Chapter Ten

And we know that all things work for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. —Romans 8:28

The next morning, I went to church, distracted, wondering where Roma had spent the night. Although he was now 20 years old, he did not demonstrate the maturity of the average 20-year-old. Had he eaten? Had he slept? Was he afraid? Was he safe? I had no power to change his current circumstances. I had tried not to be fearful, and instead trust God, but I was in a pit too.  I could not share what our family was going through, even with friends who had prayed with us. Was it my pride? Was this a reflection on my mothering abilities? Was I protecting Roma’s image in the eyes of the people who had joyfully watched him grow up? Maybe I was just exhausted and heartbroken. I bared my soul on my blog, but was confident few people read that.  I felt obliged to write it down, and not be concerned or prideful about who read it.

As I was leaving church, I checked my phone. I had one text from Roma, “I saw your friend Beth this morning at church.”

What? Church? Beth in Atlanta who we first met in person after his trial?

“Roma, where are you?” I tapped out quickly.

“I’m with a family. The mother wants to talk to you. When will you be home?” I was utterly dumbfounded. I called Roma when I got home. I was eager to hear the latest installment of his drama. He knew I was disappointed that he had not persevered in the group home, but Roma never questioned how dearly I loved him. “Mom, I just couldn’t stay in that group home. They all spoke Russian. They had to get a translator for me.” 

“Roma, that was very nice for them to make those provisions for you. They were trying hard to help you.”

“Mom, you don’t know what it felt like to hear everyone speaking Russian again.” 

When the weight of that revelation hit, it was like a kick in the gut. The last time Roma heard everyone speaking Russian, he was seven years old living in a Russian orphanage. I was overwhelmed with compassion.

When he realized that Edward had really left him, he reached out to Nancy first for help, but she, like me, clearly felt she wasn’t to help him. He texted and called everyone he knew in the Atlanta area. Apparently, someone answered his SOS.

Before this new family contacted me, I got a message from shocked Beth. She was intrigued to see Roma again, with friends of hers, and at her church. She added that they were Godly people. I was astounded by the interconnectedness of Roma’s friends and adventures. God is always whispering to me, “Do NOT miss My involvement!” Frankly, I would have to be stubbornly ignorant to not see it.

Ella called later that afternoon to introduce herself. Her son Henry had gotten a text from Roma; they had gone to Idaho together in July. At first, I thought her son might be adopted too, but Ella explained that Henry had gone on the trip in July as a family friend, as “mission work.” 

As I was processing Roma’s latest bounce along that “rock bottom,” I remembered my strong conviction to allow Roma to land without our safety net, which was confirmed by Nancy. The entry of this new family into our story, another safety net, was not what I was expecting.

I thanked Ella for her kind heart, but added, “Unless you feel called by God to take him in, take him to a homeless shelter.”

Ella paused for only a moment and then said, almost sounding surprised herself, “Actually, I think I do feel called by God to take him in for now. It’s what Christians are called to do.”

Well. . . okay then. How could I argue with that?

Ella explained that she did not blame me for my son’s circumstances or my resistance to help him. He had explained to them, at least his side of the story, about getting kicked out of the treatment center and being left alone at Walmart. That detail really seemed to tug at her heart.

Ella said she could offer Roma temporary employment as she was preparing for the holidays. Decorating for Christmas was her seasonal business. Ella said her husband was very structured and strict. He had already had Roma remove his earring. She said my strong-willed boy had offered no resistance.  I remembered Roma’s positive experience with structure at Fork Union Military Academy (except for dipping tobacco and, in the end, using profanity to his superiors.)

It sounded like God had Roma right where He wanted him. Again. God met Roma around every corner.  Roma’s Facebook status that night revealed that he, too, saw God’s involvement in the recent turn of events. He posted, “Truly I say my eyes have been opened to the one and only Jesus. He has blessed me, and I thank God for my situation I am in to see what his love will provide. No other way I wanted it to be done. I am his humble servant. What a good end of the night. May God bless you all.”

And while Roma was safe in another godly mother’s care, I was busy searching for ways to find a long-lost sister in Russia. I asked for advice in my adoption group where Nancy had answered my call for help back in June. Some suggested investigators they had used to find their children’s family members. I researched more to find fees for those services. Some were $2,000 to begin the search with no guarantee for success. A few suggested I join VK.com, the main Russian social media site. I poked around in that site, searching for a Liana Sudzhashvili, but found none. Liana would be 30 now, and probably married. I didn’t know how to proceed, with the Russian language difference. I would stalk occasionally, looking at pictures of strangers who might be related to Roma. I wanted Roma to be involved with this search. He would be home for Christmas in less than a month. I set the goal aside for a while.

For Thanksgiving, Ella and her family, with Roma in tow, camped out for a family reunion in Key Largo. Ella was pleased to report that Roma was very helpful putting up tents and playing with the younger kids. Ella texted pictures of him parasailing and carrying strangers’ small children on his shoulders. I even got a Christmas card, a photo of the whole family, including Roma, sitting in the group like he belonged there. His name was even included among the mother and father, two brothers, and a little sister. Roma, so lovable, melded seamlessly into other people’s families.

Nancy, encouraged by his new attitude, took him to a David Crowder concert one evening with her family. And she also surprised him with a ticket for Passion 2015, a Christian conference sponsored by Passion City Church, where his light bulb still shone. Twenty thousand 18-25-year-olds would be converging on downtown Atlanta for the three-day event scheduled for January 2-4. 

He came home for Christmas on a bus on December 20. It was a long trip home, but we decided not to pay for a plane ticket as part of the no-safety-net approach. He didn’t protest. He seemed peaceful and content. He was returning to Atlanta for the Passion conference, by bus, on January 1st, and after that, he was going back to Ella’s family to help her with her Christmas-decorating business, this time to reverse the process. She said she could keep him busy for about a month. I was living one day at a time and couldn’t think what might come after that.

Life for Roma seemed to be on track. I praised God for His unending faithfulness and mercies. It was a delight to have all our children and grandchildren home for Christmas. And the joy expanded, when right after Christmas one of the most exciting discoveries of my life was revealed on December 29.

Continue with Part Two, Chapter 11