Memorable Day 2: New Beginnings, Great Extremes

On December 22, 1998, we signed the closing papers for the house we now live in.

We’d built what we thought would be the house we’d grow old in down in Atlanta. But then John accepted a transfer to the DC bureau of CNN, so we left everything we’d grow accustomed to, all our friends, the church we’d been part of for fifteen years and moved north. Moving to the south was a culture shock in the first place, and moving to DC was a whole ‘nother one. But I digress.

We lived in a town house a few miles away for a year while we built the house, so we were well established in the area. We had our doctor and grocery store and of course our church. That evening we invited several of our “new” friends over for an informal dinner/birthday party for Emma, who would turn five in two days. In the middle of December, we had gas heat, two fireplaces (functional, though mostly decorative), warm beds, plenty of food—even our Christmas tree was up.

Half a world away, a tiny little girl—one day old—lay in a crib in a hospital in Kazakhstan’s then capital, Almaty. Her first mother had already left, leaving behind a fake address. A few days later, she would be taken to a Baby House in Esik (Ye-SEEK), high in the Altai mountains, where she would live until we came for her three months later. Although she would be much loved and cared for, she would not have central heat or enough food. She would receive formula once a day and diluted mashed potatoes the rest of the time. The place would be immaculate but with only one bathroom and no medicine to speak of. Indeed, after we take her home, a virus would claim the lives of half the babies.

I don’t know why the world is so unfair. I only know we can try to balance it, one person at a time.