another visa run

Yep,

it's visa run time again.

Even though it's the last one for the foreseeable future, I still was not looking forward to being forced into exile again.

However, now that I'm here and my paperwork is turned in (and out of my hands)...

I'm enjoying the sunshine, the bread, the Starbucks, the new scarves, and the cleanliness here!!

Check out the view that I saw early this morning.

Hanging out on a window ledge five floors up to clean your windows inside and out is commitment to clean!

Mist

I walked home today,

along a misty way.

Lonely, leafless branches,

in the twilight, thin and brittle reaches.

Sighing wind.

Mind crying.

I walked home today,

along a misty way.

The path was dim.

Following, but couldn't see Him.

Holding tight.

Right thinking.

--

I will lead the blind by ways they have not known,
along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;
I will turn the darkness into light before them
and make the rough places smooth.
These are the things I will do;
I will not forsake them. - Isa 42:16

And though it doesn't go along in the general sentiment of the above... you should know...

There was no well-worn path...

Today, my boots got stuck,

in grimy, gloopy muck!!!

Would you wash in this??

This was coming out of my hot water pipes when I wanted to take a shower today...

?!?!

I know this might seem like a jump to you... but last week, Rusty*, who is an older brother who lives on nothing and gives everything he has to let others know who His redeemer is, was telling me about the love of the Father.

He told me several years ago, when he had nothing (my internal response, "really?! I thought you had nothing now... you had less then?!"), and really needed a phone, he went and stood in line and waited to get a phone number. (At least- that's what I understood happened from his story. Details may seem shady, and that would be very perceptive of you. We weren't speaking in English, and all this happened a regime ago) Anyway, Father taught him at that time that he only needed to rely on Father's love for him.

How humbling.

I have both a telephone, and a cell phone, and am house-sitting in a large enough apartment that I can help others by giving them a place to stay for extended periods of time without inconveniencing myself by moving myself out of my own room, have plenty to do at work (more than enough!), ... and I could go on.

Who am I to be above it all and not be thankful for pipes and water... and the fact that the water is going down the drain and NOT overflowing and flooding my kitchen (which happened recently)... and to not be thankful that I am loved. LOVED. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. Loved.

Rusty opened up 1 Jn 4 ... and basically gave us a sermon. Which I definitely needed....

He ended with...

¹⁶ And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.

Oh yeah, that reliance? ... the water situation cleared up by 2pm :D In time for me to get myself clean and off to the office. :)

Living with a three year old...

Sometimes... living a three year old is just too fun not to share.

Sometimes it's fun... like when you have "ribbit"- "ква!" verbal 'wars' with him yelling at the top of his lungs, because he loves frogs. Or... when he's watching "Cars" for the millionth time and he crows, "Makqveen!!!" when Lighting McQueen comes on screen.

Sometimes it hurts... like when he's throwing toy cars at you and thinking it's super fun... and you're just frustrated you can't make him understand in his language that it HURTS and he needs to stop!

Sometimes it's hilarious... like when his mom forgets that she's filling up the tub and walks off to do something in another part of the apartment... and you both come into the bathroom to find water and bubbles all over. And he's happily playing away (he doesn't have a bathtub at home- so it's a new nightly treat).

Sometimes it's frustrating... like when you can't find something you're looking for... but there are toys all over the living room floor that you don't have time to pick up right then.

Sometimes it is amazing.... like hearing "Kkris-chtina!!!!" as the first thing he says when he walks in the door. Every day! :)

He and his mom have been living with me for a few weeks because currently their apartment is getting some remodeling/redecorating work done... and from the pictures that the dad has shown me... their place is quite uninhabitable at the moment (let alone for a three year old). I'm so grateful for the opportunity. I'm getting lots of joy from living with this little man!

school days

So I'm back to teaching on a regular basis... and not just the weekly conversation club stuff that I was doing before.

At the English center where I work, I have a class that I like to call the "Hooligans." The best part of the name isn't so much that it describes these 12-14 yr old troublemakers so well, but that it is a cognate as well. :) So the joke works in both languages!

I also have "my other class," which for the first two weeks of class seemed to have a rotating class roster and an open invite to all prospective students. (Not the easiest teaching environment). We have finally fallen into a regular three students now, and I think that they are doing quite well.

The big news however... isn't my classes at the center.

I am also now teaching at a nearby elementary school!

It's so exciting.

These 26 (or so) ten-year olds are adorable. Many of the boys come dressed in suits (When was the last time you saw a ten year old boy in a suit jacket?! It's adorable, even if he still has Denis the Menace tendencies to mischief), and the girls are all carefully decked out in dresses, tights, and polished Mary Janes.

