Galena

My first introduction to Galena came back in 2004, when I moved to Kiev for a year. I walked into that first day of language class, knowing just a few Russian words, to be greeted by a very stern woman who started pounding the table and speaking loudly in Russian. I was dumbfounded… I hadn’t known what to expect but it definitely was not this. As the pounding and tone of her voice intensified I and the other 2 guys with me started to panic. What did this woman want from us?! Finally one of us tried to repeat what she was saying, and her expression softened just a little. We started babbling like incoherent toddlers trying to repeat her. And so the tedious, humiliating process of learning Russian began.


On one hand we were terrified of Galena. She was very intense and sometimes used the Soviet method of embarrassing you in front of the class when you made a mistake. There were days when Russian was so frustrating, it was all I could do not to throw something and storm out of the class. However, she also had a terrific wit and sense of humor so she was impossible not to like, even when that humor was used at your expense. Underneath her intense demeanor, she had a maternal affection for all her students. She taught me valuable phrases for running a house of orphan boys and helped me understand better how to relate to them. Her humor also allowed me to ask her about certain words I heard them use that were not in the dictionary. “Don’t say that,” she’d tell me, shaking her head and trying to stifle her laughter.

Although she taught missionaries for years how to clearly present the Gospel in Russian, she herself did not follow Jesus. There was not much room for softness in her worldview. On more than one occasion she explained to me why Stalin was a good ruler and his harshness was necessary. Like most missionaries that she taught, I felt a special bond with her and came to realize what a gifted teacher she is. I prayed for her often but she is such a good person that it seemed unlikely she would embrace salvation by grace. So you can imagine my joy when I found out a couple years ago that she did place her faith in Jesus Christ. I recently saw her for the first time since those language school days. She invited a group of her former students over to her apartment for a Thanksgiving breakfast. The change in her was instantly recognizable. “For so long I thought your job was to teach the Gospel, my job was to teach Russian grammar,” she told us. “But every one of you planted a small seed in my heart, and God brought those seeds to fruition. Now I understand.”

Christmas and Family

December 1st. Time to think about the holidays....though I must confess we've already been listening to Christmas music and put up our decorations. Today, I changed the month on our calenders. As I flipped the calendar, I saw all the wonderful photos of our families at Christmas. I couldn't help but look at them longer and my heart just ached to be able to be with family for Christmas. I have truly been blessed with two families: My immediate and my in-law's. We have so many good memories together and there is a sense of peace just being able to "be" together. My 12 neices and nephews are growing up way too fast and I feel that I am missing out. I want Esther to be able to play with her cousins, grandparents, aunties, and uncles. And this year 2 of my nephews, who were adopted from Ghana this summer, will be having their 1st Christmas with my family. As I was contemplating this and longing for my family, thinking it was unfair that I couldn't be with them, I could almost sense God saying, "and what family do these orphans have to spend the holidays with?" I was convicted...here, I have a loving family and my parents are even coming out to visit us after Christmas and these orphans have no one. Most of them have never had anyone. I remembered a conversation that Gabe recently had with a 13yr old oprhan boy. He was talking about how he had a bad day and he just wanted to leave the orphanage. He just wanted to go home. Gabe asked when he had been home last, and he replied, "4 years ago." I realized that I need to be thankful for what I do have instead of focusing on what I am missing. Even though we can't be there for Christmas, I am thankful that my 2 nephews will be able to celebrate the holidays with family, and not alone. I pray that we can love the orphans  we will be with during these holidays like family.

Hiking in the Crimea

Recently I got to be part of a group that took 16 teen orphans camping in the Crimean mountains. Almost nothing went as planned… the group leader didn’t show up, train tickets were purchased for the wrong day to the wrong city, a different orphanage came, and the group was co-ed instead of just boys… yet it’s hard to see how it could have gone better. The orphanage that came was the same one I helped at the soccer tournament in April, and also one of the groups at our summer camp, so I already knew some of the kids.

Our 12 hour train ride began at midnight so I thought I’d be able to sleep. That was wishful thinking however, since the kids were so excited and chattered non-stop. Upon our arrival we met a couple local believers who proved to be excellent guides (I think that part actually was planned), drove for a while on some remote roads and then started hiking. One of the places we came to was an unfinished, Cold-War era fortification built into the side of a hill. It was supposed to be a secret front-line form of defense in case of a USA attack. As the lone American in the group I heard a few good-natured “If I show you this I have to kill you” jokes. One counselor told me very seriously, “Only 3 can know about this place: you, me... and facebook.” There was also a profound moment as we walked up to the fort and considered the enormous amount of money and labor spent in hauling up tons of cement and heavy equipment, only for the funding to run out and the Soviet Union to dissolve. A counselor quoted Psalm 127:1, “Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.” There was a wonderful sense of irony as I thought about this Scripture, so appropriately quoted at the ruins of a site supposed to represent the power of a regime so hostile to the Gospel. Empires rise and fall but God’s Word remains.

