TWENTY-FIVE
“Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above…”
James 1:17
The ride back to Kiev on a brand-new train seemed as fast as the speed of light in comparison to the relic we journeyed on before.
As we waited for our court date, with measurements in hand, we shopped for clothing to take back with us. Mama Luba had explained that Rachel and Luke did not own anything. Therefore, we had to purchase clothes for them to depart the orphanage.
Shopping was difficult. Clothes were expensive and the quality poor. We decided to buy the bare minimum to meet their needs until we returned to the states. The Bible says to bring all things to Him in prayer. It just seemed strange to pray that these clothes would fit.
Before we knew it, five days had passed and we were back on the train. After arriving, we had a few minutes to freshen up before we went before the judge. The next time we saw Rachel and Luke they would be legally ours, even though our hearts knew it to be true already.
It was intimidating to walk into the judge’s chamber, yet surprising to find a woman behind the desk whose frame signified strength. Long straight hair canvassed a stern, no-nonsense face as she nodded for us to take a seat. Andre introduced the prosecutor and transcriber who were also present in the room.
Why was a prosecutor necessary for adoption?
Troy leaned over to me and said, “I don’t like this. We are not going to get the children today.”
“Don’t say that. Where is your faith?” I closed my eyes to pray briefly through the discussion taking place; no one took the time to translate. What if we had come this far and we had to return without them? What would Taylor and Austin think?
“Jesus, Sweet Jesus, please come and help us,” I prayed.
We trusted Andre as he passionately spoke before the judge and prosecutor, who paced back and forth, questioning Andre with a fierce intensity.
Suddenly, Andre turned to us and said, “There will be a two-hour recess.”
Troy said, “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
“Rhonda and Troy, the prosecutor is convinced that you are adopting for the sole purpose of harvesting Luke and Rachel’s organs. The judge is allowing two hours to research your lives. Rhonda, the fact that you work for a pharmaceutical company has increased the concern. We need to pray.”
So that’s what we did.
We finally reconvened, but this time, we observed that the discussions were taking an unfriendly turn. Troy’s bobbing knee indicated his yolk was heavy.
“Lord, please. I beg you to intervene,” I silently prayed.
Andre turned to us and said the prosecutor had asked for a week to investigate our family. Everything within us cried no. That meant another week away from Taylor and Austin.
With a quivering chin I said, “Please, Andre, do something.”
He spoke to the judge privately and she said to give her time to think. She recessed again and told Andre to be back at two o’clock, which was in one hour.
All color drained from our faces.
“Troy, we can’t lose hope. God would not do this to us.”
“Rhonda, we are not going to get them. You need to prepare yourself.”
We sat on a bench praying until Andre motioned for us to join him. For the third time, we walked into the judge’s office. Something was different. Only the judge was present. She indicated to Andre that he should translate to us as she spoke.
“I have rather enjoyed reading the documents about your lives in America. It seems you are people with good hearts. I realize the prosecutor believes it is risky to allow this adoption. However, I understand all too well that if these two children remain here, they could very well end up alcoholics, drug addicts, in prostitution, or possibly land in prison. Therefore, from this day forward, Victoria and Roman will forevermore be known as Rachel and Luke Madge.”
Troy fell to his knees and wept.
The judge told Andre, “You must hurry and leave. I told the prosecutor to be back at three o’clock.”
With handshakes and hastily written signatures in place, we went to get our children. We couldn’t get to the orphanage fast enough. As soon as the car was parked, we jumped out and ran to the door. Jubilation awaited us.
The excitement in the air was contagious. Not only had the adoption been approved, but two brand-new, double-sided refrigerators had just arrived. The cooks were running around shouting, waving their hands in the air, while tears streamed from Mama Luba’s face. Rachel and Luke, on the other hand, pulled on our hands to leave.
Andre told them, “Slow down. You have to change your clothes.”
They began stripping down, exposing their thin bodies. We pulled out their new clothes and Luke asked Andre, “These are for us?”
Rachel threw her head back and laughed heartily as I placed new socks and shoes on her feet. Luke was convinced his tennis shoes made him faster and headed to the door. Rachel joined him. They ran as fast as their little legs would carry them, leaving behind the rejection and pain from the past to head toward a future of unknowns. They did not look back. Mama Luba seemed to understand as she waved and blew kisses.
Driving past old buildings, Andre said the children were discussing how beautiful everything was in the city. I couldn’t imagine what they would think when they saw Tennessee. A new world was about to open up before their eyes.
We traveled to Kiev, experiencing creation through the eyes of two children who had lived in darkness since birth. Entering an old grocery store where eggs were sold in a basket and bacon was cut from a slab seemed to cause as much enchantment as if they had just entered a Disney store.
