In a little over an hour, I will ring in the 28th year of my life. I am writing this from a little fold-out couch in a family's home in the middle of a rural village about two hours from Chisnau, the Capitol of Moldova. Every year on my birthday, I spend some time alone reflecting on the previous year: the highs, the lows, the accomplishments, joys, heartaches; and then I really take some time to pray into the coming year. Most birthdays throughout my life have been full of celebration, food, laughter, and friends. This birthday, I am far from all things familiar, listening to the whimper of stray dogs and thinking over the irony of God and His ways. See, on this particular birthday, my life looks very different from any other year. I haven't made any big plans – there are no camping trips or beachside bonfires – but… I am residing in the miracle of contentment.
God is ironic. This month, He has allowed me to use one of my favorite abilities – art – to sketch and paint three murals, and design a logo centerpiece for the ministry we are working with in Moldova. So, this morning, I got to wake up, put on my painting clothes, and spend all day in my element; creating. Doing exactly what I was created to do. And last night, I got to stand on a stage and lead worship with an incredibly gifted Moldavian man named Alexe, and sing. Doing exactly what I was created to do. I spent time having a great conversation with a friend; doing dishes, sipping coffee, and praying over a sister. Doing exactly what I was created to do.
Then, mid-afternoon came around and my team leader got a call from someone in the village. "Can Shelli come out to the village to sketch and paint another mural at the kid's club?" I agreed to go, wondering what this would mean for my 'birthday' plans. Will I be able to celebrate this special day with my teammates? What will my birthday look like? (I get nostalgic about this stuff, okay?)
So, I made the drive out with a new Moldavian friend, and we had great conversation – about American cars, The World Race, delicious food, things I have loved about God's goodness throughout the year – and I pull up to several of my teammates, sitting on a porch, relaxing in the pre-sunset glow. Something about that moment, seeing them sitting there, almost out of place in the middle of this foreign community…felt like home. I literally had this feeling of comfort and peace come over me upon seeing their faces.
So, back to the irony of God – I left my 'comfortable' place for the night to come to the village (we have been staying in a church building – sleeping on the floor, eating Ramen noodles and anything else we can 'cook' with a hot water boiler, taking showers that are actually warm, PTL, and enjoying community on a deeper level now that we're in Month 10)… I left this to come to the village, not knowing what to expect. We pull up to this scene – my teammates on the porch – an incredible Moldavian family, so full of love and generosity. I peek around the back, and come to find a whole litter of baby rabbits, ducklings, goats, cows, an incredible garden full of fruits and vegetables, cherry trees, a vineyard, dogs, kittens, and a sunlit path leading into Moldavian wilderness. Have I died and gone to heaven? Can the world be more beautiful?
Apparently it can, because the family sets out a large table on the porch, and we sit down to an incredible home-cooked meal (which come few and far between on The Race): cucumber-tomato tossed salad with green onions, coleslaw, and greek yogurt dressing, fresh bread with delicious portobello-mushrooms in Alfredo sauce, and my favorite – breaded-pan-friend zucchini 'sandwiches' with tomato, cheese, garlic, and cilantro inside. Oh, and did I mention the fresh cherry juice that Sylvia, our host, literally picked from her tree and boiled on the stove, then cooled for us?
Irony: I laugh and watch Sylvia milk the cow. The kitten, Matilda, longingly looks up at me as I eat my salad. Kirby dances. The birds sing. A few raindrops fall in the midst of a sunshine-cloud-muddled evening. Our friends tell Moldavian jokes. And I… smile. It is a very special day, and I am content. No place I'd rather be than right in the center of God's will, knowing that my obedience to Him makes Him smile.
And putting a smile on the face of a delighted Father – I have no better birthday wish. Here's to 365 new opportunities to make Him smile, one day at a time.
Thank You, Lord, for choosing me to be here, in this place, at this moment. I want nothing more than to be fully content with exactly where I am and the reasons You have brought me here. I love You like crazy, and I want everything in my life to manifest and express that love. Thanks for keeping me alive, keeping me safe and close to You. I want to give everything I've got to the miracle of this new year. Thank you for it, it is a gift.
