Molly & Me

This is Molly, Molly Svetlana. She's the little one; I'm the grown-up. I just met Molly and her mom, Angela, this past Sunday at church though I read about them in our church's monthly bulletin in February and Angela and I have exchanged numerous e-mails.

Let me go back to February. I was up visiting Mom, and the monthly church bulletin was in my box, the box I think all parents keep for their adult children, where they put any mail that has come for them or articles they clip from newspapers or magazines that they think might be of interest.

So, in February I read the New Jersey Presbyterian Church (located in my hometown, Carlisle, Ohio) February Bulletin and was genuinely touched by a story about a woman who was hoping to adopt a little girl from Russia. The story included a picture of the tow-headed chubby-cheeked baby girl sitting in a room full of toys in what I assumed was her orphanage. Her name was Molly Svetlana, and she had a life-threatening disease that could, however, be controlled through a strict protein-limiting diet. The story said that Molly would likely not find a family due to her health problem. But Angela L., a church member I'd never met, wanted to adopt Molly. You see, Angela's teenaged son had this same disease; she knew how to deal with it. Angela was asking for financial help to bring Molly home because she had just gotten laid off in December from an accounting job with a local newspaper publisher and funds were running thin.

After reading the story, I vowed to myself to give $100 to Angela and Molly.

I spent the night at Mom's and went to church the next morning, the first time I'd gone in more than a year, and during the announcements, Sue W., a teacher from my former high school, said that the women's group would meet on Wednesday and brainstorm ideas to raise money for Angela and Molly.

After services that Sunday I met with the pastor to discuss presenting my memoir, My_Lost_Summer, to the congregation. As I'd grown up in the church, I thought people might be interested to hear the story. The pastor suggested we open up the presentation to the whole community, and I left that day considering it.

By the time I'd gotten home to Cincinnati, I'd formulated a plan: I could present my book to the community and, on top of what I had vowed to give to Angela and Molly, I would donate 10% of the profits from any book I sold after the presentation. My presentation would be a fundraiser to help Angela and Molly.

I e-mailed the pastor and we set a date in May. In attendance were Angela's son and her parents--but not Angela. She was in Russia visiting Molly.

The evening was a success. I knew most in attendance and most in attendance knew the story, lived right there in Carlisle when it happened twenty-three years ago. People bought my book and freely stuffed bills in the jars available to collect donations for the adoption. I know that night barely made a dent in the bills that Angela is now facing and has faced since the beginning of the year. But even a little dent is something, and hopefully my event raised awareness of Angela's situation.

Molly's new hometown is my old hometown. And from what I could see Sunday at church, she fits right in. I look forward to seeing her grow up.