The Longest Flight

I've only flown trans-Atlantic flights . . . three flights to Europe and three flights to Eastern Europe (Ukraine and Russia). While these flights are long they are not as long as others that last well over the 7 - 8 hours across the Atlantic. But the flight home from Ukraine and the second flight home from Russia each seemed like an eternity.

When we brought Kyle home he was about 17 months old. He had been thrust into our arms -strangers to him - and everything was now new . . . the language he heard being spoken, the food, the atmosphere, the environment - everything in his tiny little world was suddenly disrupted and he was not happy about it. So he cried and screamed the whole flight - with the exception of those few moments when he drifted off to sleep from sheer exhaustion. While it seemed the flight would never end, it did and we hit the ground running in "bonding mode".

The second trip home from Russia, while very much the same as the flight from Ukraine, was at the same time very different. Before my flight home, Steve had already returned to the States and to our children and his work. I stayed in Russia while all of the documents were prepared for our new children and I to travel to Moscow to the American Embassy where we were to pick up our visas. As the children and I arrived at the train station in St. Petersburg for our 7 hour trip to Moscow I began to realize that obviously the children and I were not on the same page regarding relationship.

While this is all very reasonable, the realization had not penetrated my joyful heart until that point. Steve and I had spent nearly a year and a half diligently working to bring the children home. During this time our hearts were becoming increasingly attached to our 'children'. Even though I knew they would need time to bond with us, I didn't see the full ramifications of our lopsided relationship until it was speeding toward me like a run away freight train.

The trip to Moscow was successful enough but not necessarily as pleasant as I would hope a 7 hour train ride could be. Once we arrived in Moscow we were greeted by the woman who would be handling our documents and our visit to the Embassy. Such a lovely lady, fully Russian but very much westernized and gracious. Unfortunately, I was not to be spending the remainder of our time in Moscow with her, but rather, I was to be locked in a tiny apartment for 3 days with three strangers -- my children.

In His gracious mercy, God helped me to endure the time spent in Moscow. I was able to get the children out of the apartment on several occasions and run some errands. Each trip was bittersweet: it was a delight to get out of the apartment and take in some fresh air with my newly adopted children, but it was difficult navigating my way around a foreign city with three people in my care who were unattached to me.

When it came time for us to leave Moscow, we rose very early and our driver picked us up around 3:30am. We made it through the airport without any problems. I had been warned about all of the questions I might have to answer concerning my US passport and why I was taking 3 Russian children out of the country. Fortunately, I was spared every hardship from the Russian security and we made it to our gate with tremendous ease and quickly boarded the plane for our flight home.

As we settled in for our long journey across the Atlantic Ocean, I became more aware just how un-attached the children were to me. My emotions were like a can of Planters mixed nuts. I was relieved and grateful that the adoption was complete and I was on my way home to see my husband and children. I was overcome by joy at the amazing faithfulness of God. But I was greatly saddened that the children I loved and had sacrificed so much for in order to be on that plane headed home as family held no regard in their hearts for me. None.

Were they excited about flying to America? Definitely. Were they thrilled about seeing Sera and Kyle and our home again? Yes. Was I their ticket out of Russia for this adventure? Yes. And beyond that, there really wasn't much else.

I found myself dealing with a great amount of sadness on the long trip from Moscow to Atlanta. Part of the sadness was that there was no one there to share my joy. God had done this really amazing thing by adding these beautiful children to our family and there was no one with me who had an appreciation of that and what it meant. I was also saddened by the realization of how much this whole scenario reminded me of God and his relationship with his children. How there have been times in my life when I was not fully attached to Him by a meaningful relationship and was unable to appreciation Who he is in my life and how much he loves me.
While I sat in my seat with my idealized world being smashed by the sledge hammer of reality, I found myself wondering what the coming days, weeks and months would bring. My children had been handed over to my care and taken from everything they knew; language, food, friends, routine, music, lifestyle, atmosphere, environment -- everything was different. I knew they would not be able to bond until they had been able to adjust to the cultural shock. But I didn't have any way of knowing what amount of time would be needed. I suppose deep in my heart I was hoping they might be finished adjusting by the time we arrived in Atlanta where the bonding could begin. After all it was a very long flight . . . the longest flight . . .