Thank goodness we are working on, "What's your name?" in addition to "How old are you?" because learning some of these names is killing me! I'm generally good at learning people's names... but when some of them are composed of multiple syllables that I have trouble pronouncing... the cultural divide between me and these kids is more apparent than the differences in our wardrobes! (Honestly, one of the girls names sounds like "La-di-dah" to me... I just have to remember that her name's actually Faridah when I call on her! And that's an EASY name :D )

Speaking of cultural divides, here's another story. The Monday before my first day of official class with these kids, I went to their classroom to introduce myself. I was with Rose*, who not only is a friend of mine, but she is also a mother to one of the boys that I teach in this class. Unfortunately for her, the day that we visited, her son was accused of stealing.

After I introduced myself to all the children, the teacher dismissed most of the class to go eat lunch, while she stayed behind to talk with my friend and her son. I wasn't quite sure what was going on, so while the teacher's lecture started to increase in volume and speed, I tried to make myself invisible against a far wall. Pretty soon, the teacher sounded very angry and I was beginning to gather that my friend's son was being accused of something, and that the teacher was promising physical punishment to make him tell the truth. At first, I didn't believe what my ears were translating... until the teacher demonstrated breaking her own splayed fingers with her other hand clenched into a fist.

Yep. She threatened her own student with corporal punishment. Quite graphically.

I was rather shocked.

Then one of the other students was drawn in, and she began berating both young men.

At this break, my friend turned to me and was like, "You need to go and teach at the center, don't you?"

And yes I did, but not for a few more hours. But I took the opening to leave then mostly because I just needed to get out of the awkwardness of witnessing this situation! I don't do well with this level of verbal hostility and confrontation...

What floored me though? Was that this teacher, who had practically been spitting nails for ten minutes, noticed that I was leaving, and at the drop of a pin she was pleasantly inviting me to come back on Wednesday for my lesson.

Whew!

Talk about a culture lesson.

I'm so thankful that in the two weeks since I started teaching at the elementary school, the teacher hasn't found any reasons to berate me like that, and has always been very friendly with me.

frogs don't say ribbit!

I love learning stuff from young children. Half the time they don't realize that you don't understand 98% of what is coming out of their mouths... but they teach you the best stuff when you don't know their native language!

Plus they ask you the same questions over and over and over and over. So if you don't know the answer the first time... you'll know the next day!

I've noticed this before because of both of my languages... but did you know animals "say" different noises in every language??

For example: Dogs say, "guau, guau" and chicks say, "pio, pio" in Spanish. But in English they say, "ruff, ruff" and "cheep, cheep."

Well... tonight, as my little house guest was taking a bath... he started yelling (from the bathtub), something that sounded like, "kuak, kuak! Kuak, kuak!"

I guessed duck.

But when I walked into the bathroom, where I saw him squatting on the rug with his hands on the floor... and he jumped!?!

Conclusion.... frogs here don't say ribbit... they say "ква, ква!" :D

More lessons in hospitality...

I still am amazed when I am given the opportunity to experience hospitality here.

It's incredible stuff.

This weekend two friends and I went to another city where we got to stay with one of my friend's friend's mother (follow?). Shania* was going to be at work when we arrived in her city, so she told us that she would have food waiting for us and that we should just let ourselves in to the apartment with her daughter's key.

So we did.

It was a miniscule little one bedroom (by American counting. Here it's called a two-room), on the fifth floor (no elevator) of an aparment complex that could be mistaken for any other cement apartment building in this country. It was small and decorated traditionally- the odd glitter wallpaper, an elaborately eccentric chandelier in the low ceilinged main room, all corners crowded with stuff (including large jars with pickled tomatoes and cucumbers in one room and a row of plants in the other), a wardrobe along one wall with a fold-out couch opposite in each room, and a teeny-tiny kitchen with a humming chest-high refrigerator and little table.

True to her word, she had food for us... and then she called my friend to say that she was going to come home from work early to fix us more food if we needed it (we really didn't). She came home and even though we had already eaten the wonderful plov and a cucumber tomato salad she had prepared-- she made us sit down and have tea and cheese sandwiches and chocolates with her.

We then left to scope out some of the city... in which we walked and got lost and walked and got lost and finally found our way again. At about 8pm I wanted a pick-me up in case we got lost on our way home, so we got some coffee and dessert. (I thought it was a good idea.)

