surrounded by hotdogs linked together.

  It wasn’t in our nature to complain, so we picked at our food with gag reflexes on high alert. Coffee brought relief as Andre shared that he was once a high-ranking government official under communist rule in Ukraine. I could just envision him in his uniform.

  “Andre, how in the world did you meet Anna?” I asked.

  He explained when their country gained their independence from Russia, he was put in charge of planning a day of celebration for their country, much like our Fourth of July. “I’m sure you have heard Anna has a Ukrainian heritage and is fluent in our language, plus she is a wonderful singer. I felt she was the perfect person to perform at our celebration. It didn’t matter to me that she traveled with Billy Graham, performing at his conferences. Her music provided love, and I knew that’s what my people needed.” He continued, “Interestingly enough, I didn’t understand God’s plan when I invited Anna back the following year.”

  Andre explained that in the course of their friendship, he accepted Jesus into his heart and stepped down from the government. The two of them, along with Anna’s husband James, formed International House of Hope.