The Russian Christmas Angel

By Tim Hess

In the fall of 1996, our family was involved in the final stages of adopting a 12-month-old baby girl from Russia. Her name was Svetlana Abakumetz. Svetlana was born in the remote peasant village of Sosnovka in eastern Siberia.

At 8 days old, Svetlana’s parents left her at an orphanage because she had been born with a cleft lip and palate. Her humble peasant parents were unable to care for her or have this disfiguring birth defect corrected.

In early December 1996, we were notified by the Russian government that either my wife, Suzanne, or I had to appear before a Russian judge in the Siberian port city of Vladivostok to receive final approval for the adoption. We were shocked to learn that our court date was Dec. 24. Christmas was not celebrated in Vladivostok because the communist Soviet government had done away with Christmas decades earlier. We decided I would go to Russia and leave my wife at home to manage the family.

With a heavy heart, I kissed Suzanne and our seven children goodbye and boarded an airplane four days before Christmas. I would be gone for 11 days.

Christmas Eve day dawned bitterly, cold and gray, in Vladivostok. The city had no decorations or any hint that it was Christmas. I made my way to the courthouse, where I spent Christmas Eve afternoon waiting on a hard wooden bench in the dreary and dimly lit corridor of a rundown Russian government building. As I waited my turn to appear before the judge, I had plenty of time to think about the many blessings my family and I had received in helping us find this little girl. I was alone in a very foreign and strange city on Christmas Eve, yet I was filled with happiness. I was not lonely, sad or afraid.

Months earlier, we had chosen the simple, beautiful name of “Mary” for our little girl. She would be named Mary Svetlana. Now at Christmas, our hearts were filled with joy that our little daughter would have the same name as the Savior’s mother.

About 4:30 in the afternoon, I was finally called into the courtroom. The judge was a stern-looking woman of about 60 years old in black robes. There were about 10 other government officials in the room. I was asked to stand. My translator, Natasha Goncherova, stood at my side.

The judge started the questioning by asking me to tell the court about my family and our home. The judge also asked about my employment, our neighborhood and my religious beliefs. The judge asked other questions, including, “How do your children feel about this adoption?” “Are you aware of Svetlana’s deformity?” and “What are your plans to have her birth defects corrected?”

The judge’s final question was, “You have not yet seen this child. How do you know that you or your family will not reject this child … when you see how ugly she is?”

Emotions welled up in me and tears came to my eyes as I pondered the answer to this question. I could not find the words to fully express the feelings of my heart. The best I could do was to say to the judge, “My wife and I have seen Svetlana’s picture. Our children have seen her picture. We love Svetlana, and we will never, ever reject her.”

With this, the 20 minutes of questioning was concluded, and I was asked to wait in the hall while the court considered my case.

After about 10 minutes I was called back in, and the judge said words to the effect of, “You are hereby granted permission to adopt Svetlana Abakumetz.” At that, I immediately went around and shook each of the officials’ hands and repeated over and over the only Russian word I knew: “Spasiba.” (Thank you.)

The next day was Christmas, and I spent the entire day at an obscure little orphanage surrounded by dozens of beautiful little children. There I met our daughter, tiny 12-month-old Svetlana, the most beautiful little Christmas angel I had ever seen. We spent the entire happy day together playing and getting acquainted. This blonde angel had a gaping hole in her lip and a crooked nose, but she was alert, happy and bright-eyed, and she squealed and laughed as she bounced on my knee.

It was Christmas Day in eastern Siberia. For me, there would be no family gatherings, presents or turkey dinner. But the great blessing and joy of bringing this sweet little Christmas angel into our family made this the most bounteous Christmas of my life.