My only regret about the conference is that I wasted so much of last week fretting about going :) I was just so uncertain about what to expect and dreaded the mental strain of meeting so many new people and trying to adjust to yet another place...
These are some of the gals from Rzhishchiv. I see them once or twice a week, at church or hanging out at the Gollan's. From left to right: Sveta, Tanya, Lena, and Larisa. They're great. They've really been kind to me. Friday was Tanya's birthday, so she had cake in her room for us. It was right next to the one I was in with Cheryl, her friend Nagdala (I hope I didn't butcher the spelling of her name...I liked it so much), and three Ukrainian girls I hadn't met before.
I don't think I've ever had so many cookies and chocolates on any given weekend in my life. I guess when you're cold you have to keep going somehow. I liked the food there, but it seems like I can always eat more. With all the bread and cookies I feel like I'm turning into the Pillsbury Dough Girl. Just storing up for winter, right?
The next one is me with a new friend, Oksana. (I'm not sure how her name is spelled, in Russian or in English)
She is just the sweetest lady ever. I don't know what other word suits her better. She gave me so many hugs, and Lord knows I needed them. She even called me Cassichka...("ichka" being a suffix of endearment, as I understand it.) And her "little sister." She's actually from Moldova, (which borders Ukraine).
When I look at some people, I automatically think he or she probably speaks English. I don't know how I come up with that assumption, but it happens. Well, I thought she spoke English, but she didn't. At least, she spoke about as much English (or a little more than) as I spoke Russian. But we both really wanted to talk to each other, so we ended up getting people to translate for us at different times. After that, I wondered if she spoke Moldovan (or if there was even such a language?). I just figured that, living in Moldova, Modolvan would be her mother tongue. But I got another surprise. She shook her head and said she doesn't really even speak Moldovan...that she grew up speaking Russian because of the Soviet Union, and that Modolvan, which is really just a dialect of Romanian anyway, has been considered sort of a hillbilly language, I guess. I will never stop getting surprised. I have so much to learn, and it both excites me and frustrates me.
There was a talent show at the end of last night's session where people danced and sang and told jokes...it was wonderful! Everyone was clapping, singing along, roaring with laughter...poking playful fun at the groups from different churches. They were all having a great time, and I was enjoying it too, but I felt frustrated that I couldn't understand the things that everyone thought so hilarious, even with some kind translation. I have mountains and valleys and rivers and deserts and fjords and oceans and lakes and steppes and plains and prairies and tundras and jungles and artic wastes to cross before I will be able to be "normal" in this language. And it doesn't seem like I'll be able to get very far while I'm here. But I'll keep trying.
Even in the middle of the frustration, it dawned on me that it's such a huge privilege just being here, even just listening to people rattle on in a different language. I've always wanted this, and here I am. So what can I really say but thank you to the Lord?? It's pretty amazing. We had a song in Kyrgyz, and even a song in Maori, (sung by a Ukrainian girl with a gorgeous voice, who was taught it by New Zealanders...) I love diversity. Love it love it love it. It's so confusing, overwhelming, humbling...but, in the end...beautiful.
God was so kind to lift my head during the conference. It really was so restful. Minutes before I left, I was standing on the stairs practically wringing my hands (probably twisting my hair) trying to explain to Bruce and Deb why I was so upset. Bruce was trying to get to the root of my ungrounded fears, but it wasn't working. So 2 o'clock came and I just packed up and left.
But as soon as I was in the van, I felt at peace. During the worship times especially I could just refocus my heart of God and repent of the pride and anxiety and fear that has been weighing me down. I didn't want to leave the Crowe's house, because I thought that I couldn't handle another place right now, and I really do like being with them :) but I had no idea how much the change of scene helped.
God spoke to me so many times in little ways through His word and things people said. It's so sweet that even though we can't always understand the language people around us are speaking, God understands, and He makes sure He gets across what He wants to say to us :) I had been meditating on Ps. 23 Saturday morning, and then in the worship service we sang a Russian (or Ukrainian, not sure which) song that was almost literally the 23rd Psalm.
