This month has felt so incredibly full; bursting to overflow, even. It’s been difficult to put into words all of the beautiful moments and experiences. As I’ve lived a month of life here at Village of Hope, journal pages have been filled and the name of this place has been proven true: a place of hope.
I’ve begun rereading an old favorite: “One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are” by Ann Voskamp. The book is a story of counting blessings and naming gratitude and through that, experiencing the fullness of joy that God desires for our lives. My urgency to count gifts and live in gratitude is perfectly timed. I refuse to miss out on the fullness of this month in this place. Five days a week, the men at Village of Hope gather together for a class taught by men who’ve completed the program. On Mondays, we are invited to join them in a lesson focused on gratitude. Each man is asked to share aloud moments or things or people that he’s grateful for. I don’t know that words can truly capture the preciousness of these moments.
Daily, we’ve worked and lived and eaten alongside 25 men who are here recovering from drug and alcohol addictions. Some have been through the program before and are back to try again. Most have been in prison at least once and some multiple times. A few have lived on the streets. They speak Russian and Estonian and English at varying levels. They are tattooed to varying degrees. They arrived at the Village in situations of desperation, the only requirement for joining being that they make the phone call themselves and agree to follow the rules. As crazy as it sounds, I’ve never felt safer.
At every meal, scripture is read aloud in three languages and prayer requests are given and prayed over immediately. The rule is ladies first and then each table takes a turn going through the line receiving their portion served with smiles by Rauno and Aleksander. Every table typically has at least one man who speaks enough English to carry on some sort of conversation. They are patient with us and excited to teach us little words and phrases in Russian and Estonian. They’ve learned our names and shared bits of their stories. Their eyes are gentle and their smiles are given freely.
These men work hard every single day. Yet the labor is not just physical. They aren’t here only to complete tasks or produce goods. They are here for inner healing and heart change and transformation. Work at the sawmill is matched in fervor with the work of honesty and vulnerability. Each afternoon, all of the men gather together in a ring by the sawmill and share challenges and celebrations and requests for prayer. Before work begins, they put their arms around one another in a big circle and lift up prayers for the afternoon. This practice is repeated at the end of the workday before dinnertime.
It’s become evident to me that these practices are not just valuable for men fighting addiction in the forest of Estonia but are vital for living a full life. Grieving well, being vulnerable with feelings good or bad and practicing gratitude are all practices that I’ve seen make a difference in my life this month. Yesterday morning was frustrating for me. We spent almost two hours stacking wood in the barn like we’d done so many times before. It’s a task that is not complicated but must be completed in a certain way to ensure safety. Margus came to check our work and saw that our stack was unstable and had to be redone. As he pulled down log after log that represented hours of work, I felt defeated and overwhelmed. After lunch, we circled up with the men in front of the sawmill as we’d done daily and Chris nudged me to share. I said that it’s frustrating to try your best and have the result be incorrect. It’s easy to tie my worth and value to what I can do rather than who God has created me to be. I said that the Lord is teaching me to look within my own heart when I feel frustrated and see what that feeling is indicating about my own heart. I shared the beauty of Margus’s patience and gentleness in correcting our work and the picture it gave me of God—desiring us to have good work ethic and try our very best but being full of grace and patience when we do it wrong.
After sharing in the ring, my day was redeemed in the afternoon. The frustration was far from my mind as I attempted to redo our wood stack and then joined Arvi in the sun to help cut logs. That evening, Chris reminded me that I’d really embraced the heart of the ring: to share feelings in order to release them and move past them. And, it reminded me that I know how to do these things well and I’ve experienced the difference it makes in my outlook. Stuffing things down and hoping that they go away is merely a temporary solution that causes feelings to resurface in the least convenient moments. Frustration for me always indicates a deeper root and in this season, I’m trying to commit to dig to the bottom. I know that it’s worth it.
