Friendly Americans

Paul and I went to Rehoboth Beach on Wednesday. While he was scoping out parking for less than $1.50 per hour, I guarded the meter where we parked. A white-haired, grandfatherly man with a beard approached as I was straining to read the directions on the meter (and yes, this sounds very elementary, my dear, but these are a new-fangled kind--to us, anyway) where one meter feeds several spaces at the push of a corresponding button. But the sun's glare was creating a reading problem for both him and me, and we struck up a little conversation. I asked where he was from and he said, "Canada." I asked if it was his first time here, and he said, "No. I liked it so well, this is my fourth trip down here in a year. I actually prefer America. People here are so much friendlier."

I told him my theory about that ."The farther south you go, the friendlier people are. I think it has to do with the temperatures--cold weather, cold people . Warm weather, warm people. Up north they're too busy hugging themselves to keep warm to wave hello."

He said, "You know, I never thought about it that way, but I think you're right. Where are you from?"

"Maryland," I said. "And I can tell you we're friendlier than Pennsylvanians, but I absolutely love Georgians!"


I didn't think about our easy-going society much again until being around more foreigners this week. Yesterday, I was sitting on a beach chair next to Val, one of our friends from Far East Russia. Her English is pretty good, but sometimes I am not sure if I'm making sense with my questions, so I rephrase them in ways a Russian could more easily understand them. ( I hope.) The answers never cease to amaze me.

"So, Val, let me ask you what you've been reading, studying, or what God's been teaching you lately."

"Hmm? What?"

"Have you learned something the past few weeks or days or months from God?"

"Ah, yes, okay, I understand. Yes . Since being here, in Amereeka, I see how much your nation smiles. Ze people, zay seem so...friendly . EVerybotty--man, woman, keeds--zay smile. Zat ees sumsing I vant to take back to my country. In Russia, people are so like zees [she frowns and crosses her arms]--so serious. I sink zat God vants me to smile more, too."

"Oh, wow. You mean you don't smile much in Russia yourself?"

"No, not enough, my deeah. But why not? In Yeshua vee have such joy. Should vee keep it to ourselfs? No, vee should not! God vants us to smile! Zat ess vat he has been showing me."

Anticipation

"Something's coming
I don't know
What it is
But it is
Gonna be great."

These words from the hit musical "West Side Story" are ringing in my head. Last night a couple of sisters in Christ asked how they could be praying for me. I mentioned a couple of specific needs right off the cuff, but then told them of a vague and blurry vision of something I am being called to in the sense of mercy ministry. I can't put my finger on it. You can probably identify: when God has given you a gift that isn't being tapped, and then he taps you, but doesn't clarify it right away, you wait. You wait with eagerness and joy and a bit of fear and apprehension that life is suddenly going to be different. Scary at first, but better in the long run.

Maybe you're old enough to remember the commercial for very thick Heinz ketchup where the person holding the bottle over their burger or fries is waiting, and the little jingle goes, "Anticipation is making me wait." And then the plop of ketchup is worth the seeming eternity it took to reach the bun.

I feel like I'm holding the bottle of ketchup but the contents are invisible.
Anticipation is making me wait.

Perhaps this stirring comes from reminiscing on my missions trip to Russia in 2007 with Sarah. It was June, like now, when my heart swelled with compassion for orphans, and for those oppressed by spiritual blindness and bad theology,
and with anger that the Church and I were not actively keeping abreast of the poor and suffering. I lament that I have fits and spurts of caring; my heart does not beat steadily as Christ's does. There is a "hole in my gospel" as I read recently in the World Vision newsletter.

Sometimes I just want to give everything away and live by faith alone.
Other times I love the affluence of American culture.
Sometimes I weep over the memories I have from visiting Russian orphanages. Or from visiting preteens there in "social rehab centers," as they're called.
Other times I pay no mind to the oppressed people in my own neighborhood because I don't care enough to pray for them.

I am praying that God would make it clear what I am supposed to be doing with this anticipation, this stirring of the mercy gift He has put in me.

Something's coming,
I don't know
what it is,
But it is
Gonna be great.

Remember?

Our new 41-family co-op started last Thursday, and I got not just one, but two special treats that day. They both were complete surprises, as if God was saying " I remember. How about you?"

The first treat came in the form of a little seven year-old boy named Wayne. Wayne had blond hair and clear blue eyes. His twin brother had slightly darker hair and eyes. I was told they were twins adopted from Russia. Immediately I tuned out the teacher (sorry, Marie) and the students (sorry, kids) and let my mind wander back to Vladimir. It was as if I was back in an orphanage and all was right with my world. Right until I was told the boys would only be in my class that one day because public schools had off for Rosh Hashana and they were just visiting.

Wayne plopped down right in front of me. He was fidgety, restless, chatty, playing with markers. A couple of times I leaned forward and whispered to him to try to sit still and listen to Miss Marie. The next time I patted his leg and he patted my hand and continued. The third time, he tapped markers and I drew circles on his back with my hand. He calmed down. I removed my hand and he leaned back on the slippery two back legs of his little chair. I tipped him forward, took his hand and whispered, "I'm afraid you'll fall back, honey. Please put your chair down on all fours." Well, he obeyed right away, but hung on to my hand. He studied it, turned it over, drew on it his with his thumb, and smiled up at me.

I smiled back. I just held his hand until Miss Marie passed out papers. Then let go. Wayne took a piece of paper, passed the rest on, and then turned around and motioned to me to hold hands again. It was the most special feeling in the world. He must still be craving a mother's touch, I thought. I wondered how long he had lived without one until he was adopted. It was if God was saying, "Remember?"

