Tanya and Max

Seventeen.

Single.

Unemployed.

Pregnant.



Tanya was scared. Her abusive boyfriend gave her money for an abortion. She took it, considered the options and went to the abortion clinic.



Thankfully Mercy Ministries was there. A young lady named Olya (one of our interpreters) goes there regularly to talk with clients and to offer them hope in what seems a hopeless situation. Olya goes often with Ira (whom I pictured earlier with her daughter's "American ponytail"). Together they formed the Baby Rescue team of Mercy Ministries.



They told Tanya the truth about abortion. They also told her about the Truth, Jesus Christ Himself. Something the Holy Spirit did in Tanya's heart upon her first encounter with Truth led to more discussions, and eventually to a friendship between Olya and Tanya.




On a weekday afternoon our team was split into pairs for home visits. We were told the various situations: elderly, mom with a few kids, single mom with a new baby. Sarah wanted to see one of the babies from the Mercy Ministries Baby Rescue. (Surprise, surprise.)

So we went, Olya, Sarah, and me. We rode the bus from the hotel to the edge of the city, then walked (and walked...and walked )to a set of high-rise, low-income flats. I forget how many flights we had to walk up (3? 5? 7?) , but on the hottest day of our trip, we trudged up an airless, endless blue concrete stairwell that smelled of mold, booze, and b.o. (You can see our cheeks are flushed, at that was after a rest and some homemade plum juice.)



We introduced ourselves and she asked,"How many children do you have?"



"'Four," I said,


"OH! You are RICH!" (She put into words the facial expression other Russians had given us. Over there, because of finances and living conditions, most family have no more than two children. Those with three or more are usually "well off" or Christian.)




If I had to guess, the flat measured 12x12 feet. In it was a futon sofa for Tanya, a crib for Max, a twin bed for Tanya's mother, a small fridge, and a serving/storage area for dry goods. They share a full kitchen and bath with the neighbor.

No air conditioning, maybe a fan (but I don't recall it being on).



She told Olya that within the past week her so-called friend, a girl upstairs whom she'd known for 2 years, came in and stole all Tanya's clothes and some other stuff. The friend abandoned her own baby, leaving him with her own mom and boyfriend.

Tanya's boyfriend had nearly strangled her to death and she had thrown him out. (But as we soon learned, police don't do much about lawbreakers over there.)



One thing she told us was that, sometime prior, Max had gotten wedged between the sofa and the wall. Tanya couldn't get him out with her hands, so she moved the sofa and couldn't catch him in time. He fell and hit his head on the floor. She called the ambulance, they said he was fine, no concussion. Did she do the right thing? Had I ever experienced something similar? She wanted advice and assurance. I told her no mom can do everything right. Accidents happen. Sometime the best things we do still hurt. She did the best she could and it was good to call the paramedics for a head injury.

Put on the spot for a similar situation, I prayed God to give me a story to comfort her. Immediately He reminded me of when Stephen was two months old. I had had a house full of company, noise, confusion, attention being paid to the baby all the time so I hadn't really been fully alert to him.



But when everyone left, Stephen and I were alone. He wouldn't nurse. He wouldn't focus on my eyes. His neck seemed stiff. I feared meningitis, so I took him to the hospital even though Paul had said it could probably wait till morning.



"God gives instincts to mothers that He doesn't give fathers.," my good friend Kathy told me. "Listen to your instincts."

So I went at 8 pm while Paul stayed with the toddlers at home. Stephen's fever kept spiking, despite Tylenol and high-level antibiotics. For two days and two nights I stayed by his bed (Paul, of course, arrived at once, when I told him the severity.) I prayed and sang Psalms over my baby. Rocked him. Held him. Sang more, prayed more. I ran out of words to pray, but I wasn't afraid. Jesus interceded. "Jesus is always praying for you, " I said. "That's what the Bible says. Not just in a crisis, but always. "

Stephen was released when his fever subsided, but they still had not diagnosed him. It never happened again.



"So I had no answers, but I had peace," I told her. "That is the difference God makes in my life," I explained.



She smiled.



Before we left, I gave her a pile of gifts.

Guess her favorites in order. (If you win, you'll get a yellow smiley icon next to your name. I should give away a book, but I'm too lazy.)



1) handmade American quilt

2) manicure set

3) peanut butter

4) Bath and Body Works Cherry Blossom hand soap

She also gave me a gift--a darling cross-stitched orange kitty. I +thanked her profusely and said, "I'll name him Max and pray for you when I see this, okay?" I put the gift carefully in the front of my hardback book , A Walk in Rural Russia. Unfortunately, on our ride to the Moscow airport from Vladimir, I fell asleep reading my book. It must have slipped between the seat and the wall of the bus while I slept, and when I woke up, was still "out of it" and didn't realize my book was missing. It'll be a miracle to see it again (but I pray it will).

Max is by far one of the cutest babies I've ever seen. I wanted to hold him, but Sarah got him to sleep and then his mommy put him in the crib. She must be one of those types that doesn't believe in holding sleeping babies. Oh, well. Maybe next time.



Our visit made me ask God if I should get back into crisis pregnancy counseling. I am so thankful for Christian CPCs the world over who speak up for those whose voices aren't yet heard.