How my Dad pointed me to God

Here's a short excerpt about my dad from my memoir, "KRASATA." Happy Father's Day, Dad!

I have this memory from the day I moved into the dorm my freshman year of college. My dad wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Bible College for me.

“What kind of job can you get with a Bible education? You need to learn something marketable. I had hoped you would go into journalism, maybe consider helping out at my newspaper later in life.”

He consented though, after learning that the college was tuition free, a two-hour car ride from home, and that I would major in Communications and minor in Bible.

The day I moved in to the dorm, after my brother-in-law Bill, a friend, and my father had moved everything up to the eighth floor to my room, mostly without elevator assistance, my dad and I stood in the foyer. We were trying to say goodbye,but both of us were distracted. Another family near us had formed a circle by holding hands. They bowed their heads and the father began to pray. My dad looked at them and then looked at me.

“Come here, Gill,” he said, sweeping his arm towards the hallway. I followed him out the door.

He put his hands on my shoulders while other new students and their families walked by, some turning around to see what we were up to. “Now, I know this is a big step for you. Do well, and, um, call us if you need anything. And, uh, here’s twenty bucks.” He handed me a stiff twenty dollar bill and kissed my cheek. Even though we don’t share the same core beliefs about God and the world, I was assured of his love and support that day, as I have been for my whole life.

While I hugged my father after our long trip back from Ukraine with our newborn daugther who had Down syndrome, I imagined that we were in the corridor of another huge shift in my life: we were stepping into the world of special needs, and the hug evoked similar stirrings in me, as it had on the first day of Bible College. Although my dad didn’t understand what it felt like to have a child with a disability, his presence was a sure thing. He would be there for me through this transition and he would love our baby more than life.

Part of God's plan for my life was to provide me with a dad who loves me and supports me unconditionally. When I was sixteen years old and my friend told me that God was someone I could trust, that he was a good heavenly father, it was no stretch of the imagination to believe her. I believed easily partly because of the stability and love I receive from my Dad, love that provided me a quasi-healthy self esteem (I mean, I am still a girl and I hate my jello-like tummy) and the belief that I am valuable. My Dad has always made me feel like I wasn't alone in this life.

I don't take this gift lightly. I know many daughters do not have these thoughts about their fathers.

And today, on Father's Day, I am thankful.

Evie's EEG, Polly's insurance, Elaina's night terror and my sanity

It's been a couple busy weeks.

Last week we had four doctors appointments; Polly saw her neurosurgeon and got her stitches out, Elaina went to the allergist, Zoya needed her second H1N1 flu mist and on Friday Evie had an early morning EEG to check for possible seizure activity.

Evie does this thing where she clenches her arms up by her head and rolls her eyes back. She does it about five or six times a day. Even though these episodes could be behavioral we decided to check it out. We don't have a conclusive medical history for Evangeline and we haven't seen that much cognitive gain with her. I'd just hate for there to be something going on that can greatly alter her potential and not have followed up on it. So on Thursday I kept Evie up until midnight and then Sergei woke her up at 4am. They want her to be sleep deprived for the test.

Of course, she didn't fall asleep during the test at 7:15 am at the hospital even though the sweet tech and I did all our tricks to get her to snooze.

We received the results a couple of days ago which were normal (and that needs to be taken with a grain of salt b/c she didn't sleep). Our pediatrician wants us to get in with neurology and see what they have to say about the test and about Evie's behavior. So we'll see what we are doing with all that...

Elaina is not allergic to anything. We spent almost three hours at the allergist to obtain this information. After our trip to Ukraine this summer to adopt Evie (she stayed with me in Kiev for seven weeks), Elaina has complained of fatigue. Her glands in her neck are swollen a lot and she has bags under her eyes. Her ped treated her for a sinus infection with an antibiotic for ten days but it didn't help. She also had a full bloodwork up done and everything came back normal. So we were referred to an allergist and an ENT.

A couple weeks ago Lainie started having trouble falling asleep, which at times has escalated into two hours of screaming at the top of her lungs. She's nine years old and personality wise, is quite high strung and emotional. She's also compassionate, smart, helpful and happy most of the time. We've done back rubs and hot baths, tea, later bedtime but nothing seems to help. She can't fall asleep and she gets so frustrated...poor thing. Today we go to the ENT to see what he has to say about her glands. If anyone has any other suggestion to help Lainie, let me know.

So that was last week.

This week we've been on the phone with our primary insurance. They contacted us in the beginning of the week to let us know that Polly had reached her lifetime limit with her policy (read, they won't pay for anything else). Nice. And she has her second brain surgery for Moyamoya next week. Recently our insurance had to change to a lesser plan b/c we still are insured with our mission that sent us to Ukraine but support keeps dropping. This insurance is strictly medical and has a cap.

But Sergei and I thought it would get us through these surgeries as we figure out what to do next.

I guess not.

The good news is Polly does have secondary insurance through Illinois ALL KIDS and it's been confirmed that they will pay the claims if our primary declines. Ugh. So after phone tag and worry I think we are still on for Polly's surgery next Thursday, January 21.

At least Zoya got her 2nd flu mist without incident. That's something.

With all this going on I get overwhelmed pretty much every day. And then I hear about something like Haiti and it all gets put into perspective.

My friend Mel said something profound Wednesday night at home group. She said that you may not remember what you had for lunch last Tuesday but you know you were fed.

In busy times like this I may not comprehend everything that is going on in our family and I may not be getting things completed, I may not be praying enough, or paying attention to all four kids equally or folding laundry and getting it put away in drawers. But I know we are being provided for, that God cares and that we are doing alright.

I know we're fed.