Our first sight of Kostyantynivka (or, in the Russian appellation, Konstantinovka) came at about 6 a.m. on a late July day in 2003. Our overnight train from Kyiv had pulled into the station, and the local education minister was waiting for us on the platform. My wife Melinda and I had traveled to meet a little girl, three years old, who would soon become our youngest daughter.
As we stepped off the train, our host met us eagerly, walked us to her waiting car, and had us driven to the orphanage to meet Katerina, who was still sleeping in her crib. Our lives would never be the same.
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