On Life in St.Petersburg

O blagodat' (I'm the one with the flute)

2012-01-14T14:45:00.000+04:00

Yep, this is our Christmas performance: "Amazing Grace" in Russian, a la Celtic Women.

It doesn't really sound like the Celtic Women version, but it was a fun project trying to learn and memorize all 3 parts.

Also, I got choked up near the end thinking about the words, so my voice sounds a little shaky.

On corruption

2012-01-02T22:40:00.000+04:00

A recent article in the St. Petersburg Times gave an interesting look into the issue of corruption.

I found this quote especially interesting:

"Russian bureaucracy is such a giant beast that what is sometimes termed as corruption is just a misconception that actually has more to do with the heavy bureaucratic structure where there is an unwillingness to accept responsibility. It’s easier to say no than it is to say yes because saying no doesn’t carry any risk." (emphasis mine)

There is no doubt about the existence of corruption in the Russian government, yet in day-to-day life I try to think the best of people and see them as humans rather as The Machine. I'm not sure if I've ever been a victim of corruption, and I'm not sure I would catch on if I were being encouraged to pay a bribe.

Who is corrupt?

I came across my residency permit honestly, although it took a lot of sweat, blood, and tears. As I look around at the other people in the Immigration Office, I see their sweat and tears (literally) as well, and it's hard to believe any of them are offering bribes. Who is, then? I remember a couple of times when there were line-jumpers. Someone barges in with a baby or some other sort of diversion, and the next thing you know he's in with the Inspector and doesn't come out for an hour, while everyone else is still waiting out in the hallway. Did money change hands for him to get into The Room, or was it just a case of being pushy? Did the The Inspector act illegally? Hard to say.
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Short-cuts: Corruption, or not?

Is hiring a lawyer to get your documents in order legal, or not? I've seen representatives of different companies waiting in line just like everybody else, to hand in their client's documents. But I don't know if all lawyers do that. People say the working hours are few because during "non-working" hours the officers are serving clients through the back door, so to speak. Or...they could be just doing desk work.

Whose problem?

Back to the issue of responsibility. As you know, I have had some issues with my case being unprecedented and the authorities "not knowing" what to do with me. In general, this is because of a lack of knowledge/ communication between different government outfits, as well as between the standards of different countries, especially when changes have taken place recently. Exhibit A: My FBI check. Exhibit B: My name-change documentation. All's well that ends well...

I can tell you, it's frustrating when they make up requirements just because they don't know what to do with you. You so want to hear the words "Okay, we'll let it slide" or "We'll take your word for it." Yeah right! Okay, I understand that they want to see things looking official. But why, if they work with people from dozens of different countries, do they expect everyone to have the same information? Do they really all think that all nationalities in the world use patronymics? Why do these things come as a "surprise"?

Wild Goose Chases

The result of made-up requirements is that when you go to wherever you're sent, nobody there can help you, obviously, since this service does not exist. I was directed to go to Moscow for a document that doesn't exist (a phone call saved a wasted trip), and I was sent all around St. Petersburg searching for something that even the people requiring it could not describe.

This was all because they were afraid to just say "Okay, your country does things differently. We'll think of something." They were afraid to take responsibility and get in trouble for not being rigid enough, I suppose. What confirms this suspicion? The fact that the Boss didn't seem to see a problem at all. Sure, he wanted some stamps, a nice format. But in general he was willing to listen to a logical explanation and make a fair conclusion. Something his subordinates either couldn't or didn't want to do.

Interestingly, I started writing this post before elections came into view. Now there is corruption for you. I'll address that in another post!

Christmas limbo

2011-12-30T15:53:00.000+04:00

My husband and I are both sort of on "vacation," yay! The last week of December, people are still working. But then they have a break until Jan.9th or so. I wouldn't want to need a doctor or anything during this time (lots of people out of town), but it's still nice to have time off.

Andrei and I sat looking at the clock yesterday evening and realized that it was only about 7:30 pm and we were both already home and had eaten and didn't have any work to do. He had stayed up until 2 or 3 a.m. for the past I-don't-know-how-many nights.

We played a board game, had dessert, looked at the clock...it was still before TEN O'CLOCK. So amazing.

It's nice that Christmas and New Year's are on weekends this year. When Christmas is in the middle of the work-week, it just doesn't feel right! This year, we had a Christmas concert on the 23rd....

At rehearsal earlier in the week.

For once, the songs were thematically-appropriate! Our concerts intended for Christmas and Easter often end up getting postponed and the songs lose their relevance, but we were "on time" this year. continue/-

On Christmas Eve, we gathered with some other families to have a meal. It was typical of parties here: taking turns around the table in the small apartment, more and more food appearing out of nowhere when you were expecting a simple meal...catching up with friends.

Then Andrei was up most of the night preparing the sermon for Christmas morning, which I hear was (not surprisingly) excellent. Unfortunately, I was sick.

The Sunday school put on a Christmas play. I just love, from the pictures at least, how everything turned out. Sometimes it is good (and healthy!) to know you're not needed. I helped out at rehearsals a little bit, but putting on plays (in a directorial role, at least), is not my thing. And then I couldn't actually attend the performance. It was great to hear that everyone worked together and it all came together well in the end.

My dear friends!

And I just LOVE the little star, our youngest congregant!

So now we still have New Year's, which I have always sort of regarded as a non-holiday...and then Russian Christmas, also rather ambiguous in the light of having already celebrated.

But, nonetheless, Merry Christmas!

Admiring the newborn King...

Thanksgiving

2011-12-16T13:51:00.000+04:00

Oh dear, another month went by! Well, I can at least write about how my document saga ended up.

On the day after (American) Thanksgiving, my mother-in-law and I headed back to Immigration. As usual we had run around making photocopies and paying fees at the last minute.

It wasn't my last chance; I still had a Friday or two left before my deadline. But I didn't want it to come down to the last minute.

Nina (my mother-in-law) went in early to get in line so I could rest a little at home and finish getting ready. There were even more people than before, so we were pretty far down on the list. She convinced me to stay home for a few more hours.

Eventually I headed over and we waited the last hour or two together. One of the guys from the previous time was there and raising a ruckus again. He had almost gotten into a fistfight before. We all held our breaths as he barged into the office and argued about something with the Inspector. Then a few people took issue with the schedule posted in the hallway, and the Inspector actually came out, stunning everyone into silence, and read the schedule out loud at the top of her lungs.
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So, fast-forward to us finally getting into The Room. I believe it was "lunchtime" at that point, but she took us anyway. My mother-in-law tried to make the situation more personal and tried to "get acquainted" with the Inspector. But the Inspector would not give us her name...I guess she thought we wanted to write a complaint! It is so hard to be compassionate when people are pitted against each other like that. A name, a little personal information...it makes it easier to think of another person as human, but in the bureaucratic system that is taken away.

I had some mistakes on my application and I knew that I wouldn't get in again today if I had to leave and do it over. But she let me just write in the corrections. I also had to add a paragraph to the "explanation," and she let me just come back in and drop it off, without waiting in line.

Then there was ripping, and stamping, and...approval!!! Free until next fall.

There are still a lot of unanswered questions about the future, and I don't fully understand what happened THIS time. The Inspector said that my report wouldn't cut it, if I were to apply for a permanent residency permit. How, then, will I fill in the missing pieces?

But for now, I got to celebrate Thanksgiving after all, and began the Advent season with a glad heart.

What's been on my mind

2011-11-19T20:15:00.000+04:00

Recently, I was musing about doing good deeds...just reminiscing about surprises we had arranged for various friends, and how good it felt to witness their joy.

But the Scripture popped into my head: "If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?" (Matthew 5:46, 47)

Okay, Lord. If I'm supposed to love my enemies, who are they? Defiant English students? Angry bus-drivers? I was puzzled by this.

I was walking home and saw some migrant workers clearing leaves. They had claimed an old baby buggy to help them carry things around. It was physical labor that probably didn't pay much. And I thought, "I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked." (Psalm 84:10)

So what were these observations going to teach me about love and humility? What was coming next?
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Oh. It's Immigration time.

I went to the office later that week and waited in line for hours, as always. I didn't like that assignment they gave me, no way. Why do they never give enough information the first time? No instructions, no addresses or phone numbers.

I felt so very defeated walking away, and I told myself, "We're going to treat this like a school project. You're a student again.You have a month to do all the research and make the proper conclusions. And then, you will be tested."

I've taken a few steps so far, but the last visit revealed further complications. I know I have to kick into high gear, but it is so very hard to find the energy.

I do not want to go back to that Immigration Office. Maybe next time will be the last? It will be an early Christmas present to myself...no more dealing with Russian bureaucracy for a year...or so.

Blood

2011-10-16T13:03:00.002+04:00

I was reading about the construction of Solomon's temple and all the decorations, when I was reminded that the temple was not only a place of beauty, but that just outside, animals were slaughtered for the sacrifice.

Moses took half of the blood and put it in bowls, and the other half he splashed against the altar. Then he took the Book of the Covenant and read it to the people. They responded, “We will do everything the LORD has said; we will obey." Moses then took the blood, sprinkled it on the people and said, “This is the blood of the covenant that the LORD has made with you in accordance with all these words.” -Exodus 24:6-8

Maybe we put on fresh clothes to go to church; watch our language; try to put on a happy face. This is all very good, but sometimes we forget that redemption is a messy affair.

It took bloodshed to get us here. I don't know why this image is so vivid for me today in particular, but I want my life to show that I'm thankful.

It's that time of year

2011-10-14T23:41:00.000+04:00

Seven years in Russia! That's what mid-October means to me.

It makes me feel old, of course. 10 years ago I was in college! The pre-Russia memories are fading.

Most importantly, there are the prayers God answered that seemed unanswerable back then. Would I ever feel at home? Would I ever be able to discuss my favorite topics in Russian? Would I ever have friends? God answered my questions and provided for needs I wasn't even aware of.

If I'd known about the challenges I would face, would I have chosen differently? What if I had known about the blessings I would receive? Interesting to think about, but futile, of course. God fills in the gaps in His own timing.

And I'm looking forward to seeing what new pieces are going to be filled in, by the time October rolls around again.

Wonderful or tragic?

2011-09-29T13:25:00.000+04:00

Intentional immersion...

A few friends called my attention to the NY Times piece about American children "thrown" into a Moscow elementary school. I found the video fascinating and poignant and even showed it to my English students. They liked it too, although they emphasized that it was NOT a typical Russian school!

Although I'm interested in bilingualism, the piece was about more than simply working hard to learn a language.

I found myself weeping a little bit over the contents, and I was musing about why. Obviously the whole experience of living in a place temporarily and making friends and then leaving would be emotional for anyone. But more than that, I think that the piece did a good job of portraying the language barrier in action. The frustration of not understanding the directions; the confused looks when you're making a mess of explaining yourself; the humility of being the only one who doesn't know what's going on, even if everyone around is kind to you.

Just as compelling as the story itself is the comments section on the NY Times site. I found they ranged from "How beautiful" to "how cruel" to "No less interesting than what thousands of immigrants go through every day."

What a range of emotions! A few samples: click to continue/-

"We are Russians and have to send our kids to local school in US with American kids with no word in Russian. Do you think somebody is considering their feelings here?"

"Immersion was the way I learned, it hurt, it was embarrassing, but in 6 months I was fluent."

So here are a couple of questions for discussion:

1) Is this kind of immersion a good model for language-learning?

If you watch the end of the film, you see children who have become fluent in a second language (in 4 years) and are valued members of the new community, participating in extracurricular activities and having no shortage of social appointments...CONTRIBUTING!

From this point of view you could say it was successful. But the article mentioned some behind-the-scenes struggles: for example, the bullying, which was caught on videotape and then discouraged. Without the emotional support and the intervention of caring adults, the social environment of a classroom in a new culture can be very difficult to navigate.

2) Is this model better than the current approach in U.S. school systems?

As far as I understand, immigrants to the U.S. normally attend special ESL classes or even bilingual classes, which, intentionally or non-intentionally, keeps them apart from their peers. This is meant to help their transition, but I wonder if it really does them a disservice. Consider the following comment to the article:

"While I don't think the parallel to immigrant children in America is exact, I do think the story supports my longstanding critique of bilingual education for foreign-born children. I tutored many immigrant children from Latin American countries, most of whom were taking all their classes (even here in Minneapolis) in Spanish. Not only did they fall behind in level of instruction for math and science, they didn't learn any English, and the classes kept them separate from American kids who might have become their friends. The kids who came from less-popular countries, like Russia or Afghanistan, had no bilingual classes -- they were dumped in with the English-speaking kids. And guess what? They did okay. It was a struggle, but like the writer's children, those kids caught up and excelled. They also made friends who could and did help them with English. They joined sports teams. They were totally "normal" kids. I genuinely believe the Spanish-speaking kids were done a terrible disservice by being segregated into classes taught in Spanish. Bilingual education, in my opinion, assures that immigrant children will not assimilate into society"

I wonder what would happen if we challenged language learners academically by letting them learn with their peers, while putting energy instead into helping ease the social/emotional aspects of the transition?

