The Pearl of Latvia

We Go With Legs

Ventspils is a beautiful town filled with wonderful people. It is a port city on the deep blue Baltic Sea, claiming just fewer than 44,000 citizens. As is true throughout Latvia, the people here love music and flowers. There are flower shops on just about every corner and people on the streets are routinely seen carrying colorful bouquets to bring as gifts for friends or family.

The principal of Baiba’s school said that Ventspils is called, “the pearl of Latvia.” David and I would have to agree. For almost two weeks now we’ve driven and walked the narrow cobblestone and paving stone streets. We’ve eaten the food, soaked in the scenery, and grown accustomed to the sound of the melodic language.

The girls like to go out walking in the evenings. They link up with friends and go wherever they feel like going. At first we didn’t understand this and had reservations about letting them go, but they explained that it is common here. They say, “This is normal. We go with legs—all here do this.”

The patterns of the sun in Latvia have fashioned a night owl culture in the warmer months. Families, teenagers, and elderly can be seen out walking as late as 11:00 p.m. No one seems the least bit wary as they “go with legs” in the familiar late night light.

We Wait. We Always Waiting

Getting to know our daughters in their native country has been a moment in time together like no other. Our only purpose and agenda in the past two weeks has been to be with them. It’s too bad every parent doesn’t get this kind of opportunity to have time set aside that is exclusively about their children.

We heard from everyone who knows Agnese that she is bright, responsible and polite. She is much more confident and outgoing here than she seemed when they visited us in America in 2009. She has enthusiastically enjoyed our time together, even for what seems to us like the simplest things. She told David how nice it is to have someone pick her up from school. Usually she and Baiba take the city bus. She said, “We wait. We always waiting.”

She is very excited about being adopted and coming to the U.S., but doesn’t fully understand yet what a miracle it is that this is happening.

Baiba has a heart of gold. She loves animals, and connects herself with the underdogs of this hard world. Today she insisted that we go to the store for bread and sugar cubes but she wouldn’t tell us why. Then we got in the car and she directed us to a stable outside of Ventspils where she used to work. She would clean out stalls and take care of the horses in exchange for riding time. Baiba can be a bit capricious, and I think she needed for us to see her in the environment that completely grounds her. She snuggles up to us like a warm puppy, and loves it when we tell her to “be safe, be smart, be strong” when she goes out.

Tomorrow we will leave Ventspils and two of its pearls behind. We’ll go back to Colorado and our usual routines, and Baiba and Agnese will go back to living in an orphanage, eating only what the food service workers prepare, waiting hours for the city bus, and having no one ask where they are going or what time they’ll be back.

This time when we say goodbye, our hearts will not be broken but full. Knowing that we’ll definitely return in about two months to bring them home will help all four of us endure this latest separation. Our Monday afternoon phone calls will be richer because we can visualize where they’ve been and what they’ve been doing. David and I will continue nesting and preparing for their arrival with a refreshed understanding of who they are and what they like.

God’s perfect timing, grace, and provision will reunite us at the cusp of another season, and the beginning of a new life. Meantime, we wait.