Saturday, September 28
I stare at the blank white screen, not knowing where to begin. My thoughts are jumbled and constantly moving, as easy to grasp as a handful of water. I don’t know if I should start with the airport that was little more than a hangar: a cement floor surrounded by walls of peeling lead paint. Or if I should tell you about the people I met, from strange characters who could have come straight out of a Dostoevsky novel to the kind women who helped me find my way when I got lost in the city. Maybe I should try to describe the emotions brought on by fatigue and new people, by a foreign culture and a lack of access to constant communication with those I love. But perhaps the best place to start would be with the One whose strength gives me hope in the midst of chaos, whose hand has been abundantly evident in this period of the foggy unknown.
My thoughts are jumbled and I am overwhelmed, but in the midst of overwhelming weakness, He has been faithful and has enveloped me in His love.
My introduction to the university was a whirlwind, after which I felt like I knew even less about what I would be doing than before I arrived. The people I met ranged from silent and detached to exuberant and energetic, but no matter the personality type, each new person seemed overwhelming and scary. While trying to settle into my new home that afternoon, a teacher’s dorm not far from the school, the emotion-charged thought kept attacking me: “What on earth are you doing here! Why did you decide to do this?” The fact that I was going to be here for 9 months started to sink in, and all I could think about was how alone I felt. As I was taking cold medicine, the morbid thought went through my head that if I choked on the pills, no one would find me for at least three days.
I felt desperate for contact with a loved one, and for that I needed Wi-Fi, so I set out into the rainy city, knowing only a vague idea of where I was going. Of course, I got lost. Marshrutkas (minibuses) and I have always had a rocky relationship, so I certainly wasn’t surprised when I jumped on and got in a position on the crammed bus where I couldn’t see out the window. After about 3 stops, I exited the bus and had no idea where I was. I asked a teenage girl for directions to the café I was looking for, and she seemed helpful. Apparently though, I couldn’t follow directions, because I wandered around for another hour, eventually asking someone else. I eventually found Café Shishka (Café Pinecone-great name, right?) and felt like a starving man who had just found a Thanksgiving feast. I went in, ordered smetanik, a distant cousin of cheesecake, and to my relief, was able to get through to my mom on Skype.
After talking with her, I had the task of finding my way back to my dorm. I stopped at a store for a few groceries, and the young woman working there named Irina started a conversation with me. After finding out I was new to the city, she offered me her phone number in case I needed help. Through grateful tears, I accepted, and began the search for my dorm with a bit more hope in my heart. I did finally find it, and I slept 15 hours before venturing out again into the city. This time I avoided public transportation and decided to walk, and after about an hour, I was able to find a telephone store, get internet working on my phone, and find the internet café I had been to the day before. It was here that I was able to connect with a good friend who is also living abroad, and our conversation filled me with encouragement and perspective.
After I hung up the phone, I walked out of the café with the first genuine smile I have shown in the past two days, even giggling a little in joy at the vastness and love and care of God, at his constant holding of my hand in the midst of change, of his abundant gifts in the forms of Irina’s kindness and an internet café and the encouragement of a friend. I have no idea what this week will bring, but I am convinced that God is good and that God is working. I am weak, I am tired, and I am overwhelmed, but I have hope because I believe, as the apostle Paul wrote in Romans 8:28, that “in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” To Him be the glory in this crazy adventure.
22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
Sunday, September 29
I walked out into the rain this morning, intent on finding the church I had looked up online. I left a good fifty minutes before the service to give myself time, but lo and behold, the church turned out to be less than a five minute walk from my dorm! I opened the heavy wooden gate with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness, but as soon as I walked in, I was welcomed by the pastor and was soon in a flurry of conversations with women from the church. I was glad I had dressed conservatively: no jewelry and a longish skirt, but I didn’t anticipate that all women were expected to wear head coverings. From my experience in Bryansk, Russia, only married women wore headscarves. I explained my plight and told them I hoped I didn’t offend them, and a stout and exuberant middle-aged woman named Ekaterina told me not to worry about it and gave me an extra scarf.
The pastor asked me to speak a few words to the church about who I was and why I was here, so after the sermon, I walked up to the front of the church and told them about myself and how my family and I had prayed that I would find a church. Echoes of “slava bogu” (praise God!) rang throughout the small building, and Ekaterina even shed a tear. After the service I met a younger woman named Luba who offered to show me around the city next week, and an older woman named Olga invited me to eat with them. They took me to the basement with a few other families from the church, where we ate boiled buckwheat with carrots and chicken, followed by tea with cookies and candy. They asked me lots of questions about America, and they told me a little bit about the history of their church. It is definitely not what I am used to; it is clearly much more conservative than any church I have been to in America, but despite the differences, I felt truly welcomed. As I left, one of the women, Olga, gave me her phone number and told me to call her if I need anything. As I trekked back to the dorm through mud decorated with yellow fall leaves, I thanked God for his provision, for answering my prayers in a way that was abundantly more than I asked or imagined.
I start work tomorrow, and I have no idea what to expect, but I am not as scared as I was before. The last few days, where I have gone from weakness and almost despair to strength and joy have vividly illustrated God’s intimate care for my life.