Infinitely More

by Krutov, Alex; Davis, Jackie

  Later that summer, I went back to the camp with my dear friend Sherry Oxendine. She and her husband were some of the first Americans I ever knew and had talked about adopting me for a time. Sherry brought along an illusionist who used magic tricks to talk about God. While at camp I learned that the older kids had sold their tennis shoes and had a beer party. That did it. I told them that I was done helping Orphanage Number 51. The younger children came to me and begged me not to. Some of them had had their shoes stolen by the older kids, but they had surely not sold their shoes. It was very hard for me, but I stuck to my word. I still helped Orphanage 51, but no longer at the individual level. In the future I bought some couches and some dressers and continued to supply toilet paper, but I no longer delivered gifts into the hands of the orphans there.

  All of this was a learn-as-you-go proposition. Shortly after I supplied couches for a couple of the floors at Number 51, kids and caretakers alike began grumbling and complaining because they did not get new couches on their floors. Their ingratitude hurt me deeply and I was tempted to walk away. I prayed for the grace and strength to press on.

  Not long after that the director at Orphanage 51 asked me for help on a big project of replacing all the pipes and redoing all the bathrooms in the home. It was a huge project, by far the biggest I had taken on. In addition to keeping up the communication and accounting (sending receipts) to the donors, I also had to keep the funds coming in and line up the contractors and contract the work as the funds were available. All along the way I continued to get nasty comments and snide remarks from caretakers and kids. Lyudmilla, my old English teacher, took every opportunity to make nasty comments to me. It was very difficult and frustrating work, as well as a thankless job. Upon the completion of the project I had been assisting Orphanage 51 for almost two years and I was done. It was not so much the lack of appreciation for my efforts as it was a change in my heart and direction from the Lord.

  For all the hours I spent on the plumbing project and for all the satisfaction I felt when it was finished, I began to realize that big projects for the whole orphanage had little or no direct impact into the lives of any orphans. I realized that I was not interested in just supplementing the needs of the orphanages, filling the gaps left by the government. All of this had started because I felt a tug in my heart to minister to orphans. It took me two years of focusing on quantity to get to the desire for quality. No longer was I just interested in buying three hundred pairs of underwear or a truckload of diapers. I needed to connect with a few individuals and really make a difference in their lives.

  The Lord began to lay on my heart individual orphans in whom I saw great potential. I knew that I needed somehow to focus on their inner healing and their need for Jesus. As usual, I didn’t know where this was all heading, and I started small. I spent the next two years with this individualized ministry focus at Orphanage 51, while I continued to help the other homes with large quantities of goods. I wanted to duplicate in others the life-changing effect the Navigators had on me. One of their key verses is 2 Timothy 2:2. “And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable men who will also be qualified to teach others.” That’s what I increasingly wanted to do. I was no longer “chasing the numbers.”

  I tried to find time and resources to also spend special time with kids in the other orphanages. I knew that I couldn’t impact the individual lives of all the orphans I met, but I needed to do more than just supply them with goods. I have always loved children and it broke my heart to visit Baby Orphanage Number 8 where most of the babies laid crying in cribs and most of the kids were crowded in a playroom, crying to be picked up and held. Sometimes I would just go spend time holding and playing with the children. When God provided the means I would take them to the circus or McDonald’s or the park.

  After years of watching me, one of the directors came to me one day and asked, “Alex, why do you do what you do?”

  I knew that it was time to share the truth with someone. I told her the short version of my life story. She cried and cried and hugged me. She told me she was sorry I was raised in Orphanage Number 51, which did not have a good reputation in the system, and that she was amazed that I had turned out the way I had. She had even more respect for me now in my work with orphans.

  I never set out to form an official ministry or a designated organization of donors to meet the needs in Russian orphanages, and I was certainly not intent on building a career for myself in Russia. I was simply an emancipated orphan myself with a lot of free time on my hands who was learning to listen to the still, small voice that was directing my steps and softening my heart. The words of Paul in Second Corinthians were taking on new meaning for me: “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”

  Chapter 17

  He who is kind to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will reward him for what he has done.

  —Proverbs 19:17

  The International church I had attended with my Navigator friends closed. Once the foreign missionaries left and a Russian pastor took over, attendance dwindled to almost nothing, so it was disbanded. Through an English-language newspaper that I treated myself to once a week, I found a new church home in St. Petersburg.

