When we left Bulgaria on our first trip, we knew that we would be going back. I don’t mean going back to pick up Nicholas and Olivia. I mean going back for more children. During our second trip, we spent a lot of time with a man who works as an orphanage psychologist. He told us so much more than we ever imagined about orphanage life and what happens to these kids when they are released from care at age 16.
It is shocking.
Sixty percent of girls will be trafficked. Seventy percent of boys will become criminals. Fifteen percent will be dead of suicide by age 18.
There are 25000 kids in the orphanage system in Bulgaria alone. Many of these kids are healthy and have average or better intelligence. They are talented kids, kids who are so full of potential. They cling to the hope that someone somewhere will see them, will want to make them theirs. They hope for Hope.
So we are going back. It is part of our family-life ministry. We need to raise $30000 in order to give a new life and hope to two more girls. Without us, they will likely age out and be alone on the streets rather than writing stories, performing plays, singing, one day teaching. For that is what these two girls dream of.
They need this chance. And we need you to help us offer it to them.
Art museum, Silistra, Bulgaria:
Baba Yaga House, Tutrakan, Bulgaria:
Chess Along the Danube. Silistra, Bulgaria:
Linden Tree. Silistra, Bulgaria:
Alexander Nevski Orthodox Cathedral. Sofia, Bulgaria:
St. Nicholas Russian Orthodox Church. Sofia, Bulgaria.
One year ago today, we met Olivia and Nicholas for the first time. The drive to the orphanage seemed to take forever from our hotel in Silistra. I remember rounding the corner in the village of Malak Preslavets and waiting there on the road for a flock of sheep to cross. It was a beautiful memory and helped to break the tension of anticipation. A few moments later, we pulled up outside the door of the orphanage and out they ran. They had been waiting for us. Waiting for their new parents.
We spent the afternoon walking in a park along the Danube and taking lunch at a pretty café in the town where they were born. Across the river, Romania.
We walked the social worker back to her office. As we said goodbye, she took my face in both her hands, and smiling warmly, looked straight into my eyes and said, “Blagodarya “, “Thank you”. She wasn’t thanking me for lunch. She knew all too well how desperate the situation is for older kids… MUCH older kids.
Sometimes it seems a lifetime ago, sometimes it feels like yesterday.
God willing, we will return to Bulgaria within a few months to meet two new daughters – two girls for whom the future is grim without us to rescue them. If you feel moved to help bring them home, we would be so blessed. Follow this link to read more, to share, or to make a gift. We treasure your prayers!
When your almost-13-year-old son, adopted just six months ago, is heard whispering to himself a heartfelt “I love this family”. You reply, “We love you, too. And we’re so glad that you are here” and have to make up some stupid excuse to leave the room. Because all the feels.
Nicholas has blossomed here. Here, he is cherished and special. His intelligence is celebrated and nurtured. Food is varied and plentiful. He has a space all his own. Life is joyful.
When we met him, almost a year ago, he was so painfully shy. Withdrawn. He hardly spoke, wouldn’t make eye contact, would stiffly accept hugs without returning them. The only thing he said the whole week was to Brian, “Naistina li si bashta mi ?” – “Are you really my father?”. He answered, “Da” – “Yes”. That exchange produced the only smile we saw from him during that trip.
When we came home, Nicholas was that same withdrawn boy. On top of that, he was insecure and frightened. He had left everything he’d known. But slowly, he opened up. He began to relax and to play without poising himself to run. He joined in the other kids’ games, he sang, he danced. He acquired English very quickly. Joséphine hugged him faithfully – every day. She told him “I love you”.
And one morning, he hugged back. He said, “I love you, too”.
It was like watching your baby take his first steps, or say his first word. That day, he was born anew. Every day since then, he has become more and more steady on his feet. And now he can run.
Our fondest hope was that our adopted children would come to be grateful to God for the gift they’d been given. A second chance. A new life. Let me be clear: we weren’t seeking gratitude for ourselves. But to God. For in being grateful to God, there is a spring of joy. Pierce through the hardness, get beyond the pain, and joy will flood in. “I love this family.” was more than an affirmation. It was a prayer of thanksgiving.
We have taught him love. To love, and to be loved, and what love is.
This is the highest goal of adoption – at least for us. To instruct a child in love. The family is a school of love. He can not learn love anywhere else. It is why children need families of their own. All children. Babies, toddlers, and teens.
There are 150 million children waiting to enter the School of Love. Most will never be given the chance. Nearly all of them will be homeless at age 16. 60% of girls will be sold into the sex trade to be trafficked throughout Europe and the Middle East. 70% of boys will become criminals. Up to 15% will be dead from suicide by age 18. This is a pro-life issue. You can quite literally save a life, preserve future generations, make the world a better place. Not everyone is called to adopt, but we ALL are exhorted by Holy Scripture to help widows and orphans in their distress (James 1:27). You can do that by supporting a family who is adopting – with your prayers, sharing their need, and by giving materially from your time, talent and treasure.
Brian and I are returning to Eastern Europe for two teen girls. We would be blessed if you would share our current fundraiser. You can click through from the link in the sidebar or click here. If you would like to post our fundraiser in your own blog sidebar, here is the code: