An Unexpected Adoption

It’s late at night and I’m up against my deadline. I should be packing, but instead I’m writing my column. The day-after-tomorrow I leave for my second of three required trips to Latvia to adopt my adorable 13-year-old twin boys.

Three trips?! Yes, three trips.

I had the same reaction when I first heard what it was going to take to bring my boys home. Just three short months ago I couldn’t imagine leaving Towne Lake, much less flying nearly 5,000 miles across the globe three times. I couldn’t imagine why it was necessary to spend so much money and time when all I want to do is bring these kids home. [Couldn’t someone just FedEx them here?]

I have a completely different disposition now as I pack my suitcases full of things to take to new friends in this far away little treasure box tucked into the shores of the Baltic Sea at the edge of Russia. I’m packing funny things like peanut butter, Red Hots, a wall calendar Legos and some John Grisham books – all luxuries in Latvia.

You see, last December while I was on the first of my trips to Latvia, I gained a new perspective on the importance of immersion in my boy’s culture. For the first 13 years of their lives they have been shaped by the pace, food, attitudes, architecture, customs and general atmosphere of a place that is literally half a world away. Because I spent several weeks in their country of birth I now understand why they are ravenous at lunchtime and never eat a thing I prepare for dinner. In Latvia, they eat their big meal in the afternoon and dinner is usually just soup – good soup!

Because I spent time getting to know their orphanage director and social worker I now understand why they are so sweet and loving, and why they are eager to help set the table. Their passion for fruit juice makes a lot more sense now that I’ve been to the grocery store in Latvia and realized that while oranges are more than two dollars a pound, a liter of juice costs just a few cents.

The best discovery, however, was probably the fact that no one is Latvia yells. They don’t even raise their voices. I watched as parents called running children back into line with a softly spoken word. I stood mere inches from people as we conversed far inside my American bubble of impenetrable personal space. I walked down crowded city streets and could still hear my husband remark about the beauty of the architecture. The quiet of that country has shaped my boys in ways my loud American self will probably never understand.

So, I’m ecstatic about my second trip to Latvia and am looking forward to the third as well. But I’m pretty sure it won’t stop there. I’ve already begun to plan to go back. What was once just a far-away country is now, because of these two sweet boys, part of my homeland. I guess you could say that while I’m adopting these boys, they’re adopting me as well.