  At church I met a visiting group of missionaries. They hired me as a translator and I took them on a tour of Baby Orphanage Number 8. One little boy’s story broke my heart. Misha’s mother, a prostitute, had turned him over to the orphanage so that she could live the good life in Italy with one of her wealthy clients. Hearing a story of a mother discarding her child like that hit me hard. I broke down and cried for this little boy I didn’t even know. It brought back all sort of issues I had concerning my own mother. Through those tears I realized for the first time that my work with the orphanages and my passion for the orphans were the beginning of my own inner healing process. Something I wrote around that time helps explain the feelings I was having:

  Often in my life I ask the Lord to comfort my heart and give me peace regarding my biological mom. I pray to be healed of bitterness, regardless of the pain that abandonment has caused me. I try to imagine what it would be like to meet her after all these years. Over the years I have begun to have a measure of peace that I so desperately pray for. I try to imagine her circumstances, her fears and inadequacies that led her to discard me. I try at some level to have compassion for her, but the anger and the hurt and the devastation take aim at any ounce of compassion I can muster. One thing I do know, however: If it were not for her, I would never have been born to be so blessed by God.

  At that time, Melana happened to be with children at the Sunnyville sanatorium. I felt the need to go see her as I struggled through my feelings. As always, she was a great comfort to me. She provided a shoulder for me to cry on and always understood me. Sunnyville was a long way from both the city and the orphanage and they sometimes had a difficult time getting supplies. I committed to helping them, along with the other orphanages with whom I was working.

  Beloved Melana

  On the train ride from Sunnyville back to St. Pete, I suddenly got the urge to visit my once-adoptive parents, Kolya and Larisa. To this day I don’t know why I went there. I had no idea what I would say and no preconceived notion of my own expectations. I got to their home only to find out from the neighbors that Kolya had gotten a promotion and they had moved closer to the city to a nicer home with running water. The neighbor gave me their new address. I went to the new home and rang the bell, still not knowing what I would say if they answered.

  As it turned out, they were very friendly and welcomed me in, inviting me to stay for dinner. Our conversation was very superficial. We never discussed the past at all. Over the coming weeks as I continued to make the train ride to Sunnyville I often stopped to see them. I think I visited another eig
ht times or so over the next many months. As with that first reunion, we never discussed the past; there were no apologies, no explanations, no repentance. When I tried to talk to them about the Lord, they had no real interest.

  Even though I didn’t quite understand at the time why I kept going to visit them, I knew somehow it was important to my healing process. Somehow it was necessary in order for me to be able to move on with my future. In fact, the more I ministered to individual orphans during this time, the more compelled I felt to go visit Kolya and Larisa. After a while, I realized the lesson the Lord was teaching me. I couldn’t just talk to the orphans about love and forgiveness, I had to live it. My walk needed to match my talk. Those little orphans had incredible instincts. They knew when you meant what you said. They knew genuine.

  There is a verse in Ephesians 4 which says, “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.” I needed those visits in order to do just that and to forgive these people who had abused me and destroyed my hope. It didn’t matter that they acted like nothing had happened. It didn’t matter that they didn’t offer explanation or apology. It only mattered that I was able to forgive them. Thanks to the grace of God, and the love that He continued to pour into my life and His abundant forgiveness of me, I was able gradually to do so.

  I continued my work with individual orphans and also did some work with the Texas-based Buckner International, one of the largest adoption ministries in the world. I met some wonderful folks from Buckner and have continued to keep in touch with them.

  Sarah and Christian were two of those folks. They had decided to adopt two Russian brothers, Dennis, eleven, and Dima, ten. After their first efforts were unsuccessful, they asked for my help. I had absolutely no experience in foreign adoptions but I was excited to dive in for the sake of those two boys. It proved to be a valuable learning experience. I spent hours learning the ropes, hunting down documents, delivering documents, and filing documents.

  When I finally delivered the case to the court the judge asked, “Who is the facilitator for this case?”

  Not knowing what else to say, I declared that I was the facilitator. That made my role official and I was even given the power of attorney from Sarah and Christian.

  Regardless of the country, adoptions are difficult and a labyrinth of paperwork, meetings, and waiting. Russia is no different. Unlike many in my country, however, I was not willing to pay any bribes to expedite things. I chose instead to stay on top of things and follow up frequently. In the case of Dennis and Dima it took about four months to get our court hearing. It was my first appearance in an adoption hearing. Since both boys were over the age of ten, they had to appear at the hearing to give their consent to be adopted. The adoption was complete, but I had little time to reflect on the accomplishment or to relish the joy I felt in seeing this family united. They were off to the American Embassy in Moscow to get physicals for the boys. I dashed off with the court documents to get them translated and would meet up with the new family in Moscow (since I was not a legally certified translator I could not do the job myself).

