Star

STAR is a therapeutic riding facility that our boys have been able to attend for the last nine weeks. Although STAR is for handicapped and/or mentally disabled kids, our boys qualify because of some problems with Fetal Substance Exposures. Max and Misha each struggle in different areas because of this but really are highly functional. In some ways we feel guilty taking them to ride alongside other kids with much more visible issues. That said, we are increasingly aware that the boys have difficulties in ways that we don't see with our eyes but that do impact them significantly. (I have mentioned before the challenges with schoolwork)

STAR has been, without question, the highlight of each week for them and they count the days from one week to the next with eager anticipation!

Each session is one hour long and the boys start by caring for their horses: brushing, cleaning their hooves, saddling, etc... Then they ride. they learn to follow directions as their instructor calls them out.

Max loves his horse and loves all animals. This has been something that he has really had to teach himself to do and we are proud of him for taking the initiative to be brave. His horse's name is Breeze. He draws pictures of Breeze every Sunday in Sunday School using a little horse stencil that they have. Then he delivers his pictures to his helpers with pride.
Misha has made great strides since he has come to live in our family! Once terrified to the extreme of everything from puppies to primary-colored plastic bugs, he has readily looked forward to riding his horse, Freckles, and brushes him with little indication of his sensitivities. I do still notice a little timidness near the horse's face and neck but as he brushes the rest of the horse, he looks like any other little boy happily brushing a horse! The best thing is that he tries. He pets the horse's head and talks to Freckles when he walks by. He does this partly to show others that he is not afraid but he doesn't realize that he is actually teaching himself not to be fearful!

The boys have one more week of riding. I have yet to warn them. They have loved it and we have loved giving them this opportunity!

The rest of the family watches the boys ride. Today Hannah finished her homework and the other girls picked flowers. Vitali took care of Misha's hat.

Max's new specs

Max's lazy eye has been immensely helped through six or nine (I can't remember) months of patching but after a three-month span of trying no patch, there are some residual control issues. The Dr. recommended trying these glasses which he will wear all the time for three months and then perhaps, if necessary, three months more. This is all in an effort to avoid surgical correction.

We all think he looks very handsome and smart in his new specs. Don't you agree?

Below is a picture where he is being silly and looking over his glasses but it distinctly shows how his eye jumps away in certain circumstances--especially when looking straight up. His left eye is the trouble-maker.

Max is very proud of his glasses but the newness will wear off soon, I am sure. He was listing all the characters on Walker, Texas Ranger today for me that wear glasses! Haha! I had never noticed!

All six. All looking in one direction. :-)

Max,
Hannah, Misha, Annette,
Ivy, Vitali

Willful Ignorance

Here is another of my recent writings

Occasionally I find myself wishing I was ignorant of the plight of the lost child. I think about losing the memories of the smells and sounds in the orphanages. Above all I find myself wanting to forget the faces of the children. The children that unless somebody intervenes are destined for tragedy. I want to go back to a time when they, the lost child, were out there and not in here. I don’t want these memories because they haunt me. They compel me to action. I sometimes just want to go back to a time when I was ignorant!

This primal urge reminds of the lines below from the movie, The Matrix. The character Cypher is struggling with his own desire for ignorance. He longs for the days when he was “plugged in” and was unaware that his entire world was a farce.

…. I know what you're thinking, 'cause right now I'm thinking the same thing. Actually, I've been thinking it ever since I got here: Why oh why didn't I take the BLUE pill?

… I know this steak doesn't exist. I know that when I put it in my mouth, the Matrix is telling my brain that it is juicy and delicious. After nine years, you know what I realize?

[Takes a bite of steak]

Ignorance is bliss…

Would my willful ignorance of the plight the lost child faces really change anything?

Would my ignorance change the fact that a little boy named Vladik in Eastern Europe will almost certainly be dead before his 18^th birthday simply because he was born without legs?

Would my ignorance change the fact that a little girl named Chan in China will be dumped on the steps of a decrepit government orphanage?

Would my ignorance change the fact that a young girl named Grace in Sub-Saharan Africa will be raped because local folk legend says ‘sex with a virgin cures AIDS?’