As I talked with the kids I got more of a sense of what their lives are like. Their orphanage is in a small village, from which most of them have never travelled far. It only goes up to 9th grade, so at age 15 they are on their own. They spoke of their ever-present boredom but also of the fear of leaving the only place they know. There were numerous chances to talk about faith, and I felt a confidence in my Russian to share about Christ that could only have come from the Holy Spirit. When it was time to say goodbye, a 15 year old girl named Nadia broke down in tears. “Thank you for taking us on this trip. It was the most fun I’ve had in my life and I will never forget it. I miss you already and will pray to God that you all can come and visit us soon.”



Nadia (on the left)









The Heart of a Child

“Do you love your wife?” I started to laugh before I realized that the little girl who asked me the question was serious. I was walking her & her brothers home from a center for at-risk children. “Of course I love my wife,” I replied. She continued to walk pensively beside me, absent-mindedly swinging my hand. “Do you swear and yell at your daughter?” “No,” I answered. I could only wonder what she has experienced in her 6 years that would make her ask these questions. She said nothing more but when we got to her street she gave me a hug & flashed an adorable smile that was missing her two front teeth. Times like these are what keep me coming back to this center to love on these kids.


Another one of my favorite times is at our church orphanage during group prayers. With 12 kids (ages 5-13) it can get long and a little chaotic, as inevitably some of the older boys will feel the need to pinch, kick, or roll their knuckles across the spine of one of the younger kids. But in spite of the length, the sore knees, the squirming, each kid prays their heart out. They fight for the places next to us. Usually the two next to us have their arms around us, and the two next to them are holding our hands. Without fail they all thank God that we came to see them & pray that we will come again soon. They ask God to help them be obedient during the Bible story and craft times. One boy always prays for his mother to go to church and know God although, to our knowledge, she has no involvement in his life. I asked him if she ever visited and he replied no, because she lives too far away. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the village where she lives is only 10 minutes away. But his sincerity in constantly praying for a mother who gave him up and has nothing to do with him always impacts us. I pray we also have hearts like this boy, free of bitterness and full of compassion.

The Foolishness of God

I’ve been reading 1 Corinthians 1 and much of this passage is a contrast between the wisdom of this world, and, as Paul refers to it, the foolishness of God. From verse 18 to the end of the chapter, the word foolishness is mentioned 6 times, and the word wisdom or wise is mentioned 10 times. That phrase seems a little heretical when I first read it, but Paul explains in 1 Cor. 1:25 that “The foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.” I am realizing this contrast calls for a re-evaluation of what I consider to be wise.


During our first year here, the predominant feeling we experienced was stress. We were always tense, waiting to get yelled at for some cultural infraction or misunderstanding. Whether at the store, post office, or on the street we would constantly be straining to understand everything and inwardly bracing ourselves for a backlash when we didn’t.

There is a hostility and anger that often lurks just beneath the surface in people here, and it is all too easy to draw it out. It’s understandable given what many of these people have lived through, but it takes some getting used to. That anxiety is still present, but as our language & cultural awareness improve it is diminishing.

Now the main emotion I find myself experiencing is foolishness. Our circle of friends is expanding, but we are always very aware that we are foreigners and we don’t fit in. What seemed like such a worthy endeavor on one side of the Atlantic often doesn’t feel so noble over here. I feel foolish when I try to explain to some Americans why we moved here, when obviously there are also orphans in America and we could probably serve more effectively in our own country. I feel foolish when I explain to incredulous Ukrainians why we left a nation many of them wish they could move to. I feel foolish when I think how naïve I was in underestimating the difficulty of establishing a meaningful ministry here.

The reasons that make me feel foolish, however, also make me depend on the Lord to a much greater degree than I otherwise would. I have few words of wisdom to offer to the kids we work with…. my main contribution this week was teaching a 12 year old boy how to tie his shoes. Yet when we left to play outside and he held my hand as a child much younger would do, it reminded me that God doesn’t need some special talent or skill from us in order to accomplish His work. As 1 Corinthians 1:27-29 says, “God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things that are mighty…. That no flesh should glory in His presence.” What seems to be foolish to us might have a much greater purpose in our lives.

