A student in a Soviet school approached his teacher after a lecture on the Constitution of the USSR, and asked, "What is the difference between the Constitutions of the USA and USSR? Both guarantee freedom of speech, don't they?"
The teacher, quickly inspecting the room to see if anyone was listening, whispered, "Yes, but the Constitution of the USA also guarantees freedom after speech."
—A Russian joke from the Soviet Era
Today, Friday May 1st, is May Day. Also known as "International Workers' Day," it is a major socialist holiday in this part of the world. As I write, thousands of old communists, nostalgic for the days of Joseph Stalin, march (goose step?) down Kreshatik Street with red banners and hammer and sickle flags. One can almost hear then saying, "Okay, so a few million people disappeared during under Soviet rule? But, hey, those were the good ole days!"
Nevertheless, May Day is, I think, an appropriate day for Sasha to make her exodus from Ukraine. Not because of May Day's socialist associations. No, the commies hijacked the holiday. May Day was once a celebration of spring and rebirth. And today, Sasha is, in a sense, being reborn.
In a few hours time we will begin our journey home. We will fly to Paris, have a night's layover, and then fly on to Atlanta. According to U.S. adoption laws, the moment the wheels of our Boeing 767 touch down on American soil, Alexandra Lauren Taunton, "Sasha", becomes a citizen of the United States of America. There is something powerfully symbolic in that. Her new life begins in concert with her new citizenship.
"Then He said to them, 'Whoever welcomes this little child in My name, welcomes Me; and whoever welcomes Me, welcomes the One who sent Me. For he who is least among you all—he is the greatest.'"—Luke 9:48
Over the past six weeks or so, many of you have followed the story of our adoption of Sasha. Now that you have gotten to know something about her, I want to tell you what makes her so remarkable.
A year ago, my wife, Lauri, and our three boys—Zachary (13), Christopher (16), and Michael (20)—were part of a short-term mission trip to Odessa, Ukraine. A mission of mercy to Orphanage #88, there the team taught VBS, worked to improve facilities, engaged children with the Gospel—in short, they did the kinds of things that thousands of American church groups have done all over the world for decades. Some of you have, undoubtedly, been part of such a group.
While at Orphanage #88, Sasha, one of the children there, became intrigued with the "Americans from Alabama" and with Michael in particular. Sasha was something of a sidekick, following him everywhere. So much so, that the team started to jokingly call her "Sasha Taunton." At the end of the week, Lauri and the boys considered what they might do for Sasha and, not surprisingly, adoption was discussed. Making enquiry of the orphanage director, Lauri discovered that Sasha was available for adoption. She also discovered that Sasha had an incurable disease.
Sasha, the director told her, was HIV-positive. Lauri wept.
Back in Alabama, I was unaware of all of this, consumed as I was with work. Lauri and I had discussed adoption many times. Younger than most parents with children the age of our boys, we had often thought that we would be happy to provide a home to a child in need, but something always held us back—finances, the age of our children, a lack of consensus between us—something. When Lauri left to go on this mission trip, the thought had occurred to me that she might come back wanting to adopt. I know Lauri, her heart, and, more than that, I recollect what happened last time she went on a trip of this kind—she returned with a heavy heart for the children she encountered. That started the discussion between us, and, while we did not adopt at that time, the Lord moved Lauri to begin circulating photos of those children via email. As a consequence, a child was adopted.
But this was different. Sasha was not the infant we had discussed on previous occasions and she was a "special needs" child. What to do? Michael emailed me the whole story; how they had met Sasha, how she became attached to them, and, finally, about her illness. Lauri then followed up his email with this one:
My Dear,
I was sitting beside Michael as he sent you his email so I know you have the general picture regarding Sasha. I feel shocked and heart-sore. It is truly quite unbelievable and nothing I ever expected to hear.
I am glad you are there to turn to with this difficult issue. I am also equally glad that you are a man with great compassion for people and I can trust you in this.
There are so many difficult things in this. I know you already have thought of many of them. I don't even know if we could bring a child who is diagnosed with HIV into the USA. Tricia [Mandt-Prather] thought it might be possible if she was going to be able to get special medical attention from UAB.
Please, please give this careful prayer and thought. I want to do what we feel God wants us to do. If He has this difficult thing prepared for us I want Him to use us….
I love you!
Lauri
My response was as follows:
Lauri,
… [Regarding Sasha] you were vague about what you are proposing. Obviously, though the word was not used, you have adoption in mind. I am not against this, be it a child with or without HIV. But we don't have that kind of money sitting around and we have both discussed the very expensive and prolonged process involved in this before. Again, I am not opposed beyond the reasons that you and I have outlined before and quite recently, too. So, until we know what is involved in this, I don't think I can give any kind of meaningful response. I am open. Beyond that, I don't know.
Much love,
Larry
When Lauri came home, we had long walks and talks about Sasha and the possibility of adopting her. There were a lot of unanswered questions. First, there was adoption itself. Was Lauri's desire to adopt strictly an emotional response to her experience that would pass in time? (Not having met Sasha, I felt much more detached from the situation.) What about the cost? Could I afford the time involved in such a process? And then there was the question of Sasha's HIV, and this loomed large in our minds.
I confess that I knew virtually nothing about HIV, or its more advanced stage, AIDS. When I thought of it, if I thought of it at all, I generally associated the disease with homosexuals or the Third World. Furthermore, my ignorance was such that I didn't know the degree of communicability. Is it possible to get it from the mythical toilet seat or from someone sneezing on you? I didn't know. Our principle concern was whether or not we were putting our children (or other people) at risk.
