First Night in a New Old House

As of yesterday, Masha and I have taken up residence in a new house. A new old house. Newer than the old one, but older than a new one. The owners decided they wanted their house back, so they booted us out, and long-story-short, we have a beautiful new house.

I had no idea a week ago that I would be living in a different house today, and I've been sort of going around feeling that I had the breath knocked out of me. But after going through half a bottle of Domestos cleaner, nearly rubbing through a couple of sponges, and scouring the place to bits, our house is looking better.

Yesterday the fire department (oops, Jono in a psychedelic yellow jacket and big red van) and Gaven came and helped cart our stuff away. Then Bruce and Rodgy came and heroically shovelled the rubbish out of the old bathtub outside into a trailer and hauled it to the dump. Rubbish is too tame a word. Rubbish is what my grandma has in her trash can. This stuff was definitely garbage. Garbage with an attitude.

As to the "stuff"- suffice it to say, moving is a good reminded not to buy, obtain, or otherwise find oneself in possession of more worldly goods, unless they are things to eat, which should also be kept to a minimum. I was able to pack up in a little over hour, because I've only been here a few months, and because having a weight limit on luggage is good encouragement not to get too much stuff. But Masha and I were both bemoaning her acquired clutter the night before we moved as she went around the house collecting odds and ends from shelves, cupboards, and corners, and looking for bags to stash them in. I said I would never buy anything again, and she scoffed. Rightly so, I suppose, because just this morning I bought a toilet brush at the market. It's shiny and sort of pink.

So we moved. A few hours later, Masha had swept and arranged the bedroom and lounge room, and I had the kitchen tidied and dishes organized in their cupboards, and was enjoying the luxury of a sink with pipes. There is indoor plumbing that works, and it is great. For some complicated reasons which I won't go into we can't have it running all the time, but we can turn it on when we need it and fill buckets.

We lit up the burners on the gas stove to offer a little heat, because the heating system doesn't work right now (and may not for a while...like, until we don't need it anymore.) When we moved in it was 4 celsius, which I think is about 42 farenheit. We were a little numb. I was washing some things in the kitchen and besides steam rising from the dish tub, there were trails of steam issuing from my hands and mouth. Masha laughed and we decided I was a dragon, minus the fire.

So last night was our first night at the house. By the time I went home from the Crowes' Masha had got the temperature up to 9, which sounded vicious to me until I thought it out in farenheit...50 degrees. Still cold, but we had hope. Bruce and Deb lent us a huge "ufo" heater, and downy duvet I've become fondly acquainted with on previous cold nights.

We plugged in the heater, hoping the electrical system would handle it in our funny little house. The heater has 4 or 5 levels, and we found it was fine on level two. On level two, we could have the fridge plugged in and choose one light. Two lights- POOF. All off. So all evening we played our little game.

"Can I turn on the bedroom light so I can put some things away?"
"Sure, I'll flip the kitchen off."
"Ok. Let's go eat." (she flips bedroom switch, while I hit the kitchen one)
"Um, I need the porch light to get my laundry." (Whole indoors goes temporarily dark.)

After our first meal in the cozy new kitchen, we were both exhausted. I was ready for bed. Masha wanted a shower, so she went down to Tom and Lena's because it was just too cold in our house for that.

We had agreed to spend the night in Masha's bedroom because my room is bigger and we hadn't even started heating it yet. Besides, two is better than one because if two lay down together they can keep warm...a bit of biblical wisdom from Ecclesiastes 4. No need to fight over the downy duvet. So I brought my stuff into her room and got under my mountain of blankets like a polar bear going into hibernation.

It was something like a glorified indoor camping trip. I've camped in temperatures a lot colder than 50, but this was a kind of dank, cold 50. I had bundled myself in a long sleeve, a short sleeve, a fleece jacket (thanks, Brie!) thick velour pants, cotton socks, fleece socks, two blankets, and half the duvet. The heater was full blast (full blast level two, that is) on the bed. We were snug as bugs in rugs. Half way through the night I kicked off half my half of the duvet and shed the fleece, and was quite happy. This morning I was pleased to find that I had survived.

