What do I do with the reality that Sasha has a Russian mom? I've been internally processing this for a couple of months now. Do I ignore her? Just smile and agree when Sasha talks about her? Blame her for all of Sasha's pain? Create a fairy tale version of her? I've come to the conclusion that I should just love her. I don't have to like the choices she made but I definitely have to love her. After all, if it were not for her I would not have Sasha in my life, regardless of the circumstances that brought her to me. It is classic Romans 8:28-30. God chose Sasha in advance to be his own and so he is taking everything that has happened in her life and is working it together for good. Everything.
I never wanted to be one of those Western Christians full of pride and arrogance, swooping in to save the orphan child. Someone else and their culture can't get it right so I have to march over there and fix it, all in the name of Jesus. I hate that kind of thinking. It stinks. I don't have a Masters in Theology, but I'm pretty sure God hates it too. All that being said, there is a fine line between defending the interests of your adopted child and taking up an offense for her that allows this kind of thinking to creep in.
And so I found myself sitting in a Russian courtroom when suddenly someone announces that her mother has passed away. I suddenly felt my heart break for Sasha and for her mother. For months I have gone back and forth between anger and frustration at Sasha's past circumstances and a broken heart for this woman who is missing out on seeing who Sasha is growing up to be. And then a couple of months ago a real game-changer happened.
Sasha and I were driving along in the car one day when suddenly, out of the blue, she says, "You know, you look just like my Russian mom." Woe. Talk about being caught off guard. Apparently I look so much like her Russian mom that Sasha says when she first saw me it literally took her breath away. I suddenly realized just how carefully God had orchestrated this entire process. Sasha has no pictures of her mother but God loves her so much that she can simply look at me and remember. Are there positives and negatives to this? Most certainly, but whether positive or negative, I have the opportunity to love this woman. I now not only just listen when Sasha wants to talk about her Russian mom, I initiate my own conversations about her. I've learned to cook a few things the way her Russian mom cooked them. I take in all the memories that Sasha shares and save them in an effort to help Sasha remember. Some memories are happy, some are not so happy, but it is obvious that God wants to use them all for good.
I choose to honor her memory. I choose to forgive her when I need to. I choose to love her.