Quick update

2011-09-22T14:04:00.000+04:00

I miss writing! There are times when I'm catching up on blogging and email, thinking, this is excess socializing. If I write that person or comment on that blog, I'm going to get responses, and then I'll have to reply, and it will just keep going and going and take up precious time. Is it just egotism that makes me want to write about myself so others will read it?

But. Here I am.

Andrei and I are both teaching. He has several subjects that he teaches at the university, as well as one at the seminary. I teach Conversational/Business English at the local branch of an American company. We teach during the day, then come home and have to prepare for the next day. I actually teach 3 days, then have one day for the orphanage. We've still got our Bible study and all that. We're working on gradually having all of our friends over to see our little nest. I suppose that is the thing to do after you're married.

I want to do some posts on teaching ESL and Sunday school, since I'm in that mode again.

I also want to write about how our wedding went..at least for my sake, before the memories fade!

Speaking of youth...

2011-09-06T22:12:00.001+04:00

And while I'm on the topic of teenagers...this little girl was about 8 years old when I met her. Now she is 13 (going on 20). I don't visit her orphanage anymore, but I recently heard of a local church doing outreach there, which makes me VERY happy. Oh Lord, bring salvation to these teens!

The youth at my Russian church

2011-09-06T22:01:00.001+04:00

When I moved to St. Petersburg I was focused on children’s ministry since I had just been ministering in the summer camps. But my church that I settled into had just a few kids on Sunday mornings, and no teenagers. I didn’t really have anywhere to bring the teenagers I’d met. We did a few McDonald’s outings and such. One girl and I went to the zoo. But really, what teenager wants to hang out with a random 20-something American lady? And furthermore, what Russian parent wants his or her children hanging out with a stranger from the U.S.? At least, that was what I worried about. The good news is that now a lot of those teenagers are grown-up now and it’s not as awkward to go out for coffee. But I remember one boy who took his own life. You only have so much time…

Doing ministry in a big city is different in that local churches don’t necessarily gain a reputation in the neighborhood. “Oh, I know that church, we went to a Christmas program there.” Nothing like that. Parents can’t ask around to see if other parents have sent their kids to such-and-such VBS. The Protestant churches aren’t really known around town, and the Orthodox churches are known more for their location/building than for fellowship opportunities. So it really takes a friend leading a friend for new people to be able to discover church life.

That brings us to the present. A few people in our church are involved in summer camp ministry, which is great. Our pastor talked about presenting the Gospel and all those little hands shooting up in the air because they wanted to receive Jesus. That brings back so many memories for me. Of course it always looks slightly questionable to an outsider, but I know what it’s like to be there and watching a person’s demeanor changing as the Holy Spirit works. Children are fully capable of understanding the need in their own hearts!
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After coming back from these adventures, one young man in our church is totally broken over the future of our teenagers. Kids are in Sunday school now; then they sort of “age out” as Sunday school gets boring. After that we have Small Groups, which they could technically come to, but it would be a little hard for them to travel to a different neighborhood and stay out that late on a school night.

Do teens need a separate ministry? I remember being motivated to serve as I attended youth group and had fellowship with other teens who were facing similar life issues, growing up Christian while attending a secular school. But I’m not sure if it was the fact that they were peers or just the fellowship itself that helped me feel like a part of the Church. I know that I would have been terrified to speak up at a Small Group if there had been people of all ages…but then again, I always enjoyed the Russia team, which was mixed ages.

People argue that Youth Group needs to be “fun” to attract youth. I’m not sure how I feel about that. It’s fun to play games and unwind, but I’m not sure if they affect a person’s reaction to the Gospel. If he’s interested, he’ll keep coming regardless. If he’s not interested, he may keep coming just for the social aspects. But I agree that a person needs to be able to feel relaxed and safe in order to share about deeper topics.

There is also the idea of a shared commitment…doing something together. From a parent’s point of view: my child is going somewhere to play games with some religious fanatics. It doesn’t seem to have hurt him. But wouldn't it reach a parent's heart to see a child getting involved in volunteer work, getting priorities straight, maybe learning some practical skills? And the youth is getting more than a feel-good experience; he's contributing to something bigger than himself.

So back to our church. Pasha pleads in a choked-up tone: We have to reach our teens before they’re gone. In a few more years another group of them will be teenagers, and then the others, and they will all gradually slip through the cracks and leave the Church.

What is more important? For the youth to have a program just for them, or for the youth to be included in the life of the church? Should they just patiently listen to the sermon and tag along to events with their parents, or should special attention be given? I feel the urgency too and once again I don't have a solution, but I can see hearts being set on fire to reach the youth. The desire is being channeled into prayer, and surely the Lord will provide a way.

I've seen some discussion around the Internet about integrated churches, where there is no division of ministries by age. Again I cannot say what is best, but I love when ages are mixed, as long as no one is left out. While we don't have a youth program, why not work with what we have? I’d really like to get some of the girls helping out with Sunday school. Other Sunday school teachers could be mentors and the teens would get a chance to serve. Of course they are helpful as it is, but having an official responsibility would be a chance for personal growth.

I realize that this was more of a personal meditation and not so much a response to a Bible passage or other body of text. Maybe I'll come across some confirmation later as I read. Any thoughts?

Familiar ground

2011-08-31T12:28:00.002+04:00

Andrei and I felt unexpectedly blessed to be back at church on Sunday. We hadn’t necessarily been homesick, but we really felt at peace to be back. I think part of it was that it was good to return to the context where we first got to know each other. Many things in marriage are new to us, but if we go back to serving each other as we did in the past, it will be a constant. We were fellow members of the Body before we belonged to each other exclusively.

We serve together, but in different roles. We notice needs, but from different perspectives. And then come together to share.

Of course another, more human part of it is that it’s good to feel useful. But while it's nice to hear that we were missed, we know that everything was perfectly fine, if not better, in our absence. :)

A new school year is starting, and this, too, feels familiar. NOW the creative juices are flowing and the fingers are tapping away at the keyboard making lesson plans. We are getting back into the rhythm.

But churches change, and jobs can change. So it's important to remember even in the midst of contentment that many circumstances are variable. We won't always have this routine. But Christ is the same, and the gifts He gives us can be used in a multitude of ways.

Being alone

2011-08-29T19:35:00.000+04:00

I remember a time when my only lover was God. He was the only one who knew my innermost secrets.

It is quite possible to be single and not a bit lonely, when you have a Faithful Friend. Of course you can wonder about the possibility of having a companion, but it is not necessary to be sad, because single life can be quite full. But I am already losing the perspective I had then, so I'm glad to have journal entries to remind me.

I was lying awake due to jet-lag a few nights ago, while a special person lay ~~snoring~~ sleeping next to me. I wondered...had anything really changed in the past month? Here I was, lying awake again in the darkness...hadn't I forgotten about Someone who used to keep me company?

When Andrei and I were on vacation, we got up fairly late, and it felt awkward to separate for individual prayer time. We did everything together. Sometimes we would both sit at our computers, though not for long. Maybe in the evening I would read a chapter or two while Andrei journalled. But in general, it was hard to get motivated to go off by ourselves and pray separately. I remember going through a similar thing with my college roommate-we had just met, and were sort of getting along, but how do you interject into a conversation (or even a lull), "I don't want to talk right now"? Finally I just pulled out my Bible at my desk and she did the same, and it worked out.

Now that it's fall Andrei and I will both be very busy again, and it will still be hard to discipline ourselves to spend time with the Lord. But on the other hand, we'll be out of the house at different times, so there will be opportunities for reflection. I am glad at least that jet-lag served as a reminder to seek companionship with my Heavenly Father.

Here we are

2011-08-26T17:43:00.000+04:00

It was interesting to reminisce as we arrived at Pulkovo airport yesterday after a honeymoon trip.

Last summer, Andrei met me at the airport as I returned from a trip to the States. He often did this to help me out, even though it meant carrying one of my 50-pound suitcases in each hand as we took a bus, then the metro, then made our way up to the 4th floor or wherever I was living at the time.

But the thing is that we weren't dating at that time. So last July I was standing there at baggage claim, very glad that Andrei was waiting outside, but wishing that he had a deeper motive for meeting me at the airport. A hug would be nice, or flowers...or a surprise declaration of love? Then again, that would have been rather odd as we hadn't discussed anything beyond friendship, at least in any more than hypothetical terms.

He met me as promised in the waiting area, and accompanied me and my bags all the way to the new apartment where I was going to be living. The one where he would help me move furniture and come pick me up for our first date a month later (but neither of us predicted that, of course.)

And now we are back in the neighborhood where we first met, when I was living here 7 years ago, in the building next door to him, and wondering if he was ever going to come courting. We're back from our honeymoon and settling into our first shared apartment.

That's just an example of what can happen in one year...or seven, if you like.

A new union

2011-08-05T21:59:00.000+04:00

We had such a wonderful wedding! Maybe everyone says that about their own, but almost a week later we are still feeling so touched and grateful to everyone who helped to make our day meaningful. More later...

How we got married the first time

2011-07-16T23:22:00.000+04:00

It feels awkward writing about being legally married and making wedding plans at the same time.

So here's the truth: Andrei and I had our civil wedding ceremony on April 17th of this year. I hadn't wanted to make a big deal out of it because Russians DO make a big deal out of it, and we want the spotlight to be on our church wedding.

Whenever we mention to someone here that we already had our "registration," we get a big CONGRATS and "I didn't know! Already? When?"

Sometimes we wear our wedding rings, like when getting my new passport, or going for Andrei's U.S. visa. Legally we were allowed to do all this, as husband and wife. But in general we won't consider ourselves truly married until we've had the church ceremony.

So that's that. Just wanted to clear up any confusion. And now, for the civil wedding report: continue/-

After taking care of some necessary paperwork and applying for a marriage license, we had signed up to be legally married on a Sunday evening in April.

The wedding "palaces" were created during Soviet times when church weddings were outlawed, yet idyllic family life was advertised. In general they are very ornate and everything is done very ceremoniously. They were also designed to accommodate dozens of weddings a day, so everything is set up to trot all the guests and bridal parties through the program in a very efficient way, timed to the minute.

We arrived 30 minutes early (as instructed) and were ushered into the cloakroom. Then our guests were ordered to stay in a waiting room near the entrance, while we went upstairs to finish taking care of the paperwork.

This was my big moment: to make the decision about my last name. I told them I wanted to change it. "Cross out your maiden name," they said, "and write in your husband's." How symbolic!

Then they went to consult with some other employees and came back with a whole entourage, who wanted to warn me against taking Andrei's last name. I would have horrible problems, they said. The U.S. authorities simply wouldn't understand about noun declensions and my last name having the feminine ending. But I had done my research and made my decision. They made me sign a statement saying I had been "warned."

(the resulting problems were due to changing my MIDDLE name and not my last name...something I hadn't researched)

The marriage certificate was printed out right then and there, and we were shown into an ornate waiting room. Meanwhile, as soon as we were settled, our guests were led upstairs and into the opposite waiting room, as though they couldn't see us. But they came in to visit anyway. I was given a balloon.

More waiting...they collected the rings.

As the big doors opened and the Mendelsson track came on, we processed into the room where our guests had been seated, and stopped on a swirly-thing in the middle of the carpet, per instruction. The officiant begin to give an elaborate speech, clearly trying to sound as dramatic as possible. I wanted to laugh, but needed to focus on paying attention to what she was saying. I didn't want to miss any instructions.

We affirmed our intent, signed our names, exchanged rings, shook hands...how long was it, 5 minutes?

Then everyone congratulated us and we rejoiced over our little victory. Husband and wife, under Russian law.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4MUs1E3h6Y

Another orphanage update

2011-07-05T18:08:00.000+04:00

I must have gotten sidetracked, as I never did finish my orphanage series that I started a few months ago.

I only visited one orphanage regularly this past school year as I felt that the doors were finally closed at the other one...the one that had always presented a challenge.

Then a woman contacted me from a local church. It turns out that she had found me through a mutual friend online and seen photos of familiar kids while perusing my photo albums. First she seemed suspicious as to how I knew the kids, and then we figured out that we were both Christians and reaching out to the kids with a common goal.

They had been visiting the kids in the orphanage too, doing crafts, organizing parties, and even inviting some of the kids to their homes.

The current administration doesn't let the church group visit anymore, so they're now in the same position as I am: wondering if there is a way to continue this ministry, and if so, how?

But it turns out that God has been answering my prayers all these years by providing local Christians to minister to these dear children.

And it isn't too late to start praying for the next school year: maybe new connections will be made, or something will change in the administration. Anything's possible.

"When David slew Goliath (yes!)...

2011-06-30T20:45:00.000+04:00

....that was a miracle, too."

Today I was on the way to get the decision from Immigration about my new passport. I was really trying to walk in faith, and I remembered the "Miracle of Miracles" song (from Fiddler on the Roof), which I have never found very appealing musically. But suddenly, the lyrics seemed appropriate. I needed my miracle.

The waiting area was as tense and sober as usual. I thought to myself, even if I were completely confident about the state of my own documents, I would still be nearly brought to my knees out of compassion for all of the others. So much confusion and despair and frustration. Where to go, what to write on the form, how to get some answers when the line is so long and the working hours so few. I feel raw inside each time I go there.