Camping

To follow up on our orphanage soccer tournament that took place in April, I was part of a team that took about 60 orphan boys camping for a week. We took 10 kids from 6 orphanages to just outside a small village a few hours north of Odessa. It was one of those villages where when you turn off the main highway, the only traffic you see is a horse & wagon, the occasional 1960’s Soviet car that looks like it’s held together by rubber bands, and old bicycles. It was a unique, ambitious endeavor, something I’m not sure I would have attempted, but thankfully I was not in charge! My good friend Slavic directed it, and I really admire the faith & breadth of his ministry vision.

The kids chopped firewood (no limbs were lost), built rafts for relays, had outdoor survival lessons, had slip & slide and diving contests, a soccer tournament, Bible lessons, paintball with slingshots, and various team quests. Each orphanage had a staff member also there for the week to observe, but most of them were cordial and complimentary. In many ways a week wasn't long enough to create the atmosphere we wanted... it took time to break down the “us vs. the world” mentality that each orphanage had. They were just starting to pray for the first time in their lives and join in the praise songs we sang each night. In other ways however, a week was certainly long enough... my mind was shot from always straining to understand the Russian or Ukrainian that was spoken. The conditions were rustic… we dug our toilets, our only "shower" was a stagnant, muddy, mosquito-infested pond, and we were served hot buckwheat, soup and tea every day in humid 95 degree weather.... but not too bad.

I was in charge of a daily 3-hour sports session, which for these boys meant soccer. Here you don't do sports or hobbies for fun, you take them very seriously, especially soccer. These boys play with such anger and such a propensity to argue that it caught me a little off-guard, even though I'm well aware of that trait in Ukrainian culture. I was the lone ref, & to try to curb these tendencies, the first day I told the kids that for swearing I would award a penalty to the other team. Bad idea... I know some Russian swear words but Russian has so many you can say whole sentences just by cursing. I awarded 3 penalties but all I really did was give the kids another reason to argue with me as they ran up to me claiming someone said this or that. Since the kids often spoke Surgic (Ukrainian-Russian mix) I felt even more tentative with my Russian than usual. So by the end of the day the only factor uniting the kids was mutual disgust with the decision to allow the only American in the camp to be the soccer official. It can be a yell or be yelled at culture. So the next day I abolished the penalty experiment, sat several kids for arguing with me, and made myself get comfortable with grabbing kids arms & speaking very forcefully to them in Russian, even if my grammar was off. Things improved after that and the soccer ended up being a success.

   Although it was a challenging week, by the end the boys' demeanor had visibly softened, and some said it was the best week of their lives.  It was rewarding to see them enjoy themselves so much, and difficult to say goodbye.  We pray for open doors into these orphanages as a result of this camp!



Best Friends



Vanya & Kolya

A Prayerful and Emotional Goodbye

A Time to Say Goodbye

To help prepare Esther for an outing at our church’s small orphanage, every time we go we tell her that we are going to see Kolya. We have only been helping out there for a couple months, but little Esther and Kolya have developed quite a friendship. He is an adorable, curly-haired boy who is also 2 years old and, along with his 4 year old brother Vanya, has been at the orphanage for almost a year. Every time Esther sees him she squeals in delight as he toddles over to her, and for weeks the only intelligible words in her prayers have been, “Mommy, Daya, Nemo (as in Finding Nemo), and Kolya." Of course, she did see the dark side of 2 year old boys with his constant pinching and hair pulling, but that did not seem to dampen their friendship. Kolya also melted our hearts by continually addressing us with the Russian words for uncle and aunt.


This week one of the orphanage workers took me aside and gave me some difficult news. It was one of those exchanges in Russian where I understood every word, but was sure I had missed the overall meaning of what she was saying. There had been a hearing where a judge ruled that the parents of Vanya and Kolya would now have custody over them. The boys were to be taken away the next day. We know little about the parents except that they dropped their sons off at the orphanage nearly a year ago, and we pray it is a good sign that they have requested custody of their sons. We are obviously saddened by the realization that we will likely never see these boys again. What will we tell Esther now as we get ready to go to the orphanage? The real heartbreak though, is for the Ukrainian couple and 3 women workers who lovingly cared for these boys every day. That next morning we watched the tears roll down their faces as they prayed for the 2 boys and hugged them for the last time. These goodbyes happen when you work with at-risk and abandoned children, but they are never something you get used to. So farewell little Kolya, we entrust you to God’s protective and tender care. We did not know you long and you will not remember us, but you made an impact on our family!

Stuck in the Mud

                                                                      

                                                                        

My parents arrived for a visit two days ago, and since we recently got a car, we decided to take them for a fun, relaxing outing.  Five miles away from us there is a liman, a large, shallow body of salt water.  Esther loves to play in it & it's remote enough so that it's usually not crowded, and our dog can run around without a leash.  I drove the car out on to the beach & everyone got out.  Soon the decision was made to move down to a place where the water was more accessible.  The ground felt firm enough, & our car is 4 wheel drive, so I thought I'd be fine driving, but very soon I got very stuck.  The car sunk up to the axle in mud so thick the wheels could not spin.  Dad & I got to work jacking up the car and looking for trash, branches, etc. to put under the wheels.  When we walked one step the ground was firm, but then on the next step we would sink in mud up to our knees.
      There were not many people there, but our plight started to attract some attention.  A man from Siberia, in town for a motorcycle festival, asked for help from the owner of a jeep a few hundred yards down the beach.  We hooked up a tow rope but the car didn't budge.  Fortunately the owner of the car was a local who spoke English since he had worked on a cruise ship from Los Angeles to Hawaii.  He remembered a small sign under some branches on one of the dirt roads to the beach that had the number of a tow truck.  We found the sign and he made the call (I barely knew how to describe where we were in English, let alone Russian). 
              Meanwhile, it was clear we were not moving any time soon so Sarah, my mom, Esther, and our dog had to walk the 5 miles home.  Ordinarily it would be a pretty walk, but with a toddler in the heat of the day, a tad long.  As it turned out, Esther did fine but our poor little dog nearly passed out from heat exhaustion.  He found a mud puddle by the road, laid down in it and refused to move for about 10 minutes.  After 2 hours they made it home. 
             The tow truck was still nowhere in sight, but a man rode up on his bike and took our situation personally.  He covered himself in mud trying jack the car up higher and find ways to give the tires traction.  It was a hopeless cause, but I appreciated his zeal.  He told us the few English words he knew (mostly swear words), and said, "Welcome of Ukraine!"  As we talked we found out that he is a retired bodyguard who lives on $120 a month, loves to talk and is always up for a challenge.  Finally the tow truck arrived, hooked us up to their winch and pulled the car about 20 feet before it was finally free.  In the process however, the tow truck had sunk just enough so that now it was stuck.  I tried to tow him, but that predictably got nowhere.  The driver made a phone call, charged me $50 for the tow and told me it would cost him $100 to get his truck towed.  After 5 hours, I was finally free but he had at least another hour to wait.  "It's the liman, what can you do," he said with a shrug and a smile.  "At least I can work on my tan!" 

Crafts and Banana Bread

Over the past month we've been able to get involved with our church's orphanage. They have 10 kids ranging from ages 2-12. We have quickly grown to love these orphans! Could I adopt them all?!  I guess that's why we moved over here. We always receive many hugs. We have been visiting twice a week where Gabe will tell a Bible story and I will help them with a craft. They love making crafts and will either hang them up in their rooms or will give them to me or Esther. One time, I brought blank puzzles that they could draw on and they all ended up making them for me because it was my birthday. The other day I brought them banana bread muffins, which they have never had before. The oldest boy just kept looking at the muffin as if trying to figure out what it really was. One boy in his prayer thanked God that I made banana bread for them and that it tasted good. They liked it so much that they want me to teach them how to make it! So I translated the recipe in Russian with my language teacher and tomorrow I am taking the two girls with me to buy the ingredients and make it. Hopefully it will turn out well, it should be a fun time.



 







Soccer Competition

Recently we had the opportunity to help put on a soccer tournament for orphanages in the Odessa area. Eight orphanages participated (some travelling as far as 3 hours), and the winner now gets to travel to Kyiv to represent our region in a national competition. It was thrilling to see so many people work together to give these young boys a chance to play organized sports. I enjoyed being on a team that visited 4 of these orphanages in preparation for this event. It was very interesting to mingle with the kids in their own setting & get a glimpse of what life is like for them. Sometimes on these excursions, after we got off the main highway the only traffic we saw was a lone bicycle or horse & wagon. But these kids proved you don’t have to live in the big city to play soccer well… on one occasion they used the muddy conditions of their “home field” advantage to great effect as they thrashed us adults!

For the actual tournament I was assigned to one of the teams to assist them with any questions they had. I was nervous with my language and copied down any soccer terms I could think of to carry in my pocket. When this team realized I was their coordinator, their expression seemed to convey that they were getting a raw deal. For the first half of the day they said very little to me, but by the end of the day they were asking me every question they could think of, from why an American would come to Ukraine when half of Ukraine is trying to get to America, to how many movie stars I’ve met (since Quincy is a popular retreat destination for Hollywood). When one of the boys found out we want to work in orphanages, he got very excited and asked which orphanages. I replied that we’ll go anywhere where the doors are open. His eyes got very big & and said the doors to his orphanage are always open! Now if we can just get the orphanage director to feel the same way….