For this moment in time, I was not an art teacher's helper; I was a Russian boy's momma for an hour. I didn't want the class to end.

The second treat also came that day. It was a note I had written to myself before leaving Russia. "I would like each of you to write a note to yourself," our GAiN missionary team leader had said the last night we were in Russia. "Remind yourself what you learned here. You think you'll remember always, but you won't. In a couple months, I'll mail these to you. You will have forgotten about this note and some of the things you learned here already."

I doubted his words because I was so full. Spiritually, emotionally, mentally full. But he was right. I'll write the contents of that note tomorrow. The things God reminded me of are worth a post of their own.

Lyuda's Quilts

One afternoon in Vladimir we visited what I will remember as the saddest place of all. I think it was known as a "social rehab center," a safe place for kids from abusive situations. Some parents have signed off their parental rights, thus leaving their children orphans of the state. This facility, in essence, is an orphanage for older kids.

In this place all the kids acted dutifully. Each one handed us a doll, each one said "puhzhalsta" ("you're welcome") when we said, "spaceeba." But there was a joylessness I don't know I'll ever shake from my memory. The only bright spot I saw was when Jaye accidentally messed up her magic trick. The trick was to pour water into a Styrofoam cup, talk a little to the audience (while the invisible powder gelled in the cup, unbeknown st to the audience) and then have the other volunteer turn the cup over on the person's head. Well, Jaye had not put enough magic powder in the cup, so it didn't gel. Lo and behold, the brave volunteer on the chair got her hair and face and clothes doused with the equivalent of Alka Seltzer.

Glory to God the trick didn't work, because it added laughter that may seldom be heard in that place.

After our group interactions, we were invited to the gift shop to purchase items made by the kids. What a feast for the eyes! Quilts and wall hangings, dolls and Christmas ornaments, hot pad holders and coasters, all made of fabric by some very talented girls. The most impressive to me were all done by a girl named Lyuda. Some were not for sale. The director called them"memory quilts"--for when Lyuda is no longer in the facility, they want to remember her by the quilts she made.

The first quilt I had to have was Sunflowers. I knew immediately it would be for my friend Barb in Kansas. (The KS state flower is the sunflower, which is like a gigantic form of the MD state flower, the black-eyed Susan.) The second quilt that actually was for sale (I had to pass up many that were in the "memory quilt" category!) was a patchwork quilt in red, blue, and green. Just the colors I decorate my family room with. Perfect. Easy-going pattern, good size for curling up under, not too heavy. It is a constant reminder to pray for Lyuda and those like her.


Why so sad? Olya told me later. "Lyuda just found out her best friend is being adopted. Her friend is sad. She doesn't want to be separated from Lyuda. They're like sisters." (In the group picture, Lyuda is holding the eggs. Her best friend is on the far left.)

It struck me hard that day: Adoption isn't always a welcomed thing. If the only half-decent life you've known is in an institution with someone who is as close as a sister can be, then of course you don't want to be adopted without her.
I fought back tears thinking of these haunting faces. The older they get, the sadder they are. They have been unwanted longer. They have been rejected by parents for more years than their younger "siblings." They can process why they are where they are.

God, help us all. Don't let me forget Lyuda and the millions like her. Be to her like a comforting quilt today.

Meet the Dolls

I'm weak and tired from my procedure, but it couldn't have gone any better. Had total peace, no sadness that I was anticipating, and even a nurse that went to my old high school with me. More on the experience later. Thanks so much for the prayers. They were answered in detail,I'm sure of it.

Briana won a doll and I'm so so excited for her.

I have the privilege of introducing these sweet gals who would dearly love to be adopted. (Click to enlarge the photo if you want.)

Starting on the upper left box, we have a smart and friendly girl named Ira. As you can tell, she thrives on attention, wearing bright orange every day. She loves to talk, though she only speaks a few words of English. She only talks when you're not listening. Olya loves to go for walks and rides, enjoys hanging out in the kitchen, and her favorite subject is geography. She loves to worship and hopes to be part of spreading God's love to children.

Next to her is red-headed Lena. She loves music, dance, the arts, and is a hoping to be an Olympic figure skater. A picky eater, you may have to work with her to expand her palette.
She speaks Russian fluently, of course, and often interprets for friends and family. She is very disciplined, hard-working,and studious. She can't stand mess, but loves to build things. Her favorite verse is, "My God shall supply all your needs according to His riches in Christ Jesus."

The smiling blonde on the lower left is Ina. Very gentle, ladylike, and artistic, she is quick-witted and gracious. She would rather listen than talk. Her aspiration is to be a pastor's wife someday, the mother of many children, and a volunteer orphanage care giver. She knows how to connect with people of all ages, especially hormonal middle-aged women. Her favorite verse is Micah 5:8.

Last but not least is Olya. She is somewhat of a tomboy, refusing to close her knees even in front of a camera. She says, "I am who I am, " as if saying so entitles her an exemption from sanctification. I have reminded her that only God is the great "I AM" who cannot change and will not change, but will do all in His power to change us to be like Son. She needs a patient mom who understands her spirit but won't crush it . Ideally would get along great with brothers because she LOVES to get dirty, has a high pain tolerance, and often burps at the table. Much in need of refined manners, Olya has tremendous potential. Under her Huck Finn exterior is a sweet girl who cries when she sees animals suffer, including our own golden retriever when trying to escape Cowboy Joel.