As a Christian, shouldn't I be immune from fear? But I can't live without emotions. We are IN the world, even if we are not of this world. And the words came to me: salt...yeast...just a little bit and the whole batch will be different. Just one person in a crowded waiting room can make a difference.

My last name was called and I saw down at the desk across from an inspector I hadn't seen before. "You're here because of a last name change?" "That's right, as well as middle name."
continue reading/-

She didn't even flinch.

"Okay, I'll need a copy of your marriage certificate." I handed over all the documents one-by-one as she asked for them. I had had them ready since May 20th, when I first tried to do the transfer.

"And we'll need your Explanation." I didn't have that. The Boss had taken it.

I explained that it should be in their files, and she promised to look. Then I got a piece of paper to sign and was supposed to come back in 2 1/2 hours.

That was it. No questions, nothing to fill out. No arguing or explanation of what they had all decided when renewing my documents. No condescension towards my "unorthodox" ways.

At 5 pm, we were back with my signed release form. When we were called by name, she handed me my new passport to inspect. It already had the new stamps in it. After a month and a half of running from place to place, it was all settled in just a few hours! Hallelujah!

I do have to apply for a new exit visa, as expected. I'm assuming it will take 4 weeks again. I will probably get it a week or two after the wedding and then we'll be able to travel somewhere.

Oh, and I'm getting married one month from today. Heh heh.

Heartache

2011-06-29T23:28:00.000+04:00

"We have sad news in the orphanage." I felt like my heart stopped when Galina told me that today during our weekly tutoring session.

I immediately started thinking of the "older" ladies who worked at the orphanage. I hoped nothing had happened to one of them.

"It's Liosha," said Galina. "His parents are not coming to get him. The adoption is not going to happen. Liosha cried when he found out, and he went to camp yesterday."

My heart was breaking for Liosha at this news. Out of all the wounded kids, his pain and loneliness gets to me the most. Galina said that when he came to the orphanage he used to just sit under a desk, afraid to come out.

He was afraid of me too, for a while. But nowadays I can get a playful smile.

Getting adopted seemed like the best thing that could happen to Liosha. He is so fragile emotionally, though he is a kind, smart boy. I just can't picture his future after graduating from the orphanage. A new life in California, on a farm, in a family...that sounded like the perfect answer to prayer. I want to believe that he still has a chance to find a family, but I am despairing.

You see, Liosha is 16. I'm pretty sure this is the cut-off age for adoption.

And I also wonder if he will be able to trust again, after this disappointment. My heart hurts for him right now.

Yes and maybe

2011-06-28T18:27:00.000+04:00

Today was a somewhat crucial day as far as some of the goals we've been working towards for the summer.

1) At 8:30 in the morning, Andrei had his visa interview at the U.S. Consulate. We had heard rumors that spouses aren't guaranteed non-immigrant/tourist visas since they might be just using their new marital status as an excuse to emigrate. The general approach is that the Consulate assumes the applicant will be tempted to stay in the U.S., and therefore he should prove that he has ties to his home country.

Andrei and I got a few letters of recommendation and could have taken some steps to prove our relationship is legitimate, etc. However, Andrei felt that he just needed to tell the truth and not embellish, nor hide anything. So he headed into the Consulate at 8:30 this morning and emerged within an hour with an orange card...that means YES.

2) After picking up the translations of my latest documents (including the letterhead and stamp of a few documents that were otherwise in Russian...just in case...), we headed over to Immigration to try to get my documents approved. It's now been about 6 weeks since we've been circling among various offices.
continue/-

We went right to the boss again even though we technically were supposed to visit the regular inspector. The boss still couldn't commit even though we had done things the way he had asked. Thought it over....checked upstairs...nope, still not sure. He told me to wait for a phone call, but I had my doubts, so we convinced him to submit my documents to the committee which meets tomorrow, and then they'll call me by name on Thursday. This is it! I feel that I have exhausted all options, and if I still get rejected, I will have to look into changing my name back.

3) Andrei leaves on the train at 10pm for his annual summer expedition with students from the university where he teaches.

We're thankful that a few burdens have been lifted in time for Andrei's departure. When he comes back, he'll be on "vacation"...except for wedding planning, that is. ;)

To sum up: Andrei is now allowed to enter the U.S., but I do not currently have an exit visa. So we're still not sure whether or not we'll be able to travel anywhere outside of Russia anytime soon.

It will be fun to look back on the time when Andrei was allowed to travel to the U.S. and I wasn't. :)

When candids go wrong

2011-06-24T00:35:00.001+04:00

Ummmm....not quite what Andrei and I had in mind when we were looking for a home appropriate for having guests over...:)

Too stuffed to move (at my birthday party last weekend).

Don't I look like the most welcoming hostess? Tea, anyone?

more photos/-

Andrei, are you sure you want to get married?

But in the end, everyone was full and happy...

Old life meets new

2011-06-23T00:34:00.000+04:00

My college professor is in town! We met for coffee today and I got to show off my fiance, who always has lots of interesting cultural facts to share. :)

Andrei and I were asked to speak to the group of students from my university that are here for a summer exchange program. Stay tuned for part 2 in July...

Rejected again

2011-06-15T17:47:00.000+04:00

I had the idea of going to the Consulate again. After all, they got me my (currently disputed) passport, and they can intercede for citizens, even when it's outside the realm of their usual services.

At the same time I wrote an e-mail to the Embassy in Moscow, thinking that since there are more U.S. citizens there, they might have seen this problem before.

The lady from the Consulate in St. P. called me right away and suggested a few options. It was nice of her to be so responsive. She described another letter that she can get for me, but I explained that it will not be accepted without legalization. It turns out that the problem with getting it legalized is that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs can't confirm the signature of the Consul in St. Petersburg!

She said she would make some phone calls and get back to me. Today, the word was that she had called both the Wedding Palace and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and once again, both offices refuse to do what Immigration has ~~dreamed up~~ ordered.

So basically, there is a 0% chance of meeting Immigration's demands. Unless...I could get a letter from the Embassy in Moscow, which could be legalized. I'm waiting for a call back about that.
read more/-

Meanwhile, the lady at the Consulate suggested just getting a new passport with the name that Russians view as logical.

The wheels in my head are turning as I ponder if this will work. The thing is, that Passport #1 (with all original names) has a stamp in it saying that it's been replaced by Passport #2 (with the name that the Russians think is bogus because I changed my middle name to my old last name).

Hypothetically speaking, if I get a Passport #3 (with the name that the Russians want), then it will technically replace Passport #2. Therefore, I won't be able to prove the connection between Passport #1 and Passport #3, without introducing bogus Passport #2.

Still with me?

I'm ~~furious~~ disappointed that all this time has been "wasted." I'm upset not only for my sake but for those who will face a similar problem. I had hoped that we would find a solution to this loophole in the Russian system, and that those who come after me would be able to benefit from it. That's part of why I wanted to keep fighting. But I keep coming to a dead-end.

The implications are that I can't leave Russia for awhile until I can get this cleared up. It will probably take at least a few more months. In the end it will be fine, but I'm disappointed that we won't get our honeymoon outside of Russia as we had planned. I'm sure we will still have a good time wherever we do end up going, and it will make good memories regardless.

We're doing everything we can, and believe that the final result is in God's hands.

Bureaucracy at its "best"

2011-06-09T22:27:00.000+04:00

The officials have done a really good job this time, sending us from office to office without anyone wanting to take responsibility and give an answer. Apparently our case is strange and perplexing. Who would have thought?

3 weeks ago (seems like longer), I spent the day at Immigration, having spent a month collecting all the documents they'd requested. Since then, we have tried several different options, none of which have been fruitful (yet).

Week One
Friday: Immigration: they are confused. I am distraught.
The following Tuesday: Immigration: they still are confused. I am calmer, but longing to be understood.
Thursday: The committee at Immigration gives us two options: We can go to Moscow (they already told us no) or go to the wedding archives. The people at the wedding archives are confused and send us to get a document. The document guy won't be in his office until Monday.

Week Two
Monday: Meet with professor guy who can get us the document.
Tuesday: The document isn't ready until evening, so we won't make it to the wedding archives. We will have to go on Thursday.
Thursday: The wedding archive lady only works 2 days a week, and isn't in her office. We talk to her assistant, who promises that we'll get a phone call.

Two weeks, one document...a little bit of progress.more/-

Week Three:
Tuesday: Still no word from the wedding archives, so we pay a visit in person. She hasn't even looked at our documents. She promises to call again.
Thursday: Still no phone call. We call and are told to come and collect our documents and try another division, as they can't do anything for us. The other office can't take us until next Thursday.

So basically Immigration thought and thought, and couldn't help us, and then the Wedding Archives thought and thought...and couldn't help us.

We were realizing today that this could take MONTHS. We might have to get the documents reviewed by several different committees without ever hearing anything definitive! Somebody somewhere needs to just tell us what to do and stick to it.

I don't have legal registration in my new passport, but I can't very well leave the country at this point either, not even a little skip across the border into Finland. So much for honeymoon plans!

A glimmer of hope: Maybe the professor's document will be enough to appease Immigration. It's worth a try. I'm going to go there first thing in the morning to get in line and try for a little negotiating.

I have been hearing about David and Goliath everywhere I go lately. It is my inspiration for now.

Letting go

2011-06-02T00:01:00.000+04:00

I got a new phone the other day because my other one was dying, and it took a certain amount of effort to transfer the contacts between the two. But I actually received an unexpected blessing going through those contacts, in the form of memories.

My tendency to accumulate things extends even as far as my address book, and I looked at the list and decided it was time to prune...why was THAT person still in there? Surely I could do a little pruning in this area of life, at least.

But it wasn't so easy. My first year here was FULL of encounters with various interesting people. I was very prayerful about how I spent my time, and about each relationship. Perhaps it happens for many missionaries or any Christian servants, that they expect miracles at first and look at each day with such hope and anticipation...

No, I know it was hard. I didn't know Russian as well then, and everything was new and strange. But I sought the Lord, and He was with me.

And I look at the names of people whom I don't see much anymore, and I think...when did I stop praying for that person? Or seeking the counsel of that other one? The dear interpreters from camp; the former English students; an orphan or two who put me on their cell phones just for fun. What if I wanted to suddenly renew those relationships, and couldn't call because I erased their numbers? What if they wanted to call me, and I wasn't prepared to talk to them, not recognizing the number?

Maybe it's just another time now and there are different individuals I'm meant to serve, with a different focus. But I felt God's voice whispering to me not to give up. So I erased hardly anyone at all, and decided to leave the doors open to possibility.

Another week gone by

2011-05-30T00:34:00.000+04:00

I'm a lot calmer than this time last week. For one thing, the dreaded packing and moving is over! I'm already in the apartment where we'll live together after the wedding. I haven't had much strength to put anything away, but the hard part is over.

Andrei and I went back to Immigration twice this week. The first time was to argue our case. We got in line at 8:00 in the morning and it wasn't our turn until 6pm. They were taking about 1 person an hour. I was calmer though with A. there and everyone praying for me. I had clarified a few things, but the Inspector still wouldn't accept my new passport. She said I needed some kind of proof that I had changed my name and all the documents matched. We were arguing in circles.

-"On what basis did you change your name?"

"On the basis of the marriage certificate."

-"But the name on the marriage certificate is different."

"But the marriage certificate is what I used to change my name."

-"But the names don't match up."

"But this letter right here from the Consulate says that they do."

-"This letter is not legalized."

"But no one will agree to legalize it."

-"You still need some sort of proof."

"But I have this letter. And the marriage certificate." read more/-

She agreed that it wouldn't be much use for us to go off to Moscow if the legalization department there hasn't agreed to help us. She promised to check in with her boss and gave us an appointment (!) for Thursday. She would call us by NAME. What luxury!

Part 2

On Thursday we were the first ones called, and it was a different Inspector. They had all discussed my documents and agreed that I needed "some sort" of document to accompany my new passport. Still no hint as to what that may be.

We pressed for more information and she said we could 1) get a copy of U.S. legislature regarding name changes and get that legalized in Moscow (again, we would probably be refused) or 2) go back to the wedding palace and get them to do something with the marriage certificate

When we asked about deadlines, she shrugged and said we would go by the date of whatever verification I get. So I guess I'm not going to get in trouble for running around with an expired passport.

We headed to the wedding palace, and happened to arrive during one of 2 narrow windows when the boss is in her office! We asked about verifying the name change and she didn't know what we were talking about, but she was more professional about it. No scrunching up her face in disgust and asking "What's THIS?" She sent us to an expert in linguistics who will be able to make a better judgment.

So the current plan is: 1) visit a linguistics expert to compare the two passports and confirm that it's the same person
2) go back to the wedding palace to get some sort of amendment to the marriage certificate
3) go back to Immigration with this new verification, and finally transfer my residency permit into my new passport
4) get my new registration and apply for an exit visa so I can travel after the wedding

A lot of times during all this I really wish I had an advocate. Where is the person to defend me? And it's not just me...I wish someone would step in and intervene for all the foreigners stuck in these bureaucratic messes. Where, Lord? The Holy Spirit has been sent to you. That is the hope I have to lean on.

