Like my own adoption, sometimes the details of Roman's adoption float in the forefront of my mind more acutely than other days. Perhaps it's the impending holidays or the joy of seeing Roman grow to be such a great little boy, but I think Doug and I have been missing Russia lately.

In church last week our youth pastor did the sermon. He mentioned in his sermon a story of some American missionaries visiting an orphanage in Russia and telling them the Christmas story for the first time, and a sweet ending about a little boy who drew a picture of himself in the manger with Jesus to keep him warm because he had nothing else to give and no family, so baby Jesus said he'd protect the little boy. Well, Doug and I were both misty in the pews; we talked later and agreed - we could see the orphanage, we pictured the children, we could see it so clearly.

On Friday Doug gathered the necessary original paperwork of our lives to take to our safe deposit box. There was some paperwork that we hadn't looked at since we got home from Russia, and that moved us emotionally, too. But that's all I can say about that as I'm tearing up right now thinking about it.

On top of it all - the cold. I don't particularly like cold but don't mind snow. When I'm walking around now and my little hands are freezing and I can't wait to get someplace warm I think - "This is nothing. I was in Siberia in February!" I particularly remember our first trip when we walked to a German restaurant in the bitter, bitter chill. And one afternoon when we realized it was, actually, -25 degrees Fahrenheit without wind. But instead of making me feel better about Michigan winters, I sometimes want to be on Prospekt Lenina (Lenin Street) in Ekaterinburg again.