Would my ignorance change the fact that a young boy named Hector in South America will be conscripted into a violent street gang?

Would my ignorance change the fact that a young man named Jason in the United States will join over 250,000 other former foster children who have aged out of foster care and are now in prison?

The reality is my fleeting wish for ignorance is really nothing more than a desire to not confront myself with the fact that the statistic in my mind is an actual child! A REAL child that if I or somebody else does not intervene will face certain untenable odds.

Would my willful ignorance be any better than woeful arrogance?

Steve

Indiana Jones

Just in case there are any chicken fans out there, I thought you all might enjoy an update on Indiana Jones, the Therapy Chicken-hopefully-not-a-rooster.

Indiana is growing and I admit to enjoying having a quirky chicken for a pet. Well, maybe I'm the quirky one since my pet is a chicken. Anyway, Indiana is kind of interesting and humorous.

Misha is doing very well as a chicken Papa. He never complains about his duties. And, fortunately, Indiana is not adverse to being held even though I would never dare label this pet chicken as cuddly! Maybe "tolerant" is a better word. I.J. does follow us around the yard ( I guess we are the "flock" to Indiana) when we are out there and, no joke, when we have left him/her outside while we were away, our return has always been heralded by Indiana Jones hurrying in run-hop-flap fashion towards our car! Haha!
:-)

I didn't take a picture of it, but Steve built Indiana a coop in the back yard. Regardless of the fact that our feathered friend likes the coop just fine, our house is sooo inviting that he/she tries to walk in on occasion! I am not kidding, we have six or seven steps up to our front door and the other day I heard a loud peeping from outside. When we opened the door to see what was the matter out there, there was Indiana Jones on the threshold, peeping to come in. When I opened the door his/her little chicken feet and clumsy wings got busy as he/she "marched" right in!
And then the other night we finally had to close the door because every time it opened there was Indiana! And, last night I heard a light knocking on the glass door in the back. Our neighbor occasionally comes to that door if she drops by but I suspected it might not be Myrtle. Sure enough, Indiana Jones was "knocking" on the door to come in. "Knock, knock, knock." Then pausing, assured that we would shout out, "Come in! All chickens welcome!"

Didn't happen.

Melissa

Adoption and the Christian

Here is another excerpt from my recent writings.

Steve

Adoption and the Christian

The purpose of Christianity is redemption. The means God chose for redemption was adoption. Adoption [by God] is, in fact, the very basis of Christianity. Adoption has been described by John Piper as being “greater than the universe” and he goes even further and says “adoption is the purpose of the universe.” These are bold claims and assertions but the book of Ephesians solidly backs this up. Adoption is not only the purpose of the universe; it is a recurring theme throughout scripture.

The Hebrew people were living in Egypt and had grown so large that the Pharaoh perceived them as a threat and ordered all male babies to be killed. The mother of one young boy, unable to bear having her child killed, placed him in a basket. She then slid him into the river near where she knew the princess would bathe. The Egyptian princess was touched with compassion when she saw the infant. She took him as her adopted son, and named him Moses.

It was Moses to whom God presented Himself to mankind as "I AM." It was this same adopted son of the queen of Egypt who led the Exodus from Egypt and was given the Ten Commandments. It was Moses who wrote the first five books of the Bible.

Later, the Messianic line was preserved through adoption. The Jewish people had been led into exile. A young girl, Hadassah, lost her parents and her uncle took her in. He adopted her, and raised her as his own daughter. The Persian king Xerxes was compelled by this young woman’s stunning beauty and took her as his wife.

The king’s evil advisor, Haman, hated the Hebrews. He plotted to destroy them and wipe them off the face of the Earth. It was the courage of the adopted daughter of Mordechai, better known as Queen Esther, who "at such a time as this" rose to the occasion. It was this adopted daughter who risked her very life to approach the king to seek his favor to save her people. Through her actions not only were her people saved but also the Messianic line and eventually, through the death of Christ, all men.

Jesus, The Christ, was the adopted son of Joseph. It was the adoptive father of Jesus who refused to have Mary, the mother of God, stoned or put away privately. It was the adoptive father of the Christ who took Mary to Bethlehem fulfilling the prophecy of Micah. It was Joseph who fled to Egypt with Jesus, saving the adopted Christ Child’s life. It was the adoptive father of Jesus who brought Him "up out of Egypt.”

