Sunday

THis is my 6th time to Irkutsk. Not that I think I am an Irkutsk expert by any means, but I dio think that I have a pretty good understanding of most things about being here.

Today was different.

THe day started with church. What a blessing to be welcomed into a Russian Baptist church. Although we didn't understand what was going on - I caught some words in the message. Basically, this was the message of the morning: God, love, understand all. How's that for a good message?

After church, we went to see Anya for a little bit. This is where the day gets odd for me.

This is the 3rd orphanage she has lived in. Again, I don't think I am an orphanage expert, but I have a lot of direct experience with orphanages of different kinds here. I've met many caregivers, social workers, psychologists, security guards, directors and the like.

I've seen the kids cared for, some needing care others wanting care. I've seen the kids fed, bathed, in the toilet....playing, fighting, being scolded.

Today, as we were leaving the orphanage I saw something I will never forget. As we were getting into the car, there were 4-5 boys that followed us out. The boys were about 14-15 years old. The boys in this home where Anya lives are rough. We are told they are always looking for something to steal and sell to get money. They all have the same look in their eyes...and it's not a look I would want to cross.

The boys walked out into the winter air right behind us - and then headed toward the street. As I turned to get into the car, I noticed that one of the boys had a full (pint maybe? is that big?) bottle of vodka in his hand. I mentioned this to Steve and Marty in the car. As we pulled the car around to leave, several of the boys were huddled at the base of the drive. THey looked to be in a tussle. As we got closer, it was clear what was going on. They had tackled one of the boys. This boy looked to be 15-16 years old - redish blonde hair, red in the face from having it rubbed into the snow. He was drunk. So drunk he couldn't stand by himself. About this same time, we saw several of the workers from the orphanage run out of te doors.

This boy is a resident in the same home where my 7 year old lives.

Do their paths cross? Probably not - but that's not the point.

So much innocence is lost in these places. This home is particularly dirty and depressing. The children aren't clean - there are always kids wandering around. At least 5-6 times during every visit, a boy will stick his head into the door where we are to see what we are going. Again, looking for an open door, with an empty room to see if there is anything there to steal.

Anya's hair hasn't been washed since we got here. She has something that looks like food stuck in her hair. Her hands are filthy, and her clothes are in serious need of a good washing.

Every other time that I have been here, Anya has been squeaky clean. She has smelled like soap. Her clothes were free of odor and stains.

I can't bear to think about what would happen to her if she is left in this place.