Hindsight

by Rhonda Taylor Madge

  God’s faithfulness was overwhelming. I realized that once again I had questioned the Lord. I’m so sorry, Lord. Teach me to trust without questioning, please.

  Andre shifted into high gear by arranging a visit to meet the children in a village called Slavyansk within the Donetsk Region, nearly eight hundred miles away. We were told to pack a small bag of clothes for a few days’ visit. The majority of our travel would be via train, but not just any ordinary train. The jewel we were to travel on for eighteen hours was from World War II.

  To say we felt we were on an adventure would be an understatement, especially when Andre walked us to our cabin. We passed a man sitting alone at a small table with four chairs, smoking a cigarette while nursing a bottle of vodka. He turned our way with a drunken smile to welcome us on the journey.

  Andre looked at us and said he would return shortly. Smoke rings filled the room as the man puffed and slurred some unknown words. I looked at Troy and said, “This may very well be the longest eighteen hours of our life.”

  The cramped cabin was meant for four, preferably small, people. Andre joined our party and enlightened us about this man who desperately needed a shower and toothbrush. Again Andre said, “Don’t worry, be happy,” as he winked and conversed with the stranger.

  Troy asked, “What does he do for a living?”

  “Oh, he’s a pilot. He is headed home to visit family.”

  We laughed, thankful to be on a train. Suddenly, the conductor appeared and told Andre to follow him. Unbeknownst to us, Andre had been working behind the scenes to change our accommodations. He led us to a new cabin with four bunk beds. Sitting on the bottom of one of the bunks was a younger man and older woman.

  Andre told us, “I will not be able to stay in a room with you because the train is overcrowded. This is a mother and her son, who are traveling together for her protection. They are from Israel and do not speak any English. Please don’t worry about anything. It is almost time for bed and you all will sleep.”

  Troy and I sat next to each other on the bottom bunk, facing these two strangers, unable to say a word. We gazed out the window to ease the awkwardness. Acres upon acres of unused farmland raced past us, making us wonder why large combines and tractors sat in these fields, rusting away. Troy noticed there were no fences anywhere to be seen.

  We took a little walk to find Andre and ask about these oddities. He was only a couple of cabins down from us; we had learned to trust that he was never far away.

  “Well,” he said, “the majority of farmland is owned by the government, so there isn’t any need for fences. They own the equipment, as well. When communism fell, all farming came to a halt. The big pieces of machinery you see are actually sitting where they were last used, rusting away. People do not have money to purchase the land because there are no jobs.”

  So fascinating and yet so terribly sad I thought to myself as something stirred deeply inside me. I suddenly understood why Troy wanted to travel on his missions trips. Reading about other countries is quite different from actually being there. I can’t go on missions trips, though. I need to work when we get home. Troy is gifted with skills to build. There isn’t anything I could do.

  We made it back to our cabin quickly and nestled back on our bunk. The old metal train had become rather chilly. Our dark-haired roommate smiled as she watched us. I could only imagine what she must be thinking. Her handsome son seemed less intrigued.

  A short time later, as night approached, the son stood and used his coat as a drape to give his mother privacy while she changed into pretty pink pajamas. Maneuvering around, they lowered the top bunk; they made their beds just as though they were home. With tenderness, he helped his mother climb under the covers before hopping up on his top bunk. It wasn’t long before the click-itty-clack of the train caught rhythm with his snores.

  Troy stood to pull our top bunk down and see what bedding was available. Bundled together were small pillows stained from years of usage, folded pillowcases, and some sheets and wool blankets, much like the ones I had seen in army surplus stores.

  “Let’s make our beds, Rhonda.”

  I can’t do it. I cannot lie beneath that wool blanket and put my head on that pillow. We could catch lice or scabies. No way.

  I voiced my concern and Troy said, “Fine, but you are going to freeze to death while I sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Troy wrestled with the cover and hopped up on his bunk while I lied down, pulling my knees to my chest in a fetal position. I opened my eyes and noticed that the sweet woman lying across from me, all snuggled and warm, was staring right at me.

  She thinks I’m an idiot. Worse. She thinks that I won’t lie under these blankets because I’m too good to do so. Well, isn’t that the case?

  I closed my eyes and prayed, “Lord, I’m so confused. Am I supposed to trust You enough to protect me from disease if I pull that blanket up over me?”

  Sleep overtook me while I waited for an answer.

  Soon the sun peeked through the window and the movement of the train caused me to stir. I awoke to find our cabin mates dressing.

  Troy chuckled and said, “Are you warm down there? I’m nice and toasty up here.”

  I almost said something that I would have regretted when a knock on the door stopped me. Andre had brought hot tea.

  “Bless you, Andre!” I squealed.

  While sipping my tea, my unnamed bunkmate pulled a plum from her purse and held it out toward me. Cradled in the palm of her hand, this plump piece of fruit was a gift offering. I remembered the small bottles of lotions in my purse I had brought for the orphanage employees. Reciprocating, I opened the lotion and put a small amount in my own hand first to show her what it was. The smell of gardenia filled our cabin as our soft hands embraced one another. It was strange to think I would never see her again.