The most special thing was from the book of Ruth in the Bible. Months ago that story was on my heart, and God used it to confirm the I should indeed go to Ukraine at a time when I was wondering if I should really be in college instead. There is one part where Boaz tells Ruth "Stay in this harvest field and do not go from here..." Boaz goes on to care for Ruth, provide work, companions, protection, and satisfying food for her. And he redeems her. I know that story points to Christ as our Redeemer, and I see it as God's promise that He is full of compassion and He will do for me what Boaz did fo rRuth.
I hadn't been thinking much about Ruth lately, but I had a few concerns about the future. And then, while I was having a conversation with Sveta late Friday night on her bunk, she suddenly said, in her gentle way, "Cassie, I saw you holding Noah one day and I thought that you are like Ruth in the Bible." It hit me out of the blue, and those verses came flooding back. And then, what do you think...the speaker talked about the story of Ruth the following night in his session. That's the first time in a long time I've heard anyone preach about the story of Ruth.
The story is very close to my heart, because Ruth was a young woman in a foreign land, and she was in a very low position, but God lifted her up, honored her, and blessed her. It wasn't easy for her to adjust either, I'm sure. I'm sure she felt weak, lost, and lonely pretty often.
I often get frustrated because I feel like a huge bundle of weaknesses. I guess I'm still dealing with the idea that just because you move to a foreign country with noble intent to fulfill the great comission does NOT mean that God suddenly zaps you with super spirituality and takes away the weaknesses and sins you struggled with before. No, no, quite the contrary. Trying to reroot in another country aggravates and magnifies your uglinesses until you feel like one huge spiritual zit that you wish someone would please for heaven's sake pop! At least that's the case for me, and when I confessed these things to Cheryl last night, she agreed.
I still have the mentality that "I'm coming to help" and in my mind there is a line...above the line, I'm helping and being an asset to those around me. Below the line, my messy emotions and sins are a burden and hindrance to those around me. So when I feel myself sinking below the line, I start thinking I should have dealt with those things at home...I'd better hurry and get over it so that I can, you know, be worth while. And I've been in the red quite a lot lately, if you look at it with those eyes.
I'm so glad God doesn't see it with those eyes. And I'm so thankful that I'm surrounded by people here who don't see it with those eyes either. Cheryl just spoke truth to me about God's grace, and how my line idea (I didn't explain it in those words then) was a "big bungy lie." I guess I knew that, but those lies are ravening wolves that lurk and pounce at every turn, and sometimes I need help fighting them off.
It's such a beautiful thing that Jesus shines through our weaknesses while we are working them out together as the Body of Christ. I've already seen this in Sveta as she's shared her weaknesses with me, and it has given me strength. I want to learn not to run and hide and try to fight it out myself. Pride is so ugly.
I told Cheryl that I keep thinking I'm going to be a finished work at some point and she said, "You will...but not in this life!" If I were perfect, there would be no connecting point with humanity. And I wouldn't need God. I'd just be floating off somewhere in space...
So yeah, there's so much more. So much chocolate. So many cookies. So many little cups of chai and kava...So much trying to figure out who is from what country and from what city in Ukraine. I got a compliment...several people thought I was Ukrainian (before they heard me speak, that is) and one Urkainian lady said, "I can always tell when I see people walking by if they are American or not, but I was wrong about you." She said she was confused because she saw my name in the registration papers and knew it wasn't a Ukrainian name, but when she saw me she thought I was Urkainian. Haha :)
Oh, and when I told one guy I was from Texas, he asked, "Where's your Texan accent?" I wonder if my speech has changed any since I've left home..? I know I must be doing better, because when I first got here, these comments made me feel like I was going crazy, like I was a displaced person...but now I think it's heaps of fun ;)
Last note: John Piper and Charles Spurgeon books in Russian...
And we've been singing all these worship songs from Passion, like God of this City and Hosanna...it cheers me up to hear Chris Tomlin music on sometimes.