So there you are, Bri! Take your pick. I'll be happy to bring any or all of these girl on Sunday so you can hold them and be sure of a good match. We can draw up adoption papers in a few weeks, after my root canal. Maybe Pebbles Englehart will offer her services pro bono?

For my Contest is Easy, My Answers are Lite

Okay, I think I've made this contest super-easy. Only a minimum of review or memory needed. I have even told you where to look for most answers, so it's pretty much an open-blog quiz!

The only requirements for entering the contest are:
1) you supported our missions trip with prayer, money or both

2) you want to adopt a doll made by an orphan so you'll pray for them

Fair enough? Here we go!

1. At what US airport did all the GAiN member meet before flying to Moscow?
(See "The Journey Begins: Day 1)
-Dulles
-JFK
-LAX
-O'Hare

2.. Where did Stanislav, the 70-year old lunch host, hear of and receive salvation?
(See "Finest Hospitality in Russia")
-at a Jesuit college
-at a Jehovah's Witness picnic
-at a Jesus Film
-in a cab with a Messianic Jew

3. Besides receiving generous donations from evangelistic supporters, I sold many things to raise money for the trip. Which one of the following was NOT something I sold? (See posts from April 5 and 9.)
-hot dogs at a yard sale
-hefty amounts of stuff on Ebay
-homeschool books online
-handmade wreaths

4. A single young mom named Tanya gave me a darling cross-stitched piece that features a domestic animal. I named the animal after her baby, Max. What is this animal?
- a koala
- a kangaroo
- a kite-winged bat
- a kitten

5. Which scripture tells us that true religion is to visit widows and orphans in their distress? (See New Testament)
- James 1:27
- Luke 5:25
- Deut 18:9
- Ezek. 14:13

6. What were the names of our male leaders in Vladimir who work for Mercy Ministries? ("See Suzdal Orphanage")
-Andrei and Oleg
-Oleg and Cassini
-Sergei and Andrew
- Olya and Ira

7. Which one of the following ways did we NOT entertain the kids?
-face painting
-magic show
-balloon animals
-Six Flags Moscow

8. Which necessity is least stocked at the Baby House?
-diapers
-toys
-medicine
-clothing

9. Sarah clung most tightly to which individual in a Vladimir orphanage?
- Dima, the 29-year-old male interpreter
- Me, her dear and doting mother
- A redheaded Russian baby
- Sacha, our missions partner and small group leader

10. This pair of food was served us at every lunch and dinner in Russia:
- chocolate and cheese
- tomatoes and cucumbers
- borscht and bread
- green eggs and ham

Contest closes when first person gets all 10 questions right, or this coming Sunday at 5PM EST, whichever comes first.

I have taken pictures of the dolls, whom I named after four of our precious Russian friends: Olya,Ira, Ina, and Lena.
I'll introduce them soon so that you can get to know them and choose which one would be the perfect match for you and your family to adopt. Right now they are sleeping so I can't ask them questions. Ira doesn't speak English, but she really wants a mommy, daddy, and at least one sibling to play with. She is not allergic to anything, even pets.

Happy guessing and "spaceeba" for playing along!

Contest Closes without a Single Entry

I don't know the reasons, but no one played along in this contest to guess ...

Which TWO things did I NOT WITNESS?

1. a stray dog waiting on the dock of a riverboat cruise. Yes. I saw the same one Sacha photographed while waiting for our panoramic riverboat tour of Moscow's famous landmarks. Earlier in the week, one of our teens, Megan, couldn't think of the word "stray" when she asked about all the stray dogs. She asked Andrew, "So, do you guys have a lot of spare dogs over here?" After a good round of laughs, we all started pointing out spare dogs to each other.

2. identical twin baby girls sharing a crib

3. a motorcycle accident --Right across the street from our hotel, while we were waiting for the bus one evening, a motorcycle rear-ended a taxi. The guy flipped over the handles, rolled on the street in a perfect ball for 20 yards, then stood up! Walked back and apologized (it appeared) for not seeing the cab! A police car rode by, slowed down, and kept going. Most citizens handle their own problems. Rarely will a policeman get involved.

4. an elderly peasant carrying hay on her back --in rural Vladimir, but I wasn't quick enough w/ my camera. ARGh!

5. a bride and groom in Red Square--- A Chinese couple in tux and gown strolled right past us as they began their honeymoon in Moscow.

6. a drunk guy falling and injuring his leg

7. a Russian student driver car . No sooner had Sarah finished asking Sergei about driver's ed in Russia, a Student Driver car pulled in front of our bus at a redlight. Bizarre timing!

8. a missionary who reminded me of one of my sons . That would be Andrew reminding me of Stephen.

9. an orphan spitting a leaf out of her mouth --Galya at the Suzdal orphanage chomped on a leaf, spit it out after I demonstrated. She thought it was so funny, she pointed up to the tree for another leaf. I had to say, "Nyet! Yucky! Nyet!"

10. a Ricky Ricardo look-alike in church-- the pastor of Emmanuel Church, the day we assembled care packages.



The answer? 2 and 6.

I didn't see any twins at all.

Sarah was out one evening with the younger team members, and on their way back to the hotel, a drunk guy fell and hurt his leg pretty badly. All the girls insisted on calling an ambulance. Dima, their male interpreter, told them it wasn't a good idea. Well, the girls won, the ambo came, the drunk guy refused help, and that was that.

Please give me feedback. Was this too hard? Too time consuming? I can make an easier contest if you want to try again! I really would like to award a happy little rag doll to someone!

