Remedying My Cultural No-No, and Other Things

So...it feels good to sit down and blog again and not want to cry :) I'm still going through this culture shock thing...or whatever you want to call it...but I'm feeling a lot better physically, and that really helps.

We're in the heart of fall, and as the weather gets cooler and there's talk of snow coming soon, I keep thinking about the seasons. I realize that at home I've lived on the same property for nineteen years and I know the seasons like a song or a poem. I can smell the sharp tang of dying leaves and I know the cold scent of woodsmoke and frost on a cold morning. Although most people would say we don't have seasons in East Texas, I've lived there all my life, so I've at least managed to imagine some up. They're there if you know what to look for :)

Here, my internal calendar is sort of...gone...I don't know what to expect. My familiar smells are gone and I'm about to experience a season that's completely new to me: Winter! Cold winter with snow and very low temperatures. I'm not sure how low, but it doesn't really matter since I'd have nothing to compare it to to understand how it feels anyway!

So I was thinking maybe that's part of the reason for the sudden pangs of homesickness and dreams of pumpkin pies. Not that we couldn't have pumpkin pie here, but...it's really not about the pumpkin pie.

Anyway...so I thought that not only are there seasons in the year, but as people have often told me, there are seasons in my life too. And instead of focusing on what I don't have in this season, it would be much better to focus on the good things I do have and thank God for them, and enjoy them. Because eventually I'll move to another season and wistfully remember the friends and opportunities and good things here, and thus will continue this sick, sad cycle of discontentment.

So. I know that's not a novel idea, and I didn't come up with it myself. Several people have encouraged me in it the past week or two.

The Crowes are great. The more I'm with Bruce and Deb, the more I respect them. That's a big thing, because you might expect that it would be the other way around: the more you're with a person, the more you see their flaws and lose respect for them. It's true that I get to see the flaws too, just like they get to see mine. But the more I see them interact with their kids, and see integrity in their actions and the compassion and generosity they show me, and the wisdom they share with me, the more I really appreciate them.

School has still been sporadic, but we're trying to ease into some right now. It's usually something that I don't "feel like" doing at first, but when the moment comes when I'm curled up with Brent or Tucker pointing at a word while they sound it out...it's beautiful!! I love those little brains.

It seems like there's a strong emotional connection between teachers and students. Since I was homeschooled, I haven't had a lot of teachers...but the ones I've had I've been very attached to, for the most part. I've had this sense that they gave me something, shared some part of themselves with me that was precious in varying degrees. Especially in subjects I liked...like english or language. Now, when I work with the kids on reading or math, I often have this sense of growing closer to them while I'm teaching them.

There was one of these moments whan Brent and I were sitting in the huge armchair a few days ago working on reading. Usually Brent is the one I can't relate to very well. He's seven, and a grubby boy...well, no big deal. I love grubby little boys, actually. But he's very hands-on and has a really short attention span, and never looks me in the eye when he's talking to me, which drives me crazy...so of course I love him like I love them all, but I don't know what to do with him sometimes.

But, as we sat there "reading" and I watched his smudgy little finger pointing to the letters and the wheels in his head straining to crank out the meaning, love just welled up in my heart for this kid. He has a big heart, a grammar all his own, a very entertaining sense of humor, this little mind just working away...and most important, this soul that God gave him. I thought again about the quote I posted a week or two ago from Cassie Bernall's friend:

"If you love someone, their life is a gift to you."

Here are a few pictures...I took a walk to the post office on Sunday. Through the woods, around town...the post office wasn't open, of course; I just had some letters to drop off :) I get so much pleasure out of writing letters. Ethan sent me a picture of the two of us and he'd written his name on it, which really impressed me :) So I put it on my window, and now I get to see Ethan every day, with three long hairs sticking straight up off his head.

(Just outside the house, on my way to the post office. Tucker took the picture for me.)

(Tucker and Brent climbing a tree in the yard.)(This is along the new route I found to the post office. It's like Lothlorien back there. I keep expecting to see elves feasting or Robin Hood poised with his bow, ready to shoot. But the only sight so far has been a babushka gathering mushrooms (they really do that here!))(And here's a house in the neighborhood on the way to the post office. I love this color, and the house fascinates me every time I pass it.)

