Spell Roma backwards

Today, April 22, 2021, is the 19th anniversary of a most sacred journey. My husband, Bruce, and I left for Russia to bring home our youngest child, Roma, age seven.

I am finally attempting to move forward toward a sequel by posting a new installment each week. This type of serialized story which was popular in the past may assist me. I know I must begin somewhere. Anyone who read my first book, But the Greatest of These is Love (2012) can pick up where the book ended. I’ll try to bridge some gaps for those who didn’t read the original story about God and Roma and me. Thankfully, the many blog posts I wrote over the years provide framework where I have hung my detailed memories for safe keeping.

I am infinitely grateful for the support and encouragement through these years of documenting our story. I welcome your interest and comments. This is a draft, and not final. I’m considering titles. All suggestions are welcome. This is a step in the direction I wish to go. I’ve learned the importance of taking small steps . . .

Spelling Roma backwards? Amor. Love. It came from a friend who wrote me on an emotional day. She wrote, “Just now as I was spelling Roma’s name, the Holy Spirit whispered, ‘Spell it backwards.’ It’s love!”

Introduction

On a late spring afternoon in 2012, I sat anxiously in front of my computer. I said one more prayer, held my breath, and hit send. My final Word document was off to the publisher. But the Greatest of These is Love was about to become a book. Finally, it was out of my hands.

Over a decade had passed since I had begun journaling strange, personal events at the beginning of an unfolding story, the magnitude of which I could not have imagined in the early months of 2000. I sighed with relief as I finally laid down the treasured burden that I had carefully carried in various stages of completion for 12 years. First, I was fearful to tell anyone. Then I told a few trusted friends in hushed tones. It was too early then, and still too difficult to define what was happening to me, but I knew it was bigger than me. Bigger than my life. God revealed Himself to me in a manner that I could never again doubt His presence or reality. I suddenly knew HIM. Because my surrender was reluctant and took so long, God was persistent and creative. My experience developed into a story, and finally, a book about much more than the adoption of a Russian boy.

When you’re asleep, you don’t know you’re asleep, until you wake up. When you don’t even realize that you have always possessed only a nominal faith in God, you are shocked when He actually shows up! I was a lifelong believer who didn’t yet know there was another level of faith beyond my understanding. God’s “still, small voice” first stunned me in March of 2000. He clearly “spoke” one unmistakable, shocking word to my unreceptive heart. “Adoption.”

I could never be obedient to such an outrageous demand. I was 44 years old, already a mother of three children, two daughters, 15 and 18, and our son, 10. Most importantly, my life was too comfortable to disrupt. But I also could not escape what was consuming my thoughts. I was constantly journaling about how God met my stubborn refusals at every turn with confirmations that He had every intention that I obey. My apathetic faith was about to go into hyper-drive, as God got REAL. The repeated theme of adoption morphed into a theme of adoption of an older Russian boy. My resistance almost matched God’s persistence. Silly me.

I kept journaling, and before I realized it was happening, I was surrendering to this God who I had previously been satisfied to know only superficially. I began to take tiny, reluctant steps toward an unfolding plan. Two years later, my husband and I were on a plane, bound for Russia to adopt a little boy God would not let me forget.

Fast forward to 2012: On the final edited manuscript of But the Greatest of These is Love, my editor had scrawled across the bottom of the last page, “The end, and the beginning.” It left me with a peculiar feeling. The book had a definite ending, of course, but the stories would soon continue as Roma grew. Only months after that book was published my family faced some unexpected obstacles. Our personal life began to unravel, and I was wondering if I had made a mistake drawing unwanted attention to my family.  My pride ambushed me as I worried if my mothering skills might be under scrutiny. I chided myself for making it about me, for my self-absorption, for wanting to clean up my story for the spectators. The book wasn’t about me at all. It wasn’t about my sweet and exasperating son. It began and ended with God. My story’s sole purpose was to bring glory to God in what was going to be a messy future.

My “Called by God to adopt a boy from Russia” story was out of the proverbial bag. I didn’t want to continue to tell the story. I just wanted live happily ever after. I had fulfilled my mission in obeying God’s directive. And there was abundant joy in being Roma’s family.

But. . .  the road ahead turned out to be full of surprises; raising Roma turned out to be challenging in ways I had not expected. As he grew, as time went on, as life happened, I needed to deepen my dependence on God’s leading and support, even more.

The stories continued, and I began to write a blog to answer friends’ and readers

“how is Roma doing now?” questions. The stories came faster than I anticipated, and some, I was not always eager to tell. But God always showed up, and I was reminded that this was God’s story more than mine or Roma’s. The second book was writing itself through my blog entries. I am grateful I documented as life was happening. 

So what follows is the rest of the story, an account of a journey that has been filled with fear, delight, aggravation, humiliation, vanity, mountaintop joy, overwhelming challenges, crushing grief, and unexpected, beautiful redemption. In every moment, God has kept His promise to never leave or forsake me. His amazing and constant presence beside me, His extravagant love and grace inspire me to share the story of His love in my life and in Roma’s life. God is with us all as we make our journey through this broken world toward Heaven.

Roma’s passport. We often wondered who dressed this child. And if he might be sent as a spy, as my older son suggested. Future KGB agent in training was also a possibility.

Continue with Chapter One