Finest Hospitality in Russia

LUBA and STANISLAV are their names. (Thank you, Andrew.) I thought I'd remember his name for sure because he reminds me of Santa Claus with rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes.













































Clockwise from back:
Lena--on staff with Crusade, native Russian, former figure skater.
Olya--started Baby Rescue with Mercy Ministries (visited Tanya and Max with us) .
Sacha --didn't share my passion for the mushroom soup . "It's the texture..."
Sarah--made a video of this mealtime. (Will you please post it, honey?)

Click to enlarge any picture. I love the detail on the shortbread cookies!









Counterclockwise:
Olya
Lena
Natalie--very experienced with special needs people .
Kristin--received salvation this past fall !
Jaye's hand holding goblet of compote next to me.

I wish the pictures were better. I tried to shoot inconspicuously and so I didn't fiddle much with backlighting. I should have, but I felt self-conscious. Sarah hates when I play tourist everywhere with my index finger.





One of my favorite memories is that of having lunch with this couple in Vladimir. Our team was split one day into two groups who were hosted for lunch in the homes of Russian believers.

When the 10 of us walked into their flat, they greeted us very warmly and ushered us straight into the dining room. A beautifully set table awaited us. Gorgeous floral-rimmed salad plates,
celery-green-edged dinner plates, cloth napkins, and clear glasses filled with berry compote hinted at a fine meal to be served. (In the second picture, the Mrs. is showing us a large jar of the berries she grew and picked herself. They're the size of blueberries and as sweet as cherries.) The man and his wife, along with a family friend, kept bringing us one course after another. Tomato and cucumber salad (a staple at a Russian table), petite potatoes in garlic butter with fresh dill, mushroom-onion soup, sausage with noodles, boiled eggs, juicy oranges. Best thing about it? They grew nearly everything themselves.



And then came dessert. Multiple desserts. A tray of assorted cookies, fruit breads, and chocolate. The chocolate in Russia is hands-down unbeatable compared to anything in ourcountry. Sorry, Ghirardelli lovers. Take my word for it or try Russian chocolate yourself. (I'm not giving it up for any contest, either, but treating myself to it morsel by morsel over many weeks!) Mmm, mmm, mmm.


After the meal, they served us "caffe and chai," of course.

Then the fondest memory of the day: they took out a hymn book and began to sing in glorious two-part harmony. The smiles on their faces as they praised the Lord spoke volumes of their loved for Him. Soon they invited us to sing "Amazing Grace" in English while they sang it in Russian. It started out being solemn, then sweet, then almost funny as we sang WAY more verses than the song actually has. We mostly kept repeating our English ones as they didn't seem to want to end it. Next they wanted to hear us sing a song by ourselves in English, so Jaye led us in "Lord, We Lift Your Name on High."


I asked the man (70 years old as you can see by his recent birthday card) if he'd tell us how he and his wife found salvation in Christ. He said it was about 1994 (if I'm remembering right) soon after the former Soviet Union opened up, his grown children had been studying different religions because of their unhappiness with Russian Orthodox. Among their studies, they went to see The Jesus Film put out by Campus Crusade. The movie was being shown several nights in a row. The children couldn't get enough of it. Their lives were changed by it. He could see their joy, and he had great respect for his children's interests and their search for meaningful religion. So when they invited him to see the movie, and he saw it. Not once but three or four times. He was convicted of his sin, he repented, he put his faith in Jesus, and his wife followed suit. They've never looked back!

"I'm glad you'll be in heaven with us, "Jaye said, "because if I don't get to come back here, at least you can cook for me again someday!"

He chuckled and said, "I hate to make you jealous, but I think I'll get there before you!" He pointed once again to the birthday card.

"Well, I am jealous," she said, "but I have a lot to look forward to!"

"We all do," he said, in his cheerful way, eyes dancing, cheeks glowing.

"Boh bloggis la veet vas," he and wife kept saying as we left.

"God bless you, too," we said, and left with full tummies and pleased spirits.

Eyewitness Contest: Russian Version

Okay, friends, as promised, I have devised a new and exciting contest regarding my Russia trip.

Here's how it works:
I will list 10 things. Only 8 of them I personally witnessed. Two I did not. If you have read all my posts, you have an advantage. Some things I witnessed but haven't yet blogged about. Thus you have elements of guess and elements of study and review to help you get the answers right. (The gamer in me likes a little random fun.The teacher in me can't help make a quiz once in while. )

The object is to pick the TWO things I did not witness on my trip. Someone else may have (like Sacha or Sarah, but they are disqualified from entering the contest. Sorry, girls.) You may, however, read their blogs because we witnessed some of the same things!

Today is Thursday, and it's 3:08 pm. I will keep this contest open until Sunday night at 7pm EST.

The first person to guess which TWO things I didn't witness WINS A DOLL. (Sorry, I still haven't taken a picture of these delightful whimsies.)

My apologies ahead of time to my international readers. I won't be able to afford to mail you a doll, but you may enter for the fun of it if you wish!

Here goes:

Which TWO things did I NOT WITNESS?

1. a stray dog waiting on the dock of a riverboat cruise
2. identical twin baby girls sharing a crib
3. a motorcycle accident
4. an elderly peasant carrying hay on her back
5. a bride and groom in Red Square
6. a drunk guy falling and injuring his leg
7. a Russian student driver car
8. a missionary who reminded me of one of my sons
9. an orphan spitting a leaf out of her mouth
10. a Ricky Ricardo look-alike in church

No Guesses and No Winners

I don't know what happened. Did everyone go on a blog fast at the same time, head out of town, or what? Maybe just no one wants a Russian Doll, I don't know.