And then we went back to Shania's apartment... and she had prepared a "light" evening meal for us. Now, I was not expecting to eat again after my coffee and dessert. However, after all the work that she had done to prepare us special pancakes and millet porridge and tea... well, I couldn't very well say no. Right?

The next morning, Shania had to leave early for work. However, she still stayed up that night (after she would not let us help her clean up the supper dishes), and made us these complex stuffed peppers to eat for lunch the next day. Yeah.

The next day we had a fairly busy day of walking a lot and getting lost a lot. It was a good day though. We came back for a late lunch of those stuffed peppers, and then we had a little hour nap. Shania came home while we were resting, and even though we explained that we were going to someone else's home that evening and that we were sure that they would feed us, and she did not need to make us anything special (we were not wrong!!)... she still kept asking us what we would like for an evening meal.

After talking with her, we left to go meet another family that were friends of friends. They did not know us at all, but because we were friends of friends, they gladly welcomed us over. (There is a great responsibility in becoming someone's friend- as I am slowly coming to truly appreciate here! It's serious business.) So when we finally rolled back to Shania's place, we were stuffed full of cake, fruit, chak-chak, cheese sandwiches, special dacha-grown yellow tomatoes, and lots and lots of tea... but Shania kept offering to cook us something! Finally, nothing would satisfy her except that we have another cup of tea before bed.

Ooof.

But all that is nothing.

On Sunday morning, she got up early to fix us a breakfast of buttery porridge and dried fruits. Then she not only took us to the bus stop, but she made sure we got on the right bus and paid for our fares. She came and tried a Sunday group with us, even though it clearly was not something she would do if we were not her guests. Then she took us walking to see the Flower Festival downtown- and kept calling us, "her girls" :D

Then we hurried back to her place (she again paid our bus fare), where she had prepared another batch of delicious stuffed peppers that were piping hot when we ate. She also had made these delicious egg salad type stuffed tomatoes that were a yummy cool contrast to the cooked bell peppers. (The tomatoes were the most flavorful tomatoes I have ever eaten- Shania proudly told us that her 'sister' had grown them in her dacha.) We washed this repast down with yet another cup of her special herbal tea. (The food descriptions are so fancy- even though they were culturally fairly bland and oily- that I feel that they deserve the term 'repast'- don't you?)

Regretfully it was then time for us to leave her.

So she quickly found some old little glass jars and filled them with honey from a larger glass jar (I know honey is not cheap- so this was a generous gift.) Also, I had commented on how much I liked the semi spicy kind of salsa that she had brought out that afternoon to go with the stuffed peppers; so she packed up a jar of that for me as well.

Then Shania donned her trench coat and small silk scarf, and walked us back out to the bus stop where we picked up our bus for the 3.5 hr ride back home.

Not only did she do ALL this.... but she invited us back. REPEATEDLY.

And I thought I knew all there was to know about hostessing....

Suprise?

This is a simple post. But I'm filled with surprise.
Mostly by the people in my current home.

I know I've complained about how unfriendly they are. How cold they are in public. And I know I've felt oppressed by rude language and the lack of smiling in general.

But...

On Sunday, while I was in line to pay for my lunch at IKEA, the cashier told me that since I didn't have an IKEA family card I would have to pay for my hot tea. I told her, "Yeah, I know"... and that "Yes, I still want it." Well, then suprise of all suprises... the man behind me said, "Oh, please. Use my card!" And, then, when I looked up at him in complete suprise... HE SMILED AT ME! A small smile. Nevertheless... a smile and a kind gesture.

Blew me away.

And when I was at the Edelweiss in my new neighborhood (small chain grocery store), I asked the cashier for some baking powder. In English it's an easy word combo. Not so here. So I had to ask for разрыхлитель теста (razlichlitel testa) several times before she understood me. I KNOW I have trouble saying at least two of the letters in that word anyway (It's hard for me to even hear why I'm saying them wrong since English and Spanish don't have the sounds)... but she understood me after three repetitions.

Okay, so the fact that she had patience to listen to me, and to understand was very gracious and suprising in and of itself. BUT, that was not the truly suprising part. She explained that she didn't have it behind the counter (they had it that way in my old neighborhood), so she GOT UP TO SHOW ME where it was!!!!

And, when I thanked her profusely... she told me it was nothing, and continued to ring up my purchases. To top it all off? She didn't give me grief about not having exact change. (They do that here. A lot. You know, wanting exact change.)

Two complete strangers. Blew. me. away.

Suprisingly? Call me suprised :D

Baking away!

So I might be getting carried away... but I'm loving my new oven. I have made several tasty things без рецепта (without recipe) the last couple of days. And I thought I'd share with you...

Chocolate-Banana Muffins (I love this one. Mostly because in the picture you can see that I also rearranged all the spices

so that I have them within easy reach now instead of up in the cupboard!)








5 Bean Chicken Soup... Somehow I was able to get my hands on a just-the-beans mix with black beans in it. (I have ransacked this city for black beans before, and not found them, and then found them, and then not found them again) So when I 'kinda found them' I definitely had to put them to good use...








Hobo Cooked Chicken- Fruit Style?... (he he. This delicious experiment needs a better name. And no Alexis, it cannot be Chicken Nectarine Peas Lemon Pepper. That's the recipe!)

And... the coup de etat?!?!
Poğaça

That's right. My favorite Turkish bakery treat. The translation you'll get on google translate is 'pastry.' And a friend once described them as a cross between a croissant and a biscuit. Well these aren't quite the same as the goodness from a 'firin'. But it's a good second best. I even imported some onion seed garnishes during my last visa run to make them even more authentic.

"Tell it to Jesus"

In my new abode I have both a piano and a hymnal. This was one of my priceless finds this morning.

"Tell it to Jesus"

Are you weary, are you heavy hearted?
Tell it to Jesus, Tell it to Jesus;
Are you grieving over joys departed?
Tell it to Jesus along.

Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus,
He is a friend that's well known;
You've no other such a friend or brother,
Tell it to Jesus alone.

Do the tears flow down your cheeks unbidden?
Tell it to Jesus, Tell it to Jesus;
Have you sins that to men's eyes are hidden?
Tell it to Jesus alone.

Do you fear the gath-ring clouds of sorrow?
Tell it to Jesus, Tell it to Jesus;
Are you anxious what shall be tomorrow?
Tell it to Jesus alone.

Are you troubled at the thought of dying?
Tell it to Jesus, Tell it to Jesus;
For Christ's coming kingdom are you sighing?
Tell it to Jesus alone.

Jeremiah E. Rankin, 1828-1904

Hidden Gems

I 'discovered' a new neighborhood in this city of 16 million with a friend today... and it reminded me of Victoria, BC. (Even though I was sweating profusely in this summer heat, which was in no way reminiscent of any memory I have in the Northwest). A lovely surprise awaited us in this gorgeous Starbucks.

I know this might not seem huge to you... but let me point out the a lovely large green tree, next to a two story stand alone building, with white siding and window shutters.

And inside? A delicious iced dirty chai that was drunk in AC coolness!

Seasonal Fruit

Have you ever lived anywhere with seasonal fruit?
I mean... like, ever lived anywhere where the only time you can really get a certain fruit is at that specific time of year?
I haven't. And I wasn't ever really price conscious enough to notice when stuff was actually in or out of season. I mean, in the States you can get anything at any time, and sometimes it's more expensive than other times and sometimes it's not. I never noticed.
Well... here...
Here it is a different story.
I notice when veggies and fruits slowly get more expensive and fade out of stores. I noticed that I craved vitamin C when I actually started eating oranges and mandarins and grapefruit (things I don't usually love to eat). Man, when they came out in mid-winter I hadn't had much fresh fruit, and I went bananas! ( :) Yes, I'm a dork. Tropical fruit word funny! )
So... when berry season started up mid-spring... Boy did I go crazy!
The strawberries ripened first. They were super expensive! I decided, after my roomies' first purchase, that I would wait until they got cheaper. And then, suddenly, as if overnight... strawberries were everywhere. Little old ladies were selling them on street corners in little plastic cups, young men were selling them at the market from large crates, and people were buying them by the bucketful. We even saw many people selling the small forest strawberries in little mayo buckets. (which- in an interesting language note-strawberries are клубника and forest strawberries are земляника! Yeah.)


Then the raspberries came out.
Mmmm. mmmm. Big, fat, fresh, red raspberries. Of course, by the plastic cupful. So sweet and delicious! Too bad I didn't have a large enough freezer to freeze some of them for later use. I definitely enjoyed them fresh though!
As the weeks go on the strawberries get smaller and more expensive again before they disappear. Now, I think some version of blueberry is coming out. And then lingonberries, and some weird green-clear berry that I quite haven't worked up the nerve to ask for or eat yet. :) By the time I make it back from the current visa run... it might be watermelon season. I'm pretty stoked to go to the market and pick up a couple tons of watermelon (that's what a four pound watermelon feels like when you have to hand carry it back home from the market on foot. Which- on another language related note- I can say in one verb. Yeah. They have a seperate verb for 'hand carry while going by foot.' Then conjugate. Lucky me.)