Irreversible

2011-05-22T21:34:00.000+04:00

Now that I'm a bit calmer, I can write about what's happening. I think it's important to write about trials, so that I can praise God later for them. Maybe by the time some of you read this, it will even be resolved. :)

I went ahead and got a new passport, with my new last name...after doing plenty of research to make sure my residency status would be transferable.

The line to visit the local authorities was very long, to put it mildly. Oh, the atmosphere of that waiting room...so terrifying. How many people's lives has it changed? The pacing, the biting of the nails, the rocking back and forth as people on the last day of their visas try desperately to get an extension. Or they wait in line for days to pay a fine, and the fine grows while they wait.

Anything to not go insane! I tried praying, singing, reading, thinking about hope in general...but thoughts kept going to the clock and The List of people in front of me.

The fact that I made it into the room to see The Inspector is a miracle in itself. Looking at my two passports, she inquired in confusion, "What's THIS?" Glancing back and forth between the two variations of my name, it did not add up for her. This is due to the fact that I not only changed my last name, but also kept my maiden name instead of middle name.

Per her instructions a month or two earlier, I had gotten the Consulate to prepare a letter to accompany my other documents. The Inspector looked at the letter and said "Where is the legalization of this document?" What was I supposed to do to legalize it? It was from the U.S. Consulate. read more/-

"You'll have to go to Moscow," she said. Not again!

I had a bit of a panic attack thinking about how she gave me another week, but the legalization of documents in Moscow takes a week, and if you add in travel time, I wouldn't quite make it.

Then when Andrei tried calling the dept. in Moscow so we wouldn't make a trip there for nothing, they said they couldn't do anything for us.

That was where we left off on Friday, and then it was the weekend.

On Monday we'll try to attack the problem from all angles, until we find a door that opens. There has to be an answer somewhere.

Maybe she made a mistake? I remember when I couldn't get the central office to accept my FBI background check. That needed to be legalized, too. The Russian government would not accept it, and the U.S. government would not legalize it. I had to start from scratch. But this is a passport. I can't redo my identity.

I don't even have a visa right now. Just a brand-new passport with empty pages. And an older, stamped-up passport with holes through it to signify its invalidity.

The hardest part isn't not knowing the outcome, because there is no outcome that could separate me from the love of God. The hardest part is to pick up my feet and walk forward in faith.

Fun changes

2011-05-21T19:41:00.000+04:00

Introducing...

The Love Nest! :)

This is where we're going to live after the wedding...actually, I'm moving in first, sometime next week. These are the "before" photos-we haven't made any changes or cleaned anything up since getting the keys.

The wallpaper is new. Through that little door is a closed-in porch that we can use for storage. The furniture is "older," but has character. ;)


The living space

more photos/-

The rest of the room, around the corner

The kitchen-needs some rearranging :)

Part 2 of The Bird plus The Passport

2011-05-14T20:10:00.000+04:00

(Read the previous post first.)

On Wednesday night I was finishing up blogging and e-mailing when my roommate knocked on my door at about 1am..."he's still here."

Apparently we hadn't checked very thoroughly for Mr.Pigeon, and he had been there all along, all through Bible study, without so much as a peep. Now that the lights were out and all was silent, he had started flapping around again behind the wall of shelves in Yulia's room, and she didn't particularly want to sleep in the same room. So she got in the spare bed in my room and we left Mr. Pigeon alone for the night.

On Thursday morning, he was still there, sometimes sitting still and sometimes pacing a little bit back and forth. No signs of trying to get out.

Andrei came to our rescue on his lunch break. He moved the heavy shelves out of the way enough to get access to Mr. Pigeon. But he ended up having to grab Mr. Pigeon with a cloth and manually carry him out onto the balcony, because that bird wasn't budging. Our feathered visitor finally flapped his wings and set off....to a neighbor's window sill. For some reason he didn't seem eager to enter the world. But eventually he did fly away. Mission complete!

I finally got word on Friday that my passport was ready, so I'll have to go in next week to get it and then do the next few steps. I "wasted" some time this week waiting for it, but I did get some other things done, like beginning to box up some belongings for my impending move.

An intruder

2011-05-12T00:19:00.000+04:00

I wanted to pick up my new passport today, but the Consulate hasn't informed me yet of its readiness. I had cleared my schedule anyway, so I was home, ~~throwing everything on the floor~~ doing some spring cleaning.

Suddenly I heard a creeeeak. I freaked myself out with thoughts of the boogey-man visiting, but I attributed the noises to the windows being open and causing things to flutter around in the breeze.

I headed to the front door to put my shoes on and do some grocery shopping, and came face-to-face with a pigeon. It was just bobbing along down the hallway, blinking its eyes. Ummmm....that thing was NOT supposed to be inside!

I guess I thought it would just go "toward the light," or in this case, the open balcony door. No screens here, just some gauzy material to filter out insects and other creatures. I opened the door wider and pulled the curtains aside. A pretty wide target.

Pigeons, it turns out, cannot be shooed. Ever noticed how they just flutter about 2 feet away and then stop? Whether from complacency, indecisiveness, or fear, I couldn't be sure...but this guy was going nowhere. He checked out his reflection in the mirror for awhile, then flopped awkwardly behind a piece of furniture as I approached and then just as awkwardly scrambled around back there. After I unsuccessfully shooed him from corner-to-corner (he got nowhere near the intended exit), he stationed himself near the door to the hallway, as if trapping ME in the room instead. And there was now a trail of blood from his feet (claws? talons?), which he had evidently injured. Pigeon-1. Liz-0. continue reading/-

I slid a piece of cardboard his way, hoping to at least get him to move, and he fluttered up on top of the wardrobe. From there I was able to get him far enough from the door to make my escape and shut him in the room. Fly away, Mr. Pigeon, fly away!

My roommate dropped by on her lunch break to play the hero. I might add that this all took place in HER room. I was thankful this time that she had the room with the balcony.

She poked her head into the battle room. "I don't see him." And then a quick peek on top of the wardrobe. He was still sitting there, just blinking! At least when we have bats or squirrels or whatever at home, they seem to sense where the exit is. Not this guy. He wasn't very intimidating, but he had outstayed his welcome. Yulia tried to scare him out of his corner and he fell behind the furniture and didn't make an effort to leave. She went back to work and I shut Mr. Pigeon in her room again and went to get ready for Bible study.

3-4 hours later, the guests were arriving. I made them peek into Yulia's room to see if Mr. Pigeon was gone. No sign of him! I guess he just needed to be left alone in order to make his move. Meanwhile, we may be subject to such visitors once more, as the open balcony (despite risks) provides us with much-needed ventilation.

Looking in the mirror...

To whom?

2011-05-04T15:00:00.000+04:00

To WHOM? (meaning, 'who have you come to visit?') This is often barked at me when I enter Russian establishments. I mean, the kind of establishments that have guards. To be even more precise, certain apartment buildings, and orphanages, and even the Consulate.

I have been grappling with why this is such a strange question for me, as an American. Do we even demand to know people's business as they arrive? Or is it always something super-polite, as in, "How may I help you?" What question would they ask in other countries around the world?

It used to irk me at the orphanage, and actually it still does, because I'm always ready to say who I am, but then they ask whom I'm looking for. I know I should learn the right answer, but I usually end up saying something like "everyone" or "the children" since I go around to different groups. Really, I'm supposed to say "Group 2," or the counselor's name there. They want to know the name of the person expecting you, and then either they have you wait, or usher you right in.

At the Consulate it's even stranger. Andrei was surprised that they didn't let me in right away and welcome me with open arms like in the movies. I was eventually admitted into the building, and at the inner checkpoint, the officer asked, "KOMY?" Well, I was stumped. Whom on earth would I be visiting at the U.S. Consulate? I echoed the question with a befuddled look and he looked at my passport "Ahhhh, a citizen," and switched into English. No more questions.

To America and back in one hour

2011-05-03T21:57:00.000+04:00

Don't know if it was risky to go to the U.S. Consulate today or not. In Moscow, maybe. But they don't seem to be likely targets for "activity."


Language confusion...

I successfully applied for my new passport today (after filling out the form a few times). When I pick it up next week, I will have to get it translated in a hurry and dash over to the local authorities to get my residency stamp transferred. Foreigners must be registered here within 3 days, and my old registration will be canceled along with my old passport.

The scene at the Consulate hasn't changed much over the past few years. What has changed is the new "appointment" system. It seems like a joke because there is NEVER a line at Citizen Services. Well, maybe I've had to wait a few minutes while they dealt with someone else or did something paperworky in the back. But in general, it's a ghost town.

I suppose they want to 1) know exactly who is going to be coming to the Consulate on a given day and 2) reserve personnel for emergency cases (stranded tourists) and non-citizen issues. But that's just my guess. continue/-

I arrived about 15 minutes early and wasn't even allowed in the building; I had to go wait across the street for another 10 minutes. It seemed a little harsh, especially considering the weather was in the 30's! But my future hubby is the bigger hero as he waited outside for me the whole time. There was also a group of hopeful visa applicants, evidently some Russian youth wanting to spend their summer in the U.S. Andrei gets to be in that category soon. :)

While we were still waiting outside, a group of bespectacled American businessmen in wrinkled khakis and blue blazers approached the Consulate and guffawed about something, to the non-amusement of the Russians.

Security was standard; I had given my Kindle to Andrei and removed change from my pockets, so I got a comment as to "many things for hair" in my purse, but that was it.

While I was waiting to be served, another American came in and said hello and we immediately started gabbing about where we were from, etc. I was amused thinking about how I would never say hello to a strange Russian, although we might compare notes about paperwork.

I have to admit to being a little nervous that the people waiting on me at the Consulate were Russian, only because I was afraid there might be a misunderstanding. The first girl was very young and her English was so-so (we could have spoken Russian, but it's the U.S. Consulate after all). However, she was quite efficient at helping me with the computerized form, and ran anything in question by her superiors right away.

The woman higher in command is quite knowledgeable; I think she's worked there for several years. So I'm pretty confident that my documents are in good hands. And even more confident that God is watching out for me!

An age-old or modern problem?

2011-05-03T00:39:00.000+04:00

"Well, you dress like a little girl, for one thing."

"I am a little girl, so why shouldn't I?"

-Louisa May Alcott, An Old-Fashioned Girl, page 10

I read this book for the first time recently, and quite enjoyed getting to know the main character, "old-fashioned" Polly. I've noticed some social commentary lately on how young girls dress, and here in Russia their wardrobe choice is an issue as well.

It's not so much that Russian girls dress more or less scantily than in other countries, but there is a lot of premature sophistication, in my opinion. I'm almost 30, and there are eight-yr-olds more sophisticated than I am. The heels, the pea-coats, the perfectly coiffed hair...Is it a problem or not to dress older than one's age? That's debatable.

What I liked about the girl in this book was that she herself was conscious of how she differed from her vain peers, yet she stood firm. It is one thing for parents to set rules about modesty, but do young girls understand the reasons, or are they simply being obedient? They hear "you're too young" all the time, but how often do they say "I'm too young to wear that" or "that movie is inappropriate for me to watch"? They must be taught discernment.

A happy accident

2011-04-30T12:21:00.000+04:00

The wedding is three months away and Andrei and I have virtually no photos together, aside from a few candids. I used to scoff at the idea of "engagement" photo shoots, but now I understand why it is a good season of life to immortalize.

We haven't been able to schedule a photo shoot for various reasons, but we were walking in the park on Sunday when we suddenly ran into a friend from church, camera in tow. Before we could even react, he snapped our photo. And there you have it.

Orphanage update #1

2011-04-29T14:06:00.001+04:00

Everything is going pretty well with visiting the orphanage regularly. I do a lot of tutoring English. I also witness a lot of the kids' "growing pains," since I sit at a table right in the middle of their group. Oh, the drama.

Some time ago I mentioned a new girl, Dasha. As new kids have been coming in, I've been noticing the power struggles. A new kid either makes a name for himself among the other kids by doing something bad early on (skipping class together, obtaining cigarettes, etc.), or he keeps to himself and is ostracized.

Unfortunately, Dasha hasn't made a friend in the group. She has not even acquired a "partner in-crime," which is how so many of the friendships start out. The counselors praise her studiousness, though they do not seem to be doing anything to help her develop her social skills. I saw her giggling a little when the boys teased, and I thought perhaps she was going to break into normal adolescence. But the teasing took on more of a taunting nature.

Her studiousness, frank manner, and nervous tics have become fodder for rejection by the rest of the group. I hoped so much for her that she either didn't care about the foolish words from others, or cared enough to try to break out of her shell and make a few friendly gestures.

"I am going to appeal to the director to leave this group," she announced recently, as the other children and counselors snickered. I wished I could just lend her a little patience to get through the next few years. While "behind" in some ways, she is simultaneously more mature than the other kids, since she doesn't play their little games.