Anyway, I closed the contest at 10 a.m.

Here is the answer. The order of Tanya's favorite gifts:

1) Manicure Set. You should have seen her face light up. "Spaceeba! I really needed this!"

2) Peanut Butter. "I love this. It's a treat. I really like it with jam on crackers."

3) Quilt. She caressed it like a treasure. "Ah, this is really nice."

4) Soap. "It smells so good. Spaceeba."

Contest for Handmade Doll

In my post below ("Tanya and Max") I told about how I gave Tanya a pile of gifts and she was grateful for each. However, four of them seemed most appreciated. The winner is the one who can put them order of delight according to her reaction. My original incentive was a yellow smiley faced icon.

But I am going to up the ante. While at one of the orphanages (which I will blog about tomorrow) I bought three handmade rag dolls. The kids gave one to each missionary, but there were more for sale in the gift shop. Proceeds from the gift shop support the orphanage. I'll try to take and post pictures of these little dolls soon. They are really cute. Each one is dressed in a different fabric and has a different wild hairdo made of yarn. They're about six inches tall. THey'd make a cute shelf decoration, little girl's toy, or Christmas tree ornament if you tied a bit of yarn around the waist. A way to remember to pray for orphans the world over. =(James 1:27)

I will award one of these dolls to anyone who:
1) prayed for and/or financially supported my mission trip AND
2) GETS THE ORDER RIGHT.

The contest is now open. It will close at 10 a.m. Thursday.

Here are the four gifts to put in order of favorites (1 being most favorite!)

handmade American quilt
Bath & Body Works Soap
manicure set
peanut butter

Tanya and Max

Seventeen.

Single.

Unemployed.

Pregnant.



Tanya was scared. Her abusive boyfriend gave her money for an abortion. She took it, considered the options and went to the abortion clinic.



Thankfully Mercy Ministries was there. A young lady named Olya (one of our interpreters) goes there regularly to talk with clients and to offer them hope in what seems a hopeless situation. Olya goes often with Ira (whom I pictured earlier with her daughter's "American ponytail"). Together they formed the Baby Rescue team of Mercy Ministries.



They told Tanya the truth about abortion. They also told her about the Truth, Jesus Christ Himself. Something the Holy Spirit did in Tanya's heart upon her first encounter with Truth led to more discussions, and eventually to a friendship between Olya and Tanya.




On a weekday afternoon our team was split into pairs for home visits. We were told the various situations: elderly, mom with a few kids, single mom with a new baby. Sarah wanted to see one of the babies from the Mercy Ministries Baby Rescue. (Surprise, surprise.)

So we went, Olya, Sarah, and me. We rode the bus from the hotel to the edge of the city, then walked (and walked...and walked )to a set of high-rise, low-income flats. I forget how many flights we had to walk up (3? 5? 7?) , but on the hottest day of our trip, we trudged up an airless, endless blue concrete stairwell that smelled of mold, booze, and b.o. (You can see our cheeks are flushed, at that was after a rest and some homemade plum juice.)



We introduced ourselves and she asked,"How many children do you have?"



"'Four," I said,


"OH! You are RICH!" (She put into words the facial expression other Russians had given us. Over there, because of finances and living conditions, most family have no more than two children. Those with three or more are usually "well off" or Christian.)




If I had to guess, the flat measured 12x12 feet. In it was a futon sofa for Tanya, a crib for Max, a twin bed for Tanya's mother, a small fridge, and a serving/storage area for dry goods. They share a full kitchen and bath with the neighbor.

No air conditioning, maybe a fan (but I don't recall it being on).



She told Olya that within the past week her so-called friend, a girl upstairs whom she'd known for 2 years, came in and stole all Tanya's clothes and some other stuff. The friend abandoned her own baby, leaving him with her own mom and boyfriend.

Tanya's boyfriend had nearly strangled her to death and she had thrown him out. (But as we soon learned, police don't do much about lawbreakers over there.)



One thing she told us was that, sometime prior, Max had gotten wedged between the sofa and the wall. Tanya couldn't get him out with her hands, so she moved the sofa and couldn't catch him in time. He fell and hit his head on the floor. She called the ambulance, they said he was fine, no concussion. Did she do the right thing? Had I ever experienced something similar? She wanted advice and assurance. I told her no mom can do everything right. Accidents happen. Sometime the best things we do still hurt. She did the best she could and it was good to call the paramedics for a head injury.

Put on the spot for a similar situation, I prayed God to give me a story to comfort her. Immediately He reminded me of when Stephen was two months old. I had had a house full of company, noise, confusion, attention being paid to the baby all the time so I hadn't really been fully alert to him.



But when everyone left, Stephen and I were alone. He wouldn't nurse. He wouldn't focus on my eyes. His neck seemed stiff. I feared meningitis, so I took him to the hospital even though Paul had said it could probably wait till morning.



"God gives instincts to mothers that He doesn't give fathers.," my good friend Kathy told me. "Listen to your instincts."

So I went at 8 pm while Paul stayed with the toddlers at home. Stephen's fever kept spiking, despite Tylenol and high-level antibiotics. For two days and two nights I stayed by his bed (Paul, of course, arrived at once, when I told him the severity.) I prayed and sang Psalms over my baby. Rocked him. Held him. Sang more, prayed more. I ran out of words to pray, but I wasn't afraid. Jesus interceded. "Jesus is always praying for you, " I said. "That's what the Bible says. Not just in a crisis, but always. "

Stephen was released when his fever subsided, but they still had not diagnosed him. It never happened again.



"So I had no answers, but I had peace," I told her. "That is the difference God makes in my life," I explained.



