Since our return...
We have decided to end our adoption process with our current agency for a child 0-5 years old. Things in Moldova are moving very slowly and agencies here in the U.S. will now have to be re-accredited. Not only is our paperwork pretty much just sitting in Moldova but a lot of the documents have expired and will need to be resubmitted. Our agency would not be able to resubmit our documents until they have been re-accredited. The accreditation process has not quite been established. At this point it looks like a process could be in place by late August. With all the uncertainty in Moldova we've decided to end the adoption process with our agency.
As far as Nastya goes...
We miss her so much! To us, she is already a part of our family. We are praying that God will reveal His plan for her. We will continue to be in her life by writing, visiting but most of all, praying for her. Of course we do not know the outcome of this intended adoption, however, we do know that for whatever reason, God has put this child into our lives. For now, we will have faith as we look for Him to reveal His plan.
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“Defend the poor and fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and needy.” Psalm 82:3
We've officially started the adoption process. We ask for your prayers & support as we rise to the Lord's calling.
About Me
"Defend the cause of the fatherless..." Isaiah 1:17
The Nance Group
Limba noastră
Republic of Moldova National Anthem
Limba noastră-i o comoară
În adîncuri înfundată
Un şirag de piatră rară
Pe moşie revărsată.
Limba noastră-i foc ce arde
Într-un neam, ce fără veste
S-a trezit din somn de moarte
Ca viteazul din poveste.
Limba noastră-i numai cîntec,
Doina dorurilor noastre,
Roi de fulgere, ce spintec
Nouri negri, zări albastre.
Limba noastră-i graiul pîinii,
Cînd de vînt se mişcă vara;
In rostirea ei bătrînii
Cu sudori sfinţit-au ţara.
Limba noastră-i frunză verde,
Zbuciumul din codrii veşnici,
Nistrul lin, ce-n valuri pierde
Ai luceferilor sfeşnici.
Nu veţi plînge-atunci amarnic,
Că vi-i limba prea săracă,
Şi-ţi vedea, cît îi de darnic
Graiul ţării noastre dragă.
Limba noastră-i vechi izvoade.
Povestiri din alte vremuri;
Şi citindu-le 'nşirate, -
Te-nfiori adînc şi tremuri.
Limba noastră îi aleasă
Să ridice slava-n ceruri,
Să ne spuie-n hram şi-acasă
Veşnicele adevăruri.
Limba noastra-i limbă sfîntă,
Limba vechilor cazanii,
Care-o plîng şi care-o cîntă
Pe la vatra lor ţăranii.
Înviaţi-vă dar graiul,
Ruginit de multă vreme,
Stergeţi slinul, mucegaiul
Al uitării 'n care geme.
Strîngeţi piatra lucitoare
Ce din soare se aprinde -
Şi-ţi avea în revărsare
Un potop nou de cuvinte.
Răsări-va o comoară
În adîncuri înfundată,
Un şirag de piatră rară
Pe moşie revărsată.
A treasure is our language that surges
From deep shadows of the past,
Chain of precious stones that scattered
All over our ancient land.
A burning flame is our language
Amidst a people waking
From a deathly sleep, no warning,
Like the brave man of the stories.
Our language is made of songs
From our soul's deepest desires,
Flash of lighting striking swiftly
Through dark clouds and blue horizons.
Our language is the language of bread
When the winds blow through the summer,
Uttered by our forefathers who
Blessed the country through their labour.
Our language is the greenest leaf
Of the everlasting forests,
Gentle river Nistru's ripples
Hiding starlight bright and shining.
Utter no more bitter cries now
That your language is too poor,
And you will see with what abundance
Flow the words of our precious country.
Our language is full of legends,
Stories from the days of old.
Reading one and then another
Makes one shudder, tremble and moan.
Our language is singled out
To lift praises up to heaven,
Uttering with constant fervour
Truths that never cease to beckon.
Our language is more than holy,
Words of homilies of old
Wept and sung perpetually
In the homesteads of our folks.
