Her name is Maria Belen. Belen is 5 years old, owns a little dog named Chocolate and loves to dance and play hide-and-seek. She also does not speak any English.

Her beautiful smile was the first to greet me each day and she was the last one to give me a hug when I left. We often communicated nonverbally and by the end of the week I could understand her rather well. What I did not know was how much she understood from me.

Through my spotty Spanish and role playing, I shared with her several Bible stories and verses. It was rather entertaining to watch, I’m sure. Yet, apparently Belen was sharing with her mother each night what we had learned together that day.

At the end of the week Belen’s mother came up to me and handed me a yellow bag she made for me. Belen had shared with her mother that yellow was my favorite color, and she wanted to thank me for sharing the love and joy of Christ with their family.

This experienced reminded me that God’s power and grace is beyond languages and cultures. It is incredible to witness His gospel message spread worldwide through the faithfulness of his followers.

Spending time in another culture always produces barriers, but by actively showing love and leaning on God’s guidance, you can be a useful tool for the Gospel. Isaiah 55:10-11 is a beautiful picture of God’s word and how it flourishes and does not return empty:

“For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there without watering the earth and making it bear and sprout, and furnishing seed to the sower and bread to the eater; So will My word be which goes forth from My mouth; It will not return to Me empty, without accomplishing what I desire, and without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it.”

Jeanne Jacobs served as a volunteer with Project Go! last summer in Peru. The deadline to sign up to be a 2012 Project Go! volunteer is Feb. 5. Click here for more information. 

Though not spoken, I know the word she was going to use.  It was the word “yours.”  Based on this line of thinking, a DNA link would somehow place this child into a higher class of belonging.  It was as if I were to be overjoyed at my genetic signature passing on to the next generation. I can tell you with certainty this is a flawed approach. In reality, I’ve passed on lots of imperfect qualities including: male pattern baldness, an inability to outrun your garden variety turtle, and a propensity for Oreos and milk.

All of that aside, it causes me to reflect on what it means to call a child “yours.”  I can remember our child falling asleep during landing after screaming the entire flight from Orlando to Dallas.  Given a chance I might have denied she was mine as weary fellow travellers exited the plane.  On the other hand, there have  been those times when the mixture of pride and joy have welled up inside to the point that my body could no longer contain it only to find  release through cheers or the tears that rolled down my face.    In those moments I wanted everyone to know that these were my children.  These experiences have nothing to do with a biological sameness, or a shared ancestry – but they have everything to do with them being mine. 

Shannon and I consider the two younger individuals who live in our home our children based on our relationship with them.  Our love is not dependent on their gene pool, but instead on our unconditional acceptance of them. They should never be made to feel as if they must earn this acceptance or that our love for them is conditional or temporary.  

In this way, a parent-child relationship is a microcosm of the relationship we have with our Heavenly Father.  We have done nothing to deserve His love, the truth be told we spend lots of time doing things that drive us further away from Him.  The Psalmist expresses our ambition when he writes: “let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing to you O Lord” (Ps 19:14 NIV) but Paul addresses the too often reality of “I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate.”  (Romans 7:15 NLT)  Yet in all of this we experience the grace and mercy of God in that He continually seeks us out and desires a relationship with us.

I did not correct the well meaning parishioner that night, but neither did I discard the conversation.  I want it to serve as a reminder of what it means for these children to be mine.   They are not mine in the same way one would own property, but in the way that I am responsible for them.  I want to have a deeper relationship with them and to try to show them the same grace and mercy that I need to be shown.  This means that whether I’m teaching them how to ride a bike, discovering the hidden stash of dirty socks under the sofa, drying tears, or explaining how to accept God’s gift of salvation through a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, through all the ups and all the downs – they’re mine.

David Ummel is administrator for Buckner Children and Family Services in Longview, Texas.

This led to the beginning of our family’s adoption journey—a journey that would stretch our faith and finances and take us to the very limits of ourselves. As we waited three and a half years to bring our precious Maria home, watching her grow up in pictures without her family, we often questioned God’s purposes.

During one of the lowest points of our wait, plagued by concerns of whether or not her adoption could be completed, someone asked what would be the worst outcome from this experience. Without hesitation I answered, “That Maria would never come home.”

I pondered and prayed over my answer and realized the worst that could happen would be if Maria never met her Savior and spent eternity separated from him. My attitude changed and I began praying first for Maria’s salvation and second that we would be blessed to be the family that would lead her to Christ.