The adoptive father of our Great God and Savior had every reason and right under the law to refuse the responsibility of a child he had not fathered. However, Joseph knew that God’s plan was greater than his own. He raised the Son of God as his own.

As Christians it is by adoption that we cry "Abba" or "Papa" Father. Our adoption was known even before the foundation was laid for this universe. Redemption is by adoption. We were desperately "lost children." It was through the most evil and vile act in history that our adoption into God’s family was facilitated. Through adoption we have a heritage we don't deserve and a destiny forever altered. It is by adoption that we are “joint heirs” with the Messiah, Jesus.

Today there are nearly 150 million lost children worldwide. The outcomes they face are staggering. Almost 2/3 of the children who age out of foster care in the United States will end up in the prison system. In Eastern Europe estimates run as high as 1 in 10 orphaned children killing themselves before their 18^th birthday. In Africa millions of lost children will die of AIDS. In South America the orphan is often conscripted into violent street gangs and militias. In Asia young girls are left wholesale on orphanage steps due to oppressive laws of tyrannical regimes only to later end up on the streets as prostitutes. Regardless of where a lost child is, he faces an almost certain untimely demise if parents never come for him.

St. James wrote “… Pure religion is to care for the orphans…” The lost child has a simple need. A family! Some say it is naïve to expect to find families for 150,000,000 children. However, there are an estimated TWO BILLION people worldwide who claim to be followers of the adopted Christ. If just one of every eight us were moved to action by the plight of the lost child the problem would be solved!

Without adoption we have no chance for eternal life. An orphaned child who is not adopted has virtually no chance for earthly life, much less eternal. God gave adoption to us; can we offer any less to them?

Adoption is not natural; it is supernatural!

Earthly adoption of lost children is one of the highest symbolic forms of worship one can offer a Holy and Just God.

Steve

A Ukrainian in the South

Our neighbors are great. They are dyed-in-the-wool southerners. His name is Cletus and her name is Myrtle. They have a grandson named Will.

Will was out the other day and Max saw him and said to Melissa "His name is Wheel." Melissa told Max that his name was Will. Max responded, "His dad calls him Wheel!"

Steve

Too Old: A Rwandan Adoption Story

15 years ago today the most efficient genocide in history began. On April 6, 1994 under the impotent noses of the UNAMIR troops a slaughter of innocent Tutsi Rwandans began. This slaughter turned the hills of Rwanda into graveyards and the rivers ran red from the blood of nearly one million murdered souls.

The French were likely involved in the execution of the genocide. The UN was impotent. The USA knew within hours what was occuring and specifically Richard Clarke blocked early attempts to stop the genocide. The Clinton administration went so far as to prevent this butchering from being called a genocide.

While the world did nothing one women became an unlikely hero. This is a short essay that I wrote about that women; Rosamond Carr, it is titled Too Old

I'm Too Old!

Rosamond Carr was a New York City socialite who married a young photographer during the 1940s and moved to the country of Rwanda. Some time later, Roz and her husband divorced but Roz never left Rwanda. Roz stayed in Rwanda until the 1994 genocide when in a period of 100 days nearly 1,000,000 people were slaughtered.

At the age of 82 in 1994, Roz Carr was the longest living foreign resident in Rwanda and one of the last non-native plantation owners. When the awful violence of the Interhamwe descended upon Rwanda, Roz did the only thing she knew to do. She sheltered her neighbors from the genocidal madmen. When the mobs learned of this Roz was forced to flee to the Democratic Republic of Congo. She then returned to her native United States.

Roz was already a hero for saving her neighbors and nobody would have thought less of her had she decided to live out her days in comfort in the USA. What happened next though is one of the most amazing stories of modern times. Rosamond Carr returned to her “home” in Rwanda.

When Ms. Carr returned to her home she found her country in shambles. The bodies were stacked up. The rivers ran red from the blood of a million Rwandans. Roz’s personal residence was ransacked. There was absolutely no reason to stay and every reason to just go back to America.

