To Sing Frogs Chapter 20c

Few things have shaken my faith like seeing children without parents; without hope.

Stass sighed again. Then he stood up. The rest of us followed his example. His responses were firm but not unkind. He explained that the adoption application allowed us to adopt up to three children. We had already agreed on the three children we would adopt and the Russian government had concurred. We could not go gallivanting around Russia visiting children we weren’t in the process of adopting because the system didn’t work that way. We needed to finish up the adoption we were working on and stop being distracted by other things. In Russia there would always be plenty of distractions.

Anya followed Stass to the exit of our room. He twisted the handle and waited for Anya to step out as he finished speaking. “Make no mistake. The court will not be appreciative of you bringing this up at the hearing today. If you want your adoption hearing to come out favorably, without indefinite delays, I recommend you finish the adoption you have started without adding further complications.”

Stass closed the door.

 

 

Amy wilted onto the bed. I stared at the door. My wife didn’t have to say it; this changed everything. Of course we would follow Stass’s counsel. We would finish this adoption. But blood was thicker than yellow Monarch butterflies.

“We’ll do this, won’t we…” Amy whispered. It came out as a realization—as a statement—rather than a question. “I mean, not now, but later. After.”

I tried to talk but couldn’t. I shook my head, not in denial but despair. Then I sat on the bed next to my wife and buried my face in my hands. “We won’t get Marina and Yula.”

“Maybe we’re not supposed to. Maybe God has another plan for them.”

I flew from the bed in a rage. “You’d better hope He does!” I blurted in a forceful voice filled with contempt. Amy and I never raise our voices at each other and this was no exception. I was furious, though. If God had a plan for the orphans in Russia it certainly didn’t fall within what I considered to be a reasonable time frame. Statistics showed—whether He works in mysterious ways or not—that kids like Marina didn’t make it.

Amy knew she shouldn’t push her position. Doing so would only throw me over the edge. She also knew I see sadness as a futile emotion. Anger is a motivator and therefore good for something. Sadness is worthless. Finally, my wife knew I was furious because I really needed to be sad, even though I wouldn’t allow it.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“No, Amy. I’m not. I’m not going to be okay. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again.”

I had looked forward to seeing Marina later, when we returned to the orphanage. I knew the Russians would discourage the meeting and they would try to put it off. I also knew I could make it happen anyway. I had looked forward with anticipation to holding that little girl and knowing something she didn’t; I would be back for her. Now it wouldn’t happen. If I didn’t force the meeting it wouldn’t take place.

I felt like a clergyman walking out after a final interview. The condemned was an innocent seven year-old girl and execution was imminent. While the prisoner must have sensed that all was not well with her predicament, she was calm. The child had naivety to shelter her. Age and experience left me without protection. I was powerless to stop fate’s plan for Marina and it made me hate the world. A global civilization that failed to provide for children like her did not merit continuance. For a very brief moment I wanted it all to end.

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