Along the way, after the quiet wooded part, there are small brick houses with little (or sometimes more extensive) garden plots featuring cabbages, beets, onions...the corn has died, and piles of pumpkins sit next to the houses, covered in plastic or something else. There are still lots of flowers like mums and asters (I guess). Goats and chickens roam the yards. I pass people doing their wash or working on their cars, ladies in high heels on the way home from market, often on their cell phones. Older guys ride by on their bikes in hats and sweaters. Babushkas tend hoe their gardens with Ukrainian radio playing. The sky is faintly pink and yellow mingled with overcast gray, and a bluish haze hangs over Rzhishchiv from all the leaf piles burning. Along main street it's busier because of all the college students from the nearby schools hanging out together.

I've been commiting a cultural no-no...walking around Rzhishchiv in my old tennis shoes. They aren't even nice looking tennis shoes. They're comfortable and they're what I brought, so I wear them. But apparently shoes are a really big deal here. People seem to dress up a lot when they go out, even to market. And even if you aren't dressed up, you wear nice shoes.

I don't like shoes very much, and shoe shopping ranks up there with going to the dentist for me...but this morning I finally did it. I bought some warm boots for winter. Size 41. Fur inside. I've never had long boots like this, and they embarrass me. I'll be walking like giraffe. But there's nothing else to do but freeze. One of my feet is slightly bigger than the other, so I had to get a size big enough where I can fit thick socks into them...on both feet.

So, we'll see how they work. Deb says I'll get stylish yet, but I don't know. I told her, "Oh, maybe that's why God sent me to Ukraine!" I've always felt a little behind when it comes to style, but now I figure, you know, no matter what I'm wearing, I'll always be out of style somewhere else in the world, so why bother? Somewhat flawed logic, maybe, but I take some comfort in it...

Baby bawling...must go...

Attempts at a Stiff Upper Lip Fail, to My Unforseen Relief

It's a cloudy cold day...the sky is the color of very old mashed potatoes, but the trees make up for the dullness with glowing leaves. The water is off and the electricity has been on and off because guys are working on the house. I don't know what they're doing exactly, but I think it has something to do with getting gas on...a very good thing! It's been a little chilly the past few days. Not unbearable, just chilly.

This is going to be a very long post, just so you know...

Yesterday I finally broke down and cried at the ladies' Bible study. I kept trying to hold it back but it just wouldn't, and I'm very glad. Life is just too much for me. I didn't realize it, but I was trying to keep a "stiff upper lip" and keep the struggle to myself because I didn't want to bother anyone else, make a scene, or interrupt a prayer meeting...I figured that I always have a problem of some kind, and since my tendency is to want to rely on other people to fix my loneliness or insecurity, I needed to just take it to God instead. But, as I found out yesterday, sometimes God's way of touching us is through other people.

I confessed yesterday that I even though I know and often tell myself that Jesus is sufficient to meet my needs, lately He doesn't seem to be there when I need Him most.

When I'm enjoying life, it's easy to say that He is able to fill the empty hole where my family and friends were before, that He can be my warmth, security, and leadership, that He can supply the sense of safety and schedule that has been ripped out of my life, that He can fill the voids where familiarity has disappeared. But when I'm sick or hurting or down, I need Him to be more than those thoughts. A lot more.

My neck and jaw have been hurting from all the stress, and I've literally grown weary of holding my head up. Every time I stand in faith and say that He is enough for me and I trust Him, I feel like I'm thrusting a heavy sword against an unseen foe, and with every thrust I grow wearier, not just spiritually and emotionally, but physically, too. I find myself saying, "If I could just have one hour completely at rest..." No neck pain, no confusion, no anxiety to fight off...

I told the ladies some of these things. It was the "foreign ladies'" Bible study, so they all knew what I was going through, more or less. I hadn't thought of it as culture shock, but they pointed out that I was still adjusting to being here. Duh.

I guess I thought things should just keep getting better and better and I should be "over it" by now. Haha. I'm learning differently. I have seen progress in the last few months. I'm not painfully shy of the folks at church any more, and I feel a lot more comfortable with them. I'm closer to the Crowes. I know a few more Russian words and I'm not afraid that something will jump out and get me when I'm walking down the road (always a nice feeling.) But that doesn't mean no more culture shock.

