My Silk Road

Cheburashka

I've been avoiding this blog post.  Bard and I decided where to adopt from a week ago and part of me wanted to have some crazy "country" reveal where we unroll the country's flag from a tube and then post a video and pictures on facebook. Just like colored balloons popping out of a box to show whether a couple is having a boy or a girl. But I couldn't do it.  One, I'm really not a balloon in a box kind of girl (please know that if that is how you revealed your baby's gender, I love it and you're amazing!) and two, it's so bittersweet that I wish the word had never been used before so that I could apply it only to this experience.  Saying yes also means saying no.  And saying no is painful.  We want to hold onto the past, but then we can not be free to move forward. Letting go is a journey.  That's why the phrase isn't "let go"  it's "letting" - a continual act that must be done and re done.  Which is okay.  But painful.  My heart hurts.  And I don't want to leave the past behind, because it is part of me.  I cannot deny it but how does it become part of me without consuming who I am?

Still, life goes on.  We were driving in the car the other day and Evelyn (my four year old) was listening to the radio.  She heard a line from a popular song, "Only rainbows after rain" and said, "That's wrong, rainbows happen while it rains.  If you wait til the rain is gone, there won't be a rainbow."  Hmmm.  I don't normally think of science, four year olds, and emotions merging to create a universal truth, but there it was.  I've had glimmers of rainbows during the rain. Sometimes shaky, sometimes brilliant, and as I start to look back, I can see their arc, over all.  Rainbows are a promise of an everlasting.  A constant amidst change and a truth within doubt.  And that is my silk road, a journey, sometimes fading, sometimes clear, always with Truth.

I asked for a sign.  It's not a step I would normally take, but had recently been advised that sometimes it's okay to just put yourself out there.  So, every day, I spent more and more time in Central Asia.  Delving into a country that has been shrouded in mist.  Hidden by conquerors, protected by geography, I learned more and I loved more.  Then I felt guilty, and fearful.  It seemed odd just to make a decision within days and it seemed impossible to accept closure.  So I researched Bulgaria too!  I am a bit nutty :)  Bulgaria is a beautiful country, many of the orphans are Roma (which I alluded to in a previous blog, by the way, if you are wondering what on earth I am talking about, you'll have to go back to December!)  They are gorgeous and looked out at me with haunting dark eyes, fragile and alone.  And if you've ever thought about adoption, Bulgaria is a great option.  Which is what I kept telling myself as I read how the first apples came from Kazakhstan and horses were domesticated there long before they were in Europe or Africa.  But how could I choose Kazkhstan?  How could I choose any country for that matter, but how could I choose one that was so close to Russia but was not Russia?    I can not adopt a child from a country because its second fiddle and I will not adopt from some place just because some man tells me what I can't do.  And what about the history of conflict between Russia and Kazakhstan, how could I best respect my child's birth country? This is not just a form for me to fill out, it's a love story, it's an identity, it's who we are and where we come from.  This is humanity.  So I asked for a sign.

Remember my cheburashka?  http://bardandkristin.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-stockings-were-hung.html  This was one of my favorite gifts from Christmas.  I loved finding this doll and after the ban went into effect I put it on top of my bookshelf.  It was painful to look at and painful to put away.  I needed to give this doll to my child.  But the doll says Russian phrases, which is ridiculous.  Maybe okay for Bulgaria, their languages are similar.  Maybe okay for Kazakhstan, they speak Russian, but still, ridiculous.  So I googled Cheburashka and Kazakhstan.  Oh yes, I did.  I might not be the balloon in a box girl, but I am the, I can't trust myself or anything so I have to see this happen girl. Nothing came up.  Why?  Because that is the most random search ever!  Okay, whatever.  The next day I was reading a yahoo forum for families who had adopted from Kazakhstan.  Yes.  I hadn't chosen which country to adopt from but I had become a member of a yahoo group and was reading people's blogs.  Didn't we already establish that I'm "that girl?!"  One of the posters was talking about what kind of toys to bring to the orphanage and she said her coordinator had purchased a cheburashka for the children.  I read the line again.  How does God speak to you?  Because my God speaks in the details.  I knew it.  My first thought was, it's a sign.  My second thought was, I need another sign.  That girl.