They couldn’t believe we pulled their shoes and socks off in a park to play in the sand. Luke rubbed his hand over the top of the grass as though it were his first time to see such greenness. Everything we did caused delight, that is, until it came time for their first bath.
To my surprise, the word for bath in Ukrainian was douche, and I’m positive they would be surprised to find out we Americans douche every day. Giggles faded as I scrubbed away the dirt layered in crevices. Laughter returned when they felt the softness of new pajamas on their skin.
Our final night approached. Andre’s job was done. It was time to go home.
**********
We were in Ukraine for a total of thirty days. We had come with hearts open to the adventure that God had laid before us and were leaving with proof of His faithfulness.
As we stood in the airport, it seemed impossible to find adequate words to express our appreciation to Andre. He had protected us and cared for our every need. However, as we were saying our farewells, something told me this was not good-bye forever.
Andre and Troy had bonded during our time here. Troy hoped to return and bring building teams to build homes for International House of Hope, instead of just purchasing them.
Andre knelt before our children and said, “This couple adopted you because they desire to love you and give you a better life. Even though you can’t understand them, just follow their direction and do what they do. When they eat, you eat, also. If they go to the toilet, you do the same. Do you understand? You can trust them.”
They nodded in agreement and kissed the cheek of the last person to speak to them in their native language.
Andre turned to us. “Above all else, love, because the Bible says, ‘Love never fails.’”
With that, we embraced. Waving, we walked through the gate to board our plane. Destination: Washington, D.C.
For nine hours, Rachel and Luke held the TV remote, flipping stations on the airplane TV. Benadryl had done nothing to settle them down. When our food arrived, they ate. I had brought Play-Doh and crayons, yet nothing grabbed their attention like the small TV on the back of the seat in front of them.
As we walked off the plane a lady behind us said, “You have the most well-behaved children.”
“My goodness. Thank you so much. We just adopted the
m from Ukraine and we are on our way home.”
Poor lady. I left her speechless.
“Enough talking, Rhonda. We are going to miss our connection.” Troy was getting nervous so we ran ahead. Just as Andre had instructed Rachel and Luke, they ran along with us.
Customs was intense. There was a long line ahead of us and the clock ticked the minutes away. Finally, we made it to the officer who requested to see our paperwork. Each child had a folder that held documents proving we were their parents, but he didn’t seem convinced. We stood motionless, awaiting the approval to reenter the United States of America.
Jesus. Please, Jesus…
Then, just as suddenly as the gavel had hit the judge’s desk in Ukraine, the officer slammed his stamp on four passports. “Congratulations,” he said as he moved us along.
There was no time for pleasantries. We ran to our gate, only to find our flight had already left.
Troy quickly found another flight to get us home two hours later than planned. I could barely stand to make the call home to tell Taylor and Austin.
“Mama, please hurry. We miss you so bad and we are having a party,” Taylor pleaded as her voice cracked.
Those hours moved at turtle speed, but finally the attendant announced our flight to Nashville, Tennessee, was boarding. I cried.
Seated, Rachel and Luke fell asleep for the first time since we left Kiev; Troy quickly followed. Not me. I was overcome with the roller coaster of emotions that had accumulated over the last several hours. I looked out the window and relived all that God had done.
“Prepare for landing,” came the announcement from the flight attendant.
My heart pounded out of my chest. Waking the children was not easy. Luke crawled into my arms and tucked his head under my neck, hiding his face. Rachel grabbed Troy’s hand.
We walked around a corner at Nashville International Airport, and standing before us was the most beautiful sight my eyes had ever seen. Taylor and Austin, circled by our closest loved ones: Papa and my mother, Troy’s mom, Mell and Julie (the Holy Rollers), and twenty other dear friends.
The floodgates of our hearts opened. Separation does indeed cause the heart to grow fonder. We grabbed our children and loudly wept tears of joy. The moment came for Taylor and Austin to meet their new siblings for the first time with awe and curiosity.
I couldn’t imagine what Rachel and Luke must have been thinking, to be in a place where everyone cried and not understand a single spoken word. I guess it’s the reason Luke continued to hide his face and Rachel stood in a constant state of wonderment.
Our family and friends were delightfully fascinated by the two little Ukrainians. I tried to get Luke to rise up; it was killing his new brother not to see his face.
In a whirlwind of chatter, we managed to claim our bags and load into a van. I crawled in the seat on the second row and buckled Luke in the seat with me. Austin sat beside us. Everyone was talking over one other with excitement, but Luke never moved. Rachel’s smile seemed permanently plastered on her face. Neither Troy nor I could keep our hands off Taylor and Austin. The tears kept coming.
Home sweet home drew nearer. We pulled into the driveway, and just as I opened the van door, Austin had the need to rip one. A loud one. Luke raised his head, smiled big, and waved his hand in front of his nose. Passing gas seemed to be a universal language.