Adjusting to living in a foreign country is so much more complicated and huge than I would have dreamed. I have a growing respect for people who go for long term and stick it out. I mean, I have it easy. I don't have to build a house, go through stacks of documents, do the grocery shopping...I don't even have to speak the language that much if I don't want to (but I do want to). Ukraine may be very different, but it is still Western in a lot of ways. I can still eat a lot of the foods I would at home and wear the same clothes (no burkas) We have electricity and hot water and internet (most of the time). I keep thinking, so what's my problem?

My problem is that by outward appearances, it doesn't look that hard to live here, but there are subtle differences that have creeped and creeped in on my until I'm like the frog in the pot...not in culture shock, but in culture boil, you might say...just when I think I'm adjusting quite nicely, some new trauma crops up.

Annaliese, who was at the Bible study, said she had read a statistic that said that the level of stress a person experiences when they move to a foreign country is greater than that of someone losing a spouse or finding out they have cancer. That's really hard for me to believe...my reaction was, "But that's a matter of grief! It almost seems dishonoring to compare those thing. I'm not grieving. I like being here!" I don't know. It just made me realize that maybe I'm going through more than I thought I was. Maybe I can stop telling myself to suck it up and quit being a wimp :)

Priscilla shared that it's ok if I feel depressed. Not that I should wallow in it, but that God lets us go through storms and it's not always going to feel good. We just have to keep clinging to Him. She said, "Just enjoy it."

I've heard her say this on different occasions about unpleasant tasks or circumstances..."Just learn to enjoy it." At first I was really taken aback by that. It doesn't immediately make sense, but the idea fascinated me. Enjoy something you are naturally inclined to hate? Is that possible? But it dawned on me that, if I'm understanding what she meant correctly, it goes right along with what James said in chapter one of his book..."Consider it pure joy, my brethen, when you suffer various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance..." It's weird, but I'm starting to actually see joy as a possibility in the things I don't like. And it's really freeing.

It reminds me of Much Afraid in Hannah Hurnard's book, Hind's Feet on High Places. The Good Shepherd gave her Sorrow and Suffering as her companions, and at first she loathed them and shrank back from them. But after a time, she grew to love them as they helped and led her, and in the end their veils were cast of and they were revealed as Grace and Glory. Yes!

Even as I write this, tears are springing to my eyes, because that's what God does with His beloved saints. Sometimes it's easy to look down on the ones who are suffering or just can't seem to pick themselves up off the floor (I'm sorry that I have done it), when actually they are the ones who are honored, because God has given them these disguised companions out of His love and purpose for them.

Each woman had something to say that was really encouraging, and I just sat there, soaking it in...soaking kleenexes... They were very merciful and compassionate. I'm glad Deb and I both got to be there and hear those things, because since we're both new here and going through the same chaos, I guess we both feel helpless together at times.

It was hard to let myself cry. It felt complicated just breathing. I desperately needed to let it out, but at first it's not easy to be that vulnerable with a group of people you don't know that well. But as they talked to me and prayed, I felt like they were lifting me out of a pit I had been sinking into. They were taking up my sword and fighting off those invisible enemies that have worn me out. It was such a relief to have someone fighting for me, almost literally lifting a burden off my shoulders.

Jesus did not fail me. He was right there. He wasn't there in physical form to be seen and felt, but He touched me through His hands and feet, the church. She's beautiful! Not perfect, but beautiful still. Like one of the ladies said, our longings for fulfillment can't quite be met here on earth because this is not our home. We look forward to knowing Jesus fully in heaven.

So I'm still fighting the battle, but I no longer feel like I'm alone and sinking. This morning wasn't easy, but I'm so relieved to know that it's ok if I feel disoriented and confused. A big part of the stress comes from the thoughts like, "I'm always going to be like this. If I haven't changed by now, I'm not going to. Am I ever going to have more than half my brain capacity again? Will I ever wake up in the morning feeling rested? Will I ever...?" But recognizing that this is a season in my life and that I don't have to "get over it" helps so much. God isn't standing there, aloof, waiting for me to get my act together. He's so merciful, and He still has plans and purposes for me that He will accomplish, no matter what I feel like.

"Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, for once he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life, which the Lord has promised to those who love Him." James 1:12

To Live Again...

Sorry if you were hoping for more entries lately. I haven't blogged because my brain has gone into "survival mode" this past week... hunkering down in a bomb shelter-type hole in the corner of my head. Wait...my head doesn't have corners...or didn't...

After being sick, my neck and jaw were really having problems, and I've just been exhausted. Nobody's been "quite right" with the weird stomach bug that's been going around. I wanted to be a fun, energetic auntie for the kiddos this weekend when the Gollan kids came to stay with us, but I didn't have much to offer. In fact, blast it all if I wasn't almost ogre-like. I told Deb I would really, really like to have energy again to stay up till, say, 10 o'clock. Or later. And then still be able to get up in the morning. She told me to have another cup of coffee.

I'm so thankful for Deb. This weekend I was thinking about my friends and missing them...and then I realized in the kitchen as we were cooking together that I really love being friends with Deb. It's good to have someone to laugh with. She said it was a good thing we like to be together. I guess it wouldn't be much fun around here otherwise :) I'm realizing that it takes living with people day in and day out under pressure to build the kind of relationship where you can take risks...It's so good to have my intitial fears met with the thought that no matter what I do, they are going to still love me for who I am :) Living rawly in front of each other is somewhat scary at first, but it's so rewarding.

One thing that helps me keep life in perspective when I wonder what in the world is wrong with me and why can't I cope a little better is that, well, when people have kids, they usually only have one at a time, thereby allowing for an adjustment period before the next. Not six at once. Or ten at once. So I don't have to be so freaked out.

Note: When under pressure, there is a scrap of comfort in having a freshly sharpened pencil around. A little coffee never hurt, either.

So today, after getting a shower and taking a walk in the crispy fall air, taking in a little of Rzhishchiv, I felt some will to live returning. Ahh. My jaw was much better today. I hadn't realized how much that was contributing to the constant drained feeling.

So...right now the kiddos are off to bed and Deb and I are catching up on internet while Bruce plays the piano...it's so nice to hear music just flowing and flowing and flowing...My soul finds rest in God alone, my hope is in Him...His mercies are new every morning, great is His faithfulness...

Reality Check

It's another night I planned to go to bed early and catch up on sleep, but here I am again, not sleeping...I just can't go to bed right now with so much in my heart and mind.

I just read She Said Yes, the book about the Cassie Bernall, who was killed in the Columbine shootings nine years ago. It's by her mother. Reading something like that really puts life in perspective.

I read the book out of curiosity, mainly. It's always interesting to read a book when the main character shares your name, especially if your name isn't a commom one. You identify with the character even more strongly and can usually put yourself in their shoes more easily, because in some small way, it feels like that person is...you.

I think I always had a stand-offish attitude about Cassie Bernall because of all the hype about her being a martyr and the way people acted like she was a saint. But in this book, her mother is very honest about who her daughter really was- yes, a girl who stood up courageously for God, but also a very human girl with struggles and attitudes, etc. So it really appealed to me.

So, as I set the book down and tried to hunker down under my blankets for the night, there were very strong thoughts pounding inside me. Misty Bernall wrote about how her outlook on life changed when she lost her daughter, as anyone's outlook changes when they lose someone close to them. And I was struck with that too.

Life here is so brief and fragile, and material things are so much more trivial than we can imagine. The past week I have been feeling like my life is so bogged down and entangled by material things and concerns...food, clothing, my body, housework. I know that we do live on the earth, and we have to deal with these things and manage them in a responsible way, but in moments like these I catch glimpses of eternity and I feel grieved that I might be so wrapped up in these things that I would miss what is real and imperishable.

It strikes fear into my heart- a holy fear. A fear that is right, but fear nontheless. A fear that makes my spirit groan, and makes me cry out, "Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?" (Matt. 6:25) I feel like someone trapped in quicksand, crying out for help. I can't help myself. The world's pull is too much for me. My selfishness is too much for me to cope with. Without Jesus, the best I can do is close my eyes and keep sinking. I'm feeling the weight of what Jesus' words when He said that "a man can gain the whole world and lose his soul." I hear His call to follow, and I have been following, but there is a new level I'm stuck at, and I need His help.