It’s been more than four years since Maria joined our family and nearly three years ago our prayers were answered with Maria’s baptism on Jan. 4, 2009. Not only will we have the blessing of sharing this life with her, but eternity as well.

I’m in awe of a God who loves so deeply that he would go to such great lengths for one life. Before Maria’s life even began God knew that this would be her story—that we would be her family and that she would be his child. I’m blessed that he would use someone as flawed as me as his tool, and I’m sobered by the thought that we could have disobeyed.

“The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” 2 Peter 3:9

Stacie Chalupka and her husband, Don, live in Little Rock, Ark. They have four children, and they adopted their daughter, Maria, from Guatemala through Buckner in 2007.

Peru: Love takes many forms

Before this trip, Victoria, Katie, and I knew the urgency of the great commission and took the command to love orphans seriously. It’s why we signed up in the first place. Since we had each been waiting and praying from the moment we decided to go to Peru, we were ready to put our words and planning into action.

But after our first day with the kids, I realized I never could have imagined what one day of serving would do to my perspective on the Gospel and on missions. All the planning, reading, thinking or discussing never could have prepared me for what happened. That day, our mission received a face.

And what a precious face, isn’t it? At Sagrada Familia, a privately-operated group foster home in an impoverished area, our mission took the shape of many faces, many names, many voices calling for attention, many arms reaching for hugs, and many lives begging for love.

We are so happy to serve in whatever capacity is needed and are learning that love takes many forms. Mixing paint. Priming walls. Sweeping the floor. Tracing tiny hands. Taking a picture. Drawing with chalk. Telling a story. Giving a hug (or 500). Listening to a secret (that you can’t understand). Giving out stickers.

Be His hands. Be His feet.

Hannah McSween was a Project Go volunteer from Knoxville, Tenn. She served with Buckner in Peru during June.

Dominican Republic: Seeing things with new eyes

My time thus far in the Dominican Republic has been a whirlwind! The country, people, and kids are beautiful. I am in love.

I have gotten the opportunity to teach English to these sweet children in the Community Transformation Center. When we were driving in for the first time to teach, I saw dilapidated buildings and poverty all around. It honestly did not phase me much. I have been to other countries. I have seen poverty. So I went on with my business of teaching English.

During the first few days, we decided to walk around the community with a few of the children. They were so excited to take us to their houses. As we walked, the poverty around us began to sink in.

We came to E’s house. She was so proud to have us there, and her family invited us in. The four of us barely fit in the living room area. Curtains made up the makeshift walls, and the materials their house was built from were anything but sturdy. They were so welcoming, but we only stayed for a few minutes.

Experiencing poverty like I saw that day puts things into perspective. I knew poverty existed in the community, but before I ever saw the poverty, I saw the children. I have been teaching them for two days, and they come dressed fairly nice. They are so happy and eager to learn, so I wasn’t expecting what I saw.

It broke my heart to see where these children live. But despite the poverty, these children have such pure hearts full of joy to learn and experience life. Their outlook is much different than yours and mine. It has encouraged me to look at things in a new light.

Laren Lewis was a Project Go intern in the Dominican Republic.

Russia: Building relationships

Some of us spent the past week at Orphanage No. 14 playing “futbol” (soccer) and basketball with boys who have unlimited energy. Others spent hours playing Uno and trying to keep up with the ever-changing rules.  Still others spent their days making friendship bracelets for their many new friends!

But the week was so much more than these activities. Within each activity was a window of opportunity—a window for establishing relationships, a window in which we could freely give our friendship, our love and ourselves and a window for planting a seed of God’s truth, love and hope.

The first seed we had the privilege to see grow was in a 12-year-old boy named Andre. When we shared Bible stories, he was quick to speak up with both right and wrong answers and questions. Our conversations with him paid off when he understood that his place in God’s family was not temporary, but was forever affirmed by the blood of Jesus Christ. This joy of finally having a permanent family was revealed when he ran up and told Sally she was his big sister and he was forever her little brother through Christ.

Sixteen-year-old Alec was searching for a purpose beyond himself. While the other boys were preoccupied with sports and cards, Alec pressed us for answers to deep theological questions, like, “How can you have faith in something you can’t see?” and, “Isn’t living a good life enough to go to heaven?”

Our window for working with Alec this month may be closed, but our prayer is that God will keep the window open for coming teams until he has found his place in God’s family.

