Children

Icon of the World

“If geography is prose, maps are iconography.” Lennart Meri
 

©Nissa Gadbois

©Nissa Gadbois

©Nissa Gadbois

©Nissa Gadbois

It has been a light week here since we finished our main lesson block on Tuesday.  So today, Louis and Sophie made up a game to play with the United States map.  It’s rather like that game you play with a group of dots where each player takes a turn making a line between two dots and the one who closes the box claims it.  Louis won this time ’round.

And then Louis spent some time tracing rivers and highways.  We talked some about our friend Fran who walked the entire length of Route 20 from Albany (Oregon) to Boston in 2012.

Then the older kids worked together to locate both state and national capitals.  And then made the map of the world look like a nice game of Global Thermonuclear Warfare.  It was at once amusing and slightly unsettling.  The winner for the longest range missile is Tonga, which managed to reach Japan going round the long way.

Geography was my favourite subject growing up and I’m extremely gratified that my own children are having so much fun with it, too.

In case you’re curious, our pretty maps are from National Geographic, and our frames are from Michael’s.  The latter are wood with a plastic sheet to protect the maps.  We just use regular dry erase markers.

Pieces of Our Hearts

Today is one year.  One year since we walked into that orphanage in a tiny Bulgarian village and our world changed forever.

For many families, the day that they arrive at the orphanage (or foster home) to pick up their child(ren) is a happy day to be celebrated every year.  But when you adopt an older child – a much older child – it’s a day that is bittersweet to commemorate.  It is the day on which they are rescued.  It is the beginning of a new life, a second chance.  It is a full ride to the School of Love.

But it costs them everything. 

It is the day on which they’ve lost all that they know.  Everything.  It is devastating.  They have lost their language and culture, they’ve lost all of their friends, they’ve lost familiar surroundings, and any adult they had come to trust.  They’ve lost the possibility of being reunited with their birth family.  No matter what we are to our children, how much we love them, how hard we try to keep language and culture alive, we are not replacements for those people and things they’ve lost.  They are being saved from a life they (please, God) will never truly understand.  But they won’t know that until they are grown, until they are themselves parents.  Perhaps they will never fully appreciate what they have lost and gained.

It takes a great measure of bravery for these kids to keep their heads up and move on into a new life about which they know nothing.  It takes enormous strength to leave behind little pieces of their hearts and give the rest to someone new.  Some kids, particularly much older ones, can never give the rest of their hearts to their new families.  They cling desperately to the remains.  They don’t know that this act of preservation isn’t saving them at all.  They slowly die inside.  Only they can choose whether to love or not.  Some never choose love.
 ©Nissa Gadbois

©Nissa Gadbois

And us? 
We left pieces of our hearts behind in Bulgaria, too.  One child in particular became very special to us throughout the process of adopting Nick and Olivia.  We left the orphanage that day knowing that we might never meet again this side of Heaven.  And we loved each other well.  We smiled and we laughed, we hugged and we kissed.  We held hands.  And we wept.  We sobbed as we tore pieces of our hearts off and handed them to each other.  And it remains one of the most enduring and precious memories I have. 

©Nissa Gadbois
This day is a day to be treasured always for so many reasons. 

For the work that God has done through us.
For the children we rescued.
For the love they’ve brought into our lives.
For their resilience, and their bravery.
For the strength we have gained through the difficulties.
For the wisdom and courage to follow our hearts.
For the desire to keep on helping those left behind.
For a daughter who is ever present in our hearts, if not in our arms.

Make a Way

A year ago today, we arrived in Sofia, Bulgaria to bring Nick and Olivia home.  We were filled with the joy of the fulfillment of a dream, knowing that God had lead us along a winding road to this time and place.  We had no way of knowing the heartbreak and difficulty that this road would bring on the other side.  The stress of those two weeks was so great that we feared for my health in a very real way.  We questioned our decision many times.  Could we meet their needs?  What were we bringing home to our other children?  They had never experienced anything like these kids; knew nothing of the things that their new siblings had experienced before coming home. 

©Nissa GadboisSt. Nicholas Russian Orthodox Church – Sofia, Bulgaria

Through the extreme anxiety, we prayed.  We prayed constantly and never as fervently as we did during that fortnight.  It was about as close to Gethsemane that either of us could ever have imagined.  We begged for God to allow this cup to pass from us, but ultimately accepted His will for all of us.  We knew that God had brought us this far.  That He had asked us to adopt THESE two children.  That He had put it on our hearts to help more children.  We knew He’d lead us through all that was happening and all that was to come.

Nothing we had ever experienced, nor read, prepared us for this.  NOTHING.  It has been the most awful, most blessed year of our lives.  We have discovered how to lean hard into the weight of that rough-hewn cross and press that thorny crown down firmly on our heads, how to smile through the blood and the tears. 

©Nissa GadboisBe not afraid to walk through the door that God shows you

Throughout those two weeks and many, many days since, this song has been a source of strength. 