My heart was broken when I read about Cassie's pre-salvation years in highschool when she was involved in witchcraft, cutting, rebellion, and was filled with such intense pain. Usually I'm so wrapped up on my Pollyanna world, seeking more comfort, that I can't really fathom someone being in that much pain, let alone reach out to them. My heart is broken because I know that some of the people I know and love are in this kind of intense, desperate pain, drowning. If you are one of those, please forgive me. I am nothing without Jesus. I want to live where you are. I want to enter your suffering like Jesus did for me, but I'm not strong enough to do it on my own.

In the book there was a quote from Martin Luther King that said,

"The minute you conquer the fear of death, at that moment you are free."

For me, it's the fear of dying daily, the fear of being disappointed in that moment my plans are overturned or my wants are thwarted, that I need conquered. So is that where faith comes in...where I don't have the strength to love, but I have to believe that His strength is enough? "Those who trust in Him will never be put to shame..."

In the book, Cassie's mother wrote,

"Cassie struggled like everyone struggle, but she knew what she had to do to let Christ live in her. It's called dying to yourself, and it has to be done daily. It means learning how to break out of the selfish life...it's not a negative thing, but a way of freeing yourself to live more fully...it's not a question of doing great deeds, but of being selfless in the small things..."

As I read Cassie's family and friends' reflections on times they spent together and regrets they had and things they wished they had done differently, I sensed the brevity of life. The people I know and love are so precious, and it hurts me that I often brush them aside because I "don't have time," or because I'm so preoccupied with getting the dishes done just so or with making a certain thing for supper or with my mouth being sore. One of Cassie Bernall's friends wrote:

"When you love a person, their life is a gift to you."

God has given me a lot of gifts. I want to stop and look my gifts in the eyes and truly appreciate who they are. And I want to enter their pain when it's time to do that. I want to enjoy them, imperfect as they may be, remembering that my life is a gift to them, to, imperfect as it is.

Things here on earth are not what they seem. Everything seems so important, so urgent, so necessary. But so much of it isn't. I think we'll be really shocked at how things turn out in the end, how much really falls away, and what really remains. I really want God's eyes to value what is unshakeable.

"Once more I will shake not only the earth, but also the heavens. The words "once more" indicate the removing of what can be shaken- that is, created things- so that what cannot be shaken may remain.

Therefore, since we are recieving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and worship God acceptably with reverance and awe,

for our 'God is a consuming fire'"

Heb. 12:27-29

"Eta My Spoon," and other things

I haven't taken a lot of pictures lately, but here's one from last week of the woods next to the house. I love this spot because it looks so ancient. Like an "elven hall" or something from Lothlorien. The trees are in two straight lines just like Miss Clavell's schoolgirls...I think there must have been a road there at one time. There is even a ring of stumps there that the kids set up to play with, so it looks like the elves have totally been there.

My tummy hurts. I've been sick, and I'm showing improvement, but I just have this insistent urge to moan and groan. I need to go shower, eat something, and wash my germy blankets, but every movement is painful and I don't want to get out of bed. Urgh.

That said, it has been nice not to be able to do much. I've just been catching up on internet for a while. The hours are just passing in a surreal kind of way. After being in bed all day yesterday, I thought I wouldn't be ready to sleep till late last night. But when after I showered and sat in bed to read around eight, I kept nodding off until finally I woke up around midnight with the light still on and my teeth quite unbrushed. And I didn't have any trouble sleeping in a long time this morning. God is gracious to me. He's giving me rest. I wouldn't have asked for it this way, but it's welcome. I don't know how I'll return to normal life. I feel like I'm never going to move again. But I will. I'm sure I will. I kind of miss everyone. They seem to be avoiding me like I had germs or something...

I was just thinking about some of the cute things the kids have been saying. It's really fun to hear them picking up some Russian, even Clark. The boys have these little toy cars they drive around the house, and they've learned that the Russian word for car is "masheena." (More or less) So it shouldn't have been surprising, but it sure was cute when we heard Clark, upset over someone meddling with his toy, yelling, "Don't touch my masheena!"

Then at the supper table one night, he said "Eta my spoon!" "(It's my spoon!)