Dacha

It's quite an interesting feeling when you ask someone if they would like to meet with you when they are free, and they tell you they can't meet with you because they are "going to their, 'dacha' (then they look at you for a translation. To which you assure them, there is not really an English word for dacha)."

And when you ask students what they did in the last week, they say, "oh, I was in the (reverent pause) country."

And it IS that big of a deal.

It seems like most everyone has a dacha that they go to religiously during the summer.

The lines for certain buses and trains are longer, and traffic jams are larger on Fridays when those who had to be in town are quickly trying to make it out of the city.

Why?

Because they are going to their dacha.

A dacha is something like a summer home or cottage. Often a dacha is no more than a wooden shack on a piece of arable land, though in these modern times sometimes a dacha can be an elaborate, beautiful building on a large plot of land. Sometimes there is running water and/or electricity to these buildings, but more often there is not. Many times a dacha has a vegetable garden that some of my friends have memories of their mothers making them hoe, and weed, and water during endless summers.

The main characteristic about a dacha however is that it is somewhere outside the city.

We live in a city of more than a million people. That many people are mostly crowded into tall Soviet style block apartment buildings, and often even extended families share small two or three bedroom apartments. So, no matter how small the shack or how primitive the facilities, going to the dacha does convey a sense of freedom.

I read an article about 'dacha' on wikipedia... and the history surrounding the concept gives you more insight on the reverence that people have for the freedom of a summer home. I would highly recommend reading it if you have time. :D

Anyway, to finish up this long-ish explanation, we rented a dacha for the summer. It is about an hour away by bus, so it takes some commitment to get out there. I have not been able to go out there as often as I would like, of course. When I started, I had visions of an orderly garden, a la the garden pictured above, which is actually a picture of our neighbor's dacha. Unfortunately... well... we just have not had the time to properly tame the jungle that has decided to grow on "our" land. And the nettles that have settled upon our land in profusion make weeding a less than exciting chore... Here are some pictures of 'our' dacha in video...

Even though our dacha is an eyesore, I have been able to pick strawberries and rasberries, have watched some tomatoes grow, have dug in REAL dirt (not AZ clay and sand), have gotten a ridiculous tan line, and I always have had a lot of fun when I go out there!

enjoying beauty!

So, I realize that I post a lot of pictures of flowers... mostly because this blog is about what I want to focus on. And here... well, you often have to look intentionally for beauty in a city where it doesn't exactly hit you over the head.
However, this past weekend my sisters persuaded me to meet them in a very beautiful city that is quite a bit farther north. Where the beauty comes in the shapes and sizes of delicate and stately architecture, canals with ironwork bridges, sparkling fountains, cared for gardens, spicy Indian food, tourist-friendly streets, and "white night effect." :)
Here's some bells that I loved... and some pictures... in my first movie editing experiencing ever!
Enjoy!

What Next?

(FYI- I did not write this. I was knocked upside and over the head with a two ton brick by this reading today. Thought I'd share, and highlight the especially heavy parts to accept. If you have extra verses to throw my way on these, I would appreciate you sharing them!)

"If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them" (Jn 13:17)

Determine to know more than others. If you do not cut the moorings, God will have to break them by a storm and send you out. Launch all on God, go out on the great swelling tide of His purpose, and you will get your eyes open. If you believe in Jesus, you are not to spend all your time in the smooth waters just inside the harbour bar, full of delight, but always moored; you have to get out through the harbour bar into the great deeps of God and begin to know for yourself, begin to have spiritual discernment.
When you know you should do a thing, and do it, immediately you know more. Revise where you have become stodgy spiritually, and you will find it goes back to a point where there was something you knew you should do, but you did not do it because there seemed no immediate call to, and now you have no perseption, no discernment; at a time of crisis you are spiritually distracted instead of spiritually self-possessed. It is a dangerous thing to refuse to go on knowing.
The counterfeit of obedience is a state of mind in which you work up occasions to sacrifice yourself; ardour is mistaken for discernment. It is easier to sacrifice yourself than to fulfil your spiritual destiny, which is states in Romans 12:1-2. It is a great deal better to fulfil the purpose of God in your life by discerning His will than to perform great acts of self-sacrifice. "to obey is better than sacrifice." Beware of harking back to what you were once when God wants you to be something you have never been. "If any man will do... he shall know."
June 8
My Utmost for His Highest
Oswald Chambers