I was reminded of the film "Chuchelo," a very compelling Russian film in which a young girl is ostracized by the rest of her class. It's similar to "Lord of the Flies" in that it depicts some frightening human tendencies that surface in group situations. I very much hope that Dasha will cling to the few positives in her life and not continue to be a victim of society or of her own troubled past.

Easter in Russia

2011-04-23T23:14:00.000+04:00

It's a good thing the Easter cakes were officially blessed by the priest yesterday! That means we can eat them, right?

Apparently the priest personally showed up personally at the grocery store to perform the honors. Typically, people take their Easter eggs and cake and I don't know what else to church with them to get the food "blessed" before the Easter feast.

Sweet Harmony

2011-04-16T19:55:00.000+04:00

I was looking for some hymns online and came across this family of singers. I was so inspired by their crisp harmony, so worshipful. I almost wanted to dance!

Listen to "How Beautiful":

A way of life

2011-04-06T17:45:00.000+04:00

I used to get a multi-entry visa to Russia once a year, and that was it, besides the occasional trip out of the country for registration purposes.

Then things got more complicated, and I thought...now if I just had a residency permit, I wouldn't have to "worry" about visas again.

As I got closer to getting my residency permit, I looked forward to the days when I would be free from bureaucracy. And there is a sense of freedom, in a way. But as my documents were finalized, I noticed the line for the people who were there for their annual inspection, from which I will not be exempt. Now I had a different thought: this is my life.

Of course it isn't my life in the sense that it's my purpose. But it is something that will remain constant. I can see that now as I imagine how even the next year will go, with lots of bureaucratic processes to endure. But there is no other way to live.

God is not going to take away this burden, although He may give me favor with the officials, or see that a law or two will change. I think I just need to accept the way things are and get used to depending on Him.

A matter of life and death

2011-03-30T23:47:00.001+04:00

He is not the God of the dead but of the living. -Matthew 22:32

I'm not sure why, but this verse has come up again and again in the past several months, starting in the fall at a church retreat.

One of the church's leaders had just lost his mother that day, and the pastor implored us to meditate on this verse. Among Russian Orthodox believers there is a practice of praying for the Lord's mercy on the spirit of the dead, as it passes through the journey to its final destination. But the Lord wants to meet with us in this life. It is here where we make our decision, and if we choose life, He will still be our God...not the Lord over our dead bodies, but the Lord of our new, eternal flesh.

Then I was talking to a friend who was favoring a "catch-all" sort of spiritual mindset. She was okay with most religions, and astrology and divination were just fine, too. As I explained that my views were a little narrower, she asked "Do you believe in ghosts?" I said that I believed in evil spirits, as the Bible does recall incidents of demon possession. But what about the "friendly" kind? You know, the spirit of the deceased relative, "watching over" someone, or trying to "say" something. I thought for a moment, and the verse popped into my mind again. Anything to do with the "undead" is NOT of the Lord. He is the Lord of the living. We may commune with the Lord in this life, but those who are dead, are dead, awaiting resurrection. If resurrected, we will live in a new heaven and a new earth. There is no wandering about between the worlds. read more/-

Guess what phrase came up in my Greek homework? That very verse. A fairly simple passage to translate, since the only verb is "to be." It's part of the essence of who God is. How could a dead person choose whom to serve? When we speculate about what really goes on in the afterlife, all we can do is compare it with the life we know. But there, everything will be different. We will change. Outside of our faith, all else becomes irrelevant.

Recently, I was reading some headlines about Japan. A CNN article mentioned the impossibility of performing funerals for most of the dead, as mass burials are presently a necessity. My heart went out to the survivors who were not able to confirm if family members were alive or dead. At the same time, I thought, does it really MATTER in what form they were buried? And again I thought of the Lord and how He takes care of the living. The deceased, if believers, have already met with the Lord. They receive eternal life. But there is still hope for the ones left behind.

Soon, we will observe the ultimate victory of life over death, the Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ!

Another (more serious) book on marriage

2011-03-26T11:28:00.001+03:00

When I mentioned "heavy" books on marriage that I was reading, this was one of them. But I think the heaviness that I felt reading John Piper's "This Momentary Marriage" is more about the weight of His glory than about something sad. It's all quite positive, because it is God's plan, and all that He created is good. But it is also a great responsibility.

(You can download "This Momentary Marriage" for free from John Piper's website.*)

Something old, something new

Many of the marriage-related topics addressed in this book (forgiveness, gender roles, etc.) can be found in the sermons posted on desiringgod.org. I had listened to several of them recently, so I recognized the material.

Yes, he offers commentary on the "same old" passages, such as Ephesians 5. But he expands on them in such a way that I received many new nuggets of insight that I hope to apply in my own life.

Grounds for marriage

Early on in the book, Piper quotes Colossians 3:12 ("Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved...") and then expands on a description of believers as 1) chosen, 2) holy, and 3) beloved. His conclusion is this: read more/-

"This is the beginning of how husbands and wives forbear and forgive. They are blown away by being chosen, set apart, and loved by God. Husbands, devote yourselves to seeing and savoring this. Wives, do the same. Get your life from this. Get your joy from this. Get your hope from this-that you are chosen, set apart, and loved by God. Plead with the Lord that this would be the heartbeat of your life and your marriage."

I made a note of this as something to pray about continuously.

Being in love vs. keeping a covenant

We've all heard it: "love" and "being in love" are not the same thing. People warn you that the "in love" goes away, so you'd better work on the "love" part. I like Piper's no-nonsense approach:

"If a spouse falls in love with another person, one profoundly legitimate response from the grieved spouse and from the church is, 'So what! Your being 'in love' with someone else is not decisive. Keeping your covenant is decisive.'"

Something recoils in me at the thought of ever having to deal with this problem. But I am so glad that there are people fighting for these truths, and that I know which side I'm on.

Marriage roles

Piper's comments on Ephesians 5 are that:
-the husband is like Christ, but he is NOT Christ
-"the analogy only works if the woman submits to Christ absolutely, not to the husband absolutely. Then she will be in a position to submit to the husband without committing treason or idolatry."

But I also felt it was appropriate that he challenges the ambiguity of modern marriage roles with this comment:

-"... the problem is that egalitarians seem to stop with mutual submission, as if that were all one needed to say about roles in marriage, or as if that is all that the text has to say. And when they stop there, most people today are left with great ambiguity and great confusion about the proper roles of husband and wife...You don't need to deny mutual submission to affirm the importance of the unique role of the husband as head and the unique calling of the wife to submit to that headship. The simplest way to see this is to remember that Jesus himself bound himself with a towel and got down on the floor and washed his disciples' feet (the bridegroom serving the bride), but not for one minute did any of the apostles in that room doubt who the leader was in that moment." (emphasis mine)

Piper then goes on to illustrate headship for two chapters.

"If there is a sound downstairs during the night and it might be a burglar, you don't say to her, 'This is an egalitarian marriage, so it's your turn to go check it out. I went last time.'...Big or little, strong or weak, night or day, you go up against the enemy first."

The next section deals with wives' submission. Piper expands on Proverbs 31:25: "Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come."

"She looks away from the troubles and miseries and obstacles of life that seem to make the future bleak, and she focuses her attention on the sovereign power and love of God who rules in heaven and does on earth whatever he pleases (Ps. 115:3). She knows her Bible, and she knows her theology of the sovereignty of God, and she knows his promise that he will be with her and will help her and strengthen her no matter what."

Not married

Singlehood can be a blessing....haven't we all heard that before? (1 Corinthians 7) I started flipping through the section a little faster, but I found that he offers some beautiful insight, like this comment:

"Someone might ask, wouldn't it be better to have both-the blessings of marriage and the blessings of heaven?...the blessings of being with Christ in heaven are so far superior to the blessings of being married and raising children that asking this question will be like asking, wouldn't it be better to have the ocean and also the thimbleful?" (emphasis mine)

On hospitality

"If you are afraid of hospitality-that you don't have much personal strength or personal wealth-good. Then you won't intimidate anybody. You will depend all the more on God's grace. You will look all the more to the work of Christ and not your own work. And what a blessing people will get in your simple home or your little apartment."

Isn't this so true? I have been the recipient of this hospitality so many times, especially in Russia, where living conditions are modest. How wonderful to enjoy a simple meal in good company, or even just a cup of tea! When you are served the last portion of homemade soup, how warming it is to the soul! My roommate likes to say that food prepared with love is always tasty. I think that's mostly true. She always eats my cooking at least, even if she does douse it with ketchup once in a while. :)

Having children

This chapter begins with a treatise on sexual relations in marriage. Lots of good thoughts, but I'm simultaneously reading Piper's "Sex and the Supremacy of Christ," so perhaps I will cover that topic in another review.

His main thoughts on Christian child-rearing relate to marriage partners as a model of God's love for the future generation. "As husband and wife, they are a drama of the covenant-keeping love between Christ and the church. That is where God wants children to be. His design is that children grow up watching Christ love the church and watching the church delight in following Christ."

As he digs deeper, Piper focuses mainly on appealing to fathers as heads of households, with discussion on Eph. 6:4: "Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger."

When things don't work out

Unfortunately, a marriage book isn't "complete" without mentioning divorce. But I agree with Piper's stance on this issue as well. He suggests a combination of compassion for those suffering with a deep hatred for divorce itself and the sin that causes it. His simple argument against divorce relates directly to Christ's covenant with His bride.

"And if the blood-brought church, under the new covenant, ever ceases to be the bride of Christ, then a wife may legitimately divorce her husband. But as long as Christ keeps his covenant with the church, and as long as the church, by the omnipotent grace of God, remains the chosen people of Christ, then the very meaning of marriage will include: What God has joined, only God can separate."

Piper applies this to remarriage as well. Divorcing and remarrying is an act of adultery (Mark 10:10-12), because Christ would never abandon His bride in this way. However, this does not mean that those who have remarried should abandon their current spouses, as they are already in a covenant with them.

Thinking "out loud"

I finally realized what it is that's particular about Piper's teaching/writing style, and that is that he muses his way through an issue. He records all of his reactions as they enter his mind. He asks questions and leads the reader in exploring them; then his observations flow along, with lots of clauses linked by "and."

In the section on child-rearing that I mentioned, Piper muses about Paul's reasons for making a particular exhortation.

"Of all the things Paul could have encouraged fathers not to do, he chooses this one. Amazing. Why this one? Why not, don't discourage them? Or pamper them? Or tempt them to covet or lie or steal? Why not, don't abuse them? Or neglect them? Or set a bad example for them? Or manipulate them? Of all the things he could have warned fathers against, why this: 'Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger?'...He doesn't tell us why. So let me guess from what I know of Scripture and life. I'll suggest two reasons. First..."

That's a pretty roundabout way of posing a question! It's effective in a way because it leads the reader in asking questions. But it's a little too informal, in my opinion. Lots of personal pronouns.

Conclusions

I think this book is a great, comprehensive look at God's design for marriage. John Piper's arguments are solid and I see no red flags as to false teaching. "Momentary Marriage" is not a collection of practical helps; it is a biblical explanation for building a solid marriage that will glorify God. Single people and the church as a whole will also appreciate reflecting on how Christ gave himself up for His bride and how this is reflected in human relationships.

Read more book reviews at YLCF's March of Books this month!

*A word about the format: The PDF file is beautifully formatted, with a nice typeface and quotes offset in italics, etc. When I converted it to my Kindle, that was all lost. The footnotes show up in the middle of the text, as well as the page headings. There is no italicizing or indentation to indicate where there are quotations. There are quotes by Dietrich Bonhoeffer that blend in with the text and are practically lost. Just a little warning.

The place where I live

2011-03-25T00:51:00.000+03:00

Not too much longer in my current apartment! Well, I've got about 3 months left until I move, but I'm sure it will go by fast! Pretty soon we'll have to look for married housing...eeek.

A year ago, there were a few specific things I was dreaming of. A piece of paper that would let me stay in one place for awhile, and an apartment to rent were two of the things that would help me feel a little settled. We all long for stability in this life, and it's not guaranteed, but the Lord knew about my longings.

I handed in my residency application in April, but it wasn't until a few months later until the time came for me to move. I am sure that His timing was right. My then-roommate was getting ready to leave the country, and it was time to part ways.

The scary, exploding water heater

At the same time, a girl from my church was also seeking to change her living situation, and we found a 2-room apartment to share.

This apartment has fit my needs in so many ways! It's a fixer-upper, but even its disrepair fit my criteria. I wanted to be able to get a little creative without upsetting the landlord.

The even better part of moving in here was that through the move and the renovations, Andrey had an excuse to be around helping me a little more, and that turned out to be very beneficial for our friendship. By the time the wallpaper was up, we were dating. :) continue reading/-

For the past 8 months, I've luxuriously enjoyed having a room of my own...

...a bed just for sleeping, that doesn't have to be folded up during the day:

A place to work:

A bigger room (Yulia's), suitable for hosting Bible study each week:

And a kitchen big enough both for cooking and for sitting around. This turned out to be the spot where Andrey proposed.

Each time I moved, I would think to myself...will this be my last rental before I'm married? My last girly bedroom?

I didn't know this apartment would be it, but it's been a special year.

