A Miracle of Joy_佳作欣赏

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.”

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.

before long, in little snippets of conversation, i overheard the words “russia,” “babies” and “orphanage.”

“are you going to moscow?” i asked the woman to my right.

“yes, my husband and i are going to adopt two children.”

“so am i!” i squealed. “i mean, i’m going to adopt a baby girl.”

from then on, we both talked incessantly. i discovered that they were heading to the same orphanage to be met by the same coordinator. we became fast friends. i whispered a prayer of thanks to god for answering my earlier prayer.

when the plane landed in moscow, it was cold and dreary. i immediately sensed the strangeness of the different culture and my language barrier. but then i met our coordinator, who turned out to be a very friendly russian woman who spoke no english. her big, warm hugs were so reassuring.

“is oksana there?” i asked, having heard stories of people getting to the orphanage, only to discover that the child was no longer there.

“da,” she answered with a twinkle in her eyes.

“when can we go to the orphanage?” i inquired, ready to go on the overnight train immediately.

“soon,” the translator said.

“by christmas? will i see her by christmas?”

“da. da,” she answered with a big grin.

i stayed in a simple apartment of a young couple and their three-month-old daughter, anastasia. their generosity was overwhelming. although their living conditions were simple, they willingly shared what they had.

in just a few days, i left with two other couples to travel eight hours north. when we arrived at borovitchy, we were tired but so excited. after only a few hours of sleep, we went to the orphanage. walking inside the large brick building that was home to about 400 children, i whispered another prayer. “just let her be healthy, lord.”

as i walked the long hall, i met staff members who were warm and friendly. i saw that the facilities were neat and clean. a tall russian doctor joined us and smiled when he asked if i was ready to see oksana.

was i? i thought my heart was going to burst with such a strange combination of excitement, fear, longing, hope.

together, we walked down the cement steps, through the long, narrow hall to the infants’ room. they led me to a small room while they went to get the baby. in only a few moments, they were back.

oh, i’ll never forget that moment for as long as i live! they placed her warm little body in my arms and discreetly stepped out to leave us alone.

“oh, my,” i whispered in awe. “you are beautiful, darling.”

i gazed at her big brown eyes and flawless skin. i held her hand in mine, counting each finger. i held her close and sang to her softly, “jesus loves me.” time stood still.

it was a holy moment, a christmas moment, a time when the greatest giver filled the arms of a hurting single woman with a priceless gift—a baby.

we left the orphanage on christmas eve at midnight. my tiny daughter, noelle joy oksana brani, was wrapped in a soft pink blanket. as i walked out into the night to catch the train back to moscow, the snow was gently falling. and i thought i could hear the angels singing.