As I sit here writing this I have tears in my eyes, which doesn't happen to me much and I wish would happen more.
I've just returned from the Crimea in the Ukraine, where I have spent the last 10 days as part of a mission team from my church here in Portsmouth. We went out to help out and encourage one of the local churches there and during the week we did a number of things. We led some of the church services on the sundays, we did some practical labour, we did kids work, we did some training, we went to the prayer meeting, we went into some schools as English speakers to meet some local kids and help build the church's link with the schools and we helped set up a cell group in a local village where there is nothing of that nature. We also got to see some of the area and learn of it's history.
But the best bit of the trip for me was where I stayed. Three of us stayed in one place, four in the other, both groups in big foster homes. The home two teammates and I stayed in was that of an amazing couple – Natalia and Victor – who's own children have grown up and who now foster eight – yes, eight – girls. A large portion of our time in Crimea was spent playing with these kids and just living in that house. We had food together, we watched films and we played lots of games – they are an amazing group of girls.
When we went out to the Ukraine I thought the important things I would be doing would be the programmes, the visits, etc, that I've mentioned. But these felt like little things where we were able in some small way to assist what the church there was doing. Looking back, the best and most important part of that trip was my house. We had a translator with us, and she made it possible for us to communicate with them. They learned some English from us and I in turn learnt some Russian. But she also became a great friend, a woman with her own story and family. We all did life together for a week and that means more to me now than I even realised whilst I was there.
The goodbyes last night were so emotional and I really didn't expect it. We simply said thank you to them for having us and how inspirational we had found being with them, how much fun it had been, whilst we gave some simple gifts. Before we had finished some of the kids were crying and the next twenty minutes were just us hugging the kids and taking pictures together and so on. It was all I could do to hold back tears and smile, doing my best to let them know it would be alright. Then the last goodbyes were this morning and if we hadn't been pushed for time I think I would have been fighting back tears saying goodbye to the person who had made much of my interactions that week possible too.
And so I sit here, experiencing reverse culture shock or something, letting the tears come now. Who knew. It's not sadness, it's doesn't hurt, in fact I don't know what it is but I feel so strongly right now. And I feel God saying "it's not the projects, it's not the places, it's not the situations you'll be in; it is simply the friendships you will build and the love you will share, both with kids and with adults, that defines what next year, in fact what your life, should be about".
I could read that (and have read things like it many times) before, but it's only now, coming out of it directly that I understand it somehow. I thought I did but I realise I have no idea what to expect next year. I expect it to be intense leaving each place, for my heart to break and my eyes to pour after each move. I don't know where it will all lead – I can't have 12 places to go back and visit regularly, that's not practical – and so I'm really confused as to where my life is headed. But this last week has been immense. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