Success or Surrender

Living in America often gave us the illusion that we controlled more of our life than we really did. That illusion is shattered here, however. In 2 Corinthians 2:1-5, Paul writes about a philosophy of missions and ministry that runs counter to our natural desires… “When I came to you, I did not come with excellence of speech or of wisdom declaring to you the testimony of God. For I determined not to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified. I was with you in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling. And my speech and my preaching were not with persuasive words of human wisdom, that your faith should not be in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.”

         This is not a way of life that I naturally embrace. I want to come to the people here with excellence of speech and wisdom. I do not want to be here in weakness, fear, or trembling. I want to impress others with persuasive words of human wisdom, and my default mode is to place faith in my own abilities instead of in the power of God. However, I am gradually (and sometimes painfully) realizing that success here will depend far more on faithful and humble dependence than on any talent or ability I may think I have. When our limitations seem overpowering, and our presence here so insignificant, God is at work shifting the center of our confidence from what we think we can control to Him.

Banya Bonding

  The process of making friends here has proven to be challenging so far, so when I received an invitation to the Banya (bathouse/sauna) I figured I should go.  The guys all enter in their speedos (or less) but I wear trunks.... my cultural assimilation only goes so far!  It's very hot and you stay in there as long as you can stand it.  When you are dripping sweat you then run outside to roll around in the snow.  After you repeat this process a few times, you lie face down and receive a Russian "massage", which means getting beaten with tree branches all over your body.  Then they dump ice cold water on you.  It is an invigorating experience, I'll say that much.  I had some horrific nightmares about big ugly men with hairy backs after the first time I went, but I recovered sufficiently to go again.  I would prefer my male bonding over Monday Night Football, but I guess you have to go where the locals go.  The atmosphere is definitely less formal than an office or church Bible Study, and as a result of this "Banya Bonding" I have received an invitation to preach and visit an orphanage.  It is also good language practice (I've certainly learned some new words) and fellowship, so I trust God is using it! 

Stuck

I was taking our dog outside for a walk. I chose to use the elevator because Gabe saw a big, fat rat in the stairwell and I would rather not run into one. Fortunately, I've never seen one in there but I've see many right outside our apartment entrance. Our elevators work about half the time but I never thought I would end up getting stuck in one! The elevator stopped between the 4th and 5th floor. I tried to open the doors but to no avail. My next option was to call Gabe and NOT panic because that never helps the situation. I was glad that Esther was sleeping and that she wasn't stuck with us. It was cold as I could see my own breath. Gabe tried to find someone to ask who to call.  One man helpfully told Gabe the elevator didn't work.  Gabe told him that yes we know, and asked what to do since I was stuck in it.  The man just shrugged & left....thanks so much. Gabe went back to grab a crowbar to pry open the doors but that didn't work. I pushed the old, rusted "call" button not thinking someone would answer. She asked, "what happened?" I realized quite quickly that I have no idea how to say, "I'm stuck in the elevator". I told her that the elevator didn't work. She kept saying something else to me so I assumed she wanted me to describe the situation more. I told her that, "I not open the door." I should've said that I couldn't open the door but oh well, she understood me and sent a guy to come help! So Hanjik and I were in there for about 30 minutes.  Next time, I think I'll risk the rats.

Returning "Home"

Yesterday we returned to Odessa. I don't know if this place will ever really feel like home, but it's getting better.  The fear factor of approaching something completely unkown & foreign has somewhat dissipated.  Getting snapped at by a rather large Russian woman at the airport in Warsaw was a helpful wake-up call to readjust my expectations to where I was going.  After that reminder, things that used to bother us didn't matter quite as much.  Esther was very tired and cranky but that worked to our advantage as we were ushered to the front of every inspection line.  I was initially upset that our taxi driver over-charged us, but then I was able to have a brief conversation with him about why we are here.  We were able to laugh at the fact that our elevator was smeared with dog poop and never seems to work when we have luggage (although Esther wasn't laughing as she had by then wet through her clothes and had to stay outside with Sarah and the bags while I took trips carting them up 5 flights of stairs). 
        These are very minor inconveniences, but responding to them with an uncomplaining spirit is a critical aspect of living here (or anywhere for that matter).  We need to grow in this area and be at peace with the daily realities of life where God has called us.  The interaction and prayer we have received from many of you over this last month helped us toward this goal, and it made the process of returning "home" more pleasant than we anticipated.