A Testimony

Out goes February, the month I love. Not the only month I love, but I've always had a fascination with February in particular.

I'm sitting in front of a window in DIRECT SUNLIGHT, which is obnoxiously blinding at the moment, but deliciously warm and welcome. A stream of water is running down from somewhere on the roof above; icycles have been dripping and falling off. Masha and I lost the four foot icycle hanging off the corner of the roof out the kitchen window yesterday; it's like waiting for a dead tree to fall!

I want to give praise to God...I was thinking that it's so easy to go around worrying internally and aloud about the things we're doing or not doing in our relationship with Him, while it it would be better to praise Him for the amazing things He's been doing right under our noses. He keeps on doing great deeds regardless of us :)

Yeah, I was thinking of this because I realized yesterday that He's given me a testimony. During Christmas break I was discouraged because Bible reading had become so dry and boring to me. I was busy and had a hard time making a point to read, especially when I opened it only to waves of frustration and confusion. I thought I probably wasn't understanding properly due to lack of study and focus on my part, but I felt spiritually wimpy and guilty for that. I felt like God's word was never going to hold anything by frustration for me again.

BUT THEN, when I got back to Ukraine, after a few weeks, something happened inside me where I suddenly could believe that God's word was truth. And I wanted it, badly! Suddenly I had a faith that I hadn't had before to just take God's word at face value even if I didn't understand it. I thought I somehow needed to understand and perfectly obey it all at once in order to please God, but actually, He showed me that it's faith that He is pleased with. (Heb. 11:6)

God's word is the truth whether I understand it or not. He knew I wasn't very smart and wouldn't be able to understand without His Holy Spirit to teach me. So I can only conclude that He wants me to read and believe and patiently wait for Him to make the confusing things clear. In the meantime, that Book holds the most beautiful explanations of His exquisite character, and it compels me to trust His love more readily.

Like these verses from Jeremiah 32:40b-41:

"I will never stop doing good to them, and I will inspire them to fear me, so that they will never turn away from me.

I will rejoice in doing them good and will assuredly plant them in this land with all my heart and soul."

I'm so excited that there is hope. When we are in a desert time, longing for a drink on our parched lips, we want to despair and think that we will never see water again. But God can so quickly bring us to the other side.

I love it that my new love for His Word didn't come from my own ability to inspire myself or be interested in Him. I prayed some feeble, frustrated prayers like "God, I want to want this, but I don't..." and He took the initiative to lift the veil off my eyes and believe His word. He created faith inside me where there was none. He turned my weakness into strength. What can I say? It's great to serve a God like this! I am secure in His love and patience, and delighted with His power.

A Snowy Picnic

Ok, first of all, raise your hand if you're able to read this. Er, scratch that. Somebody please let me know if they can read this, because my family members report that the writing on my blog isn't showing up. I can see it like normal, but that's not that helpful to people trying to read.

Anyway...It's a bright day outside and I'm hanging out at the Crowes a bit before going to have tea with Ira next door. She popped in to get her little brother yesterday (he'd been playing with the Crowe boys) and she asked me if I could come over.

I will come over, providing I can get past the huge white dog they have now-- a big, barking, truly abominable snowman. I hope his bark is much, much bigger than his bite, because his bark is pretty darn big. Everytime I walk up here (or anyone else does, for that matter) he makes it his personal responsibility to try to get them to pee their pants. And he's provoked the dog across the street, who was fairly mild before, so that now they seem to be having a competion. Walking down the street is like going down a gauntlet. I just try to mind my own business, keep to a calm pace, and remember that there is an iron bar fence between me and frosty-face.

It was true that the winter was not over-- on Tuesday it started snowing again and 6 or 8 inches came down pretty fast (it was the most I've seen). So on Wednesday, the Gollans invited us to go on a forest picnic. Bruce, Deb, and Rodge were in Kiev, so the younger five and I went down. They built a fire and we roasted hot dogs and the kids sledded on the hill and had snowball fights. Noah sat in a coated, hatted, be-mittened blob near the campfire and ate sticky food with stickier mittens. We visited and enjoyed the novelty of what I never would have dreamed up-- a picnic in the snow in February!