The Vespers

Okay... so this band caught my eye on Noise Trade (love that website... if you do not know about it google it! As much free music as you can handle, and you just have to dig a bit to find the good stuff!) At first, I was attracted to this free album because of their band name. The Vespers.
If you didn't know this about me, I'm a sucker for traditional. Anything that hints at liturgical, I'm interested. I don't know why, and I often feel guilty for wanting MORE of that rooted-in-history repetitious worship, but I still love it. So, of course I had to take a listen.
Then I was hooked... Tight-knit harmonies?- double check. banjos and mandolins?-check. upright bass?-check. lovely lyrics?-check.
I downloaded "Tell Your Mama". And proceeded to listen to it over and over and over. :)
Then I googled the band and then watched a few youtube videos. I could do without the boys' long hair and one of the brother's facial hair- but who am I to judge when the rest of it is so fantastic?
Check out their official video...

Love this old-timey foresty feel. The dress-up costumes? Can't get over them! The playing in the creek?? Goodness, love it. The cute little sparklers fading and then the lights strung up in the green leafy boughs as twilight nears? Love.

No Hot Water?

We have not had hot water for a month, give or take a few days. It's bothersome. Especially when the excuse is, "we're cleaning the pipes." Every year? A whole month for pipe cleaning? All over the city? Puh-lease.There's got to be another excuse. I'm begining to think cultural norm, springtime rite of passage, or (sigh) just another moment for Father to personally teach me that I'm selfish and to look outside myself.

So today, when I got home and accidentally turned the handle on to the hot water side (it's an 11-mo habit)... and saw this >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I lost it a little bit.
Pipe cleaning?
(Pun-iful side note: I like the kind of pipe cleaners we use for arts and crafts. This is a different kind of pipe cleaning. Clearly.)

The water we had during the winter was both hot hot hot, and posessed a lovely clear color. Definitely not this rusty, cold-ish stuff coming out of the tap at the moment.
Lately we have been boiling water on the stove to wash dishes and I have busted the breaker to everything electric in our apartment multiple times because the tiny electric shower head that we borrowed to give us slightly warmer than ice cold water uses massive amounts of electricity every time I run the water longer than 1.5 minutes.
To say I'm looking forward to hot running water again is understating quite a bit!

In the same post I do have to say... Thank you, Father, for running water. :)

Dandelion Sermon

I was riding the bus today and giving myself a mini-sermon on the way home... weird, I know. (Judge me when you have to take an hour long bus ride to get from downtown back home, and you are still soaking wet because of the thirty minute walk to get to school from the metro that morning.) Anyway, transportation ranting aside, I think that there were some inspired thoughts and fantastic verses that Father wove together for me just when I needed them.
And I thought I'd share. :)
Start with Eph 2:7, which is a continuation of the thought that we are seated in heaven, which comes, "in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace,expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus." Chew on that for a bit. He has so much grace, so many riches, such gigantic kindness... that He chose to express this to us by giving His life. Talk about an expression of love! He graciously and mercifully has given me all that I need. (Phil 4:19 "...ALL your needs...") All my needs are met. Now and forever.
So why do my feelings incessantly plague me? What do these emotions not get in the fact that I am both fearfully and wonderfully made (Ps 139:14), as well as more than completely provided for? (I mean seriously, what part of all my needs did I not hear in Phil 4:19?!)
For more emphasis, JC even addresses a physical thing that I enjoy, clothes! "And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow....not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field... will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?" Mt 6:28-30. (See Lk 12:26-28 if you need it again. I did.)
I looked out the bus window... and saw the hundreds and hundreds of dandelions that are turning into white balls of fluff everywhere...and against the backdrop of drab buildings and brown mud they are beautiful. It has only been a week or two since they were cheerfully sprouting up against the chilly air and defying the snow that had only melted just before I came back from the 'bul. Such small and tiny lives. And His Word says over and over, that I am just as transient. Just as mortal. Just as insubstantial. Upon the prompting of half-remembered Sunday school verses, I typed "grass" into my Pocket Bible search... Way more references came up than I thought would show up! Ones that especially stood out as to how very "passing through" I am in this life: Matt 6:30; Lk 12:28; Isa 40:6-8, 51:12.
But here's the kicker. The encouragement in the midst of everything. And I'm totally gonna do it for the future me (since maybe you're like, "I've heard all this before. This is not new stuff, K.") I needed and will need to hear these things again. So here goes.
Psalm 103:15-17; 19-20; 22
"As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more." (Can I say dandelions anyone?)
"But from everlasting to everlasting the LORD's love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children's children--" (Observation one: forever is a long time. Observation two: thank you oma and opa, I am being blessed because of you. And my parents are blessed because of my great-grandparents. WOW.)
"The LORD has established his throne in heaven, and his kingdom rules over all." (over all. I can't say this enough. but that ALL? It includes my emotions of desperation. Truth!)
"Praise the LORD, you his angels, you mighty ones who do his bidding, who obey his word." (Okay, this might be too much commentary at this point. But, if even His mighty ones need to praise Him... what gives me a free pass to not praise Him?! Certainly not my disappointments.)
"Praise the LORD, all his works everywhere in his dominion." (It's repeated. You should get the message!!! Did you? I am a work of His hands...So. Did you get the memo?)
"Praise the Lord, O my soul."