We are doing quite well, I think. What a house. What a friend. What a life. I need to go eat supper now and get to Home Group.

A Great Idea

Over the weekend I spent the night in Kiev with Nadia. (Well, Sunday night, rather.) Sunday was March 8, Women's Day, which is a big holiday in Ukraine. It's kind of like Mother's Day, but bigger, and it's for all the girls. It's awfully nice. In all this dreary Marchness, booths of flowers popped out everywhere over the weekend, sporting carnations, roses, irises, daffodils, jonquils, and my mom's favorite-- hyacinths. The colors were a welcome treat against the muddy bleakness.

I went to the Women's Day celebration at Nadia'a youth group with her, and it was so special. The guys in the youth group decorated the room, set up tables, lit candles, and laid out chocolate, apples, cookies, and drinks. They had taken nice photos of the girls and hung them around the room. They wore funny outfits and sang songs, showed slideshows they had prepared, and acted out blonde jokes that had us all rolling. It was great. I don't even know anyone in the youth group but Nadia and another sweet gal named Sasha, but I still felt very honored and special. It was like Valentines Day, only you didn't have to be "attached" to anybody :)

As a girl, I guess I felt it was special that people would recognize being feminine as a good thing. It's not that girls are better or boys are better...it's that we're different and there are unique and wonderful things about both. Personally, I really enjoy being a girl...but I find that being appreciated for my feminine qualities makes me appreciate guys for their masculine ones all the more.

I think we need to start this holiday in the States. It could replace Valentine's Day. I think about the girls in the youth group from home and how much it would mean to them to be "honored" in a general "attention to all, intention on none" way, with chocolate...

I, at least, went away with a fresh reminder-- "Oh. I'm valuble!" :)

Oh, and just so you know, there's a Men's Day too, in February I think. Somehow we missed that. I suppose guys don't really enjoy flowers and heart shaped candles the way we do :)

Thank God for Masha

Winter Clothes

Under my hood I have a hat
And under that
My hair is flat.
Under my coat
My sweater's blue.
My sweater's red.
I'm wearing two.
My muffler muffles to my chin
And round my neck
And then tucks in.
My gloves were knitted
By my aunts.
I've mittens too
And pants
And pants
And boots
And shoes
With socks inside.
The boots are rubber, red and wide.
And when I walk
I must not fall
Because I can't get up at all.

-Karla Kuskin

This poem by Karla Kuskin describes me to a t. Not a t-shirt, because I don't get to wear those any more. I told Masha that this poem was about me, but she said, "No, it's not about you! You don't wear enough!" She thinks she's my mom. But after all, I do need somebody to help me with all those clothes. Thanks to her I've probably avoided death by strangulation, (Help, helg ggaggaggggg...somebody please, it's got me in its death grip...guguuuggggggg) Yes, she's saved me, but it's only out of the frying pan and into the fire...suffocation being the alternative.

I seem to have a profound talent for getting tangled in my scarf and despositing my gloves in random inconvenient places. And a while back I actually dropped my Bible on the road without realizing it one afternoon on the way home from church. Amazingly, somebody found it and I got it back that evening, which was pretty much a miracle.

On the way out of the yard this evening, Masha stopped me to tuck the hood of my hoodie into my coat with my scarf, which was in front of my coat hood below my hat...see how complicated it is?

I'm very glad to have Masha for a friend. It's nice to live with someone who tucks in my scarf, steers me out of mud puddles, and is a fabulous cook on top of that. My tummy is still happy from those mashed potatoes and fried onions. This girl has converted me into a potato lover. Or is it the sour cream? One way or another, she works her magic.

They are so beautiful, these quiet winter afternoons in the warm kitchen, sharing good food with a good friend. I'm glad to be here.

Who's Next?

Who's next. WHO'S NEXT??? we wonder...Rodge, Bron, and Brent have all come down with some fever/stomach bug in turn, in age order, even, and we're wondering who will be next to fall. My stomach has definitely been strange, but I'm not sick at the moment. I keep coming through these things unscathed and I marvel at my good health so far while here in Ukraine. Thank God for that. I can praise Him when I'm sick, too, but it's obviously nice not to be. (sick).

