As I stood at the gate in the busy airport waiting for my plane, my mind went back to all the changes in my
life during the past months. My marriage had crumbled, leaving me shattered and very confused. My dream of a
happy home and children had been dashed. But somehow God was restoring my sense of purpose and desire to
follow wherever he led.
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It was just a few days before Christmas. In a matter of minutes, I would board the plane and be on my way to
Russia to adopt a six-month-old baby girl.
How it had all happened was amazing in itself. I remember sitting in the living room with friends and
quietly sharing my desire for a child. “Well, there’s no reason why you can’t still be a mother,” my
friend assured me. “Singles are now adopting.”
I remember how I had smiled at the idea, reminding him that I wasn’t young anymore.
“Oh, I don’t think it will take that long,” he responded, “and anyway, it doesn’t hurt to ask.”
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With that, a seed of hope was planted that I could be a mother. In just six months, I was on my way to
Russia to adopt a baby girl named Oksana. Questions flooded my mind. Would she be there when I arrived at
the orphanage? Would she be healthy?
I continued to pray as I stuffed my baggage in the overhead compartment. I glanced again at the little
picture I had of Oksana. “Lord, please lead me to other people going to Russia to adopt.”
How I feared traveling alone, but there was no one to go with me.
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Before long, in little snippets of conversation, I overheard the words “Russia,” “babies” and
“orphanage.”
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