Hope for Christian wives

2011-03-21T10:59:00.001+03:00

I didn't really want to read another book about keeping a perfect Christian household, and the title wasn't the most convincing either: Feminine Appeal: Seven Virtues of a Godly Wife and Mother. Yuck!

But this book by Carolyn Mahaney got very good reviews on Amazon at least (by both men AND women), so I decided to give it a try.

I would like to start by mentioning that one of the most compelling features of "Feminine Appeal" is its positive tone. This is no minor factor in a book about marriage relationships. Some books about marriage can be so heavy, or even downright cynical, that it's refreshing to read something uplifting. Mrs. Mahaney manages to cover fairly intense topics without taking all the joy out of the institution of marriage.

Thinking Positively

The chapter titles in this book ( "The Delight of Loving My Husband," "The Blessing of Loving My Children", etc.) are an example of the positive terminology employed by the author. But lest you think it sounds too fluffy, here's what Mrs. Mahaney herself says about the aim of her book:

"This book is about the transforming effect of the gospel-because that is what Titus 2 is all about...The seven feminine virtues we will consider in this book are not an end in themselves. They point to the transforming effect of the gospel in the lives of women."

That's a pretty solid mission statement. continue reading/-

Here's an example of her words of encouragement for struggling wives:

"If you are in an exceptionally trying situation with your husband, I encourage you to pour out your heart to the Lord of love. He knows, He sees, and He hears; and though your tears may be lost on your husband, they are not lost on your heavenly Father. He is the compassionate Lord who urges us to draw near to Him so 'that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in the tie of need.' (Heb. 4:16). Although you may not understand, you can be sure that your marriage has God's loving inscription on it. God's unerring wisdom has ordained your relationship with your husband-for your good and for Christ's glory...God will renew your strength so that you will not grow weary in cultivating a tender love for your husband."

Simple Truths

Mahaney's writing style is not the most challenging intellectually, and there are some rather wordy passages that seem to serve no other purpose than amusing the reader. After a seemingly random illustration, she writes, "Now do I have your attention?" (How about just getting to the point?)

Nevertheless, Mahaney's points, though simple, are challenging to apply to one's life, in a good way. In a world of confused morals, it's good to that there are Christian writers unmasking the Truth.

Here's what she says about how our behavior as Christian women (though it could apply to men, too) affects those around us:

"Our conduct has a direct influence on how people think about the gospel...I recall my sadness when I heard of a high-profile Christian woman who left her husband for another man. My heart aches when I thought of the pain that this caused her family. But the effect of her sin didn't end there. When she broke God's command and committed adultery, her behavior reviled God's Word-before every person she knew and more she didn't know...her sinful conduct gave opponents of the gospel the chance to speak evil about Christians."

Another example: in the chapter on loving your children, Mahaney includes a little survey she conducted, asking young people how they know their mothers love them. From making favorite foods to singing lullabies, the ideas are mostly predictable, but still reach to the heart.

The author also does a good job exploring where certain sinful actions come from and the cycle of hurt that they create. "We revel in the luxury of extra sleep, but we spend the rest of the day frantically trying to make up for lost time. We exult in the brief moment of victory over our husbands, but we later regret the rift we've created in our marriage..." This is obvious, but when we're actually in the moment, we tend to forget about the consequences of our actions or to explore the root of why we're feeling hurt. We dance around the topic of sin, and she exposes this tendency.

And of course the book has plenty to say about marriage that I can't very well comment on at the moment! But here are a few more items that I found interesting:

Things to ponder

Mahaney believes that men are exhorted towards sacrificial love because it's easier for them to be affectionate than to make sacrifices. And women are called to love their husbands because it's easier for them to make sacrifices than to be affectionate. The Bible does contain these exhortations, but I had never thought about how they relate to typical behavior. At first I thought it was a flawed observation, but she used a good example of a woman working tirelessly to "serve" her husband, with a not so gracious attitude! Yes, women are indeed good at staying busy and making it look like they're the innocent ones, while forgetting to smile, use kind words, etc. So maybe she has a point there. I can't really say whether or not the opposite is true of men.

And here is a quote by Martha Peace that Mahaney included (on another topic) that I found convicting.

I have heard of women who pride themselves on being 'night people.' That means they have trouble getting up in the mornings because they come alive at night. They may stay up to all hours reading, watching television, or pursuing some sort of interest. The next morning they are too tired to get up and care for their family...These women are not 'night people.' They are lazy and selfish. Who would not rather stay up late to do whatever they pleased and sleep late the next day? Once a young wife begins getting up earlier than her children and her husband, she will cease to be a 'night person.' She will be tired at night and go to bed at a reasonable hour so she will be there to serve her family the next morning.'

Read more book reviews at YLCF's March of Books!

Here comes the bride

2011-03-17T11:21:00.001+03:00

Another triumph: my fiance and I were able to reserve the church we like for our wedding ceremony. Most churches here don't have their own property, so the few that do (mostly Lutheran) are fairly popular venues for weddings.

We called before heading over to the church to make sure there was someone in the office. However, it took quite a bit of maneuvering via snowbanks and locked gates to actually get inside the offices, which were in a different building (just in case we thought it was going to be easy). This is not so much for security purposes as it is a way of life...lots of courtyards to navigate.

The church is Finnish-Lutheran, though I don't know how often the Finns are involved; it seemed like there were mainly Russians around. We were supposed to have a recommendation from our pastor, but since several couples from our church have tied the knot there in the past few years, we were able to get away without calling in our pastor. Also, Andrey had performed one of the weddings, so he is pretty familiar with everything.

In lieu of talking to our leadership, the Lutheran pastor wanted to make sure we were familiar with the rules. 1) The wedding can be performed only after a marriage certificate from the State is obtained. 2) No alcohol on the premises, ever. 3) The pastor performing the wedding ceremony should be male. ("You said the pastor marrying you is from Germany?" "Yes, but we still have to check with him." "Ah, there's the pronoun I was looking for.")

Our date was still open, and the secretary wrote down our names, but she mentioned that there had been a mix-up with double-booking, so it seems that we will have to check in later and make sure nothing has changed.

Teaching Sunday school

2011-03-16T01:54:00.001+03:00

Sunday school. It always seems like despite our "best" efforts to come up with an organized curriculum and rotating teaching schedule, Saturday nights (and Sunday mornings!) often consist of last-minute phone calls, cutting out flannel-graph figures, and typing up memory verses. Even with a good plan, the lesson can feel pretty disorganized.

You never know if they're actually learning something. You just hope and pray. Recently, one of the mothers (herself a Sunday school teacher) came up to me inquiring what the previous lesson had been about. It turned out that her 2 yr old (who usually colors and runs around in the back of the room) had started retelling the contents of the lessons, particularly since we'd been using the flannel-graph.

Whenever it seems like the kids aren't paying attention, I think to myself...they must be hearing, if passively. Oh Lord, please let these words fall on fertile soil! Help them to be active listeners!

When it comes to curriculum, I often disagree with the conclusions made in the Sunday school materials...comments like: Jesus worked hard helping people; therefore Jesus wants you to study hard and get good grades. Or, it's too hard for Jesus to go to all the countries preaching; therefore we need missionaries.

Nevertheless, there are good ideas in there, and this time we were going to talk about missionaries: about the privilege of sharing in the Lord's work, to His glory. read more/-

I had asked one of the mothers to share about her missionary work in another area of Russia as a young lady. We did a little interview with her. I think it's good for the kids to have Russian missionary role models. When we asked them where they would like to serve, they threw a lot of ideas out there that indicated they were thinking more about travel than missions work. So we had to clarify a bit.

Afterwards, we had prayer time. The kids wanted to pray for Finland (not sure why), Tunisia (so there wouldn't be war), and Japan (obvious reasons). We finished praying and one little girl said, "Oh, can we please pray for [city in Uzbekistan] too? The Church there is being persecuted!" She's right, as her family (of Russian ethnicity) is from there and had been involved in an underground church. Difficult times in some ways, but encouraging all the same.

Dog-eared, part 2

2011-03-11T23:19:00.000+03:00

As part of YLCF's March of Books, I had posted a photo of a book from my fiance's childhood collection. Now my mom has sent photos of the Japanese one that I was talking about.

I wanted to be an author/illustrator at one point when I was little, and I loved the detailed pictures. The mouse family goes on adventures and it's fun keeping track of all the family members and looking for them on each page. First they play outside, then they bake rolls together and sit down to play parcheesi with the hot rolls as a snack.

another photo/-

Hard-knock life

2011-03-08T13:59:00.002+03:00

There have been many new arrivals to the orphanage this year. Sometimes if we have tea together the counselors tell me about them, but I was still missing information on several of them. Not that it's my business, but it helps to know.

For example, why would a 17 yr old end up in the orphanage? She's at the age where she could already be in a dormitory.

I started noticing Dasha in my favorite counselor's group about a month ago. She kept to herself and sat quietly doing homework, or something. There was something I couldn't quite put my finger on. She was quiet and serious in a way that reminded me of a child who had brought up in a very conservative household, perhaps religious. Actually, she reminded me of an adult. When she brought me her English homework to check, I saw what had kept her so busy...lines and lines of painstakingly neat penmanship. There are other kids with neat handwriting, but this was done so lovingly.

Dasha seemed eager to learn and even more excited about her grades. She was getting A's and perhaps a few B's. She brought out her book to show me the good marks. She told me (voluntarily) about the different subjects she was studying. Doesn't this seem weird to you, if you picture the typical teenager?

When we started writing an autobiography together for English class, I started to wonder. My name is Dasha. I'm 17 years old. I'm in the 8th form. Being in 8th grade at age 17 just didn't add up, even in Russia where kids might start first grade at 7 or 8 years old. continue reading/-

And then Dasha started to tell me about how she didn't go to school for two years. Her mother wouldn't let her. I didn't quite get the details about her mother's mental breakdown, but Dasha is in the orphanage while her mother is undergoing evaluation. Given that her mother had pulled a knife on her...I'm not sure they'll be reunited. Was it the poverty that prompted her mother to keep her home, maybe a fear that someone would find out?

The not going to school made sense. No wonder Dasha was so excited about her pencils and notebooks; her homework assignments and good grades. She had been deprived, before this, of an education, of a basic rite of passage.

Dasha said that the scariest moment was when the police came for her. "Are you coming to snatch my child?" her mother asked. "No, we're coming to snatch YOU," one of the policemen said. "We're taking your child to safety, because you are the worst kind of mother." Dasha didn't seem clear on whether she should be loyal to her mother or not, but she was obviously traumatized by the event. She seems calm on the surface, but got a certain gleam in her eye when mentioning seeking revenge on the woman who put her mother in this condition. She's in a better place now, but her future fate? Only the Lord knows.

Dog-eared

2011-03-07T20:26:00.002+03:00

The Young Ladies Christian Fellowship is hosting a March of Books this month. The assignment today is to post a snapshot of a well-loved book. (part 2 is here)

Unfortunately, most of my classic favorites are either in the U.S., or in electronic form on my Kindle.

So I will have to post on behalf of my fiance! He brought over some of his treasured books from childhood for me to explore.

There is something utterly fascinating about reading or even looking at a book from another culture. I remember a Japanese book I had with little mice doing different things. The illustrations were so beautiful, and even the text was a work of art because the characters seemed so exotic.

Andrey's book that I photographed is called "Petey the Microbe." :) It's about a little microorganism that goes around town and has adventures. There are a variety of Russian fairytales that exist, although some are reminiscent of the Brothers Grimm. Children also read many Scandinavian tales that have been translated into Russian. For example, I only remember "Pippi Longstocking" and "Mischievous Meg" from growing up, but there are many more Astrid Lindgren titles that are popular here.

click for more photos/-

Mirror Image-Back Cover! :)

A sample page

More progress

2011-03-05T22:43:00.002+03:00

In which we apply for a civil wedding...

One of the hard things about getting paperwork done in St. Petersburg is that most offices (including banks) have a lunch break from 1-2 or 2-3 pm. So if you get there too close to the lunch hour, you will have wasted time waiting in line and then waste another hour waiting for the place to reopen.

Andrey was free at 1 pm, the lunch break was at 2 pm, and I needed to leave for the orphanage around 3 or a bit later. So we basically had an hour before lunch in which to get everything done.

I arrived a little earlier to reserve a place in line. I was already mentally rearranging my schedule and calling the orphanage to tell them I couldn't make it. Then I walked up the steps and turned the corner, expecting to see a full waiting room. It was empty-HA! continue reading/-

I poked my head into the office and asked if they were still open and if I could have an application. The woman started asking me about our citizenship and what date we wanted, but Andrey wasn't there yet. Nevertheless, she took a look at my documents.

I really hadn't been worried about my documents; it had all seemed easy and straightforward compared to applying for residency. In a way I was glad I had been through that whole process, so that this would seem like nothing.

She looked at the affidavit which I had just gotten back from Moscow. "This will need to be translated."

"What?" I was confused. The whole form was in Russian. What language did it need to be in?