Overjoyed, Taylor and Austin reached for the hands of their brother and sister. The little ones gladly accepted and followed them into their new home. I stayed back to watch for a second before joining the celebration. Troy took my hand in his. Our eyes met.
“We made it, Honey,” I barely whispered.
Stepping into the doorway, I listened to the laughter of our four children as Taylor and Austin showed Rachel and Luke around. They squealed when they saw their rooms and beds layered with stuffed animals.
Taylor wasn’t kidding when she said they had planned a party. Wonderful food was prepared with a Welcome Home cake. Balloons floated in the air and presents awaited.
We laughed as we listened to Rachel and Luke talk to one another. We tried to imagine what was being said as they saw things around the house with oohs and ahhs. I wondered how children so small could comprehend the transition from an orphanage to a family in such a short amount of time.
After our friends and family departed, the six of us were left to begin our new life together. To help them feel secure, Rachel and Luke began the journey sleeping together, much to the regret of big brother and sister. The four of us tucked them into bed with hugs and kisses as we dimmed the lights.
Although we were exhausted, Troy and I cherished the first alone time with Taylor and Austin in over a month as we rekindled their nighttime routines. Snuggling, we told them how much we had missed them. Their little lives were going to change, also. I felt they needed confirmation that nothing would ever change our love for them.
Bone weary, both mentally and physically, we collapsed in our own bed. I was reminded of the dream I’d had almost two years earlier of walking through our front door with a little boy and girl in our arms.
Today truly was the day the Lord hath made.
EPILOGUE
At this moment, I’m having coffee with my friend Jesus like I do every morning. My Bible is resting on my lap as I look out the window above the trees to the heavens. I love watching darkness fade into the morning light. Most days I rise with a joyful heart, others not so much. I just depend on His promise that when I draw near to Him, He draws near to me. It’s a choice to start each day this way. I have learned that when I seek Him first, I’m prepared for the ebb and flow of what awaits.
I often reflect and wonder how my life would have been different had I not turned my back on God that terrible day Daddy died. Yet I’ve learned, if I linger, those thoughts only bring heartache along with a good ol’ pity party. That’s no fun. God slowly taught me to keep my eyes focused on Him and use all the lessons from my past to help others tread through their own muck, which is why I wrote this book.
God wooed me by helping me understand that I am His child. I couldn’t fathom that He could love me as much as I love my own children. Yet the Bible says even more—a love that spans as far as the east is from the west. That’s even more than to the moon and back, which I so fondly tell my children all the time.
In hindsight, I see how the product of my thinking made me believe I was someone other than who I was created to be. I’m so stupid. The church won’t accept someone like me. I’d better not tell anyone that I’ve been married before. God can’t use me.
“For as he thinks within himself, so he is” (Proverbs 23:7).
I now (and sometimes fail to) refuse to believe I’m inadequate, inferior, or subpar. Instead, I choose to accept that I am fearfully and wonderfully made, clothed with strength and dignity. Yes, that’s right, the little girl from Bumpus Mills.
Over time I learned to turn to Scripture when thoughts of my past or stressors arose that made me feel incompetent. I’m not saying it’s been easy. There are those “what if” days—you know the ones. “What if I had only listened to my mother? What if I had gone to college instead of getting married?” It’s hard to take those thoughts captive as the Bible tells us to do. Yet with time, God taught me to shift my focus to His promises and away from my anxious thoughts. When I do, His peace returns.
Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.
Philippians 4:6–8
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It has now been thirteen years since we brought Rachel and Luke into our family. The time I spent in Ukraine opened my eyes to not only t
he Lord’s faithfulness, but to the mission field, as well. An expedition with God is an adventure not to be missed. It saddens me to think back over the many times I refused to travel with my husband. I now understand it’s the unknown avenues placed before us that force us to trust God enough to take the walk in the first place. These journeys bring about the most change. Can you believe the insecure woman you have read about now leads mission teams to Ukraine? Only God makes what seems impossible possible.
I was on a boat in Ukraine when God asked me to write this book. I whined and told Him that I could not write! Surely He was mistaken. I’m laughing at this moment even as I type. God does not ask us to do something unless He has equipped us to do it. I sought help and stepped onto the path of obedience, once again not understanding where it was leading me. I kept telling myself if it made a difference in the life of one, it would be worth it. Now I can even see if the Lord desires, or the creeks don’t rise, as Mother would say, there will be another book.
You see, there is simply nothing that brings me greater joy than to tell others about the One who changed the course of my life. Once I removed the veil of deception from my eyes I became able to see with absolute clarity how He is continually with me, moment by moment, lovingly guiding me along life’s rocky path.
Hindsight Page 17