Living in Ukraine has an effect on the way the kids play, too, not just on how they talk. Around the time the container arrived, we overheard them playing their own madeup game..."Here, Tucker, this is our container. Put your car in it we'll get a stamp for it." Or things to that effect.

How Good He is...

God is so faithful. It's been such an extraordinary day (in a fairly ordinary sense), and although I don't have time to write all about it like I want to, I just have to say that God is so good. His mercy really is completely new every morning. Great is His faithfulness.

It's amazing what He will do when we determine in our hearts to embrace the day He gives us with joy. A simple choice to smile at someone can change everything. I don't mean in a drastic way, but it can change things inside us, where it counts.

I just got back from prayer meeting at Masha's with Cheryl. I borrowed a bike again and met her at the center of town and we rode together. On the way back we stopped at Natasha's from church. Eliosha and Natasha are a young married couple with a baby Noah's age. She invited us into the kitchen for a visit and a drink of kefir. So I got to listen to she and Cheryl talk, mostly in Ukrainian/Russian (mostly not in English). I'm so glad for that, because I could understand a lot of words and it really encouraged me. Since Cheryl is from Canada and Natasha was speaking simply and slowly to accomodate her Ukrainian/Russian, it was a lot easier for me to pick up things. After a week of difficult language obstacles, that was a blessing.

Russian is not an easy language to learn. It seems that half of learning it is trying to just pronounce the words. It's not like Spanish, where the words have more of less the same sounds ours do. We might have a hard time rolling r's sometimes, but at least we don't have to figure out the difference between hard and soft l's and t's and d's and every other letter...there's no more helpless feeling than trying to say a sound and not even knowing when you've said it correctly. It's shooting in the dark. I think there was some progress today, though. So thank the Lord.

I love Him so much. He's faithful to be here when I doubt that I'm really useful to Him, and He carries me through all the emotions that no one else can really deal with for me. He's a Close Friend, a Strong Encourager, a Steady Rock.

Maybe tomorrow I'll have time to tell you about going to the bar...

"You have to stall her somehow..."

Today, just before Svetlana was due to arrive for Russian lessons, I overheard Broderic talking to his mom in the living room:


"Mom, you're going to have to stall her somehow so I can do my homework. Give her chai, sit down and visit with her, something..."


Thats how we all feel to some extent. Russian homework! I shouldn't be blogging at all. Actually, it's not a lot of homework. I think if I knew I could complete the homework and do nothing more, and learn the language that way, it would be fine. It's the fact that I need to practice live speaking that hangs over my head. But then, I asked for it...I love it when I'm actually speaking Russian to a Ukrainian...but right now I don't know how to make (or how to take) those opportunities.

I do have a good chance if I'm willing to take it...I think I am...a week and a half ago, I went into a store downtown to get a card for my phone, and the lady in there started talking eagerly to me in either Ukrainian or Russian, I don't know which. (Did I already blog about this??? oh well) I could understand just a tiny bit of what she said, but she told me that her name was Ira. Ok, so two Ira's...is it a sign??? I should look up the meaning of that name. It makes me think of anger, because I think it means that in Latin...but I hope it means something nicer! Anyhow, she was really happy to talk and I think she was trying to tell me that she wanted to learn English. I'm not quite sure. Anyhow, what I was sure she said at the end was that she wanted us to be friends. And that definitely warmed my heart! So I want to go back and talk to her, and maybe think of an excuse to buy something at her shop. It has a lot of cheap toys and do- dads and perfume.


And there's the other Ira I know of, next door. I haven't seen her since I went to visit (that seems like months ago) but Bronwyn said she met her while I was away last weekend, and Ira said I was welcome to come over. On Sunday I made up my mind to go knock of her door, even though I was feeling really flaky and like I was going to fall to pieces (standard procedure). But as I was walking out the door, Bruce, who was in the schoolroom mixing paint (again :)) said that he'd seen Ira and her mom leave and they weren't back yet. So I quickly retreated and went to bed for a nap. Maybe next Sunday. She's gone all week to university in Kiev, and she says Sunday is the best day for her. Pray for me. I'm scared of her. But it's like Deb tells me, "Perfect love casts out fear."


So now I'm going to conjugate my verbs...it sounds too much like regurgitate, doesn't it?