Instead Roz walked to the road in front of her plantation. She found an orphaned child and a short time later another. A kind hearted woman, she tried to find help for them but the more she looked for help the more children she found. It soon became apparent to Roz that she would need to be the help. At the age of 82, single, and never having had children Rosamond Carr became a mother to 40 children in a matter of days.

Roz Carr was 96 years old when she died in 2006. At the time of her death Roz had become the mother to over 400 lost Rwandan children. Roz Carr in her memoir Land of a Thousand Hills wrote “I can only surmise that God didn’t feel I was ready to have children until I was 82 years old. Then he sent me forty all at once.”

There are many reasons that people think they can’t make an impact in a lost child’s life including that they are “too old.” Fortunately for hundreds of lost children in Rwanda, Rosamond Carr realized that even an 82 year old divorcee with no kids and every reason to leave could be a mommy.

Scripture verse:

Genesis 21:1-8

Steve

If you have not seen the movie Hotel Rwanda please consider watching it

What the boys like to do on nice spring days...

Swing shirtless,

Practice muscle-showing,

Play Perch-the-Chick,
Practice not Freaking out over little baby chick pecks which, I can assure you,
do NOT hurt in the slightest.

Swing with a pretty girl--even if she is your sister,

Anything involving sticks. Here they are guns complete with sound effects.
(and just so you know that I am not a negligent parent,
I did tell Vitali not to chase people with sticks after making sure I got a good shot.),

"Picking" flowers (another stick activity),
See? Ivy got her flowers! Thank you, Vitali!

Pose nicely for your mom who is always waving that camera around,
Take the chick for a ride in the wagon and the dump truck at the same time...
I could go on and on. :-)

Simple matters of perspective...

We ate pizza in the car this evening while we were out doing this and that. I handed Misha's piece back to him and a moment later he complained, "Mama, My pizza is stuck!"

"Where?!" I asked him.

"Down there--" (pointing to the floor) "I did not drop it!" Was the reply.

"Well, How did it get there?"

Quickly came the reply, "It just fall down!"

"From where?" (can you tell I was suspicious?)

"My hand."

Oh. Well, at least he didn't drop it...


And then this one:

The boys were playing a game together when Misha came to me with a mournful wail, "Mamaaa, Max is cheater!" and then he proceeded to tell me more detail of Max's transgression. In the distance I could hear Max piping up, "Misha! You did it too!"

So I asked the poor puppy dog eyes and the wringing hands in front of me, "Misha, did you do it too?"

He tried to keep the soulful expression on his face but knew it was too late. "Yes." And with a sheepish grin he headed back happily to play with the others. I just put my head down and laughed!

Maybe you had to be there...

Melissa

Chicken experiment: Day 6

(Max is looking up to watch for hawks and eagles.)

I am very pleased with the difference we already see in Misha. I wish I could tell you more specifically what we see but it is such a slight shift that it would be difficult to explain. I am hoping that this brief encounter with 'parenting' will continue to be a good chance for us to teach compassion and concern for others.

Misha is doing a great job with his chick! Steve and I were in bed last night and we could hear Indiana Jones peeping loudly. (He has really turned up the volume now) Just then, Papa Misha called out from his dark bedroom, "Indiana Zhone, be quiet, go sleep!" Haha. Unruly children do need to be told to quiet down at bedtime, after all!

Misha often runs out to the kitchen or wherever I am to find me and report on Indiana. "My Chick is drinking a lot water!" "My Chick is eating food!" He doesn't bat an eyelash at cleaning out Chick's home, either.

The warm weather these last couple of days (which has disappeared today) meant Indiana could chase us around the yard. We were hoping Misha would be his favorite but he doesn't seem to care who runs past him, he'll just dash off after them, tiny wings at the ready and little orange legs doing their surprisingly speedy chicken dance across the lawn.

(Ivy, Max, and Indiana Jones--who is enjoying his flower bouquets immensely)
(See?)


(Ivy is offering Indiana a drink from her teacup. A moment after this picture was taken,
she turned around and said, "Oh no! All my tea is gone!")

