Hosting Orphans~11 More Days

Yesterday was much anticipated, especially by Lena, "salon day".  Which only meant they were getting a hair cut. But she was looking so very forward to it. We had looked at pictures on-line all week for a hairstyle she liked, with no clear winner by the time we got there. So Denis went first. We looked at books and she tried to communicate what she had in mind. She has very fuzzy hair. Not curly, and not manageable I have learned. She wanted a sleek style. I wanted her to understand that the stylist could achieve that, but just for the day. I became very difficult to explain to her that once she washed her hair it was going to go back to frizzy and that a straightening iron was not a permanent solution (no, she will not have access to one back at the orphanage). The language barrier was not helping so I suggested calling the translator, which is always available to us. But she has resisted this the whole time she has been here. I realized that for some reason she she thinks she is in trouble when I suggest calling the translator. At this point at the salon it appears she is going to have a total melt down, as only teen girls can. Tears start to well up in her eyes, she puts her hair back into a ponytail and say "no, no hair cut". Then I see it. The woundedness. The fear. I do not know this precious girl's story of why she ended up in a Ukr@inian orphanage 6 years ago, but what she is carrying is heavy and very ugly. I can see physical scars, but the pain and emotional scars are deep. The translator is a woman (a nice woman) and she shuts down every time she has to speak to her. She was willing not to get her hair cut, after being so excited about it, rather than risking upsetting me, the stylist or the translator. When I saw this pain in her eyes it broke my heart.

I managed to calm her and love her through it. But at one point when I felt her resistance to me. When I could acutely feel her pain, I wanted to run away. It brought up pain in me, old wounds. It is difficult to stand with someone, especially when you are doing something "nice" for them, at tell them it's ok, you will not leave them. You will not judge them. When you know it is coming from such a place of pain. There was no brattiness or entitlement there. Just a raw soul with nowhere to hide. I could tell she wanted to hide. I wanted to hide. All I could do was hug her and Google translate "Momma just wants Lena to have fun", "don't be upset", "it's ok". She did calm down and get her hair done. I called the translator later at had her explain how much I loved her and that when I suggest calling her it doesn't mean she is in trouble, just that we need better communication at that time. She seemed better after that.

Everyone has a story. There most certainly are people who are self centered because they have had too much attention and have always been lead to believe that the universe revolves around them! This monster does not need fed. But those who have been deprived of healthy affection, attention and attentiveness (which could also include the over materially indulged), and have suffered abuse need to be given a big doses love and affection. The only antidote I know to abuse and neglect is love. Real "I will stick with you and hug you through the pain" kinda love. I just wish I had more that a month to give that to Denis and Lena. But I only have 11 more day until I have to put them on a plain and send them back. I hope I have made a difference. That WE have made a difference. The hugs. Pedicures with new sisters.  Fishing and golf with new brothers.  Hair cuts. Cousins. Rides in sports cars. Sketch pads. Shopping. Pizza. Coats. Red shoes. Tooth Fairy money. Swims. Bike rides. Endless trips to the "supermarket". Papa at the firehouse. Late night roughhousing. Laughter. Lots of laughter.

Many tears.