Many readers of this blog will know that in the spring of this year my wife, Lauri, and I adopted a 10 year-old girl (now eleven) from Ukraine named Sasha.  Sasha has been with us in America for almost three months now and, my, what a remarkable transition she is making.  I will not here relate the many challenges that she faces, from her health and education to becoming part of a family in an entirely different culture.  I have discussed these things in previous blogs.  But it is worth remembering them, if only vaguely, when one considers the great strides Sasha has made.  Indeed, minus the thick accent and a few other giveaways, one might have thought that she had always been a part of our family.

Of course, she hasn’t always been a part of our family—or anyone else’s for that matter.

And yet, the memory of Ukraine, of the poor conditions and care in that country’s orphanages, and of the corruption that is endemic to the entire system, is fading rapidly into the rearview mirror of the mind.  Sasha has never mentioned her previous life.  Not once.  Instead, she has embraced her new life and all that it offers.  She even looks and acts differently.  The nature of this difference defies simple explanation.  Yes, many changes are superficial—new, clean clothes; glasses; better hygiene thanks mostly to the loving care Lauri provides (now that she is able to, Sasha loves to take showers every chance she gets); no longer does she suffer from exposed nerves in damaged teeth—but the change is much more profound than that.  She has a glow, an aura about her.

Perhaps it will seem too much to say so, but I sometimes think that I can see in her eyes a happiness that was born of a tragic past from which she has been gratefully redeemed.  She practically skips through every day.  Oh, she has had her moments like any child.  But these are exceptions, rather than the rule.  She loves all of the little blessings in life, and in this, she differs from almost any American child that I know, because she takes nothing for granted.

But in other ways, the Americanization of Sasha is very much under way.  This is a good thing insofar as it is a sign that she is assimilating into her new life.  She has, for example, developed a taste for BBQ, baseball, the Disney Channel, and shopping malls; a couple of little girls in the neighborhood have befriended her and they can all be seen playing together on any given afternoon; and she loves Nintendo.

Indeed, a few weeks ago, I came home early one day and found Lauri folding the laundry.  As we began to talk, Sasha and our 13 year-old son, Zachary, burst into the room.  They wanted Lauri to adjudicate on a matter of dispute.  It seems that Zachary thought it was his turn to play Nintendo while Sasha thought it was hers.  As they both talked over one other and asserted their rights, Lauri silenced them and listened carefully to each one’s explanation for why the other was wrong.  As I watched, I suppressed a smile.  This was starting to feel like an ordinary family!

An astute observer would have noticed that a subtle but significant change had occurred in our family dynamics over the last few months: Sasha did not make her appeal as an outsider and Zachary did not assert himself as one with greater rank.  Perhaps this seems less than profound, but up to that point, Zachary might have responded to Sasha as one responds to a prolonged houseguest, and while there is nothing wrong with that, it is not the same as treating her like a member of the family.  Somewhere along the way she had been given all of the rank and status of a little sister.  And while a boy might overlook what he perceives to be an injustice committed by a visitor, he is less inclined to do so when it is his brother or sister!

There are still other signs of a change in our new daughter.  Her English has improved dramatically and with it, her understanding of all that is going on around her.  A few weeks ago, she started calling me “daddy”, rather than using the Ukrainian “papa.”  She is showing a greater desire to learn.  And, suddenly, she has started telling me that she loves me.  Seldom do I put her to bed or talk to her on the phone that she doesn’t say it before I do.

There are, no doubt, many challenges ahead.  But Sasha has been a great joy and blessing to our lives.  Looking at her now, it is hard to imagine that she has ever been anything but ours.