My interest in the Children of Chernobyl program was sparked two years ago by a dramatic demonstration given by Tim Moore during the Sunday 9:35 service at Asbury. Just before he began speaking, the wail of a siren interrupted, followed by a troubling announcement about a major accident at the Sharron Harris Nuclear Plant.

Tim went on to make an excellent presentation, taking a far-away situation and bringing it close to home. Hearing that an actual meltdown here would render useless the farmland from here to Norfolk, Virginia, helped me to see the horrible devastation that the Belarusian people had experienced.

The effect on me was more than an emotional response; it went much deeper. Clearly, God was calling me to bring one of these children into my home.

Now, I need to give you some background on my personality and home situation for you to understand how huge a step of faith this was for me.

First of all, I was an only child. I grew up not having to share my space in my house. I don't think I was spoiled rotten, but I definitely was used to having things a "certain way". This has impacted me as an adult and challenged me in my ability to live peaceably with three females. A Russian child would make that ratio four-to-one.

Second, there is actually a spiritual gift called the "gift of hospitality." I do not have this gift. I have been involved in several spiritual gift workshops over the last 15 years and I always come up dead last on this gift. People who have this gift find inviting strangers into their homes invigorating. People who don't have this gift prefer undergoing dental procedures to hosting strangers. Let alone strangers who speak no English, are from a different culture, and might be crying because they miss their momma.

Third, what would a child from Russia think of family with a work-at-home dad with a home office and a mother that goes off to work at a big corporation? What would she think when she saw me folding laundry? Dads in Russia are rough and tough, and they don't do dishes. What if my wife, Ann, had to fly-off to London and I had to make it on my own for a few days? (This happened by the way!)

So if anyone had an excuse to say no to hosting a child from Belarus, I did.

After much prayer, I, Ann and our girls decided to accept a child from Belarus into our home for five weeks. Our motivation was to help a child. To be a blessing and not to expect a blessing. That way we would not set ourselves up for disappointment if we got a "troubled child".

The night Anya arrived, she was exhausted, as expected. But she seemed to be sad in a way that transcended physical exhaustion. The next morning she was a little better but still seemed melancholy. We were able to communicate to her that we were going to call her mother. This perked her up, but when we were unable to connect by phone, she started sobbing. She continued to cry off and on all morning until we got in to see Svetlana, the interpreter. As soon as she saw Svetlana, she erupted into tears again.

Svetlana spoke in Russian with Anya at length. She then took a deep breath and spoke to us in English. "I have had my eye on Anya ever since we left Belarus. She is not doing well. She has been like this the whole trip. Unfortunately, there are always a few who do not make the trip well and never adapt. I will do everything I can to help make the situation more bearable for you. We cannot send her back, I am sorry."

At that moment God seemed to give me the grace I needed. I told Svetlana that I would not accept that Anya could not adapt. That I was going to have faith that Anya would come around. And she did. And we received such a great blessing that we had Anya come back the following year.

I believe that God specifically selected Anya for us. It is amazing how well she fit into our family. I was nervous of strangers, so was she. I was apprehensive of trying something new, so was she. She pitched in and put our own kids to shame in her enthusiasm for cleaning, straightening up, and contributing to the needs of the household. We still had a few rough spots to work out, but by and large we had a wonderful time. It was challenging and it did get tough when Ann was away, but others involved in the Children of Chernobyl program pitched in and helped out.

Anya's father died when she was a small child, so I think she enjoyed having a father figure around so much. But she really lit up when Ann came home, too. Anya's mother was so appreciative that we had brought Anya into our home. She would dissolve into tears of gratitude when we spoke with her. She told me through Svetlana, repeatedly, that I was now Anya's father. Her American father.