Hearing "Daddy!"

Hearing that one word, that single word, from a child gives me a wonderful feeling every single time. Hearing it from Z, melts me. Her cute pronunciation of "Dad-dii" (emphasis on the dii) makes my heart soar. I hear it dozens of times a day and it never gets old. Little does she know, she could have the world from me. But, I hopefully hide it well behind the big "Cheshire Cat" grin on my face every single time.

That being said, Z cries most everyday. Mostly from a harsh word or statement from our guest chaperon staying in our home. I grit my teeth and bear it every time I hold her and console her from the words, "you may think you are part of this family, but you are not" or "you are hanging on by a string. The director said if he gets a bad report from me, he will never sign the documents for your adoption."

So far, I have been the good host, hugging said chaperon every morning and saying "Dobre Ootre", praising her cooking, conversing with her in her limited English or with translation from our kids dozens of times daily. I know I can mend this woman's hard heart. Heidi and I push back hard, showering her with our Christian lifestyle, showing her the love and respect that will bridge the gap. And it's working. Slowly, she is easing up on Z. We've not had an incident in two days. Last night she told me that I'm a good Papa and Heidi is a good Mama to our children and the children are happier for it.

I don't think she is a bad person, just misguided. She certainly doesn't like Z and in the first three weeks she tried to dissuade us from adopting her. There have been stories she has told us, most just typical teen misbehavior. My constant response is that she has done a wonderful job raising these girls (R & Z) and that if Z is as bad as she reports, I'll be happy to take it the rest of the way and adopt her. That usually gets a look of exasperation from her.

So this "Good Papa" just continues on the path of love and understanding with her, showing her the firm-but-fair method of my parenting and discipline. She likes that my kids aren't unruly and disrespectful, that they do what they are told, that they have chores and responsibilities, and that we are doing for them what couldn't be done in Ukraine. She is pleased that Rimma is doing so well in a family, too. Hopefully Rimma's happiness in our family will pave the way for Z's happiness in our family next year.

Until then, I will continue to console and hold a trembling, teary-eyed young lady in the dark silence of her bedroom closet where just she and I and Jesus hear our conversations and prayers.

~ Felix ~