Interacting with the older girls at the beginning of the week was tough, but our team’s prayers were answered through the softening of their hearts as the week progressed. There was much discussion of boys, make up and nail polish, but intertwined with those typical girl topics were the topics of Jesus Christ, God’s lasting love and true beauty.

One of the older girls, Tanya, made a connection with our team that paved the way for relationships with other girls. Her search for friendship and longing for affection allowed for deeper conversations and a bond that cannot be hindered by distance or language.

Sally, Kalie, Sarah Anne, Elizabeth and Clay: Session One Project Go volunteers in Russia

To read more stories from our Project Go! volunteers or mission trip participants, visit the It’s Your Mission blog.

Want to go somewhere? Take a mission trip with Buckner! Click here to see the current calendar of mission trips.

Click on the first photo to start the slideshow.

On a recent mission trip to Peru, God used a few college students from Hardin Simmons University to expand His Kingdom.

As the Bible story was being taught one morning, Natalie, Kay and Lauren noticed a little 9-year-old girl who kept scratching her head due to the lice crawling in her hair.

She and her family were staying at the boys’ orphanage while completing the paperwork to reunite her older brother with the family. Not only did she have lice, but so did her 3-year-old sister and 1-year-old brother. They all suffered from sores on their scalps from the frequent scratching. Upon seeing that, Natalie, Kay and Lauren were moved to action.

The next day the girls spent about three hours cleaning the children’s hair. 

“It was a tedious and emotionally difficult process, but God really opened our eyes,” they said. “After treating the kids for lice we had to do more – we had to make sure the family understood our purpose for coming to Peru.”

The last day before the team left, the girls met with the family in the orphanage director’s office and after a warm welcome Natalie spoke to the family, “Do you know why we came to Peru?”

“To play with the children, because you love them,” the father responded.

“Yes, that is part of it, but there is a greater reason. I have one purpose in life and that purpose is to share the love of Jesus Christ with everyone. I had the chance to share that love with your precious children, but I want to take the opportunity to share that love with you, too.”

Natalie went on to share the gospel message of salvation with the family and on that day, Mom, Dad and their two oldest children accepted Jesus. We all prayed together, and with tears in their eyes the parents hugged and thanked those girls for coming to Peru. Their hugs were genuine and long lasting.

It was amazing to see how God used those college students and a few lice to expand his Kingdom to include that Peruvian family. Natalie explained, “We will never forget this experience or these people we’ve had the pleasure of getting to know. Our lives are forever changed, all because the Lord gave us joy and love through innocent and precious children. We are so blessed!”

Isn’t is funny when we serve the Lord, thinking we are carrying blessings to His people, that somehow we come away being blessed, and in this case “forever changed,” as Natalie put it?

In the blue of the pool, between waves and the tiled bottom, I’ve lost her.  My daughter’s missing in the chaos of churning chlorine.  Arms, legs, heads all thrashing and bobbing, and her’s indistinguishable from the rest.  Finally, I spot her, her hair thick points of streaming water as she climbs the ladder out of the deep end and moves toward the diving board.

“Tess, I’ve been looking for you, honey,” and as I touch her arm, cool and wet, the face that meets mine isn’t my daughter’s after all.  “Sorry,” I say, realizing my mistake and returning my gaze to the pool.  “Mom, I’m over here,” I hear from the shallow end.  And there she is, her polka-dot suit a standout.  She is laughing.  “You did it again, didn’t you?” she asks and I nod, embarrassed, because I do this once a year, every year.  Lose my daughter.  And the thought of it makes us both laugh.  We live in a Big Ten university town.  There is diversity, but when we are out as a family at a park or pool, I can usually find Tess.  She’s the one shaped like scissors, long legs stretching her into adolescence.  She’s the one with hair the color of coffee, skin a softened caramel, the girl who runs with a lightness I can’t match or understand.  She’s easy to spot in the current of blond and brown hair catching the water and floating.

But here today, at India Camp in Tulsa, she’s suddenly “every girl” and my husband and I are the “different ones.”  She loves it. She points out to us that we look so one-of-these-things-is-not-like-the-other. “I like my brown better,” she says, and I’m oh so glad she feels that way.  When Tess was little, we thought we wanted to be colorblind.  After all, we didn’t think about our differences, we just noticed our similarities, our unmitigated love for each other.  But we don’t look alike, and the rest of the world sees that and stares.  Instead our differences have become something we acknowledge and celebrate. On our two-day car ride to Tulsa she said, “I can’t wait to be with my people.”  When I asked what she meant, she laughed.  “You know.  Other adopted Indian kids.  Not just Indians like our friends.”