  This was just the first of many times that I had the privilege of helping folks facilitate the adoption of Russian children in the years ahead. Russia no longer allows independent facilitators; today one must work through an approved adoption agency. But there is so much corruption and red tape and delay in the process that I am still asked to help from time to time. Christian and Sarah continued to grow their family. They adopted two more Russian orphans, Victor, age seventeen, and Anastasia, age fourteen. They have also had two biological babies.

  I kept up my efforts to return to America during this time. I unsuccessfully applied for the U.S. green card lottery three years in a row, after which I gave up. Regardless, I still felt strongly that I would be returning to America one day. I continued to pray for that opportunity as I lived day-to-day in Russia, making the most of every opportunity the Lord brought my way and seeing His hand in my life every day.

  Often opportunities would arise for me to take individuals on a tour of St. Pete. For example, an American family came to St. Petersburg from Moscow for two days. To conclude our tour I took them to Orphanage 51. It was their first time to visit a Russian orphanage and they were very moved and made a generous donation to the physical needs of the boys there.

  It was opportunities like these that the Lord brought my way that sustained me in those years. They were my only source of income. It was wonderful to see how the Lord tied those work opportunities to my ministry. It was a constant reminder to me that He is continually at work in my life and is using me to touch the lives of others.

  Chapter 18

  Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past.

  See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.

  —Isaiah 43:18–19

  My friend Mel Duke received his next missionary assignment from The Navigators and was now preparing to move to Estonia. Mel and Mary Lou needed my help with the move as all of their boxes were in the communal apartment where I was living. I went through the process of getting an Estonian visa since I was going along in the truck to help unload and, more importantly, to help out at the border with the customs agents.

  Mary Lou went on ahead of us on the train and would meet up with us in Estonia. I purchased her train ticket for her and sent my suitcase on with her because there was not much room in the truck.

  The night that Mary Lou was scheduled to leave on the 8:00 train, I was babysitting for some friends. As I was washing the dishes I heard a clear voice say to me, “Call Mary Lou.” Three times I heard it and three times I ignored it. I could not imagine why I should call her or what I would say when I did.

  Later that evening, long after Mary Lou had departed, and after the kids I was babysitting were in bed, I was writing emails. Suddenly, it hit me: my passport and visa were in the suitcase on the train with Mary Lou!

  I was thrown into a panic. As soon as Bob and Suzanne (the parents of the children I was babysitting) returned, Bob and I jumped in his car and headed to the train station. We stood in line and explained what had happened.

  With Mary Lou and Mel Duke

  Normally, the Russian response would have been unsympathetic. “Tough luck. Next customer!” Surprisingly, and no doubt due to Bob and Suzanne’s fervent prayers on my behalf, the ticket agent we spoke with was determined to help.

  “Do you know what compartment and what seat Mrs. Duke has on the train?” she asked.

  Fortunately, because I had bought the ticket for her, I had that information and reported it to the ticket agent.

  Looking at the timetable she saw that there was one more stop for the train, in a city twenty minutes before the Estonia border. The police in that town were called and they agreed to locate Mary Lou when the train pulled into their city.

  I spent the night at Bob and Suzanne’s, having been told by the agent to call her back the first thing in the morning to confirm that they had retrieved my documents.

  Nervous and anxious, I prayed that the Lord would take care of the situation. Once again, the Lord answered my prayer. I felt a peace come over me, and I actually enjoyed a great night’s sleep. I called the ticket agent at the earliest possible moment in the morning and confirmed that the police had retrieved my passport and visa from Mary Lou. My documents would be waiting for me when Mel and I drove there on our way to Estonia. We retrieved them without incident.

  The border crossing, however, was not nearly as smooth. It took almost three hours on the Russian side and an additional hour in Estonia. The border agents went through all of the sealed documents and belongings to attest to all of the belongings in the truck. Once we made it through all of that, we still faced three more hours of driving as the rain turned to sleet. We even had a flat tire to top it all off.

  Mary Lou was relieved when we showed up, a few hours late and the
answer to lots of prayers. I stayed with the Dukes for four or five days, helping them unpack and settle in. I was going to miss them a lot. They had become like American grandparents to me. But the Lord was about to put yet another amazing American couple in my life.

  Mark and Melinda Cathey had served as missionaries in St. Petersburg since 1992. They worked with a group called Church Resource Ministries (CRM), helping plant and develop churches in the former Soviet Union. I met them through some of my Navigator friends sometime in 1996. It was just a casual meeting, but I took note, as I always did, of the foreign Christians I met along the way.