She smiled.



Before we left, I gave her a pile of gifts.

Guess her favorites in order. (If you win, you'll get a yellow smiley icon next to your name. I should give away a book, but I'm too lazy.)



1) handmade American quilt

2) manicure set

3) peanut butter

4) Bath and Body Works Cherry Blossom hand soap

She also gave me a gift--a darling cross-stitched orange kitty. I +thanked her profusely and said, "I'll name him Max and pray for you when I see this, okay?" I put the gift carefully in the front of my hardback book , A Walk in Rural Russia. Unfortunately, on our ride to the Moscow airport from Vladimir, I fell asleep reading my book. It must have slipped between the seat and the wall of the bus while I slept, and when I woke up, was still "out of it" and didn't realize my book was missing. It'll be a miracle to see it again (but I pray it will).

Max is by far one of the cutest babies I've ever seen. I wanted to hold him, but Sarah got him to sleep and then his mommy put him in the crib. She must be one of those types that doesn't believe in holding sleeping babies. Oh, well. Maybe next time.



Our visit made me ask God if I should get back into crisis pregnancy counseling. I am so thankful for Christian CPCs the world over who speak up for those whose voices aren't yet heard.

Andrei

On the plane to Russia, I sensed the Lord gave me a list of people and corresponding "identities" to be looking for and praying for, specifically. One was going to be an older teen boy. He would stand out like Alexander the Great, except that he would not be building his own kingdom, but God's.


Here he is. His name is Andrei.

From the time I walked into the facility where he was, he caught my attention. First, he started speaking broken English with Sacha. Then he sat at the end of the same row as the missionaries, not with the other teens. When our large group presentation was over, we were ushered into separate rooms down the hall for small group time. Andrei approached me and said, "May I carry your chair?" Of course I am always enthused to see gentlemen in action, and wholeheartedly said, "Da! Spaceeba balshoy!"

During small group time, he was only one of a couple of teens in our classroom. He was sweet with the younger kids, not the least bit arrogant or show-offy. When it came time for us to play "Pass the Globe" (an inflatable one) he knew geography. "Have you been to Canada?" he asked Sacha?" "Have you been to Mexico?" he asked me. "Where else have you been?" In Pass the Globe, we ask kids to tell us where they would like to go someday. Most say Moscow.

Andrei wanted to go back to America someday. (He attended an American camp where the gospel was shared and he received Christ.) He also wanted to go to India and Egypt. Easily he spotted these countries on the globe.

After small group time, the Russians always showed us wonderful hospitality in a room reserved for us missionaries, set up with tea and cookies. The boy in the picture all the way to left (with Down's) wanted to escort me to the tea room, but I was in a packing-up daze, so Andrei nicely leaned close to me and said, "I think he wants to hold your hand." Aww, silly me! Of course! Here's my hand! Let's go! They made this boy let go at the tea room. He didn't want to, bless his heart.

Somehow--it's still a mystery to me--Andrei sneaked in with us. The only kid in the whole place and he sat down next to--who else?--Sacha. I was catty corner across the room--and jealous. Jealous for a chance to talk more with this eager beaver.

God kept tapping me. "Bless him," He said. "Don't leave without blessing him for future missions."

So I excused myself from my corner of the big table, and stood politely behind Andrei, waiting for him and Sacha and Andrew to break their conversation before we had to leave.

"Excuse me, Andrei, may I talk with you?" I asked.
His eyes lit up.
"Me?"
"Yes. I need to tell you something. The Lord wants me to tell you this." I put my hand over his heart and looked him in the face.
"You have the makings of a missionary. From the time I walked in here, I could see that.

First you were willing to work; you carried my chair. You were practicing your English. You sat with us missionaries and asked us about ourselves and our culture. You're gentle with children. You love geography. You love the Lord. Andrei, one day you are going to build the Lord's kingdom in a great way, like Alexander the Great built his earthly kingdom. I believe you will be a missionary."

Sacha saw his cheek quiver and a tear trickle down.

"I, too, believe this!" he said, tapping his chest with both hands. "Thank you!"
And then I prayed for him, with Andrew translating for me. It was a holy moment.

When he escorted us to the bus, he was asking for emails and snail mail addresses. Not wanting to be the last one to the bus AGAIN, I let Sacha bring up the rear while writing down the information he wanted. I hope he gets in touch with us somehow, but if not, I look forward to hearing about Andrei the Great someday. Andrei the Great Missionary, that is!

An Afternoon in Suzdal

After ministering in the morning at an orphanage on the edge of Suzdal, which I wrote about earlier, our leaders took us to lunch in the heart of this peaceful, comfortable town. We then took a walking tour of it, narrated by our own priceless American Russian leader ,
Andrew Slate.

The government put restrictions on building so that they could preserve the unique atmosphere of quiet Suzdal. Everything looks just like you probably would have seen it a hundred years ago.I wanted so much to take Sarah's
senior picture
right here.
But:
a) she didn't dress for it
b) she's not the kind to be the center
of attention
c) the foot traffic kept moving
d) we had to keep moving with it




It's a big one, guys! Stand WAY back to
get the whole thing in the picture.

Another old mosque.

On the small side, really.


Does that make it a

mosqu-ito?

Quiz time: What is this building?
a. police barracks
b. ice cream shoppe
c. Putin's summer cottage
d. none of the above

Dave and Mickey Stahl from NC. They've
been on a few dozen missions trips.
She was an answer to prayer: I asked for
an older woman to be like a mom to me.
Not only is she slightly older than my mom,
she is also a former nurse. Every day she'd
ask, "Are you doin' okay? Staying hydrated?"









