Snapshot: To Russia, with love -- Presbyterian pastor creates camp for Russian orphans

By TOM GIBBONEY

The Rev. Frank Vander Zwan, associate pastor at Menlo Park Presbyterian Church, is living proof that determination and faith can move mountains, even if the mountains are halfway around the world.

In this case the mountains are Russian orphans from the small towns of Solotcha and Ribnoe, about 150 miles south of Moscow. They have been on the receiving end of a fountain of love and generosity that began with a chance 1992 visit by Pastor Vander Zwan, followed by a blossoming relationship that has resulted in more than 100 church members visiting the orphanages over the last four years.

How did it happen?

"In 1992 I got a call from this man, who was in Ryazan (a large Russian city). He asked me to come teach people how to interpret the Bible. The incredible thing is that my calendar for the entire year was filled, except for the two weeks he needed me. I decided to go immediately."

Although he was teaching the teachers about the Bible, his visit included a tour of the orphanages and visits with the children.

"It was easy to see that the needs there are so incredible. The children live on very, very meager food. It's a Charles Dickens kind of a thing."

After several return visits, Pastor Vander Zwan shared an idea with the education minister for the state of Ryazan.

"I proposed holding a camp in the summer at the orphanages, with hiking, swimming, games, songs" -- just like a summer camp in the U.S. Except in this case, everything involved would have to be airlifted to the two tiny communities south of Moscow.

After several discussions, the minister agreed, and Pastor Vander Zwan's Russian project got under way in earnest.

During the first camp, in the summer of 1994, 18 church members, all paying their own expenses, accompanied the mission.

"We brought materials for crafts, we told stories, and sang songs in Russian and English," says Pastor Vander Zwan, who lives in Menlo Park. But there were many improvements to come.

In subsequent years, more church members signed on to what had become an annual mission to Russia. And people got more creative.

"One year the girls brought a ton of make-up, and did make-overs for the kids. They did hair and nails. We had a disco night." All with materials brought over by church members.

"Last year, we had American day. We decorated T-shirts with flags. We couldn't find hamburgers, so we had hotdogs. We brought the mustard and ketchup, although we had to slice big baguettes of bread, because we couldn't find rolls," Pastor Vander Zwan says.

"We basically just love the kids and share our love of Christ for two weeks."

But the real magic of the church's Russian connection is the lasting relationships it has developed between church members and the children. Since the trips began, 12 of the children have been adopted, and four girls, all translators fluent in English, are now studying for a semester at San Jose State and living with church families.

Pastor Vander Zwan also speaks proudly of his own adopted daughter, Olga, who attends Menlo-Atherton High School.

Other travelers to Russia are acting as "aunts and uncles" to specific children, by staying in touch and being present for special moments in the child's life.

And the help just keeps coming from the church. This spring a cargo container with 14 tons of winter clothing will be shipped to the orphanages, timed to arrive when church members are there, so clothing can be given to the neediest children.

Another fund drive will pay for two new buses to be used by the orphanages, and there are plans to provide housing for teenagers who must leave the orphanage at age 16, often with no place to go.

The bounty that has flowed to Solotcha and Rizone has made a difference.

"We see change in the kids since we've been there, and the teachers see it," says Pastor Vander Zwan.

Even so, he acknowledges that the church's Russian connection is "a drop in the bucket. There are 750,000 orphans in Russia alone," he says, adding that there are even more in other states of the former Soviet Union.

"But if we can help one child change direction, it's worth it," he says.