Praise the Lord, O my soul.

Praise. The Lord. O. My SOUL.

Final kicker. On the bus I worked my way backwards from verse fifteen through the rest of the psalm. Humor me and look at it like I did....
Psalm 103:14; 13; 10a
"For he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust." (The biological clock joke? It's got nothing on how me, the queen of un-counting and math-inability, tries to teach the Master of the Universe how to count my years. He remembers that I am dust. He knows I have ridiculous emotions! And for goodness sake, He clearly knows how to count!)
"As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear Him" (Tangible illustration? Hours spent handing my Dad tools to fix stuff only solidified what I see every week of my life no matter what country we are each in... :-D I know without a question of a doubt that my earthly Dad has had much compassion on his crazy daughter.)
"He does not treat us as our sins deserve" (relived SIGH)

Punto en fin?

"Praise the LORD, O my soul;
all my inmost being,
praise his holy name.
Praise the LORD, O my soul;
and forget not all his benefits--" (Psalm 103:1-2)

Forget not.

Dandelions

Here's a picture that I have been seeing on my walk to and from work. Of course the backdrop is the normal soviet era non-descript tenement building that looks like the one across the street, which looks like the building behind it, which looks like the one across town with has slightly different repairs done to the outside of it. But in the foreground, our bright yellow spring 'flowers,' have given way to millions and millions and millions of little seeds in what almost is a beautiful cottony kind of blanket. Hello allegy season!

The Walkway Saga

I can't believe I've lived in the same place for almost a whole year!!!

breaking the rules...

I think there's something about breaking the rules... or bending them... that seems exciting. But really isn't as exciting as it seems.
Currently, I'm breaking the rules... by writing on this blog! Yup. That's right. The country that I'm in as I renew my visa has had this blogging site blocked- I was told probably because of political fiasco type things- but I'm subverting this rule by using a VPN rerouter thing.
Makes me feel kinda like a computer geek and a criminal all in one simple rebellion.
Ha!
Who am I kidding?!
I'm not a rebel. I like to fit in. So I generally go to great lengths to do so.

Maybe that's why I can relax a bit more in this city of 16 million or so... I'm not quite so odd here. I'm not the only foreigner. I'm not the only person that has a hard time with language. I'm not the only person struggling to find my way around the thirty different kinds of transportation.
I have a hard enough time being me sometimes, so it's kinda nice to not have the worry of fiting in right now.

Instead... I get to find friends who also speak English. I get to go to a park and play frisbee. I get to walk along Isteklal and get absolutely squelching, soaking wet from driving rain. I get to download new music and then ride miles of metro-bus listening to it. I get to enjoy the shock on Starbucks baristas faces across this city as I ask for a grande chai latte with two shots of espresso (dirty chai shout-out!! this city WILL succumb to their yummyness!!)I also get to enjoy COLOR- flowers on trees, tulips bursting out of flower beds in medians, weeds in sidewalks, non-cement block buildings, multi-hued headscarves, and a sky that alternates moodily between brilliant blue and muted grey.

ran across some old thoughts...

I'd made up my mind that these people are unfriendly and hardened by their circumstances. Especially outside and in public places. Perhaps they softened up in their homes, but as I was not often invited to those places of privilege I could not truly gauge for myself. But this month- and especially this week- I've been pleasantly surprised.
For example...
Today I sneezed on the bus... My sneezes have never been acknowledged here...today was almost not an exception. A beautiful girl in a red coat turned around from the pole she was holding on to, made eye contact (!), and wished me "Будь здорова!" (good health to you!) That's never happened before... :D
Yesterday I was gingerly making my way on a slushy narrow pathway and approaching a little babushka who was also laboriously making her way through. After a little bit, just as I was coming up behind her, she stopped at a bend in the path, and did a most astonishing thing. She turned around, and pleasantly said, "young lady. You go ahead. I'm an old, slow lady and you're young and faster. Go on!" What was so nice was not that I was glad not to be slowed down by her careful and tentative steps over slush and ice... But the nice tone of voice and kind look on her face as she verbalized her offer!!
I have also been given the opportunity to quickly share what I think is the most important thing in the world. Three times in one week! It's a wonderful thing!!