His first day outside, Indiana ate a tiny worm, this meant that three more worms were dug up by eager volunteers and presented to Indiana. Another tiny victory here is that Misha surprised even himself by announcing that he is no longer afraid of worms! The second day outside, Indiana just wanted to run and run and run. So we did. Today, he went out for three minute sessions but at the third re-entry into the house his little chicken feet were shivering so I think it is just too cold!

I think Misha is making progress in some small ways. I see him mimic what Steve and I do with our children. For instance, the first night Indiana Jones was here, Steve prayed with the boys in their beds and then suggested that Misha should pray with his baby. Misha hurried out to the living room and knelt beside the box he had helped us prepare for Indiana and prayed with him. The next night, I tucked the boys in and prayed with them. Misha sat up as I was going out of the room and said, "Mama, I do not pray mine little chick!" I just told him that he could lay in his bed and pray for him tonight and that is what he did. But the next night, on his own, Misha made sure to pray with Indiana as soon as he got his PJ's on. He didn't want to miss out on that very important part of parenting. We take every opportunity to say things like, "that is good, Misha, babies like to be held and cuddled by their papas." or "What a good papa you are to check on your baby so often!" --and he does, too!

Tonight, Misha handed Indy to Steve before he went off to clean the box. Indy peeped a little. "Oh!" Misha deduced, "He afraid! It's okay little chick..." It is something to notice because he showed genuine concern and tried to evaluate the emotions of little Indiana. More progress.

Also, before we left for church last night, Vitali called to Misha, "Misha, let's go to the car!"
Misha looked very sternly at Vitali and scolded, "I was saying goodbye to my chick!"
And he had been for a while. I had heard him over there, not 'performing' for me to hear (I wasn't all that nearby), but just explaining to Indiana Jones about what he was going to do that evening: go to church, eat pizza, come home again...

Indiana was listening intently the whole time. I think he was taking notes. It's hard to tell because his writing looks like chicken scratch.

Melissa

PapaMisha

In an effort to develop a better sense of caring and compassion in our middle boy, Misha (7), we have gone and gotten him a little fluffy, delicate, high-maintenance pet.
A baby chick.
What could be cuter?

Misha has come so far from his early trips to our friend's farm where he would shrink in terror at the mere thought of holding anything living regardless of its fluffy cuteness. And, by the way, when I say, 'shrink in terror'? I mean it, okay?!

One thing Misha is much better at is self-control. By this I mean that, even though dogs no longer make him terrified but just simply very nervous, he hides it well. He may even pet the dog or comment on its adorableness but he would never do either of those things without an adult that he wants to impress present. He is the same way with people-babies, incidentally. (not afraid of people babies, though. Just weirded-out by them. He truly doesn't see what all the fuss is about!)

Anyway, because we want to teach him to not only be "un-scared" of animals and just "un-weirded-out" by babies, we had this idea that a baby chick might be just the thing to foster some independence and compassionate thinking in Misha.

Frankly, I don't care if he loves animals. I don't want him to hate them, though. I also want him to be comfortable with and even to truly enjoy babies and small children. This little exercise seems a great chance for us to talk directly about things with him and to train him individually in the area of caring for others less able than himself.

We let him pick the chick from our friends Tami and Chuck's chick brooder. It was newly hatched but fluffy. There were several different varieties but Misha had little interest and pointed quickly to a fluffy yellow little guy(or girl).

Chick and a bit of starter feed in hand, we thanked our friends and headed off to Walmart to get a clamp-light, a thermometer and a newspaper. In the car, Misha was holding the chick obediently and even with a nice artificial smile until I said to him, "hold your little chick closely, Misha, he needs to be warm. You are his papa now, you know."

Misha's eyes lit up a bit and he wriggled little Indiana Jones (that's is the chick's name) closer to his chest. Progress.

Indiana Jones is still doing well a few days later. Misha was outside teaching him to follow his PapaMisha through the grass. Indiana enjoyed pecking at the lawn and Misha enjoyed watching him. I am hoping that this really makes some headway into the mind of our little boy who has spent the bulk of his life practicing self-preservation and perfecting his charm in order to be as far at the top of the "pecking" order as possible. While we are glad to see that some of these behaviors have been modified, we know that he is just mostly obeying us and that real change will have to come from his heart. Hopefully, Indiana Jones will awaken that part of Misha and allow him to more fully experience his life.