Mother-daughter pair I fell in love with.

Meet Ira, the mom, and her 11 year old
daughter, Masha. While waiting for our
food, I told Masha that some American
girls wear their ponytail to one side.
She asked me to do hers that way.


Here's a shot of her checking it out.

(She says it's kind of uncomfortable.)













I stopped counting the number
of courses at about five. Everything
came in a little brown crock--soup,
salad, potatoes. Except for meals in
the homes of Russians, this was my
favorite dining experience on the trip.

Sarah in front of a cathedral
in Suzdal. Can you hear her saying,
"Hurry up, Mom. This is embar-

rassing." For once I wanted her to

be a silly, vain girl and say, "Take

a picture of me here! Another one--

at a different angle! How does my

hair look?" But she is Sarah where-

ever she goes.

Suzdal Orphanage

Little girls liked the new toy cars as much as the boys did.

Are these about the most beautiful blue eyes you've ever seen?






How kind of God to put a cheery rose garden next to their tiny play yard. Once I started posing with one child in my lap, it seemed everyone wanted to get in on the action. I don't know which was more special, the lap or the photo shoot!

My favorite picture of Andrew. If you want to meet a 24 year old young man with passion for God, love for all people, and a gentle spirit toward children, here's your guy. I told him he's a "babe magnet." All the kids

clung to him like metal to magnet.

Sacha making another animal.

Wish this pic was brighter, but it shows the Mercy Ministries creative drama team (Olya and Ira) acting out a skit called "God Made Me Special." One clown's job was to convince the other that she didn't need wild clothing, cute hair, or even a cool cell phone to make her special. God created each one of us from the inside out and loves us no matter what we look like.

This child was rather reserved. Her little sundress kept wanting to slip down in front, and she was oblivious. I hate it when adults dress kids in "revealing" clothes, even if the dress itself is cute. It makes me so uncomfortable. Anyway, I digress....



I didn't get any pictures of the interior of the orphanage except for where the group drama, skits, and magic happened. The place was clean and tidy, but smelled like a dairy barn. It was built in 1870. I didn't have the manners to ask how long the cows had been gone before the children moved it. We took a lot of necessities to this orphanage including a much needed hot water heater.

This little boy would NOT let go of Sarah. He was stuck to her like Krazy Glue from Moment One. In the background is Dima (our Russian interpreter who knew English slang so well, you'd guess for sure he'd grown up in America. But no, he's never been here. His accent is almost British and he has an AMAZING singing voice. No one wanted to interrupt his casual concerts on the bus. He used to sing lead vocals in a Christian band. More about Dima later. He taught me a mnemonic device about the 10 Commandments that I'll share with you. It's a great teaching tool for kids as well as a forgetful adult like me. (More later on that embarrassing moment also.)

Here's that same beautiful blue-eyed girl in her best dress

for us (before changing into playclothes). Ira's arm is around her.

Tada! There WAS a Russian flag,

but NOW there's hankies in red,

white, and blue. Magic!

Jaye the Magnificent pulled out her bag of

tricks everywhere we went. Kids couldn't

get enough of the magic show!

The kids waiting for the show to begin.

Actually, they started it with a trio singing some

catchy little number along with the piano. Then

we had a skit, a magic show, the Chicken Dance, and finally, play time outside!

The the first "real" day of ministry, the day we'd all been waiting for, finally came on Monday and fled as fast as it had come.

Remember the "joyful spark" the Lord had told me to look for? Well, here she is. A little girl named Galya. She's probably 4 years old (they're older than they look over there, whether 9 months or 38 years!) and didn't let her Down's Syndrome stop her from anything. She wiggled her little bum in the Chicken Dance that cracked me up. She took everyone by the hand as if to direct them where to stand, where to sit, what to play with. A pleasant little bossiness about her. She sang as part of a duet in the presentation for us missionairies. On the playground, she had the most fun showing off her face painting and then pulling the balloon dachschund's flimsy tail out real far and then watching it retract. I have it on video. Love the giggles. She did it over and over and over. She also got a kick out my reaction the first time she lifted my shirt in back. I guess I was too playful about it, because she kept trying to lift if for 10 minutes while I danced in circles saying, "nyet, nyet,nyet!" One time a friend of hers got a toy stuck in the tree, so Sarah raised the friend up to get up. Looked like so much fun that Galya motioned me to pick HER up, which I did. She picked a leaf, and before I could set her down, she shoved it in her mouth and started chewing. Well, I made a spitting motion, which made her laugh and copy me. This went on till the whole leaf was out and she pointed up into the tree for me to do it again. Nyet, nyet. No more leaves.

Das v'danya! (Goodbye.)

Getting into the Nitty Gritty of Ministry

"You can't give what you don't have," Jaye continually reminded us. Sure, she meant it spiritually, but when I uploaded this picture, my first thought was, "Relief for the missionaries. You can't give what you don't have!"

Thus our introduction to Russian rest stops.

Can you believe you actually have to pay to "go" in this hole in the ground? Well, Mercy Ministries treated us. This stop was on their dime--er, ruble. They don't call themselves Mercy Ministries for nothin'. It was quite clean, honestly. I can't complain. Well, I can. Newsprint toilet paper was still the norm, even at upscale facilities like this one. The sink area outside the stalls were sparkling porcelain with plenty of nice smelling soap.

Toilet talk behind me, meet our small group.