“I’m the only kid in my whole school who’s from India,” she announced after her first week in kindergarten.  We had enrolled her in our neighborhood elementary where there was diversity but not Indian diversity, and she noticed.  So when we moved her to an elementary that resembled the UN, she loved it.  Came home daily with updates of classmates—Afghanistan through Zimbabwe—who were her new friends.  But then the adoption questions began.  Kids who were unfamiliar with it, whose cultures kept adoption hush-hush, were intrigued and sometimes rude.  One night, after our bedtime ritual of Tell Me Three Dreams, her lips trembled and she began to cry.  And as most deep heart secret stories do, this one seeped out of her.  She had been asked every day, “Where’s your real mom?  How come your real mom gave you away?  Are you happy living with those people instead of in India with your real mom?” and was frustrated.  “I’m tired of kids asking me every day about adoption.  So-and-so follows me around and says she feels sorry for me that I’m adopted and that you are my parents.  She makes fun of me, Mom, and you and Dad, too.  She’s so mean.”  I told Tess I was sorry and asked her what she wanted me to do.  “Will you come in and talk to the class, like you did at my other school?”  And I realized my mistake.  Because her school is so diverse, I had made an assumption.  An assumption that all kids, regardless of family make-up, color, size, or background would be accepted in this diverse environment.  I had mistakenly equated diversity with understanding.

Armed with books, handouts, information from past Dillon heritage/adoption camps, and food, I made an adoption presentation to her class the next week.  The props were great, but the dialogue was the best part.  Tess’s classmates asked open questions and I gave what I hoped were open answers.  Then at home we practiced W.I.S.E. Up (the program by Marilyn Schoettle) again and again.  Suddenly, what she had learned at Dillon’s camp and practiced at camp had a real world application. I discovered that for Tess, Walk Away was the most difficult aspect of W.I.S.E. Up.  Giving my daughter permission to walk away and choose not to answer an intrusive question was powerful.  It worked.  School once again became what she wanted and needed.

That experience led me to reflect on so many conversations over the years at India Camp.  When our girls were little we talked about adoption issues in general terms, how to handle racism, answering birthparent questions, etc. But now my husband and I have different questions, pose different scenarios to our friends who have also adopted.  Will Indian boys consider dating our daughter who, at first glance is all things India, but who doesn’t speak Hindi?  Who knows how to make dal and loves palak paneer but lives with parents whose ancestry ties them to the Emerald Isle?  How to give our daughter at least a little experience of India while living outside of it?

Which is where the India Association of Greater Tulsa comes in to wrap its arms around our children.  Volunteers teach history, language, and culture to our kids every year during camp.  They feed our kids, dress them in traditional attire, teach them Bharatanatyam and encourage all of our families to learn as much about India as possible.  Tess looks forward to seeing her camper friends each year and the teen girls who volunteer from the IAGT.  This year, two teens are teaching our kids a Bollywood-style number that has the children enthralled. Tess is talking about it constantly, recalling her own Bharatanatyam lessons and saying she might want to take those lessons again.  She hangs on the teens’ arms and words.  Tess asks for jewelry like theirs, and saris, too. We parents are so grateful—grateful for this little bit of India in Tulsa.

My husband and I realize we have used the camp experiences throughout the year, every year, for six years.  The panel discussions, the voicing of our deepest fears and worries, and the sacred shared experience of adoption have influenced what we do and how we do it during the rest of the year.  We feel fortunate to have the support of other parents who are trying to figure it out just as we are, but Tess has been the real winner, the beneficiary of India Camp and the India Assoc. of Greater Tulsa.  The good girl.  Rule follower.  Obedient.  Cautious.  Our daughter sometimes fades to wallpaper in her classroom.  She’s the girl who raises a hand no one sees.  Who comes home hungry from school because she didn’t have the courage to tell the lunch lady who was scolding the kids to “hurry up and eat and get outside” that she had just gotten her food and needed more time to eat it.  But India Camp is helping to change that—turning some of the hesitancy into determination and confidence.  I’m proud as I watch her swimming with her friends, engaged and engaging.  Tomorrow I’ll cry when she takes the stage at our camp’s closing ceremony, confidently reading her part and then singing another.  India Camp has taught her a love for the stage.  The simple ten-minute skits each year have given her a feel for an audience, a chance to be her authentic self—artsy and happy.  They’ve also given her the confidence to play a leading role in two school plays and the grace to admit defeat when she tried out for a solo.  “I’m so happy for Karen, Mom.  She sang way better than I did.”  Yes, an opportunity to know who she really is inside out and outside in.