Oh. And, to celebrate our new addition--Look what we had for dinner.
Mmmm....

Maybe the fact that we found this funny is partly why he still has compassion issues...
.......naaah. I doubt that.
:-)



Melissa

Playing....

Working hard

Homeschooling has been incredibly difficult this year. Not so much because of the number of kids but because of the difficulties that Max and Misha have had with various things. One is to be expected: I have had to sit with them through every paper in order to tell them what to do at each new section. They simply couldn't read well enough to move through the worksheets on their own. Even if they could, two part instructions or even simple prepositional phrases proved to be tricky English for my boys.

This gives me a good way to measure their progress, though. I have noticed more and more that Max especially will try and read his own directions and usually get the simple ones right! This is a big help to me.

Another major problem has been that new concepts, and occasionally well-known concepts, cause the boys to just plain shut down. They don't know how to do something so they visibly quit. They will sit and stare at me or at the paper not hearing or caring to learn anything. It is like talking to a wall. I can not tell you how frustrating this is when I have to sit with them and I KNOW that this behavior means my sitting there forever!

The good news is that we seem to finally be conquering this problem. I have done two things. One, this usually occurs in math so that when it happens (So-and-so doesn't know what 5+3 equals today and refuses to put any effort into figuring it out), I just calmly hand them their copy book. This is a book where they have written all the number facts and equivalents that we need to know at this point. 1+1=2, 1+2=3, etc... I send them off to read it aloud. This makes them very upset but it accomplishes some important things: It does not allow their behavior to control my time to excess, It helps to solidify the simple number facts in their minds, and it gives them incentive to avoid having to do this!

I think that I may be dealing with some prenatal alcohol exposure issues in some cases, but even there, the book reading helps because of the repetition. Also, it is an immediate but not overly stimulating consequence/result.

Another thing that I do is to state my intentions and to try and train their attitudes to be more positive. For instance, it makes more sense to them if I say, "Reading your book is not a punishment, it is to help you to learn these things that give you so much trouble! It is a good thing!" They buy that pretty well :-)

Also, I sometimes say what I think is obvious but that I notice does not occur to them. One instance of this is that I might say, "When you don't know how to do something, you can be glad because Mommy can help you to know it! Now you will know a new thing!!" I, at one point noticed that the shut-down that they do is a form of giving up and being defeated. It doesn't seem to occur to them to try.

Anyway, all that to say that I am seeing progress at last! Schoolwork has been quickly and happily done lately. That is HUGE!

Also, Walker, Texas Ranger is on tonight and they want to be sure and get to watch it!

English lesson gone awry

(Misha at a football game this past fall)

A couple months ago, I realized that Misha does not have the language skills the other two boys have acquired. Why did it take me so long to notice? Because he has a two-fold personality trait in that he is very expressive with his hands and body language and that is combined with the fact that he is good at reading others' body language and intent without necessarily understanding the words spoken. These two things masked the fact that he wasn't using words because he didn't know them! (he understands, for instance "vacuum" but might not be able to come up with the word on his own. He would say "Vrooomm" and act it out)

Anyway, I have started reminding him to "Use words" when he talks and have been asking him to repeat what I say to him sometimes to see if he listened to what I actually said (usually, I have to repeat myself). Steve has been stopping him every once in a while to quiz him with "What's that?" questions. Like the other day:

Steve: Misha, what is that? (Pointing at the light)

Misha: Light

Steve: And what is that around it?

Misha: I don't know

Steve: It's a fan... And this?

Misha: Bed

Steve: And what is that white part up there? (Pointing at the ceiling)

Misha: Seal. Steve: No, close--It's a ceiling.
And what is on the floor? (Pointing at the carpet)
Misha: Toys!

Yep. he got that right! Obviously I need to clean my room!

melissa

Snow in Tennessee!!

(All three boys coming after Mommy!
Uh Oh! Looks like Mommy got Misha! And, disregard the pink snow pants, please!
We live in TN where it snows twice a year so we wear whatever we have!)

Click the link for more pictures on our Family Blog at:

Life Here