Deb is so cool. She takes the quirkiest interruptions with the greatest spirit. She might say differently, but I get to see her reactions of consistent grace and joy, and it inspires me. Today people came in the morning to measure the house, and then she needed to go to Khagarlik nearby to get a stamp with Svetlana, and this afternoon there was a "Women's Day" celebration in town that she needed to go to, and of course laundry, laundry, laundry...Go with the flow...

So here I stand at the window, pondering the universe but not knowing at all what to write in the five or so minutes remaining. Yesterday before Bron got sick we curled each other's hair. We got through the whole time without burning or maiming each other (well, Bron burned herself, but it wasn't severe). So that was good. We looked so alike when we were done! It was really funny. It helped that we were both wearing gray shirts, I suppose. I felt a little like Shirley Temple. It's been eons since I curled my hair. It was so relaxing, despite the proximity of the scorching hot curling iron to my head, that I almost dozed off. Ahhh. Therapy.

Good, Hearty Fun

Today Bronwyn and I used our heart model to explain a little of the circulatory system to the rest of the kids (Jesse, Broderick, Marie, Angel, Brent, Tucker, and Ellie and Clark, who were too little to get much). It went surprisingly well. Bronwyn modeled the consturction paper heart and tracing paper lungs, and we tried taking pulses, and then went outside to play the "game."

This morning I found out the word for "spray paint" from Masha-- "kraska v balonchikye" (a mouthful, hey?) and like the Old Sailor from Milne's poem, "murmured and murmured until it was firmer" until I could say it half way decently. Then I went to a hardware store called "Favorit" to ask for some. I got a can of blue and one of pink, and then, in the Gollan's back yard, sprayed a huge heart in the snow and made a kind of obstacle course of arteries, veins, lungs, and some body parts.

I mentioned how wierd it probably looked to be running around in the backyard painting body parts in the snow, and we figured the neighbors would chalk it up to some freakish religious ritual those foreigners are doing in their cult school over there..."Look at those foreigners indoctrinating their chilren," Priscilla said with a laugh. They are already puzzled enough. No, I'd say, we're homeschoolers, that's all :D In the states that would explain everything!

The kids seemed to enjoy their science lesson despite the oddities, and the grossly disporportionate body. They were red blood cells and snowballs were oxygen, and they had to make deliveries very fast to keep the body alive. After a short time, the paint lines got all blurred and messed up, and the kids were kind of hopping from heart to lung and all over the place, and finally they all collapsed in a heap and "died."

Then we all retreated indoors for hot chocolate and borshch. At least ten times, Clark exclaimed, "The blood is running out, Cass, the blood is running out!"

I took some pictures, but for some reason they won't come up on my computer, so I'll leave it at that for now.

Things I Have Noticed Lately

1. Three gray/white hairs attached to MY HEAD within the past three weeks. I promptly removed them.

2. The Russian verbs "to write" and "to pee" are far too similar for my my comfort.

3. It was clever of them, (whoever they are) to make toothbrushes stick up at the end so that the part you stick in your mouth doesn't have to touch the various surfaces you set it down on.

4. Petrol went up 25 kopeks at the station at the bottom of our hill.

5. I am happy.


Aside from that...Bron and I just finished making a model heart with lungs and major arteries and veins. It turned out quite well, because she's an artist and she colored it with skillful detail. I spent the morning trying to wrap my brain around the circulatory system. The scary thing about teaching kids is that you actually have to know stuff. I feel so dumb. I remember studying things, but when it comes down to it, I don't actually know much.

Deb was trying to find some activities the kids could do with the Gollan kids since they all homeschool. So tomorrow we're going to play this game (after studying the heart diagram a bit) where the kids are blood cells and they have to travel throught the heart to the lungs, back to the heart and through the body to deposit oxygen...we're going to try spray painting a heart and arteries, etc. in the snow and having them run around out there. Should be interesting.

I learned a whole lot...it's exciting to feel like I actually understand something for the first time. I'm not sure how well I can articulate it to the kids, but I think they'll get something out of it. We'll measure our pulses and have a great time.

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.