The trees were full of snow, and it kept tumbling down on us. As soon as Priscilla and Sveta laid out a red blanket on the snow to sit on, a load of snow avalanched out of the trees right onto them, covering them and the blanket. So we stood most of the time, but it was great fun. Here are Sveta and Priscilla on the blanket:

And Tucker, Clark, Bronwyn, and Noah, roasting weiners.

Sledding! Brent, Ellie, Angel, Jesse, and Clark...And I'll leave you with a shot from my front doorstep earlier that morning:

Life and Faith and Weird Cheese, etc.

Hmm. What does my life look like heavenside, I wonder? I feel a bit at a dead end right now, a kind of boredom that I don't know the reason for and can't put a finger on.

This morning it got a little colder than our 40's spell, and was snowing something akin to cold laundry detergent. But the sun also came out-- always a nice sight. I felt hopeful when Masha pointed out the buds on the trees a few days ago. She said they'll probably die in the cold before it's really spring. But that, coupled with the sight of booths of veggie and flower seeds at the market, fuels my hope. Winter isn't so bad.

Deb just gave me some sort of nasty looking, fairly yummy tasting mush that she made of blended vegetables. She's on a cleanse of some sort, so there are lots of fruits and veggies floating around. I think it's a good influence on me. I ate salad for breakfast, with some kind of weird cheese I bought at the store yesterday. It's softer and milder than feta cheese, dryer and less creamy than cream cheese, and has a taste similar to cottage cheese. It comes in a rectangular package like the butter. Masha said it's cream cheese, but it's not like the cream cheese I know. I put it in the salad and I'm still trying to figure out whether I liked it or not. You never know what you'll find next around here.

I hate the fact that I feel bored, because on one hand, God's been really opening up His word to me, and the stuff I'm getting from that is anything but boring. I guess it's the gap between these truths and the way I live that is difficult to face and understand. Earth and all it contains is going to pass away, and what am I sitting here doing? Blogging and eating salad and wierd cheese for breakfast? It makes you crazy if you think about it too much.

I feel powerless to live beyond myself, so I have to look to God in faith. I keep reading Jesus' mentions for faith in the gospels, and over and over He says "Don't be afraid." "Take heart." Faith is what pleases Him, and my first act of faith is believing that He will give me grace to obey Him and become like Him, concerned with His kingdom. Without fear.

It's getting dark. I think I'll go by the post office to leave a letter in the box for my dear sis. I think I'm subconsciously dreading going home because I know I'll inevitably feel obligated to clean things. There is always something to clean :) We had no water for several days last week, so the dishes piled up and nothing got cleaned, and hallelujah that we have our water back, but now my excuse is gone. The dishes got done, but there is always something lurking.

Winter Thoughts

What I'm missing on the street
Under my hat, under the clouds
Are all the yous I'd like to meet
Coming down this muddy street
And when the dark comes on the ice
On the shops, through the trees
I'd see you coming down the hill,
The sidewalk wending where it will
And on it just the eager feet
In spattered boots, in quickened stride,
Of all the yous I'd like to meet
Coming down this muddy street.

Nobody speculate...I'm just thinking of how nice it would be to meet up with so many of the folks I miss. Sometimes when it's foggy out my imagination plays tricks and I think I'm seeing people who are, in reality, at least an ocean away.

That's just a cloudy-day poem, but I feel fine, actually. It's just what came to mind at them moment. God is gracious, and His joy is strength for His beloved ones. I'm glad to be numbered among those :)

Chocolate Covered Toothpaste, and other Birthday Surprises

A little more to add about the birthday.

Here are Deb, Bron, and I with the yum peach cobbler Deb made for our dessert last night :)

And I got birthday gifts! The shirt I'm wearing in the picture and the headband, which was from Bron. And a picture frame. That was fun :) I guess I hadn't thought that much about presents.

Here's Rodgie stuffing his face on peach cobbler...