Fortunately, I knew I was ignorant—Lauri told me! So we sought out specialists in the field of HIV. Lauri, a nurse, needed to ask fewer questions than I did, but we still submitted any number of them. In addition, we consulted researchers, the Centers for Disease Control, and Lauri spoke to parents and others who were dealing with the disease.
Every question answered to our satisfaction on the medical front, we began to ask other questions. There are issues that go beyond the medical when dealing with HIV; chief among them are the social ramifications. You see, a child with a cleft palate or spina bifida will bring a much different response from some people than a child who is HIV positive. Sadly, even in the Christian community. Consulting one friend, I asked, "If Lauri and I were to show up at your church with a child who is HIV positive, would the members there act like Christians, or would they act badly?" His response was as emphatic as it was memorable. "They will act badly and they will try to act like Christians … but forget them! If this is a door God has opened, you must walk though it." The sentiment was well received.
Of course, there was always the possibility of telling no one about Sasha's condition. One physician advised us to do precisely that. After all, others are not at risk. True, but that was, in my mind, somewhat beside the point. It was how people perceived the disease. I knew. After all, I was, only a short time ago, as ignorant as most of them.
"What if the child goes to spend the night with a friend, don't you think we should tell the parents?" I asked.
"Well, you might then," came the response.
"Three men can keep a secret," wrote Benjamin Franklin, "If two of them are dead." The idea that you could reveal such information to only a privileged few was, to my mind, naïve. Regardless, Lauri and I felt that it was not our place to make that decision for other people. Furthermore, that Sasha is HIV positive is no embarrassment to her, as she inherited the disease (along with Hepatitis B). No, Lauri and I felt that trying to keep the matter secret would, in the long run, do more harm than good, if for no other reason than it implicitly suggested there was something shameful about her illness.
When we first began praying about this whole matter, I thought we were putting two separate questions before the Lord; first, whether we should adopt a child and, second, whether that child was Sasha. Interestingly, however, the Lord did not answer those questions separately, but as one.
At no time, have Lauri and I felt called to adoption ministry per se. Those whom the Lord leads in that direction may have no specific child in mind. They may adopt no children or several children. That, however, was not our story. We felt a firm conviction to adopt, and, not just any child, but Sasha specifically. To be clear, I am not asserting the superiority of one calling over another, only making the distinction between adoption ministry and adoption. One need not feel called to one to do the other.
The Lord led us to Sasha. And it is interesting to note that the Lord led Sasha to us, for she was by no means passive throughout this adoption. There was, as I have noted, her initial attachment to Michael and the rest of our family, but there was more. At the court hearing, the judge asked Sasha if she wanted to be adopted by our family.
"Da"—yes—she replied.
"You know that you will be leaving Ukraine, don't you?" The judge continued. "Wouldn't you rather stay in Ukraine with people who speak Russian?" This seemed a rather leading question to put to child.
"She chose the Tauntons," the orphanage director spoke up.
"Stoi?"—What?—asked the judge.
"She wants to be adopted by them," the director explained, sweeping an arm in our general direction.
"Is this true?" The judge asked Sasha.
"Da," came the response with a shy smile.
Evidently, while the Lord was at work in our hearts, He was also at work in Sasha's heart, too. And that is, I think, because the Lord has big plans for her, though she does not yet know Him.
The fact is, the Church has been very slow to respond to the HIV/AIDS epidemic. According to statistics, some 35 million people suffer from the disease worldwide. "There are lies, damn lies, and then there are statistics," Mark Twain is famously quoted as saying. Statistics, though helpful on certain points, like, say, batting averages and miles per gallon, can deceive on others because it makes flesh and blood issues seem rather abstract. The knowledge, for instance, that there were eight million victims of the Holocaust will never affect you so much as a trip to Auschwitz. Similarly, the 35 million statistic did not hit home with me until I met Sasha, or, until Lauri and the boys told me about Sasha. In almost every other respect, she is a little girl like any other, and yet, by no fault of her own, a disease attacks her body. Once you met her, you will understand.
How will people respond to Sasha and her illness? We cannot know for sure. We can only hope that they will bear our Lord's words in mind: "Whoever receives this child in My name, receives Me; and whoever receives Me, receives the One who sent Me." That said, I can tell you about some who have met her or simply know about her, and how they have modeled Christ's words. First, there is the rest of the team that went to Orphanage #88. They have championed Sasha's cause from the beginning, Tricia Mandt-Prather in particular. Then there is the pastoral staff at Covenant Presbyterian Church. There, Dan Edwards, the Pastor of Children's Ministries, has been fantastic. Frank Limehouse, Dean of Cathedral Church of the Advent, has been a bedrock of support. I could go on to name many others, the Fixed Point board, our family, and friends, but these in particular stand out.
A final word. It has not been my point here to say that everyone should adopt. It is not God's plan for everyone and such decisions should not be made casually. Neither has this been an effort to build ourselves up as wonderful people. Like you, we are sinners, deeply flawed, yet seeking to do the Lord's will. Rather, we hope to encourage you, to tell you how God has led us in this matter, and to open your eyes to much bigger issues.
In my next update, I will tell you more about what I am here referring to.
We thank God for all of you, for His tender mercies, and for His hand that has upheld us during this grueling process. God is good.
With Respect,
Larry
Executive Director
Fixed Point Foundation
2828 Culver Road
Mountain Brook Village
Birmingham, Alabama 35223
(205) 414-6311 Office
(205) 414-6581 Fax
"When everything is moving at once, nothing appears to be moving, as onboard ship. When everyone is moving towards depravity, no one seems to be moving; but if someone stops, he shows up the others who are rushing on by acting as a fixed point."
—Blaise Pascal