You brought me to the desert so You could be my water
You brought me to the fire so You could be my shield
You brought me to the darkness so You could be my morning light
If You brought me this far, if You brought me this far

Wherever you lead me, I know you won’t leave me
Wherever you call me, You will make a way
Wherever we’re going, I will be holding
To the promise you have made
You will make a way
You will make a way

And when I’m in the valley, You will be my comfort
And when I’m at the end of me, I find You there
When I’m in the battle, You will be my present peace
Cause You brought me this far, You brought me this far
If You brought me this far

Wherever you lead me, I know you won’t leave me
Wherever you call me, You will make a way
Wherever we’re going, I will be holding
To the promise you have made
You will make a way
My God will make a way

Cause You brought me this far
You brought me this far
You brought me this far
You will make a way – I Am They, “Make a Way”

He is calling us again and we know that He’ll bring us through whatever comes. 

©Nissa GadboisAlexander Nevsky Cathedral – Sofia, Bulgaria

©Nissa GadboisIconostasis, Alexander Nevsky Cathedral – Sofia, Bulgaria

©Nissa Gadbois  +Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner+

Art. Life.

©Nissa Gadbois

An impromptu art lesson for my Bulgarians.  They were never taught how to make art.  It is clear that they desire to make art.  We ALL desire to make art because we are made in the image and likeness of God.  The essence of our very being is that of creator.  Making art is a useful means of communication when spoken language fails.  It is therapeutic.

They are learning not only how to use art materials, but also how to observe. As teenagers, they had not really learned to pay attention to how the human form, nor plants, nor anything else was made.  Arms too small, bent weirdly, coming from the midsection of the body instead of from the shoulder.  Trees that look like lollipops instead of like trees. In some small way I am helping them to communicate when spoken language fails.

They are showing improvement in their artworks.  They practice daily.  It is as though a light has been turned on in an inner room in their minds.  “Aha!”  And there is a rush to use their newly learned skills.  It is beginning to pour out like a stream in spate. 

We are finding that letting them unfold naturally was a wise decision.  Forcing them too quickly would not have produced any fruit.  Rushing to have them diagnosed with this or that disability before they had a chance to become themselves would have been tragic.  We have had such a bumpy transition, and we still have days that are excruciatingly difficult.  We tend to avoid suffering at all costs. 

But in avoiding the suffering, we often miss the holiness and wholeness of life.

Whole New World

©Nissa GadboisGeorge, Nick, and Olivia looking for Bulgaria on the map

It has been almost one year.  It has been a voyage of discovery for everyone.  We have learned some about each other and a whole lot more about ourselves.

For many months, we just worked on how to belong to each other.  For one of them, this will take all of her remaining childhood and likely much of her adulthood.  We have experienced firsthand that there are no private sins.  We have experienced firsthand that the wounded wound everyone around them.  We have learned that where love is lacking, love will be poured out like a libation to the one who lacks.  We have learned that in emptying ourselves, we need others to help fill us up – all of us.  And we have learned that often, we don’t even have to ask.  It is a grace that people readily respond to.

Since Michaelmas, we have been working on more academic pursuits.  Our Bulgarians had never even seen a map.  Olivia is completely illiterate and functionally not conversant in her native language.  It was put down to a mild intellectual disability and a disability called dyslalia.  We can find no evidence of either.  After some questioning – and information volunteered by our kids – we have pieced together that they were utterly neglected at school.  They weren’t offered anything like even a basic education.  They were allowed to do as they pleased during school, including to go outside and lay or to sleep.  Students aren’t promoted to the next grade based on achievement, merely on the number of years they have been ‘registered’.

Both of them are making progress – for Nick it is steady, for Olivia it is very slow and sporadic.  Her focus has improved tremendously.  When she first arrived, her limit was about five minutes of learning once or twice a day.  Now, she will focus through a lesson whether or not she is able to understand.  She seems to respond well to the increased structure of our normal homeschool routine.  We hope that her regression in other areas (all social) signals a healing in progress.  We are so grateful to everyone who has supported us in so many ways.  Some have chosen items from our wish list, some have shared from their own treasure, some have donated funds toward our needs.

Our next project is to finish converting the carriage house to a large dedicated schoolroom.  We made some wonderful progress last fall before Brian injured his back.  We feel that having a dedicated space will benefit everyone, but especially Olivia because it will relieve the upheaval and confusion that comes with having to rearrange the dining room for meals, weekends, and hospitality.  It is our hope that, like dressing for the job, having a dedicated space will place her – and everyone – in the proper focused state of mind, relaxed and ready to learn.

We estimate that completing demolition, replacing the fragile windows, insulating, wiring, heating and finishing the space will cost from $5000-$10000.  Unfortunately, we will have to hire contractors to do the work.  Brian’s 80 hour work week just doesn’t leave any time for such projects now.  If you feel led to make a gift, you can do it via PayPal (give@renaissance-family.com).  If you prefer to send a gift by mail, please email us (give@renaissance-family.com) and we will respond with our mailing address. Alternately, we invite you to shop with us.  All proceeds support our family and ministries.

 

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