"This line here, in English." I looked at what she was pointing at and it was a footnote under the signature: Do not sign affidavit until instructed to do so. That was for notarial purposes! She also pointed to a few lines that said (in English), Russian Federation, U.S. Embassy, Moscow.

"But I can tell you what they say!" I translated them for her, but she shook her head. "That doesn't matter. WE don't know what it says."

I thought I was going to burst into tears. Another trip to the translation bureau? Another few days to wait, now until next week? Sometimes it seems like the small obstacles are even more upsetting than the large ones. I had thought we might have a time crunch, but I hadn't expected everything to be delayed because of one little line of text.

She took the affidavit and announced that she was going to show it to her colleagues, then ushered me back into the waiting room and marched into an inner office.

I called Andrey, who was on his way. I told him the good news, that there wasn't a line, and the bad news, that I needed a translation. Just then, the lady emerged from the other room. "A translation won't be necessary." No translation! Hurray! Andrey went to the bank to pay the fee while I stayed put to monitor things.

When A. got there, we took turns filling out our parts of the application form while the other looked in the computer database for dates that were open. Having a civil ceremony at one of the wedding palaces is by appointment only. Of course it makes sense, since each wedding party needs a room for the ceremony and arrives with an entourage. We would have preferred to just show up at an office and sign a form, but for some reason the fact that I'm a foreigner means that we have to go through the wedding palace.

A few other couples were showing up, but most were leaving as they learned the spots for the summer were all filled up. A potential bride could be heard moaning, "But September is too COLD!" As for us, we were aiming for spring. We'll get the bureaucracy over with and just enjoy our church wedding in the summer. We hope.

The lady was a little exasperated with the way we had filled out our forms, but we eventually got them straightened out and picked a date, all by her lunch break. She printed out our names on a fancy invitation.

And then we realized that we were getting married very soon...on paper, that is. The plot thickens.

No more Moscow

2011-03-02T13:33:00.002+03:00

Not this time, Moscow.

I want to like Moscow, but associations so far have been stressful, or adventurous at best.

A two-day jaunt as a college student: drunk train passengers, an aching back, the sun beating down...walking and walking for hours, not knowing how to ride the metro, terrified of getting lost.

Arriving on the overnight train for a training session: classes all day, homework in the evening. A brief stroll or two around the Kremlin; otherwise it could have been any city.

In the past few years, there have been other necessities: a visa to Africa; fingerprints for the FBI...only in Moscow.

My fiance and I dropped a document off to be apostilled 2 weeks ago. We really didn't want to make the trip to Moscow again to pick it up. I had gotten sick a few days after the trip, and he teaches almost every day. I want to give Moscow another chance, when the weather is nicer and we can relax and plan our own agenda.

This time, we decided to use a courier service, and should be getting the marriage letter back today.

Someday, Moscow...

Step into my library

2011-02-24T00:34:00.001+03:00

No time for full-length reviews right now, but here are a few books I'm reading at the moment:

Linguistics
Raguenaud, Virginie Bilingual by Choice: Raising Kids in Two (or More!) Languages

It's hard to flip around and find quotes again on a Kindle, but I love this book as a mother's practical advice on raising kids "bilingual." I like how family-oriented the advice is and how much the author shares about her personal experience. She has lived what she writes about. At some point I want to write a more in-depth review.

Marriage/Family
Piper, John (et al) Sex and the Supremacy of Christ (download PDF)
Piper, John This Momentary Marriage (download PDF)

Stuffy, in Little Men, Louisa May Alcott

So far I like both of them; more Bible study than practical advice. Piper does a good job laying the foundations for what he is going to discuss, and it helps me keep my mind focused on Christ.

Just for Fun
Alcott, Louisa May Little Men

I've slowly been working through this book, just a chapter or two at a time. Good, wholesome stories about a boys' home and the family that runs it. But the stories also deal with surprisingly deep issues of discipline and loyalty and social ethics. Just in case you thought it was light reading. ;)

The second interesting thing about going to Moscow in February...

2011-02-21T21:09:00.000+03:00

...is that almost a year ago to the day, I had made the same trip, also for bureaucratic purposes. This meant that I could remember a few helpful pieces of information about Moscow this time of year: 1) It's cold, even inside the train station... and 2) Stores don't open very early. 3) Therefore, getting in at 5:30 am is bad. Later is better. We got in at 7am.


Not sure about the donuts...

We waited and waited for something to be open, so we could sit in the warmth. Finally the doors were open and we found our way to a food court. Just as we had ordered and were sitting down at the table, I looked at the time. It was 10:40 and my appointment at the Embassy was at 11:00. Panic! How had we gone from killing time to running late?

The thing about the Moscow subway is that there are many branches and it SEEMS like it will take forever to get somewhere, but in reality the stops are all quite close together, and the escalators are not so steep and slow as in St. Petersburg. It only took about 10 minutes to get to our stop, and then we just needed to find the right address. People on the street were quite helpful, even jumping in with advice as they overheard us asking for directions. read more/-

After we found the right door to the U.S. Embassy, Andrey went to a nearby shopping center to keep warm, and I went inside to get my "marriage letter."

It took a while to get through the security checkpoint, partly due to there being a line, and partly due to the Russian security guy being very chatty, especially when he learned I was from Massachusetts.

Inside, there was a line, too. The Consulate in St. Petersburg is nearly always empty. I got in line and it seemed that there was only one woman serving clients even though there were 4 windows and some people in the background doing something. I looked at the schedule saying they were open until 12:00 and looked at the clock reading 11:30, and I suddenly began to get nervous. Why didn't they have more people working? Why weren't they helping people who had appointments? Why hadn't I requested an earlier appointment?

The lady came back to the window but wasn't looking up, so I approached the glass and asked if I was in the right line since I had an appointment. "Yeah, just a minute." Grrrr. All-night train crankiness was setting in. After a few minutes she took a look at my form and then sent me over to the cashier's desk around the corner.

There was no one at the cashier's desk. Just a little empty room. 11:40. HELLO? I paced back and forth, poking my head in all the windows to remind them that I was there. Eventually someone waved at me, indicating that they would be there in a minute. After paying, I had to go back to the main room to wait for them to call me. It only took a minute and I signed the document in front of the notary. The stamps ended up not touching the signatures, which seemed weird, but whatever. The notary was a middle-aged American woman. "Congratulations," she said. Oh, that's right. I'm getting MARRIED. There was a reason for all this. She gave me a map and instructions for getting the document legalized.

As I was going back through security and reclaiming all my various gadgets, the security guy wished me well. I realized that the U.S. Embassy was the only place where people had actually regarded getting married as something positive. In the other places it was all about the paperwork and the visas and name changes and general stress. So nice to be reminded of the actual goal.

Andrey and I sat for a few minutes in some comfy chairs in the shopping center and he brought out my breakfast for me to eat. Smart decision considering I was probably low blood sugar at that point. After refueling, we decided to go check out the Church of Christ the Saviour. It's a beauty both inside and out. Besides the spacious sanctuary, the church has a downstairs part where there are more icons and some temporary exhibitions. Many visitors seemed to be sincerely praying to the icons and even to some skeletal remains on display. If you want to get technical, this is called veneration, and not worship...but I have never quite understood the difference.

The clock was ticking, time to get to the next office to drop off the document for legalization! I had goofed a little bit with the address and it was farther from the metro than originally thought...but there was no line this time and it was a quick errand. The guys in the legalization office said we could send anyone we wanted to pick up the document, potentially saving us another trip to Moscow.

Done with business! On to "pleasure." First stop? McDonald's. Yep, if you've lived abroad, you know that McDonald's can be counted on for having nice seating, prompt service, and, most importantly...a free bathroom. We found a nice comfy booth near the soundproof (!) birthday party room, ordered lunch, and rested for a few hours before making our next move.

We were headed to a bookstore, but we hadn't gotten very far when Andrey spotted a cow sculpture and I simultaneously spotted a Dunkin' Donuts. That's right, in one day we visited Sbarro's, McDonald's, and Dunkin' Donuts. What can I say, out of the fast food options they're not bad. And I hadn't seen Dunkin' Donuts in St. P., although I heard rumors of its opening.

After initiating Andrey into the Massachusetts donut tradition, we made our way to the bookstore and spent an hour or two browsing before heading back to the train station. We boarded our train, noticing with amusement that it was the same company and the same wagon we had traveled in on the way over (a bunk or two closer to the bathroom). Andrey let me have the bottom bunk and I slept a little better. :)

6:30 am-Home sweet home! We survived our first trip together!

The first interesting thing about going to Moscow in February...

2011-02-18T01:13:00.000+03:00

...is that I spent Valentine's Day on a train with my fiance.

Well, sort of. We were headed to Moscow to do paperwork, and it was already 11pm when our train departed. We had "platzkart" tickets (see details here), and that meant bunkbeds in an open cabin. I had traveled platzkart to Moscow by myself before, but this time I had Andrey to protect me, drink tea with me, and tuck me in before getting into his own bunk.

Valentine's Day is usually referred to in Russia as "Lovers' Day." In the past I would wish people a "Happy Valentine's Day" and they didn't really get it. They would ask me, "Have you found someone?" It wasn't the same holiday I knew from home that was full of chocolate, conversation hearts, and movie night with the girls. But this year, I fit the Russian description.

An April wedding?

2011-02-09T00:52:00.001+03:00

It's not what you think.

I'm not planning to walk down the aisle until summer, but we'll be applying for a marriage license as soon as we can gather the necessary documents.

Today we tried to start the process and had a bit of a wild goose chase, but we got some information we needed.

First we went to a records office to try to get an initial consultation. As we found the building and wandered up a narrow staircase, I tripped over the top step, which was, according to Russian tradition, a different height than the rest of them. I cursed the steps aloud as a smartly dressed young man opened a door to reveal an elaborately decorated reception area. But we were told it was "lunchtime" and turned away.

Back downstairs, we tried again to decipher the schedule on the door. It seriously reminded me of one of those problems in a puzzle magazine. read further/-

Chairman:

1st and 3rd Tuesdays: 10am-1pm
2nd and 4th Tuesdays: 3pm-5pm

Vice Chairman:

1st and 3rd Thursdays: 10am-1pm
2nd and 4th Thursdays: 3pm-5pm

Apostille Services:

Mon-Fri, 10am-5pm (Lunch: 2-3pm)

After some discussion and checking of watches and calendars we determined that we were there on a 2nd Tuesday. It was now about 2:20 pm, so after 3 we would have a chance to see a chairman, if that was even what we needed.

Plan B was to visit some friends who lived around the corner and are a Russian/American couple themselves. That sounded a lot more appealing, so we took down the phone number for the records office and off we went to enjoy some fellowship.

One of the questions that came up over lunch with our friends was how I am going to get my name changed in all my documentation. From the Russian side of things, my residency permit is a stamp affixed to my passport. I will have to go and file some papers to redo it, or something.

Before leaving, we called Records and inquired about getting married and they said "That's not our department." O-kay.

Next try: call one of the wedding palaces. We could have done that first, but...oh well, we had to keep moving forward.

We called the nearest wedding palace (there are 4 where marriages to foreigners are allowed), and they were already BOOKED for the whole summer. We are more flexible with the date since we just want a stamp; the church ceremony will be our main event and we consider this just a formality even though we are required to go through the wedding palace anyway.

We went over to the wedding palace anyway to see if there were spots left for April or May. If they were full, we could try another wedding palace.

The wedding palace had a spacious waiting room with a video consisting of images of elaborately furnished rooms and classical music playing on a loop. I guess it was supposed to advertise their services? The soundtrack had me clawing at my ears after awhile.

When it was our turn, the woman sized up our situation and gave us a List for the ~~scavenger hunt~~ application process. It's pretty much the same information as on several sites, which is presented as "The 5 Steps to Marrying a Russian." The problem I was having was with the 4th point: the letter which proves there is no impediment to my getting married. I keep reading everywhere that this can only be done in Moscow, and I'm going to try the Consulate again here to see if they'll help me. But I think I'll be finding myself on a train to Moscow very soon...

Distractions

2011-02-06T23:35:00.000+03:00

It's not exactly that I'm too busy for blogging.

Sometimes, other options just seem more appealing...

But I still have things to say: some book reviews, cultural observations, tangles with bureaucracy, and thoughts about life in general. Hopefully, soon.

Planning (sort of)

2011-02-04T11:23:00.002+03:00

There is not much to report on the wedding front. A few if-then scenarios, that is all. Mainly we just need to figure out what is required of me, a foreigner, and then get cracking.

I'm pretty good at spending copious amounts of time ~~Googling~~ researching fairly narrow fields of knowledge (like uses of baking soda). Especially when there's something else I'm supposed to be doing.

Lately, I've been interested in bilingualism again.

I wrote a book review on here awhile back, but it's also fascinating just hearing about people's multicultural childhoods.

I know a lot of you bloggers have adopted children. In that case the English is more of a second language and the mother tongue is still there, somewhere. I wonder how it feels. Maybe similar to how I feel knowing Russian. I can think in both and sometimes I'm not even aware of which one I'm using. But my Russian is nowhere near being a native language.

Did any of you grow up hearing and/or speaking two languages?