The team had been administratively split ahead of time (by GAiN staff) into groups of four or five.
Left to right: Me (Zoya...my Russian name)

Sarah (Sara with a rolled "r" and a "sorry" sound)

Sacha (a Polish girl's name, but the nickname of every Alexander in Russia)

Bev (Beff, as they called her...If she and I competed for Talker of the Year, I might actually take the red ribbon.)

Sacha was our leader and did a great job. She made wise decisions about who would do what on which days (Zoya--gospel bracelet; Beff-- picture pres; Sarah--ice breaker game; Sacha---follow up games.) The next day we'd switch around. Sacha was so good at flexing based on our input. Thanks, Sach!

On to our first area of ministry: prep work at Emmanuel Church. GAiN comes alongside local churches to deliver aid for physical needs and Bibles and Christian literature for spiritual needs. These are things that local churches can barely afford, but Americans have the financial means to help them. In so doing, long after the American missioniaries have left, the Russians are more receptive to spiritual help once they've received things like pencils, hankies, and toothbrushes.

Okay, so we'd each been prepping for weeks, months, or years for this mission, but still there's more to do.

In this case, we had to assemble 350 (400?) care packs for the week of ministry. Why weren't they assembled already, you ask? Why hadn't GAiN sent them ready-to-go from the PA Warehouse? Well, as we learned, some countries won't allow prepackaged things like this into the country based on customs restrictions. They have to determine what might be merchandise (and therefore taxable) what is aid (they'll take that free) and what would be called gifts (free, but one must pray that corruption in the customs dept doesn't mean your gifts get confiscated and never delivered as planned). Thank the Lord, all our goods, including the Christian literature got thru customs a short time before our trip, and was ready and waiting to be packaged in Ziploc bags when we got to Emmanuel Church.

Pictured on the left: Timor ("tea more"), assistant pastor of Emmanuel Church. His looks, mannerisms, and personality reminded me of someone from TV Land. I said to Sacha, "Is he a Russian Ricky Ricardo or what? I'm just waiting for him to say, "LUCEEEE! You got some 'splainin to do!!!!!"

On the right is Sergei, founder of Mercy Ministries and faithful member of Emmanuel Church. He and his wife have two darling boys, Phillipe and Sasha, with a little girl named Katya due in August. I am most fond of the name Katya because my Grandma Dauber's name was Kathryn and her family called her Katch. (The second baby I miscarried was named Hope Kathryn.) Sergei reminds me of a 32 year old Opie Taylor. Always a goofball, he liked to give us surprises. We soon learned to question his definition of "surprise." (He has shifty eyes and a mischievous grin at all times. Something funny always ready to come out of his mouth.)

Okay, so is today's surprise ice cream or hard labor?

Hard labor.

Not real hard, just time-consuming. Megan was a likeable take-charge sort who set up an assembly line and told who what to pack where. Journal, pen, toothbrush, paint set, hankie, teddy bear w/ gospel bead bracelet, pencil, and the like. Those of us who couldn't be on on our feet long got to sit and squeeze all the air out of the bags, count the bags per site request, and recount them because numbers were always flying around. For example, V- 3 was the third orphanage in Vladimir we'd visit, which needed 45 care packs. V-5 would need 80, and V-8 only 33. You know you're punchy when your whole group blurts out simultaneously , "Wish I coulda had a V-8!" Poor Linda was on the box that needed 80, and I can't tell you how many times she had to pack and repack that thing. She was getting flustered, which only made me want to laugh more, but seeing's as we were just getting to know each other, I tried to stifle myself. Really, I did. See, we weren't all working on one box quota at a time. Some of us were on V-5, some on V-3, and some got their V-8. Linda on V-5 would reach 44 and then hear a giddy girl call out, "We're done! Got 45 !" and of course that makes a packer of 80 wonder if she's off by one at midcount! So unpack, recount, tell the group to shush, repack, tell the group to shush-I'm not mad-I'm just concentrating---!"

Our assembly line.....

Forefront in white shirt: Faith H. Darling sweet girl. Second of seven kids, only she and her older brother are biological sibs. The rest were adopted and have special needs from autism to cerebral palsy.


Linda (in red) going crazy counting to 80 about 30 times. Lena (seated to Linda's right) squeezing the daylights out of the 300th bag. A former competitive figure skater, Lena has a killer figure. Not skinny, but not an inch of fat on her. Her secret? She never eats dinner. She never eats butter. She never eats...well, you get the picture. She was the one who kept us informed about what not to say. (Unfortunately, she didnt' always tell the whole group. I was walking along with her one day and she informed that "Who's" is a vulgarism in Russia. Our contraction for "who is" (hoos) is a bad, bad word over there. The other interpreter, Natasha, recalled the day her translation instructor punished the whole class one for the mistake of one who said "Who's.' She made them write out "Who is on duty?" 50 times. These are grown adults being made to write sentences like 3rd graders. (Who's on 3rd? :):):)) So ever after I tried really hard not to ask, "Who's Bible is this?" Hardly the combo of words a Christian missionary wants to fling about Russia.

God blessed our work with super speed. What the leaders expected to take 2 nights only took us one. I think it was because of the delicious chocolate and hot tea that the young boys delivered to us midway through. Chocolate in Russia is v'kuska! (Good tasting; yummy! Make that V'kuska balshoy! (VERY yummy!) Tea...oh, the tea. How I miss it. We bought only one box for home. What a mistake. There's nothing like their tea at 4:00. I really want to incorporate tea time into my daily routine. Invite a friend over to put her feet up with me and be refreshed before the Arsenic Hour of 5:00. Who wants to be my first tea time guest?