Journey to Hosting

March 28, 2018

Journey to Hosting

In 2004 we had our fourth baby in five years. While I was still on maternity leave, I began scouring the internet for information on adopting a child internationally. I have no rational explanation for why I felt that I needed another child, even one from far away, especially since we were dripping with young ones. Let us just say I was “led” to do it. I felt divine direction leading me to these beautiful, motherless children. Alas, it was too much money, too much time, and just TOO MUCH to pursue that at that time.

Fast forward to 2015.

I had finished graduate school, our children were older and our fifth baby was seven years old. My mom heard about hosting after she had seen an article in the news about a family who had adopted a sibling group from Ukraine after hosting.

I was fascinated and began exploring the world of hosting. After a few failed first attempts, we found Guglielmo’s Hope and Ola. We have five children. Four boys and one daughter who demanded that our host child be a sister. Ola was 11 years old, she liked to sing, she liked cats and dogs and elephants. We took a huge leap of faith and chose her to be our host child. We chose her, but she had no idea who we were, how many kids were in our family or even what state she would be going to. We had the notion that she would know a little English, as most children in Ukraine take English classes starting pretty early.

We filled out the necessary paperwork. We had family and friends write letters of recommendations. We completed FBI background checks. Child abuse screening. And mini-adoption home study. We also completed hours of orientation, as well as participated in seminars dedicated to helping and parenting children “from hard places”. Or in psychological terms, children who have experienced an ACE: adverse childhood event.

Honestly, once we were hip deep in this information, and after I had paid hundreds of non-refundable monies, I was terrified. What had I committed my family to? What had I signed up my children for? I prayed for peace and soldiered on.

Ola arrived one July night at midnight. She was 11 years old. She flew into San Francisco wearing a pair of black jeans, a t-shirt, and a light jacket. She wore a pair of thin ankle socks and was wearing a pair of slip-on shoes. In her hands, she carried a stapled together coloring book the airlines had given her. And nothing else. No small bag with a toothbrush and comb. No change of clothes… or even change of underwear. She had traveled, to our estimation, 40 hours from her town in western Ukraine to Kyiv, then to Frankfurt, on to Dallas and then finally to San Francisco. She looked tired.

And terrified.

She walked toward me, my daughter Liesel, and my mom, recognizing her photo on the large, hot pink poster that proclaimed: Ми приїдемо до Америки Оля! Or Welcome to America, Ola!! She stood there, twisting her paper coloring book in her hands. She looked a little different than her photo. She was tiny!! I bent down and asked her, “Are you Ola?” She nodded a tiny, curt nod of anxiety. I asked her how she was doing. No answer. “Are you tired?” No answer. “Do you speak any English?” She shook her head as a tear escaped the corner of her eye.

Oh my goodness!! Now what? The chaperon saw us among the crowd of children and host families. “Do you need some translation?” She asked with a knowing smile. YES! Gratefully, I had her explain who we were. That we were headed to a hotel, then onto Utah in the morning. That the drive would be hours long. The tears ceased, she put her small hand in mine and we headed to the mini-van.

What followed was a little anxiety producing, but overall, an example of the courage of a child desiring a family experience enough that she was willing to head to a new country. Not knowing one word of the language or who she would be staying with. She was willing to take a leap of faith to join our family for the summer.

She acclimated well and quickly. She was obedient and kind. She learned English so fast! The first week was pretty difficult, language-wise. We became experts at charades and google translate rapidly.

Ultimately, we fell in love. She loved Jeremy, my husband, and latched onto this kind father figure. She loved Liesel and followed her around constantly. She is the youngest in her biological family and she loved being a big sister to our youngest, Jorgen. She was so brave! She tried new foods. She learned to say, “Hello” and reply “Good” when people asked how she was doing. She was so shy, but she overcame a lot of that. She attended our church’s Girl’s Camp with my daughter. (I was there as a leader). We went on two family vacations with scores of family members. She blossomed! When she left, we sent her with her album full of photos from the summer. We carefully translated each name phonetically into Ukrainian so she could remember the dozens of aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents, as well as her friends from church. She called my parents grandma and grandpa. She recognized my sisters and brothers and in-laws as aunts and uncles. In short, she had a family.

We have since hosted her 3 more times and we will see her in June for her fifth hosting. She is not recognizable as the same shy, scared girl who got off of the plane in July of 2015. Becoming her American family has been so rewarding. People will often tell us that we have been so kind or wonderful or Christian or (insert superlative word here) for hosting an orphan. I can say, unequivocally, that she has influenced us for good more than we have influenced her, I am certain of it. She has touched lives in our family, in our community, in our church, and in the community of the world wide web.

Take a look at the photos and see if you agree: