Alas, summer came to an end, and Green Fields Country Day School started classes toward the end of August. I was excited, but apprehensive to begin school. Green Fields had about two hundred students and I would be enrolled in the twelfth grade. It was one thing to speak English well enough to communicate, it was something else altogether to think about taking all of my courses in the language and having to both speak and write in it.
School started out difficultly. I made friends easily enough, and the school’s small size was a help, but classwork was hard. Some of the processes were so different from what I had learned in Russia—problem-solving in math, for instance—that I found myself having to unlearn some things in order to re-learn them. It was frustrating. The language barrier proved to be bigger than I thought, too. While I could speak English fairly well by then, composition was all new to me. This grammar and punctuation stuff was like a whole new foreign language to me! I barely made C’s that first trimester. The Hugheses were kind enough to hire a tutor, and by my second trimester my grades had improved, to mostly B-pluses.
The Hugheses never treated me as a guest. I truly felt like a member of the family. They even introduced me to friends as their “Russian son.” John insisted on giving me an allowance, which I refused at first. I didn’t need the money, all of my needs were being met. But then John explained that it could be my spending money and that it would be good for me to begin to learn to manage money. Instead, I learned to save money, stashing much of it away. (Later, when John found out that I had been saving much of the money, he was impressed and matched, dollar for dollar, the $200 I had socked away.)
John was becoming increasingly frustrated with my academic efforts, or lack thereof. When checking my homework one night, he was appalled that I would settle for doing every other math problem, for instance, even though that was all the assignment called for. Since I had trouble in math, he thought I should want to do all the problems just for the additional practice.
While John’s insistence that I strive for excellence was annoying to me, he was doing it out of love. No one had ever challenged me to that standard and the idea of striving to be successful was new to me. But excellence was not my goal in life; survival was. Russian orphans don’t tend to have long-term goals, rarely looking beyond the next meal, and in my mind, I was doing great.
Unfortunately, we both dug in our heels and a tension and frustration ensued between us. We were talking over each other, it seemed, and I was not able to accurately convey my gratitude for all they were doing for me.
In December of that year John made a decision. He pulled me from Green Fields and enrolled me in the University of Arizona at Tucson in the English as a Second Language (ESL) program. It was an intensive English program that would prepare me for the Test of English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL). A passing grade on the TOEFL was required of any foreign student applying for admission to an American college or university, which was what John wanted for me. He even offered to pay for me to go to a four-year college if I passed the TOEFL. College was John’s way of motivating me. For my part, I just wanted to stay in America; if college would do that for me, then college sounded great.
I graduated from the ESL program in May 1996. I then took the TOEFL. I needed five hundred fifty points to pass it. I came up fifty points short the first time I took the test and forty points short when I took it a second time a week later (grammar was my downfall).
If I was disappointed, John was “done.” He thought I must not be very serious about the opportunity he was offering; at the very least I must not be ready for college. He was extremely disappointed and shared with me that he was finished trying to motivate me.
“I can either send you back early to Russia, or you can work at the Navigators’ camp all summer.”
Despite whatever misgivings I may have had about working at the camp all summer, the alternative was much worse, so I headed back to Eagle Lake.
There were hundreds of kids at camp, and a large number of staff. My bunkmate was a guy named Danny. I worked in the kitchen and Danny was one of the counselors. Each night when we went to bed, Danny stayed awake with his flashlight and Bible, reviewing his memory verses. He often asked me to quiz him and I was fascinated by his ability to memorize Scripture, something I had never attempted to do.
When Danny noticed my interest, he offered to help me do it myself. I told him I wanted to memorize 1 Corinthians 13, “the love chapter.” I memorized a few verses every day and before the week was up, I had all thirteen verses memorized. Danny and I developed a deep friendship over that summer, studying and committing God’s Word to our hearts.
By now summer was over, and so was my time in America. I had arrived in the United States with only a small duffle bag and now I was leaving with a large suitcase, two big boxes full of belongings, the allowance money I had saved, and deep friendships across the continent. But I had no idea where my belongings or I would go once I arrived back in Russia.
Chapter 13
May he give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed.
—Psalm 20:4
I got back to Russia in September 1996. I had no job, no education, no place to live, and only four hundred dollars to my name. I had no plans for my future, just a dream of living in America. Most importantly, though, I had my faith in God. I thanked Him time and time again for all His blessings.
My year in the United States had been incredible. I had seen more of the country in one year than many Americans do in a lifetime. I had been to the Atlantic Ocean and walked along the Pacific coast. I had travelled to California, Washington, Indiana, Connecticut, Colorado, and New York. I had cooked and served meals to hundreds of people each day at the Navigators camp, experienced life with a healthy family, and even been to a rock star’s home. I was sorely disappointed to be back in Russia, but my survival mode kicked in. I would figure something out, and I would have to trust the Lord for His plan for my future.
