I always pictured myself stepping off the airplane with a tiny baby or young toddler in my arms. Our family and friends would meet us at the airport, waving banners, crying tears of joy, and freely giving hugs.

The reality was quite different. My new 11-year-old son and 7-year-old daughter followed us off the plane instead. It was late at night, and after 36 grueling hours of travel, we stumbled to claim our luggage and find the car. No friends to meet us, no dramatic welcome home. We were all barely coherent, and my only thoughts were of my own bed, in my own home, here in our own country.

How did this journey begin? What prompted us to go against the grain and adopt two older children internationally? It all began with an announcement in our church bulletin.

My heartstrings vibrated with anticipation when I read the blurb about host families for children from Russia. My husband voiced his support, and I placed the phone call early the next morning. The coordinator said they still needed host families for a 7-year-old boy and a 7-year-old girl. I requested information about the girl. My heart filled with confirmation the moment I saw her picture. This blonde pony-tailed, blue-eyed little girl was to be my daughter!

Several weeks and much training later, the plane arrived three days late. We instantly recognized her by that telltale ponytail. As soon as we were introduced, she said through the translator that she wanted to call us Mama and Papa. Her arm didn't leave my neck until we were on our way to the car.
It only took a few days for us to know we were going to go through with her adoption. The next six weeks filled with potlucks, day camp activities, and Saturday outings passed way too quickly. My heart broke as we watched her get on that plane with her group and their escort. When would we see her again? And what if something happened that we didn't get to?

Back home, I focused on filling out mounds of paperwork and raising money. Three months later, our final paperwork was submitted, and we awaited news of a travel date. But thoughts of the two siblings that I had had off and on since she had come now seemed to force their way into the forefront of my mind. I had been gathering information in any way I could and after one memorable church service about worship, christmas, and children, our hearts and minds were in agreement. I called the agency. "We want Olga's two brothers, too." We made the difficult decision to leave our beautiful daughter in the hands of her orphanage caregivers, and in the hands of God, the father of the fatherless, for a time longer while we learned more information about her brothers, changed and added some paperwork, and raised a bit more money.

We learned that the older boy, Aleksei, was available for adoption, but their brother Yuri, who falls between them in age, was not and would not be. So we finished the paperwork for an 11-year-old boy whom we had never met, but who already held a place in our hearts. We had received a couple of pictures through our agency, and we treasured them. This young man had sparkling blue eyes and blonde hair just like his sister, and did indeed look "very much like Olga", as we had been told. A quiet intelligence gleamed from his eyes. I felt nervous and excited, yet totally at peace with this new decision.

Four months later, we had an addendum to our home study, and the final paperwork was in. After resolving a minor glitch with immigration, we finally had travel dates. My husband made the first trip to Russia that April, where he was reunited with our soon-to-be daughter, and met our soon-to-be son for the first time. A week and a half later, we both boarded a plane again and headed back to Russia. We had a court date, an extra suitcase of clothes for the kids, and return plane tickets for all four of us.

Our first day in Tver, we went to Aleksei's boarding school right outside the city, and this time I was meeting him for the first time. Everything my heart knew was confirmed when I met this incredible young man who would turn out to be such a blessing in our lives. I knew this was right, and that we had made the right decision.

The next day, we made the three-hour drive to Olga's orphanage. My heart leapt as she walked across the room and into my arms, placing her own around my neck. I didn't want to let go as tears filled my eyes. The eight months that had passed seem to melt away as I held her.

The third morning was court day. Nerves gripped my stomach like an iron fist as we entered the courtroom with the Russian-speaking judge, court reporter, and social workers. The only other English speaker in the room was our translator. Our son, who had to consent to the adoption, handled the questioning with ease and grace. When we walked out an hour later, we had full custody of both children, and Aleksei's face beamed. He did not want to let go of his Papa's hand. We parted ways for the last time while our coordinator finished up paperwork. Later that afternoon, we picked Aleksei up at his orphanage, and he spent his first night with us in our hotel room in Tver, on a rollaway bed brought in just for him. We finally made it back to Kati's orphanage the following afternoon, and a brother and sister were reunited after three years separation, a moment we caught on video. Alex greeted his sister with a hug, and then showed her the bag with her new clothes and toys.

The rest of the trip was spent in Moscow finalizing paperwork and getting passports and visas for our children. We spent our first days as a family sightseeing in between paperwork appointments. We boarded the first return plane home on Sunday morning, a week and a half after we had left America. We had left as a couple, and were returning as a family. It seemed surreal, and I kept expecting to wake up from this wonderful dream any minute. The reality didn't sink in until we stepped off that plane in our hometown in Montana.

That's when our new lives as a family really began. Two years later, we have learned how to live together, how to cook Russian food, and even to speak a few words of Russian. The kids have learned about life, school, and family in America, and both learned English very quickly.

Kati (short for Katiana Olga) speaks very little Russian and has a very faint accent. She has been both an incredible blessing and a challenge. Used to getting her own way and being a favorite and the center of attention, she has had to learn to trust us to take care of her, and how to bond with us as her parents and primary caregivers. These are lessons that will take some time for her to learn completely.

Alex (Aleksei Jonathan) still speaks Russian, has a very strong accent, and is an incredible example of God's grace in a child's life. He has many memories of his life in Russia and with their birth family, both good and bad, and has been able to fill in many gaps for us. The orphanage he lived in for the three years prior to coming to us is known as one of the worst in the region. He has every excuse to be angry and bitter. Yet, he has a maturity and wisdom beyond his years, and is such a gentle, mild-mannered, eager-to-please young man.

When we stepped off that plane onto Montana soil two years ago this May, did we know the challenges that would lie before us? Did we realize the blessings that awaited us in the lives of these two children? We were prepared to handle anything that might come our way, and the blessings have been far greater than we could have imagined.

Would we do it all over again?

The answer is a resounding "YES!"

Thank you!

Laura Furniss
Mom to:
Aleksei (Alex) Jonathan Furniss, born Nov. 20, 1992 in Tver, Russia
Katiana (Kati) Olga Furniss, born June 4, 1996 in Tver, Russia
Adoption finalized April 26, 2004 in Tver

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