Vale's Journey at High Top Ranch

Nine years ago this month, I brought a beautiful little boy home to Texas from Braila, Romania. He was fifteen and one-half months old and knew very little English. He could say the words Momma and Kitty, but the only other words he knew were foreign to me because I knew almost no Romanian. In the beginning, his manner was subdued and quiet, but over the next two years he developed the personality of a very happy vivacious young toddler. He quickly learned English and by the age of two he was speaking grammatically correct sentences and full paragraphs of carefully orchestrated communication. He began to correct my husband on his pronunciation of words which we thought to be very amusing. His unusual ability to assimilate the English language was extraordinary and we knew we were to have our hands full with a very bright child. His talents were to become obvious. He began to show a love for music, singing, and language. At the age of three he learned to count to ten in English, Spanish, German, and if I had known French, he would have learned it as well. Those were the times I would dream about my child becoming a successful international businessman, or medical doctor because I knew God had great things planned for this special child.
However, the most unfortunate and unforeseen events happened in our lives in January, 2004. The picture perfect home in upper middle class suburbia where the husband worked a successful ministry and the mother stayed home to care for the newly internationally adopted child came to an abrupt end with the sudden death of my husband, and Valentin’s father. Our lives were uprooted and thrown into chaos for several years before the smoke cleared from the trauma and we came to a peaceful existence in 2008. Little did I know that those years of chaos dug up a sleeping giant in Vale that would take us on a journey of healing that I never thought I would experience…..
Week One at the Ranch: Vale and I flew to Salt Lake City Friday morning and rented a car to drive to Koosharem, Utah located three hours south of the capital. The drive was fairly easy and comfortable as we drove the interstate, but as soon as we exited the main road, we entered a world of winding mountain roads that seem to go forever and lead to nowhere. I called the director several times to ensure I was still headed in the right direction to the ranch. The terrain was dry and dusty, but the landscapes were beautiful and majestic as we drove from valley to mountain top and back down again. The temperature in Koosharem had been 24 degrees Fahreinheit a few days earlier and we had prepared for the lower temps with light jackets.
Vale’s mood was quiet and still all morning. However, as we got closer to the ranch, I sensed greater anxiety building in him. He kept asking if we were almost there and he kept telling me he was hungry even though a few hours earlier had consumed a large lunch. As we climbed higher in elevation, the temperature began to drop outside the car and at 4:30pm Mountain Time we drove down the main street of Koosharem. There was a large lake on the left that was still partially frozen, and snow drifts remained along the foothills that had not yet melted from the last snowfall. It was a sleepy little town with a population of 292. I was told to take the first left after the old gas station, but missed the gas station because I didn’t recognize its 2 pumps as being a gas station. An old man directed me down the road to High Top Ranch, telling me that, “the red building down there was where the kids ate their meals”. I thought that he must know about the ranch and could discern my nervous son in the back seat restless about not knowing much about the next phase of his life he was about to encounter.
I turned down the dirt road to the ranch, passing the eating hall and drove back to the next red building that was the main office. Two gentlemen stood outside on the porch talking and turned to greet me as we were driving into the parking lot. One was the director named Justin, the other was the social worker named Tad. They were both men in their late thirties, with bright eyes and comforting smiles. We got out of the car and they helped us unload Vale’s belongings. We took them up into the office and sat down to talk. They put us both at ease as we chatted about our drive and the look of the ranch. Vale was nervous, but eager to converse. Shortly, the grandmother popped into the room to introduce herself as such and that she had raised 12 children and knew all about raising boys. She seemed kind and Vale warmed up to her quickly. She took Vale to meet the other boys and to show him his new room while I talked to Justin and Tad about relinquishing my 10 year old son to them for an extended period of time. They reassured me they had been doing this for quite some time and understood these boys and the adjustments they would encounter over the next few days, weeks, and months. I told them about Vale’s peculiar habits and they assured me they had seen them in other boys many times over. They had a structured plan in place to help these boys overcome their fears and unusual coping mechanisms. I breathed a heavy sigh, but I had done my research and prayed that God would lead Vale and me to a place that could help him with his struggles. I believed we were in the right place, now I just needed to hand him over to God and these new people to do the work they knew to do.
I took a tour with Justin of the ranch. He was the second generation owner after his father had started it in the late 1950’s with his uncles. The ranch had evolved from being a fun place for city boys to visit for the summer to a therapeutic ranch for troubled boys. High Top was the newest ranch established 12 years earlier for the younger aged boys, 9 to 14 years old. I could tell he was proud of its heritage and he enjoyed his work with the boys and the ranch. After the tour, we met up with Vale and Tad told me to make it short. It was not a good idea to make the break any longer than we had to. Vale started crying and sobbing as I told him I must go. I hugged him and reassured him that he was brave and strong and that he was going to be just fine. I kissed his head and said goodbye as Tad led him to the main bunkhouse. I followed Justin in my car off the ranch and to the next town where I was going to spend the night before beginning my journey to Salt Lake City in the morning for a return flight to Houston.
The next morning after arriving at the Salt Lake airport, I called the ranch to see how Vale was getting along. The weekend supervisor answered and told me he was doing well. Tad was saddling him up to go on a trail ride and Vale was excited about leaving. She said he had a good breakfast and was getting along with the boys. The next day I heard through email that Vale enjoyed the ride, but he was saddle sore. He was taken to the psychiatrist in Provo for evaluation on Monday and apparently she had a good assessment of him. Tad reported to me later that Vale said he was not homesick, which told him he was trying hard to work the program. On Wednesday, the teacher at High Top School tested him to see where he was with fourth grade work. I’m certain he was surprised to find the intellect that he would be working with in Vale over the next year. This concludes his first week at the ranch. I’ll be following up with weekly updates on his progress or as I get them.