For those first weeks back I stayed at various places, with American and Russian friends. I survived mostly on bread and tea. I did some tour guiding and translating, making just enough money to get by—barely.
Later that fall, Sue Gregg came back to Russia for about a month to do more cooking seminars and she stayed with our mutual friends, Mel and Mary Lou Duke, who headed up the Navigator work in St. Pete.
The Dukes suggested that Sue hire me as her “gofer,” tour guide, and translator. It was wonderful to be back with Americans again. When Mary Lou had to fly back to the States because her father was ill, Mel did not think it looked right for Sue to be staying at his apartment with his wife gone, so he invited me to move in with them. Now I not only had a really nice apartment but I also had meals for the first time since being back in Russia. After Sue left to go back to California I stayed at the apartment with Mel. I continued to be amazed by the Lord’s blessings in my life.
When Mel had to go back to the U.S. in December he asked me if I would be willing to stay at the apartment while he was gone. Would I ever! I was thrilled. I might have been back to surviving mostly on bread and tea again, but at least I enjoyed them in nice surroundings.
In addition to my American Navigator friends, I also spent time with my old friends Misha and Marina (the former ballerina and her husband who took me in for several months the final time I ran away), and of course, Melana. And I was more determined and focused than ever on studying my English.
One day Mel notified me that Sue had enjoyed working with me when she was in Russia and that she and her husband Rich wanted to invite me to come to California to live with them for a while, where Sue would train me in cooking.
Truth be told, I had absolutely no desire to learn to cook, but I welcomed another opportunity from the Lord to get to America. I began the arduous process, once again, of obtaining a visa.
At Rich and Sue’s suggestion, I applied first for a three-year business visa at the U.S. consulate. That request was denied. Then I thought
I might improve my chances by asking for a six-month visa. It turned out that changing my request from a three-year visa to one for just six months was just a big red flag to the American authorities. With absolutely nothing holding me to Russia—no family, no job, and no home of my own—I was seen as an illegal immigration risk.
After the second rejection, a very kind gentleman who worked at the consulate pulled me aside. “You seem like a nice young man, Alex, and pretty determined. But you don’t have enough evidence for why you are going to America.” He then gave me a list of supporting documents I should provide to help make my case. He told me he would personally review my request when I came back.
Each time I applied it meant filing another $100 fee (a fortune for me), filling out more paperwork, and waiting in line for hours. Each time, my prayer efforts increased. I just knew that God wanted me to go back to America.
I went back for the third time, this time with a stack of documents, including a paper I had written and letters from the Dukes and the Greggs, just as Richard, the consular official, had suggested. After again waiting in line for several hours, I realized that he was not at the consulate that day. Yet, after waiting so long, and thinking the extra documents would help, I went ahead and applied again, this time for a three-month visa.
The response came quickly: application denied. I ran out of the consulate in tears.
Some Navigator friends who had been helping me with my paperwork, Bob and Suzanne Achgill, called Richard at the consulate as soon as I told them my news. He apologized that he had not been there when I came in. “Tell him to come back tomorrow,” he said, “and I will personally review his request.”
True to his word, Richard was there the next day. At the close of the interview he had just one question for me, “Alex, will you come back?”
“I give you my word, I will come back.”
I left the consulate with a six-month visa in hand.
The process of getting the coveted visa had taken three months, during which I continued to study my English. It paid off. In February of 1997 I took the Test of English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL) once more, and this time I passed with flying colors.
Having passed the TOEFL and gotten my visa, it was time to celebrate. I invited Maria (my old classmate who was to have been adopted with me when we were younger), Ed, Sveta, and Kostya over for dinner at Mel’s apartment (Kostya’s mother was our orphanage director so he was in Orphanage 51 all the time and for a while attended school with us). We all had a nice dinner and cake to mark the occasion and then took a ride downtown. Melana had gotten a car for Ed so that he could work as a driver, which he had been doing for some time.
It angered me that even though he was making money as a driver, Ed never gave any money to Melana and he never even offered to pay her back for the car. What I was seeing in my friend was something I saw in lots of orphans—a “you owe me” mentality that creeps in after years of everything being provided for you by the State. Looking back, I wish I had been as quick to see that fault in myself as I was in others. It would have saved me from learning the lesson the hard way later.
Even though I didn’t appreciate Edik’s lack of gratitude toward Melana, I nonetheless enjoyed having a friend with “wheels.” It was an unusually warm evening for early March in St. Pete so we got ice cream and wandered around downtown until 2:00 in the morning. I had to get up at 4:00 to catch my early flight. That morning, March 11, 1997, my friends took me to the airport. Just six months after arriving back in Russia, I was once again on a plane heading for America.
