My sister Barb, her husband, Jim, and their two boys, Michael and Nathan, joined Sojourners 11 years ago, just as we were moving from Chicago to Washington, D.C. Their presence here has been a particular joy for me. Family and community have come together, and the relationship has been full of great blessings. Barb and Jim Tamialis are at the heart of our neighborhood ministry, and their family's leadership has been an anchor to our community life.
The boys are growing up and growing up well. Michael is now in junior high school with Nathan soon to be. With the experience of so many years of family and community life, Barb and Jim began to feel a desire to again expand the family circle. As Barb put it, they felt a "fresh capacity to love." Michael's adoption had proven to be such a joy that they decided to adopt again. The boys became very excited about the prospect of a little sister or brother.
They began the process. That was more than one-and-a-half years ago. Barb and Jim decided to adopt another biracial child, like Michael, and, feeling a real capability and eagerness to give, began to seek an older child with special problems.
The waiting began. They had great hopes, but the process soon became complicated and increasingly difficult. They began to wonder why it was so hard to adopt with so many children in need and with their own hearts so ready to receive one of those children. Despite high marks and recommendations from the home studies conducted by various agencies, the Tamialis family saw many months go by without hearing anything. The whole community began to enter into this special vigil with them.
Finally an opportunity appeared when a 3-year-old girl from very difficult and deprived family circumstances seemed available. It looked good, and the Tamialises got their hearts set on Nicky. Her room was readied, a little bed was found and special gifts prepared. But at the last minute it all fell through. Hearts that were set became broken hearts, and the process started all over again.
New agencies were explored, and various opportunities for both young children and infants appeared and then disappeared. The process for adopting a Salvadoran baby was abruptly ended when the Salvadoran lawyer working on the case fled El Salvador, presumably for political reasons, taking all of the paperwork with him. Then there were two children, a brother and a sister of mixed black and Sioux Indian ancestry from the Rosebud reservation in South Dakota, where a friend was hoping to arrange for their adoption. But that didn't work out either. And in August one more "sure thing" fell through.
But then, a new possibility came up. An infant girl, born on August 6th, might be available in early October. This time seemed different. Fresh and fragile hopes emerged, held tentatively and gingerly. Barb and Jim had learned how to wait and how to hope.
This time the bureaucracies and endless procedures weren't able to prevail. Driving back into the neighborhood after our fall magazine staff retreat, we were almost flagged down by a smiling Barb Tamialis. "We pick her up tomorrow morning!" she exclaimed.
THEY NAMED HER Anika, and she is as beautiful as her name. Her big brown eyes, easy smile, and soft cooing will melt your heart in a moment. Mom and Dad are happier than ever and her two big brothers are as proud as they can be.
When I came to see her the first night, Nathan was holding his little sister across his lap. "Where did you get that, Nathan?" I teased. Without blinking an eye, Nathan said, "I found it on the street. It was real small. I just added water and it grew!" One night Michael specially fixed up his parents' bedroom, complete with candlelight, for a tired Mom and little sister.
Indeed, our little Anika has brought a burst of light and hope that can be felt throughout the community. It is startling and quite amazing how a little child can transform the conditions of life all around her.
Anika is the fruit of patient waiting. The long anticipation that preceded her arrival has increased the joy of her coming. She is the visible embodiment of what faithful perseverance can produce.
The long vigil has ended. I believe the often painful and always prayerful persistence of Barb and Jim proved instructive for the community. And now, their happiness has become our common gift. Anika is the best gift of all and one that we hope to enjoy for a long time.
Jim Wallis is editor-in-chief of Sojourners.
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