Old Glory

I wrote this post after Rebekah's 1st 4th of July a year ago. I hesitated to post it at that time because I felt that we had become self-indulgent regarding our adoption and experiences while in Russia. Now that some time has passed I thought people wishing to properly celebrate their country's independence might enjoy it or find it inspiring. Happy 4th of July.

Vitali, our driver, parked the car on a busy eight lane street in Moscow, we grabbed our backpacks, and he pointed us to our destination. "It is that building there, I wait here for you." he said. When I pictured what the United States embassy would look like, it was hard for me not to imagine something similar to the Emerald City in the wizard of Oz where everyday is the fourth of July and every night the sky was lit up with fireworks and a message of freedom. But, instead, we walked up to an rather unassuming, government building surrounded by an iron gate. Allison and I had to divulge the entire contents of our bags at the entrance and get a metal detector waived over us... They even waived it over Rebekah. We gathered our things and went inside. We were there for one purpose only, to get Rebekah a Visa to enter the United States of America.

As we walked inside, there it hung, Old Glory. The stars and stripes so bright they hurt my eyes.

I hadn't seen a single American flag in nearly a month. And after a steady diet of unintelligible, propagandized Russian media, frankly, it was breathtaking. I resisted the urge to stop and stare and we wound our way down crowded hallways and up some stairs until finally we reached the place we would receive our immigration papers and Visa for Rebekah to come home. We waited there with several other American adoptive families, we met a nice couple from Charlotte who was adopting a little boy that wasn't nearly as cute as my daughter, a single lady from New York who was traveling with her mom, and several other adoptive families working to get their children home. We were a humble platoon, battle weary and worn, all of us ready to cross the finish line into the greatest country in the world. It was nice to stand on American soil four thousand miles from home, if only for two hours. After receiving the papers that would gain our daughter entry to the U.S., we stepped outside to the city street and back into the country that we grown to both love and hate...

A few days later, on the long journey home, we landed in Miami. We walked for what seemed like forever, on our way through the international terminal and eventually into a little customs office full of people red and yellow, black and white... and us. A customs agent reviewed Rebekah's documents and then stamped her passport, and when ink met paper, it was official. Not only was she our daughter, but she inherited the rights, liberties, and privileges of a United States citizen.

God Bless America. The country that swung wide its doors to welcome my immigrant daughter. Let freedom ring.