Eastern Europe has been the most conducive place for my spiritual growth. In Romania, I found out what a real Christian was supposed to look like. In Ukraine, I let God show me what heartbreak felt like… though I feel like I may have shut it down a few times because I didn't see a way to fix the broken lives around me. I'm learning how to love people without trying to find a way to fix their problems, alter the course of their lives, or change who they are. People need love: just raw, messy, whimsy, unconditional love.
I wish I could explain what it is that I fell in love with here in Lutugino.
During our one-night stay in Kiev, I found a group of fellow westies to come out and dance with me. A family I missed back home… My heart overflowed being with people that reminded me of my dance family in Salt Lake.
I wish I could explain how I understood what the two men were talking about on the train from Kiev to Lugansk. The old man was tired, reading the newspaper and drinking tea while the younger man initiated conversation about the economy. These people had never met but I got to sit in on their conversation from my top bunk… without them knowing.
I wish I could explain my confusion when Ukrainians approached us moments after we arrived in Kiev and had just dropped our bags down and sat on the floor. They looked so concerned, some offended. We found out later that they believe if a woman sits on the ground, she renders herself barren. And they take this superstition very seriously.
I wish I could explain the ease of falling in love with our host family, the MacDonalds. They've rooted themselves in ministry here after leaving the U.S. eight years ago. They've dedicated their lives to serving this overlooked community and raising the last 4 of their 12 children.
I wish I could explain the warm fuzzies we got having the opportunity to cook dinner for our stand-in moms, Pia and Dorothea, on Mother's Day. And even after we provided an opportunity for them to have dinner together as a family, they still left enough food for the seven of us.
I wish I could explain the magic that happened at our camp-out when Karianne received her 11th birthday song in 5+ languages from the 7 or 8 nationalities represented that day to enjoy a gorgeous spring day together.
I wish I could explain our neighbor Julia's heart of service and generosity. She and her mother will surprise us regularly with homemade borsch for lunch or a chocolate cake for dessert. Eighteen year old Julia noticed our sink wasn't draining correctly and spent an afternoon fixing it. After she was finished, she went to the bathroom to wash her hands and realized our toilet wasn't flushing right either and did her best to fix that too as if we were her first priority.
I wish i could explain my discomfort driving three hours to New Russia, sitting on the floor of Bruce's red van but somehow felt extra loved by my team that day.
I wish I could explain the hospitality here. How when we arrived in New Russia, the family we'd be staying with for a few days were so happy to see us. Their daughters Polina and Anya were beautiful, with the most piercing blue eyes and forgiving smiles. Their son Max works in the mines and was so excited to show us the village in which they lived. The two youngest boys roped my team into chaotic games. I wish I could describe my immense frustration with 3-year-old Reuben waking me up from a nap, eating my snacks, leaving bugs on my pillow… and after a few days of figuring out a way to love him, I decided sparing his life was about all I could handle.
I wish I could explain the strange, simultaneous feelings of pain and joy watching this family laugh and dance together in the kitchen as Bruce told us how they had lost a baby girl to illness earlier that year. In the midst of their grief, their understanding of salvation is better than anyone's I've ever met.
I wish I could explain Svieta's nurturing spirit. While we spent hours at the eyeglass clinics making bracelets, Svieta ensured our tea cups were always full and that we never stopped eating. She didn't speak a lick of English and actually spoke a unique mixture of Ukrainian and Russian so really, no one could understand her. She would wave her hands around to describe something and finally pointed at me, grabbed her own belly and pointed at the plate of sandwiches after I'd eaten four, telling me I need to eat MORE.
I wish I could explain how much I love that the sun rises at 4am but I'm never awake to see it but can enjoy my coffee looking out the window of our kitchen and let the still cool 8am breeze in.
I wish I could explain the change in Bruce's voice when he reminisces about growing up in El Paso, Texas and all the crazy things he did as a kid. I wish I could retell his story about his flying an airplane 100 feet off the highway in the mountains because it has the best airflow. And how his buddies took their high school dates over the border to Juarez if they really wanted to impress the ladies. I wish I could explain his stern, tired, slightly annoyed military-dad look he gives and how I can't help but giggle as if I was one of his kids too.
I wish I could explain my excitement to have my hair washed by a hairdresser. And the butterflies I got when Julia translated what our hairdresser was saying… "Are all Americans this nice?"
I wish I could explain my frustration with our Pakistani friend we met at the medical university. Somehow our chit chat turned into his trying to convince me that men were more valuable and intelligent than women. After saying good-bye, I realized that knowing one's identity in Jesus is the only thing that can turn such deep cultural beliefs about God's creations.
I wish I could explain the way I fell in love with Tanya. How I was moved to tears the first time I heard her play the violin and how every stroke across the strings was for Jesus. She appeared to be skinnier every time I saw her so I wanted to have her over for dinner. I was frantic, trying to have everything prepared before her arrival to our tiny apartment. It felt like getting ready for a first date.
I wish I could explain how blessed I felt when Tanya invited us to her home and made her favorite crab stick salad and played music for us. Turns out she doesn't just play the violin, but she plays the piano and the guitar and has an incredible voice. I'm sure she could pick up any instrument be learn how to play it almost immediately.
I wish I could explain the heaviness I felt upon entering this country. The blanket of alcoholism, guarded hostility and hopelessness is suffocating. Every home has a six-foot, impenetrable wall around it to keep people away. Kids that start down the road of alcoholism or drug use are considered lost forever.
I wish I could explain the sound of my heart breaking when I see 13- and 14-year old girls dressing like they are in their 20s. The culture tells them that the tighter their clothes, higher the heels, the more make up they wear and the more skin they show, the better husband they'll find in the future.
I wish I could explain how sweet it was to see 15-year old Igor tell another boy about his love for Jesus and how he too can live a full and free life. And how equally as sweet it was to look at Igor while he listened to my story through an interpreter his own age, one of his brothers in Christ, Vlad.
I wish I could explain how wonderful our Nigerian friends are. Williams has driven the 40 minutes out to Lutugino and 40 minutes back to Lugansk so we could attend his church, hang out with his friends and family, and take us to get blin (the most delicious crepe/burrito) and ice cream.
I wish I could explain these things to you over a cup of coffee.
But for now, there are more blessings to be had in this beautiful country.
I'll have to tell you more when I get home.