And the three middle guys showing off their paper aircraft that patrolled the skies before and after supper...(Tucker, Brent, Clark, from left to right)

Later I went home to Masha, who was sick, poor girl. She came out and I opened The Package ;) There was no bubble wrap, but a delightful array of loot that made me forget about bubble wrap entirely. I couldn't believe they stuffed all those things in that box! I pulled out two little candles, a small journal, pens(!!!), wintergreen hued organic cotton pillowcases in an adorable drawstring bag, minty Tension Relief lotion (what, for me?!), a letter, and chocolate mints (both York and Juniors).

The reasons for all the minty stuff were, 1) I like it. 2) It's not too popular, (or readily available) around here. Masha had told me before that she didn't like mint chocolate, but I offered her a Junior's mint anyway. You have to share good candy with somebody!

"Maybe you'll like it," I told her. She popped it in.

"Tastes like toothpaste covered in chocolate, to me."

Hm. Come to think of it, it does. And it's great! Hey, toothpaste covered in chocolate...that's not a bad idea...

Almost Twenty

Well. Today I turn twenty. I'm very pleased about it, and thrilled that the sun came out for the occasion and reminded us that the sky is indeed still blue up there :) Oh, beauty! It was a great birthday present.

I thought about it, and if you get technical, you could really say that I'm having my birthday on the 12th this year instead of the 11th. I entered the world at 4:09 pm in Shreveport, LA, and Feb. 11th, 4:09 pm is Feb. 12th, 12:09 am here. So I'm not twenty yet.

I'm having supper with the Crowes tonight. This morning the three older boys greeted me with cards, very special cards. Tucker even made is with pink paper because he thought I'd like that best (being a girl and all.) He also glued it shut.

Masha said that Ukrainians celebrate 20th birthdays like Americans celebrate 21st birthdays...a crossing over into "adulthood." So I'm an adult in Ukraine, but not necessarily anywhere else :)

The package my family sent is still sitting unopened on my bedstand, waiting until I have time to dig into in a leisurely manner, peeling off packaging tape, wrestling with cardboard, maybe popping bubble wrap (oh please let there be bubble wrap!). Hehe. I almost hate to open it...no more anticipation. But Masha would kill me if I waited another day. Connor sounded both disgusted and incredulous when I told him on the phone this afternoon that I hadn't opened it yet. It's like he thinks I'm weird or something. Doesn't he know that waiting for good things just makes them gooder?

Of course, you don't want to wait too long in some cases, such as the time I saved a treasured Snickers bar on my flight to Hong Kong and arrived only to have it smeared and squashed into my carryon. Instant gratification would have been a better option in that instance.

I'm trying think of the earliest birthday memory I have...and I think it's of getting books. Two huge, exquisitely illustrated Graeme Base books from the first guy I ever had a crush on. His name was David and he was bald and possibly older than my dad, but to my four year old mind, he was the ideal man. What can I say? He gave me books. I planned to marry him, (a solemn declaration that's on tape somewhere) but my dreams were shattered when he married somebody named Gloria a few years later. I think I've recovered :) I still have those books though.

Ok...it's close to supper time. Away I go...

Big Words in a Little Mouth

I don't have lots of time to blog at the moment because I need to get home and do a few things. (Namely, clean up around the house, eat supper, finish some letters, study Russian before prayer meeting at 7. haha.) But I'll blog anyway.

Today I was building a tower out of Jenga blocks with Clark, and I told him,

"Here, put the blocks this way, perpendicular to the other ones." Obviously, he doesn't have a clue what "perpendicular" means, but I wanted to see if I could get him to say the word, just for kicks.

"Say "perpendicular," Clark," I coaxed. He just stared at me. I said it again.

"Per-pen-dic-u-lar." I remembered the way the Pimsleur language program teaches new long words. On my Russian cd, the guy would start with the last syllables and work backward so that it was easier to grasp. For example, if the word was "Izvenitye," (Excuse me) he'd say:

"ye" (I repeat it)
"itye"
"venitye"
"Izvenitye"

It seems a lot easier to get a grip on the word when you practice it that way. So I said,

"Can you say "dic-u-lar," Clark?
"dic'lar"
"pen-dic-u-lar"
"pen-dic-a-ler"
"Now, per-pen-dic-u-lar."
"per-pen-tic-a-ler!" he cried in triumph. "They're perpenticaler!"

