Our Adoption Story---Making our way to Kazakhstan

In the end, all the drama, suspense, months of waiting, tears of anguish, miraculous signs and wonders were simply part of the faith history we carried with us to the airport. One morning in June 2004, Blake and I really did get on a plane and begin the long trip to Kazakhstan. Six months prior, God had called us, we had responded, and He had moved every mountain that stood in our way. As we stepped on that first-of-5 airplanes, we knew that although we had come through so much, there was still much ahead for which we still needed to see God's power.

We arrived in Almaty, Kazakhstan at nearly midnight. Having lived in the region for several years, going through passport control was a process we knew well. Thankfully we hadn't forgotten all of our Russian. The agent swiped my passport, stamped it and handed it back. And then, he swiped Blake's. Time stood still.

As I've said before, the story of Blake's inability to secure a visa from Kazakhstan years before is a story for another day, but needless to say, it was a faith-stretching time for us. Let's just say that on that dark night in June, the flashing light on the passport agent's computer reminded us afresh of our powerlessness to stay in a country when we were not welcome.

When he said to us, "Wait a minute" and then walked away, the ability to breathe nearly escaped me. We were, as you can imagine, very concerned---and in those first few moments I cried out to God: Have you brought us this far only to let us be turned back?!! I tried to phrase it as a question, but it might have been an accusation.

Minutes turned to nearly an hour---and we stood there. We prayed as an act of will and because we didn't know what else to do. I was scared. I rehearsed every wonder and sign God had performed for us as I willed myself to trust Him even in this. Through the window to the arrivals hall, I could just make out the welcome faces of the friends who had come to pick us up. I waved and clasped my hands together as a signal that they needed to pray too. At least in that moment they knew we had arrived.

By this point the cleaning lady with her short-handled broom had begun her nightly ritual of after-hours work. Everyone from our flight had come and gone. We alone stood waiting.

Our agent was nowhere to be found. We paced and prayed and recited memory verses under our breath.
And my God will supply all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus

I've never prayed with such desperation and fervor. I asked that legions of angels would come and carry us out of customs! At one point, we couldn't see any other people (except for the cleaning lady) and I began to wonder if they had forgotten us.

Finally our agent returned to his seat with Blake's passport in hand. He called us back over and for 10 more minutes we stood before him, trying to look as if this were all completely typical of our arrival in foreign countries. Eventually, he looked at his computer screen one last time, shrugged, looked up at us, and said in broken English, "Must be computer problem." He stamped Blake's passport and waved us through.

And that was our arrival into the country where our baby was waiting.