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In the Midst of Peace…

December 23, 2009

It has been 20 years since the liberation of Romania.  In December 1989, Romania’s communist leader Nicolae Ceausescu was overthrown in a violent revolution and fled from the capital. Three days later, he and his wife were executed by firing squad.  As communist rule ended, the remnants of that regime would be seen.  Children tied to cribs and chairs, often cold, underfed and without human touch, were revealed.  American’s flocked to Romania to save these children after the media broadcast that shook the adoption world.  I remember that broadcast.  Adoption was not in my mind at that time.  I had 2 babies of my own, but it was still horrifying to the heart and mind to view the scenes of the orphanages on national television. 

Fast forward 10 more years…1999.  Romania is still new in its infancy as a free country.  I am waiting to bring home a healthy, beautiful baby boy from Romania.   The same Romania that was ravaged by AIDS and disease.  The same Romania that still had children living in the subways.  I had fears but so much hope.  It wasn’t until April of 2000 that we traveled to Bucharest.  The center of civilization in Romania.  A modern city by all accounts, but the stench of 1989 could still be seen and felt.  Roma children are still spat upon and live in wagons still pulled by horse in the midst of a busy, bustling city. 

As I walked into to office of the attorney who facilitated our adoption, I didn’t think of the past or the revolt.  My arms held a 7 1/2 month old little boy who did not know what was happening to him.  I was not sure what was happening to me as the foster-mother who had cared for him walked out the door.  It was not love at first sight, but I knew he needed me.  I knew without me, he would be alone…his fate was in my hands and placed there by God.  It was love.  He cried and I tried to be his comfort.  My mind that night as he cried himself to sleep, went to where he could have been.  He could have been in an orphanage with no one to comfort him and he would learn to comfort himself.  I was his mom now.  I was the one who would teach him to lean on someone other than himself.  That I would always be there.  Then as he would grow, he would transfer that dependence on a loving Savior.  A Savior, who is Christ the Lord.  He would stick closer to him than a brother.  A Savior who would not only be a comfort in times of need, but would walk with him day by day.  Yes, that is how I drifted off to sleep.  With hope.  With courage.  That is what God does.  In in the midst of turmoil, he gives peace. 

So during this Christmas season when all eyes turn to peace and comfort and joy.  I remember how a revolution in December of 1989 would forever change our lives with the joy of a little boy and a little girl.  (Her story to come at a later date!)  Merry Christmas to all…

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