Perpenticaler they were, indeed :) It's so fun seeing kids master big words. I wonder what words Ethan's coming out with these days.

Jesus in the Jungle

Here I am twisting my hair on a Sunday afternoon, trying to unwind from the weekend. I feel like I'm recovering from something...I don't know what. Too much social activity, it feels like. I spent most of it staring into space, but it still counts. Staring into space public and staring into space in the privacy of your own lamplit room are two entirely different things.

Last night I was at the Rz. ladies meeting at Priscilla's house. There were fifteen of us there, I think, and I was laughing because when we went around the circle saying our names, there were I think 2 Lena's, 2 Sveta's, 2 Olya's, and 3 Lesia's. Ukrainian names are so pretty that I guess they just like to use the same ones over and over. For my part, it drives me crazy. I guess it just shows a cultural tendency toward individuality. It would bother me to know five people with my name :)

Priscilla shared last night about an anology she read in a book by Ann Ortland (I don't know who that is, but that's where she said it was from). It really resonated with me. It was comparing life to a river that we are floating down, each in our own boat, happily doing our own thing. We don't know that there is a treacherous waterfall ahead, and we aren't preparing for it. But along with the waterfall, there is also Someone with a strong hand, reaching out from the shore to rescue us. We can choose to take His hand and be saved.

Our Rescuer then takes us on a journey to a beautiful city far away, a city where there is no more pain, sin, sadness, or danger. Of course we want to go, but the journey is a harrowing one through a wild jungle. There are poisonous plants, dark pathways, tangled vines, ferocious cats, and poisonous snakes. It isn't a "safe" journey, or a comfortable one. But we have the promise that we'll get through safely if we hold on to our Savior's hand.

Lena N. had drawn a beautiful picture of a strong hand with a tiny one clinging to one finger, representing us walking with God. I think the holding on is simply our faith.

I was fighting tears all the way through, not very excited about breaking down in front of 14 or 15 women, no matter how nice they are. I was thinking, "Lord, I said I would follow you, and I want to...I just...I have this desperate craving to be safe." I want to feel secure. I don't want to be uncomfortable. There's something in me that yearns for wild adventure, but I feel so vulnerable. Every day I wage wars with resentment at being so "alone." I'm not that alone, and when I am, maybe it was my own choice.

I think all the sins I commit stem out of this longing for security and comfort. I try to protect myself, preserve my little world so that nothing hurts and nothing is too risky. But Jesus says those who save their lives will lose them, and it's the ones who lose their lives who actually save them.

So here I am in Ukraine, wanting a comfort zone. Working very hard for one. You have to work very hard for it, because it's about impossible to obtain. When you've lived elsewhere and spoken a different language all your life, that is. And here I am realizing (again) that no, no, no, comfort zone isn't the goal here. But I want it, God! I want it like a child wants another cookie he's not allowed to have. I want it knowing the answer is no, and almost stomping my foot. I didn't sign up for this pain. Or did I?

It's in Luke 14 I think that we're told to count the cost of following Christ, and see if it's too much for us. And I've counted the cost before. Not that I actually could do it accurately. But that's not the point. The point is that I know, I know with a crazy knowing that I have to follow Jesus, and it's both unexplainable and indisputable. He's not making me, something in me just has to. I'm in for the jungle and now it's time for some major hand holding. Gripping. Clinging. Climbing up in terror and burying my face in His broad shoulder, clutching at His shirt, afraid of wild noises in the dark.

As I was crying out for security last night, I had a picture in my mind of a baby in one of those slings...those baby slings that remind me all at once of midwives and hippies and native American indians for some reason...and Deb, just because she used to have a brown one for Noah. And I think of myself in that sling against God's chest, and Him holding me so tightly I can hardly breath. That kind of security. And that is what I have in Christ Jesus.

"Who can separate you from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation or distress of persecution or famine or nakedness or peril or sword?...no, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Romans 8:35, 36-39