Off to America again! Me, Kostya, Melana, our friend Valya, Sveta, and Edik at the airport to see me off
Chapter 14
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
—Romans 12:12
When I entered the United States for the second time, this time arriving in Los Angeles, my visa was stamped “NO EXTENSION OF THE VISA. MUST LEAVE COUNTRY IN SIX MONTHS.” No explanation was given why this rather unique stamp was put on my I-94 card, but it was clear that my visit had a strict limit this time.
Sue and Rich Gregg had a cookbook company, Sue Gregg Cookbooks (“Whole Foods for the Whole Family”) and I was put to work right away. Sue felt like cooking would be a good vocation for me, and one of the purposes for my visit was to learn that trade. I also helped Rich with the business side of things. “Help” might not be the right word. At nineteen, I had no real interest in math, accounting, or, frankly, the cookbook business. We clashed, due in no small part to my immaturity.
I felt rather locked in a prison. I had no friends in California, no car or transportation, and the Greggs seldom went out. It was “all work and no play.” While they did take me to Disneyland and Sea World, it was not enough to satisfy my insatiable appetite for exploration and socialization. The best part of my time there was the time that Sue spent with me every morning studying God’s Word and praying for the day.
It was decided that a change was desirable, so Rich offered my catering services to many of their church friends. I enjoyed the social aspect of meeting folks and serving at dinner parties, but, as anyone in the catering business can tell you, the hours of preparation were grueling. Some of the families even took me in for a day or two to stay in their homes in preparation for their parties.
Emotionally, I was struggling. “Lord,” I would pray, “is this what you have planned for my life, to be a cook?” I have the utmost respect for people who serve the Lord in occupations like food service, but this did not feel right for me. I loved America and did not want to leave to go back to Russia, and that time was quickly approaching, but I had no real passion for cooking and the entire experience had been difficult for both the Greggs and me. I missed spending time with friends and desperately wanted to see God’s plan for me and for my future.
One particular day, when I was at an especially low point emotionally, I wrote Rich and Sue a letter telling them that I was not going back to Russia, but I was moving on, nonetheless. I knew that going back to Russia meant more suffering, and in my almost twenty years, I had suffered enough. I figured that with my increasing grasp of the English language and my “street smarts” I could find my way in America.
I packed all of my stuff in a suitcase and kept it hidden under the bed, with the letter, waiting for the opportunity to run away. I had no idea where I would go or what I would do. No plan. I just knew I didn’t want to go to Russia, and I didn’t want to stay on with the Greggs.
One day shortly after I tucked the suitcase and letter under my bed, Sue and I were at dinner at a restaurant in a nearby town. We talked about my chef training and our conversation turned into an argument. I lashed out at her, “Leave me here. I’ll walk home later!”
With that, I got up and ran out, leaving Sue at the table crying. I hid in the bushes, waiting for her to leave before I started walking. I was still very stubborn—and still very lost.
I walked along the freeway berm, crying, praying, and contemplating as I walked. I felt like I couldn’t take any more of the ups and downs. At times I felt so blessed and so close to God. Other times I felt incredibly depressed and lonely.
Over the roar of the traffic, I shouted, “God, what do You want me to do? You’ve given me so much, but I have no idea what to do. You have a plan and a future for me. Lord, what is it?” Just as soon as I began shouting questions to the Lord, a cloud cover came across the sky and, just as suddenly, I had complete peace. I didn’t have any answers, but the peace was a welcome relief.
I walked for hours, and when I finally returned to the Greggs’ house I apologized to them and confessed that I had been planning to run away.
Shortly after that night, I knew in my heart that I was supposed to go back to Russia. Yet I still had a strong urge to go to college in the United States, so I went to a local college to get information. A school official took one look at the special stamp on my visa and knew she needed to call an immigration attorney. The attorney inform
ed her that there was absolutely no way to change that six-month work visa into a student visa. I was devastated by the finality, the lack of freedom to do what I wanted to do. Yet, despite the disappointment, it confirmed for me that, regardless of my own desires, God wanted me to go back to Russia for the time being.
Despite whatever temporary difficulties we had during my stay there, I had grown very close to the Greggs, particularly Sue. I was like a sponge around her; she showered me with so much attention, care, and motherly love. She gave me assurance and strength and helped fill an empty spot in my life.
In 1998, when she was on another mission trip to Russia, Sue offered to adopt me. Not legally, of course, but she wanted to fulfill the role of a mother in my life. I agreed, and over the years, the bond has continued to grow stronger. Rich, too, has played an important role in my life and his support of me and my ministry have been a tremendous blessing.
Infinitely More Page 9