Earlier today she stood poised to jump from the high dive, and then, overcome with fear, she froze. I stood helplessly at the lip of the pool as the lifeguards told her she had to jump, couldn’t back down the ladder to the safety of my arms.  She had no choice.  As one lifeguard swam out and paddled in glinting water below the board, parents from around the pool shouted their encouragement.  “You can do it!”  “It’s okay, you’ll be safe.”  “The lifeguards are here for you.”  Tess’s eyes were on mine and it seemed like forever and ever amen passed before, crying, she stepped off the edge.  As she bobbed to the surface, parents and children cheered and clapped.  Campers immediately came to her as she climbed from the pool and into my hug.  They offered her their congratulations and their own stories of being scared.  I struggled to keep from crying because this little community of families was so supportive, so kind.  And I knew she would be safe.  That we would catch each other’s children, help each other’s kids figure out how to negotiate not just the pool but life.  And not just life, but life as adopted children and adoptive families.

An educator and freelance writer, M. Charette lives in Michigan with her husband and daughter.

Gladys Thomas, right, embraces a relief worker in the days following the 2010 earthquake in Haiti. One year after the storm, Haiti continues to rebuild.

Approaching the anniversary of the earthquake in Haiti, we continue to be grateful to be alive and count our blessings. Most days are challenges in Haiti, and we do not see them decreasing soon, however we serve a good God and He will continue to equip us with the strength for every day. In the past year, we have survived the earthquake, treated thousands of victims, buried many, sheltered countless victims including our own children and staff, fed thousands, listened and cried with many. There is absolutely no way could we have been able to move on without the strength from the Lord and the numerous arms of support that came to us via many friends and donors who care about Haiti and the Foundation.

Matt Asato, director of international humanitarian aid for Buckner, stands with boxes of shoes and aid in Port Au Prince.

Our thanks go to all those who planned, packed and shipped these containers. Navigating the reception of these was a real adventure in many cases and we learned a lot about the Haitian customs in times of need. We thank God for having been able to clear every single container. We will be distributing supplies for a while yet, as the needs go on and on, and we are happy to continue to serve many families in need that have come to us.

Others have sent funds to help with the ongoing additional expenses and we thank them as well. Without these funds, we would not have been able to undertake the major repairs needed in our different structures, mainly the hospital which is our biggest structure. It has taken close to six months of heavy repairs including the construction of two ramps to accommodate the many new physically challenged people of Haiti. Fortunately, we never had to stop offering care while the repairs were going on. With several hospitals closed in the city we were happy to be able to function through dust and noise to continue to offer hope and care. Today, the hospital has been transformed into a full service hospital and we want the Port au Prince community to know about the care they can receive here.  The new ramps have given a brand new look to the hospital, creating a sense of what the rebuilt Haiti should look like. We live with the hope that someday Haiti will really be rebuilt just as each victim will be rehabilitated. 

The orphanage for older children, Haiti Home for Children (HHC) required some major and costly repairs. In a six week period, most of the repairs and painting were done allowing us to remove all the tents we had been using for shelter and for all the children to return to their home.

Part of the building is being used as classrooms to accommodate the classrooms destroyed by the earthquake. Children from different places and friends have helped the schools with new benches and chairs. Until we have a new building, we are working toward making the school environment as conducive to learning as possible. We want to take this time to thank all those who have contributed to help us reopen our schools.

As Haiti continues to endure storm after storm, we thank God for the strength and grace He gave us to continue working and to encourage the people we serve. It is by His grace that we were able to rise above the many challenges we have faced. With many dead already from cholera and no immediate end to the epidemic, we are awaiting a couple of storms that will bring more heartache to this suffering country.

The demonstration of love and compassion was clearly demonstrated through the support of friends and of Haiti in general. With such love, we, on the field can gain strength and encouragement to continue on with the ministry the Lord trusted to us with and to continue to give of ourselves in tough times. We will rise and shine again as we trust God for better days.

In His service,
Gladys Thomas

Julisia was our first foster baby.  As a family, we were anxious and excited while wondering where this journey would lead.  Our two children, ages 9 and 6 at that time, were thrilled at having a new face in the house.  When Julisia arrived, she came with nothing more than what the hospital provided: some formula, a hospital blanket, and a few diapers to spare.  She was very small and we were startled with how jaundice she appeared – even her eyes were colored yellow.  She displayed the signs of abuse though she had never spent any time in her mother’s arms.