As promised...

A picture of the walkway next to my building...

Doesn't look as magical as when the snow is all fresh and fluffy and new, eh?(See below for comparison pictures)

Oh well... I am VERY thankful that this week it has warmed up to a pretty nice -10*C (14*F) during the day when the sun is out... and even though it has turned the roads, and ice 'sidewalk paths' a little uglier and mushier {though quite frankly, after the hard frozen solidness of ice at -25*C, anything above that temperature feels less frozen!}... I'm very thankful for the respite!

Remember that walkway by my house???

If you need a refresher, look down a few posts....

Yup...

This was the walkway- a few months ago...

I'm planning on taking another picture of how it currently looks tomorrow morning.

Stay posted. :D

dear lady on the bus...

Dear lady on the bus,
So. I know this morning, you really tried. I mean, really, I can see how much work you put into your appearance because your make-up is actually quite nice looking. And that mini skirt with a stiletto-heeled knee high boot that you are using to brave the icy streets is nothing short of heroic. However. We need to talk about your fur coat.
See... I know in this weather, a fur coat is not only a luxury, it's also a borderline necessity akin to my daily cup of coffee. So I can appreciate that you are wearing one.
But, when your fur coat actually looks like you threw a couple of varriegated dead animals over your shoulders?? And somehow found a matching hat?! As my roommate would say, (in a emphatically southern accent) "No ma'am!"
See, there are just so many tasteful fur coats out there I couldn't help but give you a little guidance in this department. I mean, (since it is currently rush hour and we're packed like sardines in here) there's about thirty other options on this bus alone! See? That lovely soft furry looking one that you just want to stroke? How about that one that looks so glossy you could also use it as a mirror in the morning? There's brown, and black and every shade in between. You could switch it up like the grandmother next to me, and have what looks thick curly carpet fur! (though, I really wouldn't recommend it, personally) You could also have picked the one that was dyed a deep magenta... the dye is questionable, but... (and this is key)... it doesn't look like it was dead two minutes ago!
If you can't decide that any of these are better than what you have on right now, it might be time for you to switch to synthetic.
Just sayin' ...
Sincerely,
Your fellow bus passenger

some old snow thoughts...

So this is a back-blog... not to be confused with a back-log (thought, there are some similarities)... Anyway, I found these thoughts on the notepad of my itouch... and thought I would share....
Snow
It seems that people have stopped to take a deep breath now that the snow has arrived. I could be wrong.... Or the contrast of this city with only a million people is so great in comparison with the bustling, hectic city of 16 million that I just left... That my soul feels more restful. I know for sure however that prayers are being pryed for me AND the people of this city- so that could also be effectuating the change as well.
I don't know for sure, all I can see is what's around me.
There is a lovely textured cover of pure white over everything but the muddy streets- and the juxtaposition is almost beautiful! Tree branches that had been bare and ugly now have jewelry of ice drops and coats of ermine. The air even seems purer because of its crisp clarity.
Children are bundled in all sorts of colors and styles... But they are laughing and cheerfully building snowmen, skiing, and playing hockey.
The tall stylish stilettos of the young fashioniatas are even beginning to make sense, because they are the only ones confidently striding across icy patches on the paths to the bustop.
Thank you.

snow and ice

I've been wanting to write about snow and ice for at least the last two months. I had a hiatus from both blogging and from the cold for about three weeks... and when I came back. MAN, was it cold!!!!
So... of course I was able to re-recognize how fantastic snow and ice are!! :D
I love the squelching of shoes on ice. (it's mid between a squeak and a sqoosh)
I love the solidly packed ice underneath those shoes... I get to walk four feet high above the sidewalk on top of that fully solidified icy H2O.
I love love love that I see every breath that I breathe out without even trying... and then that same breath gives the wispy ends of my hair that is sticking out from under my coat and from around both my scarves tips of white frosting...
And I love that there are legit steps carved into the ice pack paths, because that is the only way people can get from the path down to actual ground level (a few establishments and a few of the main roads have tried to keep the packed ice down to actual ground level-- key word, trying.)

That's all... :D