In Transnistria we went to two different church services. The first one was a smaller church with about 20-25 people. The whole service is in Russian so I spend the majority of the two hours reading my bible. This past Sunday, I sat in the back and found myself surrounded by Transnistrians. When the service ended a woman who had been sitting near me walked over, put her arm around me, and started talking. I was still sitting and she was standing so I just stayed there slightly confused. During the service the pastor had my team stand in front of the church so they could pray for us, so I knew this woman knew I was an American who didn’t speak Russian. Yet she kept talking. After about a minute, I decided she was probably praying for me. Then I wondered if she was speaking in tongues or just Russian. Either way, I had no idea what she was saying. After sitting there a little while, I looked up at her and she was crying. Then I had absolutely no idea what to do. When someone’s crying you want to hug them, but she was standing and half hugging me, so a hug would just be super awkward. So I continued to sit. After a little longer, she took her arm off my shoulders and grabbed my hand instead. So logically I moved over so she could sit down. And there we sat. She continued to talk and I continued to wonder what the heck was going on.
Typical Transnistrian yard with fence and goat (aka their lawn mover)
Then I decided to pray. By this point I was starting to be concerned that she wasn’t ever going to leave so the only thing I could think to pray was this: either God reveals to me what she’s saying or she gets up and walks away. Honestly, I was hoping God would let me magically hear her in English or I would miraculously understand her Russian prayer. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Instead, my contact walked by and she pulled him aside. Then he told me that she was praying for me because she could feel how much God loved me. She also knew how much I loved God in my heart. Well, that last part was slightly confused in translation (our contact’s English was a bit sketchy at times) but that’s what I think he meant.
The pretty tulips that are in every yard
This woman had never met me before, didn’t know my name or really anything about me. She didn’t even know the same language as me. But she prayed for me. I don’t really understand what she felt, why she prayed for me specifically, or what exactly she prayed. But she prayed. She trusted God and wanted me to know just how much He loves me. I realize I’ll never fully understand how much God loves me, but now, because of this bold Transnistrian woman, I understand it a little bit more.