After the first couple of days, we found ourselves calling her “Jules”.  Julisia seemed such a big name for such a little girl!  Our oldest daughter enjoyed having a new baby to wrap up and hold while our son made every attempt to make her laugh at his funny faces. 

Besides her obvious jaundice, we started to notice several health issues as a result of her abuse.  Our biological son has experienced a number of digestive issues, and Jules soon experienced many of these same symptoms – though in a much more dramatic way.  As her medical issues increased, she began seeing multiple doctors.  There wasn’t a week that passed where a doctor visit wasn’t scheduled. Managing her health became a full time job.

From the moment Jules arrived, there were two goals for her: to care for her health needs and to reunify her with her birth mother.  What we didn’t realize was that Jules was quickly becoming a part of our family.

After having her in our home for three to four months, our family began to pray about the possibility of Jules becoming a permanent part of our home if the opportunity was presented.  Our kids began to pray every night for Jules to be able to stay.  As parents, our hearts were guarded.  We knew the possibility existed that, even without a return to her mother, Jules could be sent to other family members.  We encouraged our kids to tell God what they wanted but to also understand that He may have other plans for her.

The next nine months would follow an emotional journey.  Jules had learned to crawl, though in a stiff, somewhat robotic motion.  Her caregivers began working with her to loosen her joints.  Shortly after celebrating her first birthday, Jules began to walk.  It took no more than two weeks before everything in the house became a target.  It had been quite a while since we had experienced a walking toddler and we quickly found all of the loose items in the house.

On July 30, 2010 Jules became a permanent member of the Pilson family.  Officially she became Amelie Julisia Pilson, though she will likely always be “Jules”.  We never imagined our hearts would become so overwhelmed with love.  Jules has overcome many hurdles with her health and will continue that journey.  God has a plan for Jules’ life and we are very blessed that He chose us to be a permanent part of that plan.

- By Tim Pilson

By Claire McGough

“How did you know that I liked cats?” That was one of the first questions Anastasia asked my husband, Chris, and I when we first met her last week. It was such a delight to realize that we already shared a connection, even though we had been living in vastly different worlds — she in an orphanage in St. Petersburg, Russia and we as middle class Texans.

As we enjoy our three weeks together in Buckner International’s Angels from Abroad program, we are discovering many other connections and learning some valuable lessons as well. After 12 years of marriage with no children in our household, it is eye-opening and joyful to discover life from the perspective of an 11-year-old and very fulfilling to share with her the experience of living in an American family.

Through Angels from Abroad, our family has been able to show Anastasia a world she probably only dreamed existed: one with trips to the hair salon, circus, rodeo, water park and church–even the aisles of Hobby Lobby and Home Depot are like a whole different universe from her point of view.

Although she has never before experienced the routine of family life before, I am pleasantly surprised at how helpful and cooperative she is when the time for household chores rolls around. Her intelligence and independence shines through the language barriers and each day a little bit more of her personality unfolds.

When Anastasia returns to Russia after this whirlwind tour of American living, I hope she doesn’t simply return with the idea that, in America, they buy gifts for you all the time. I want her to hold in her heart the memory of what it is like to live in a family and to take comfort in knowing that households with a mom and dad who care about you do exist.

Chris and I first had our eyes opened to the plight of orphans when we began participating in mission trips to Mongolia, a country that does not have an international adoption program. After much research and prayer, we felt led to learn more about adoption from Russia and Buckner’s Angels from Abroad program, which provides older children living in orphanages the chance to learn about American culture, share their Russian culture and experience living in a family. The Angels program also helps raise awareness about the need for adopting older children.

We have learned that older children in Russian orphanages face a bleak future if they are not adopted. Children are forced to leave the orphanage system at age 17 and many fall prey to alcohol, drugs, prostitution and crime. It is estimated that nearly 10 percent commit suicide within the first three years. There are more than 750,000 estimated orphans in Russia and about 75-80 percent of those available for adoption are 5 years old or older.

My prayer for Anastasia, and the thousands of beautiful children just like her who are waiting on a place to call “home,” would be that the day comes when she will be out of the orphanage receiving all of the nurturing, education and opportunities every child deserves.

If you are interested in learning more about hosting-to-adopt opportunities through Buckner’s Angels from Abroad program, call 214-319-3426.

This story first appeared on Dallas Morning’s News’ Moms Blog at momsblog.dallasnews.com.