  As the train slowed, my heart quickened. We were about to meet our children. Troy took my hand in his as we followed Andre off the train. I needed the stability; my knees were shaking.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.”

  1 Corinthians 13:13

  Slavyansk was a small town bordering Russia, where the evidence of war lingered. Windows were boarded and weeds grew where flowers once bloomed. Darkness hung in the air. Houses, old and weathered, used their yards as gardens to provide food. A wagon pulled by a team of oxen and an old cow tied to the back stopped to let us pass by. It seemed the eighteen-hour train ride had transported us back in time yet again.

  Slowly we pulled down a dirt road that lead us to gates overgrown with bushes. Could this be where the children live?

  Andre hopped out of the car and entered through a small entrance on the side of the building. He returned with an older, well-dressed woman.

  “I would like you to meet the director of the orphanage, Mama Luba,” Andre announced.

  Troy and I extended our hands to greet this lovely woman. When our hands touched, we looked deeply into one another’s eyes. Her warm, genuine smile brought reassurance. She asked Andre to share with us that she had done the best she could for the children with what the government had provided.

  We walked toward the building. The anticipation felt much like entering the delivery room to await a child’s birth, except that these two children we waited for were birthed from our hearts.

  The scent of cabbage wafted through the air as we walked down the hallway. Mama Luba and Andre conversed. Unsure of what they were saying, Troy and I assumed their laughter was an indication she liked us.

  I found myself curious about this woman as we took our seats in her office. Andre shared with us that she had been a director for over twenty years. She appeared to be in her fifties, with blonde hair, stylishly bobbed. Her suit was extremely well fitted and matched her pumps and stockings. I wondered how she could afford such a nice outfit.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Victoria and
Roman entered the room. Their beauty was magnetic. I slowly dropped to my knees, taking in every bit of this sacred moment; I heard Troy catch his breath as he bent down beside me. The tears began to flow.

  Victoria stood before us proudly; on her head was the largest bow I had ever seen. It was about the size of a pie. Mama Luba had dressed her in the finest she had to offer—a short gold dress with trim that looked as if it had once been white.

  Roman bowed his head shyly, but the corners of his lip curled upward, revealing a slight smile. He had outgrown his pants, but he rubbed the front of his shirt as though to say he was extremely proud.

  It was hard not to touch them. We inched forward toward them.

  Andre asked the children, “Why do you think these people are here?”

  Victoria replied, “To make our picture.”

  “No, Victoria. This couple would like to be your mama and your papa. Would you both like to go to America with them?”

  “Da!” they screamed delightedly.

  There was not one single second of hesitation. These children had no idea who we were or where they were going. It didn’t matter to them; they were getting a mama and papa.

  Through tears and smiles, Troy gave Roman a teddy bear with a red-checkered bow and I handed Victoria a doll with blonde curls and a turquoise dress. Mama Luba told Andre it was probably the first time they had ever received a gift all their own.

  As their eyes widened with wonder, Andre explained, “Victoria and Roman, you are not only going to have a mama and papa, but a brother and sister. You will live in a house with your own room and you will have a dog named Star. You are also going to get a new name. Victoria, you will now be Rachel. Roman, you will now be called Luke.”

  To this announcement Roman replied, “I want to be Rachel.”

  We burst into laughter.

  Luke jumped into my arms and Rachel hugged Troy. Our hearts erupted.

  Troy reached into his bag to get candy and handed them each one apiece. Luke quickly put his in his pocket, so Troy gave him another piece. He put it in the other pocket. Troy opened a piece and popped it in his mouth. Luke loved this game, but Victoria wanted her turn. Afterward, they took our hands and lead us to where they slept.

  Knowing we couldn’t understand them, they exaggerated their actions and talked slowly, thinking that would help communication. We entered a room with twenty beds lined in back-to-back rows. Luke showed us how he had made his bed without a wrinkle.

  Andre joined us and announced it was time to leave. He told us to take some photos with our Polaroid camera so we could place the pictures under the children’s pillows while we were away. It seemed we had just met and were already having to promise to return in the morning. It wasn’t easy to leave.

  We went to dinner with Andre and celebrated the day’s events while he explained what he had learned about the children.

  “It appears their mother lost her parental rights a little over three years ago. Neighbors found them abandoned in an apartment with no food or water; neither were wearing adequate clothing. It is believed they were alone for four to five days. Medical records indicate they are healthy and I’m sure you noticed there are no visible signs of fetal alcohol syndrome, which is wonderful.”

  I asked, “What is known about the mother? Was she married? Do they have the same father?”

  “The mother was nineteen when she had Victoria and gave birth to Roman 358 days later. The same father is listed on the birth certificates, but the chances of that are pretty slim.”

  “They seem healthy, except for their teeth. They are bad. Do you think they even know what a dentist is?” Troy asked.

  “It’s hard to say. The problem is most children in orphanages don’t get milk to drink, only juice and tea.”

  I couldn’t help but ask about Mama Luba. “How could she afford such a nice suit, Andre?”

  “She probably saved over a year for that one outfit. I expect that you will see her wear it again. Let’s shift gears and talk about what you should expect the next few days.”