Charyn Canyon, 2nd Largest in the World.

I started to see Asian people.  Now this really is crazy because I live in an area that is very diverse and I am surrounded by Asian people.  I have friends who are Asian, neighbors who are Asian, and know several families who have adopted Asian children!  And, even though the odds were against it, if we had adopted a Russian child, one from the far east of Russia quite possibly could have been Asian.  But I'm telling you, I never saw an Asian person before that weekend.  I googled images of Asian orphans (if you needed a license to google, they would have taken mine away by now.)  The movie I watched had a man who appeared Asian, I studied him for over two hours.  There were little Asian boys at Target and I wondered if my son would look like them.  But those were not signs and I had not chosen my country yet.  I looked up Kazakhstan books on Amazon, music, house decor.  I read how to say hello and goodbye.  I read all about the major cities in Kazakhstan, could we live there for a month?  There is a beautiful canyon, a park everyone says you have to go to, great Korean food (long story), and I know how much it costs to fly there at several different times of the year.  But I needed a sign.

So I got sick.  God has learned with me that I am very stubborn and will stop on my own.  In fact, Bard told me just last night that I was so inflexible only Putin hitting me over the head with a lead pipe could get me to change my mind!  Now, that is not a very romantic statement but it is probably very true.  I was so miserable.  I did not move from my bed unless it was to my couch.  However, I did manage to have a 40 minute conversation with one of the agency directors regarding our interest in Kazkahstan (and Bulgaria.)  A pastor of Bard's old church is one of the directors at this agency and we would have chosen them for Russia except they did not adopt in the Bryansk region.  I found out through some highly coincidental (google) research that they may have a Kazakh program and asked Bard to email his old pastor.  Sure enough, they had just received their accreditation.  And the program director was Kazak, but ethnic Russian, who better to discuss my concerns regarding Russia and Kazakhstan with?  What a good. . .turn of events.  I had a very reassuring conversation with her and told Bard we should really think about adopting from Kazakhstan.

Horseback Riding is a Huge Part of Kazakh Culture.

The next day I was even more sick and between that, Russia playing roulette, and our furnace blowing smoke into Evelyn's room, I was overcome.  I sat on the couch, an emotional fool.  I had the sign.  It was me. I was the change.  Not Putin.  Not some far away parliament.  Not random Soviet Union countries.  The journey was through me, through my heart, taking me to a new place.  And I had to be vulnerable, to open up, to fall in love.  So I did.  Bard came and sat down next to me.  I looked him in the eye and asked if we could adopt our child from Kazakhstan.  Vulnerable. I bought two books on Kazakhstan, one for me, one for the girls and made a wish list for many more.  Open. The director at the agency (who by the way, grew up playing with Cheburashka; it was her favorite character) is in Kazkhstan right now and willing to bring us back items for our home, so our home can reflect our country, reflect our child.  I love this country.  I love Kazakhstan and I love that I will adopt a child from such a beautiful place, full of east/west paradoxes, graceful tolerances, determination paired with finesse, vast ruggedness and modern cities.  I love that most Americans don't know anything about this country and I love that I get discover and share with you its mystery and its future.  I can't wait to go there, to meet people, to see the mountains, to visit the memorials, to seep every aspect of this culture in through my pores until I live and breathe it and then share it with my child.  Who he is.  Where we have come from.  Who we are as a family.

Victory Park

My silk road took me to Moscow.  But that was not the ending, just the beginning.  Because from there I traveled to Kazakhstan.  I am not adopting from Kazakhstan because I cannot adopt from Russia.  I cannot adopt from Russia because I am adopting from Kazakhstan.  Rainbows may appear fragile, and only come when it rains.  But their color is a reflection of Light.  They encompass the horizon.  Not the horizon we can see, but the entire horizon, displayed for us, as we journey through sun and rain, as we recreate who we are, past, present, and future.

I like to keep my issues drawn

It's always darkest before the dawn

And I've been a fool and I've been blind

I can never leave the past behind

I can see no way, I can see no way

I'm always dragging that horse around

Our love is questioned, such a mournful sound

Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground

So I like to keep my issues drawn

It's always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out

And it's hard to dance with the devil on your back

So shake him off

~Florence and the Machine~