Resurrect now this our language,
Rusted through the years that have passed,
Wipe off filth and mould that gathered
When forgotten through our land.
Gather now the sparkling stone,
Catching bright light from the sun.
You will see the endless flooding
Of new words that overflow.
A treasure will spring up swiftly
From deep shadows of the past,
Chain of precious stones that scattered
All over our ancient land.
Limba noastră-i o comoară
În adîncuri înfundată
Un şirag de piatră rară
Pe moşie revărsată.
Limba noastră-i foc ce arde
Într-un neam, ce fără veste
S-a trezit din somn de moarte
Ca viteazul din poveste.
Limba noastră-i numai cîntec,
Doina dorurilor noastre,
Roi de fulgere, ce spintec
Nouri negri, zări albastre.
Limba noastră-i graiul pîinii,
Cînd de vînt se mişcă vara;
In rostirea ei bătrînii
Cu sudori sfinţit-au ţara.
Limba noastră-i frunză verde,
Zbuciumul din codrii veşnici,
Nistrul lin, ce-n valuri pierde
Ai luceferilor sfeşnici.
Nu veţi plînge-atunci amarnic,
Că vi-i limba prea săracă,
Şi-ţi vedea, cît îi de darnic
Graiul ţării noastre dragă.
Limba noastră-i vechi izvoade.
Povestiri din alte vremuri;
Şi citindu-le 'nşirate, -
Te-nfiori adînc şi tremuri.
Limba noastră îi aleasă
Să ridice slava-n ceruri,
Să ne spuie-n hram şi-acasă
Veşnicele adevăruri.
Limba noastra-i limbă sfîntă,
Limba vechilor cazanii,
Care-o plîng şi care-o cîntă
Pe la vatra lor ţăranii.
Înviaţi-vă dar graiul,
Ruginit de multă vreme,
Stergeţi slinul, mucegaiul
Al uitării 'n care geme.
Strîngeţi piatra lucitoare
Ce din soare se aprinde -
Şi-ţi avea în revărsare
Un potop nou de cuvinte.
Răsări-va o comoară
În adîncuri înfundată,
Un şirag de piatră rară
Pe moşie revărsată.
A treasure is our language that surges
From deep shadows of the past,
Chain of precious stones that scattered
All over our ancient land.
A burning flame is our language
Amidst a people waking
From a deathly sleep, no warning,
Like the brave man of the stories.
Our language is made of songs
From our soul's deepest desires,
Flash of lighting striking swiftly
Through dark clouds and blue horizons.
Our language is the language of bread
When the winds blow through the summer,
Uttered by our forefathers who
Blessed the country through their labour.
Our language is the greenest leaf
Of the everlasting forests,
Gentle river Nistru's ripples
Hiding starlight bright and shining.
Utter no more bitter cries now
That your language is too poor,
And you will see with what abundance
Flow the words of our precious country.
Our language is full of legends,
Stories from the days of old.
Reading one and then another
Makes one shudder, tremble and moan.
Our language is singled out
To lift praises up to heaven,
Uttering with constant fervour
Truths that never cease to beckon.
Our language is more than holy,
Words of homilies of old
Wept and sung perpetually
In the homesteads of our folks.
Resurrect now this our language,
Rusted through the years that have passed,
Wipe off filth and mould that gathered
When forgotten through our land.
Gather now the sparkling stone,
Catching bright light from the sun.
You will see the endless flooding
Of new words that overflow.
A treasure will spring up swiftly
From deep shadows of the past,
Chain of precious stones that scattered
All over our ancient land.
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“Defend the poor and fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and needy.” Psalm 82:3
My Blog List
Books I've Read and Suggest
- Toddler Adoption by Mary Hopkins-Best
- Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew by Sherrie Eldridge
- Attaching In Adoption by Deborah D Gray
- Parenting the Hurt Child by Gregory C Keck and Regina Kupecky
- Parenting Your Internationally Adopted Child by Patty Cogen
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