  Andre explained that we would spend the following morning with the children and then prepare to travel back to Kiev so he could start working through the massive amount of paperwork. He had already arranged for a court date with the judge in Slavyansk. In one week our adoption would be the first international adoption to occur within the village.

  We got back to our hotel and tried to wrap our heads around the fact that we had just seen our two new children. It was shocking to me that they were not the least bit afraid.

  “Troy, I cannot come close to believing how God brought all this together. We applied for a boy and girl between the ages of four and seven. They became adoptable on the anniversary of the day Daddy died. When you align with God’s plans, anything can happen.”

  Troy replied, “Well, the Bible says, ‘All things are possible with God.’ Witnessing firsthand makes it easier to believe.”

  We laid together in our small hotel room, reminiscing about our young son and daughter until sleep took over.

  The second the alarm sounded, we jumped from bed. Andre knocked on our door an hour later, all smiles. After strong coffee and toast, we headed back to where Luke Roman and Rachel Victoria awaited.

  Mama Luba embraced us at the door. Andre was right; she was wearing the same outfit. Bless her heart. However, my concentration shifted elsewhere as the sound of giggles and little running feet caused us to turn toward the stampede headed our way.

  I picked up Luke as he gargled words at me. “Andre, please tell me what he said!”

  “I love you already!”

  Why did I worry with makeup? Troy took Rachel by the hand as we wandered our way through a mass of orphans, all speaking gibberish to our listening ears. One redheaded darling grabbed Troy’s leg. Rachel became defensive, her eyes of anger pushing the child away.

  “Andre, what happened? What did the child say to upset Rachel?”

  “He asked if you could be his daddy, too. Rachel said, ‘No! He is my daddy.’”

  My heart.

  We made our way to a playroom filled with toys. Luke and Rachel were overjoyed to see this shrine of gifts to be used only for special occasions, such as today. It was sad to think about the other sixty orphans who could be playing with these hidden treasures.

  Andre and Mama Luba left us alone to play so they could get started on paperwork. Not knowing how to converse, we amused them with silliness. It suddenly hit me: Rachel was not coming near me; she chose Troy.

  “Honey, Rachel seems to keep her distance from me.”

  “Give her time. Maybe she associates you with her biological mother who left her. I imagine it will be hard to trust.”

  The lure of pink fingernail polish made perfect bait. After pulling it from my purse and polishing my own nails, she sat next to me, pulling off shoes and socks to reveal ten little unwashed toes. I suppose she thought I needed a closer look because she leaned back to position her foot right in my face.

  Memories flooded my mind of holding Taylor and Austin’s feet for the first time, counting toes and kissing their soles till they squirmed. Now, before me, my daughter offered her feet. Gently, I cradled each foot in my hand for the first time and painted color over soil. She seemed awed when I blew deep breaths of air on each nail to quicken the drying process. I looked deeply into her eyes, but the darkness revealed nothing. I smiled. She ran.

  But what if she never trusts me? What would I do if this child chose to keep me at arm’s length? How easy would it be to love if not loved in return?

  Trust would need to be established before love would come. I knew that all too well. Before I loved God, I learned to trust Him first.

  Andre joined us to translate as we shared pictures from our life. The fascination on their faces was priceless when they saw Taylor and Austin’s pictures for the first time. They wanted to know how old they were and if they went to school.

  Andre explained, “Yes, they go to school and
you both will, also. Kids in America have to in order to learn to read and write.”

  They had no idea what awaited them.

  Andre began to fidget, indicating he had a lot on his mind. Suddenly, he clapped his hands together and said, “Okay, let’s talk. As we discussed earlier, it is customary to purchase the orphanage a gift. Do you have any thoughts about what you might like to buy?”

  The makeshift playground outside was completely unsafe. We asked Andre what the cost of new equipment would be.

  He suggested that we talk to Mama Luba and get her opinion. After she joined us and Andre told her what we wanted to do, she smiled. You could tell she was choosing her words carefully as Andre translated.

  “I understand your hearts and that you would like to bring joy to the children. If I may, I would like to tell you about a pressing need. For the last couple of years, we have only had one small refrigerator to use for the entire orphanage. As you can imagine for sixty children, it is not adequate. Would you consider purchasing a refrigerator instead?”

  Andre suggested that she take us to the kitchen and show us what was currently in use.

  Two cooks prepared lunch as we entered the galley. I tried to suppress my surprise when we saw the small icebox. Memories flooded my mind of when our own fridge had stopped working and the children’s milk would not cool. There wasn’t any doubt as to what we would do. Astonished, we found out the cost of one double sized unit was only two hundred and fifty US dollars. We ordered two, but chose to surprise Mama Luba.

  With that decision made, it was time to depart.

  Andre kneeled before Rachel and Luke. “We are leaving for a short time, but we will be back. Keep the pictures tucked safe under your pillow. Your mama and papa will see you in five days.”

  Luke hugged us both with a grunt to seal the deal. Rachel stood with her arms to her sides, allowing us to embrace her. Her birth mother had not returned. Why should she believe that we would?

  The definition of trust is confident expectation of something; hope. Did she hope we would return?