I'm excited that two of my siblings already have children being exposed to different languages in addition to English (Spanish and French). It will be interesting to observe their experiences and learn from them. And it will make for unique family gatherings, as well.

Anyway, I'm rambling. Sorry.

In medias res

2011-01-30T21:53:00.001+03:00

It was a very scatter-brained sort of day that started out with not being able to get dressed. This is not a rare occurrence in the winter, but on this particular day it was related to not wanting to go to my doctor's appointment. After dawdling for awhile, I ended up having to sprint over the snow and bumpy ice to get there on time.

So far, so good. I went and checked my coat right away and put the plastic bag-thingies on my shoes. But how was I supposed to check in? I didn't know if I had to go the registration desk or not, so I did, just in case, and told them I had an appointment...but didn't remember the doctor's last name. "It's the rheumatologist, " I said confidently. The receptionist looked confused. "He's not in until evening," she said. D'oh. I gave my last name and she looked me up. "You have an appointment with the TRAUMATOLOGIST," she said. "The orthopedist." Whoops. They sounded the same in Russian to me. You'd think I'd have it right since it was a follow-up visit. Oh well. read more/-

After the appointment, I looked around to make sure I had everything with me, and wondered where my coat check tag was. Those grannies are pretty particular about their system. I always put it in my pocket, and there was nothing in my pocket. But my mind was blank. I went over to talk to the grannies anyway, thinking maybe someone had found it and turned it in. They hadn't. "Take another look," the grannies said, shaking their heads sadly. "Otherwise you'll have to pay a fine." At least they didn't yell at me.

I went through the motions of checking the examination room again, combed the hallway, looked in my pockets and purse one more time, but no sign of it. Meanwhile, my chances for being on time to my next appointment were growing slim, even though I had gotten out right on time.

I walked by the reception desk, remembering how I had stood there for a few minutes. But surely the ladies there could have walked the 10 ft. to the cloakroom and handed in a found coat tag?

There was nothing else to do but pay the fine. Somehow the lady in charge (there were still other grannies attending) of the cloakroom had "stepped out" and I had to wait for her in order to write a letter to get my coat back. There was a model that I had to follow. I was thinking that it was good that I had studied the cases and also studied different business letter formats last year. Everything is sort of the opposite of what you'd expect. For example, in the upper right-hand corner you write the addressee's position (dative case) and where he/she works (genitive case because it's the director OF something), and the address, and then "from" plus your name (genitive case), blah blah blah. That's the heading.

Once I had written the letter, I handed over the money for the fine and they let me behind the counter to look for my coat. I couldn't find it at first and had this panic of wondering how I was going to get home. How could I walk home in the winter with no coat? It was quite a relief when we found it.

I finally left the clinic and scrambled through the snow, dodging the missiles that were coming from above as several roofs were being cleared. Something made a rustling noise and I looked down to see that I still had blue plastic bags on my feet! And all the trashcans were buried under snow.

Fast-forward a few hours and I'm on my way home. Standing on the platform, I reach for my hat, and....it's gone. One I had just gotten for Christmas! Arrrrrgh. How could I have lost two things like that in one day?

I got home in the evening and my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, but answered anyway, just in case. "Elizabeth?" I couldn't understand at first, but finally realized they were calling from the clinic. "We found your cloakroom claim tag. You had left it at the registration desk. The next time you come see us you can get your 50 rubles back, don't be shy."

"Thank you." Well, that was nice of them to call.

The end of a strange day.

Announcement

2011-01-17T23:00:00.000+03:00

Andrey and I announced our engagement at church on Sunday. We had tried to keep it a secret since the proposal in December. :) It was really fun telling everyone all at once!

Andrey was preaching and I was upstairs at Sunday School, so he had to come get me when it was time. When we entered the room, everyone broke out in loud applause! I didn't expect that.

Before saying a prayer over us, the pastor exhorted the congregation to do two things: 1) To pray for us as we prepare for marriage and 2) For married couples to invite us to have fellowship and be our mentors. It looks like we are going to do a lot of visiting in the next few months!

It's one thing when people say you make a "cute" couple or are "perfect" for each other, but when they really KNOW you and have been praying for you, it means a lot to hear them confirm that this relationship is of the Lord. We are very blessed!

Babies! (soon)

2011-01-15T16:50:00.000+03:00

Earlier this week, we had our second church baby shower.

Russians are more superstitious about pregnancies and are not accustomed to a lot of fanfare and gifts before the baby is born, and sometimes before he/she is a few months old. Plus, it's not like the small living quarters normally allow for a lot of "stuff." But American baby shower traditions are catching on.

In this case, the moms are both expecting for the second time. One's having a girl (we think) and the other's having a boy, so we played some games with Team Blue and Team Pink. They didn't necessarily need a lot of clothing and things, but we still wanted to take the opportunity to pamper them with love and affection.

Recent reprieves

2011-01-13T14:01:00.000+03:00

I've noticed a few times lately how have after some hard trials the Lord has surprised me with other processes being easier than expected.

-The first example of this was after getting my temporary residency (10 month-process, stress, illness, etc.) when I went to apply for a visa and it didn't turn out to be too hard after all. No long lines, no surprise requirements, no long waiting periods.

-Next, winter travel. I got waylaid by snow in Europe and almost missed being home for Christmas. There was a 3-day delay, then 3 hours spent taxiing at the airport in Paris, then arriving 3 hours (or was it 4?) late, then not getting my suitcase until 2 days later. On the way back, however all my flights were on time and I got through passport control/baggage claim in about 15 min. Looking at the amount of snow coming down at the moment in St. Pete as well as in my home state, it looks like I can be thankful that I was traveling a week ago and not today.

-And then there are my tonsils. I spent most of the fall trying to get them to calm down. Lots of bed-rest, gargling, and antibiotics. Over Christmas, they became inflamed again and I was really dreading having to go to a doctor again and take medication. But I started gargling again like crazy and when I stepped off the plane, I suddenly realized that I felt better. The infection had gone. I am sooo happy not to be sick.

Meanwhile, back in Massachusetts...

2010-12-28T07:32:00.000+03:00

Well, I got my Christmas miracle...

That is, I made it home in the midst of snowstorms in Europe and before the snowstorm hit here (not that either of them were huge, but they certainly affected air travel).

After a long journey, I was paged at the baggage claim to let me know that my baggage was still in Paris. But on Christmas morning the AirFrance guy showed up with my suitcase, just in time for me to wrap my gifts!

We'll see what happens next week when I try to fly out of here...

Adjusting expectations

2010-12-21T23:25:00.001+03:00

I should have been on a plane last night instead of in my bed in St. Petersburg!

But...I was glad to not be stranded in an airport somewhere.

It all started with the snow in Europe. As usual, I didn't pay much attention until I realized that it might affect me personally.

The timetable didn't show any changes, but when I got all the way through security and up to the check-in desk...2 hr delay. Okay, I'll deal with it. Then they asked if I was sure I wanted to check my bags all the way through. Were things THAT bad?

I weighed the consequences: a) get stuck in London for a few days with no change of clothes or b) have to lug my suitcase around everywhere and possibly recheck it during my increasingly short layover.

I decided I would rather be grubby and just buy whatever essentials I'd need if I got stuck. Computer cable+Kindle recharger in my suitcase could spell potential boredom and frustration if lost, but I just did not need my carry-on to be any heavier than it was.

Next stop: passport control. A very strange experience, this time around. read more/-

The ladies doing inspection are usually cold and serious, but not rude. I'm not sure what I did wrong, but this particular officer was not happy with me.

I stepped into the booth and slid my passport across the counter, with my boarding pass, migration card, and exit visa tucked neatly inside.

She GLARED at me. I stared back, waiting for instructions.

"Passport. Boarding pass. Migration card."

I took them out and lined them up on the counter, in that order, plus my exit visa. There was no way anything was missing or out of order.

She glared again and then finally took them and starting inspecting everything. Boy, was I glad to get out of that chamber!

I'm still stumped as to what the problem was. The way I said hello? The fact that I was wearing glasses? The wrong counter?

3 hours until boarding. Ugh. I stalled by sitting for a bit, then getting a snack, then taking a snooze near the boarding area, with my alarm on so I wouldn't miss boarding. I pondered how much I hate traveling alone and wished for a companion.

I woke up and the marquee now said "Frankfurt" instead of "London." I scouted around, found the new boarding area, and started to hover.

Why weren't we boarding yet?

Finally some representatives came out and told us the flight was cancelled. Everyone was hovering around with shouts of dismay and panic. I listened to the Russian and English exchanges at the same time, trying to hear where we could rebook our reservations so I could bolt over and get in line.

After it was clear nothing could be done that day, I headed back downstairs to do everything in reverse. First stop: passport control.

This was my favorite part: a guy writing "void" on my exit stamp with a ballpoint pen. He ignored my visa and I had to remind him that there was a stamp there, too.

Next, I got my luggage back.

Then I sat down to think about how to get home. It was so close, but heels+snow+suitcase meant that I probably needed someone to pick me up. 4-5 phone calls later, a friend was on his way.

Sort of. He had a few other stops to make, so I ended up waiting about 90 minutes. I stationed myself near the other passengers on my flight who were still asking questions. Maybe I would hear something useful. The closest I got was that we could call the next day after 11am.

It was interesting to observe how strangers bonded in this situation. Russians aren't particularly known for being friendly to strangers, but in this case I think that the "we vs. them" was the people/passengers vs. the airline. We must unite to demand action! Of course the "crisis" scenario added to the need for bonding, and before leaving I noticed a few Russians exchanging phone numbers and first names.

Meanwhile, there was a mother sitting with a number of children close in age. They weren't Russian; the discipline style (or lack thereof) was different. Maybe immigrants or refugees, or maybe just tourists. They were running around, so it took me awhile to figure out that there were four. I know it's rude to stare, but I love watching siblings interact. It looked like they were having a fun childhood. And the mom was brave for traveling alone.

A black British woman had been prancing about in a fashionable outfit, commenting loudly on various topics (even before the flight got canceled). Now she broke away from her traveling companions to approach the children. "You're beautiful. You're all SO beautiful."

Weirdo, they might not even speak English, I thought.

Then a smile broke across the mother's face and she said something in reply.

"He's the little man, isn't he?" the British woman asked, gesturing to the oldest boy. The mother answered affirmatively. I was glad for her that someone was giving her positive feedback about her family.

Airports are interesting places...

Seven hours after I left, my friend was carrying my suitcase up to the fourth floor for me just as my mom was calling to suggest some alternate flight options.

So I have a new flight out on Thursday. Getting close to Christmas, but maybe travel conditions will be better by then.

The Russian President and I

2010-12-19T23:54:00.004+03:00

Is it possible that I actually agree with Medvedev on something? (not that I watch his every move)

Every once in a while, I'm alerted to something in the media that gives me hope that Russian orphans are going to receive some justice.

A ministry serving orphans in Moscow published a translation of Medvedev's recent comments to this effect.

"Unfortunately, in our country there are still 130,000 children remaining without family care. They have neither parents, not guardians, they are deprived of what's primary – the warmth of the family. And there is still very much left to do to make sure that the very concept of "throw-away" children is removed from our life. There should be guardianship/foster organizations focused on placing children with families and supporting those families. In general there must not be children in our country that are "nobody's".

continue/-

"The so-called 'correctional' children's homes are faced with such a serious problem. They, unfortunately, work in such a way as to lead to the increasing isolation of children, rather than their socialization. Therefore not only public services, but also civil society must pay attention to what is happening here. At each baby house, in orphanages and in correctional establishments it is necessary to create boards of trustees whose work should be completely open and transparent.

"Finally, we need programmes of social adaptation and support for those who have come out of orphanages. It is not enough to train and feed children – they need to be brought out into a new, adult life prepared and self-assured. Here the role not only of teachers, but also of local authorities is great. They could pay, for example, the cost for those who have come out of orphanages to take courses which would prepare them to enter the system of higher and further education and vocational training."

It sure sounds good. I appreciate the fact that Medvedev calls attention to the need for families (if briefly), and also the need for help with the transition to adult life. Yes, the orphans do need all this. Now, who is going to give this to them? They need a miracle.

No bargaining

2010-12-18T20:52:00.001+03:00

I opened up a magazine (delivered from the States recently) and was shocked to see the words "Negotiating with Evil."

My first thought was, we do not bargain with Evil.

I really had a flash of end-times panic as I pictured Americans "negotiating" for their souls. The Bible is pretty clear that we are not to have anything to do with Evil.

"For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them." (Eph. 5:8-11)

Then I looked up the author online, and my feelings changed...
continue/-

It turns out that there is a book called "Negotiating with Evil: How to Talk to Terrorists" by Mitchell B. Reiss. I believe that these kinds of books are written more out of fear than from love for mankind.

The production description explains, "in Negotiating with Evil, Reiss distills his experience to answer two questions more vital today than ever: Should we talk to terrorists? And if we do, how should we conduct the negotiations in order to gain what we want?"

What DO we want? And what would we have to sacrifice in order to keep the "peace"? Even if it is just keeping quiet about what we really believe, is it worth it?

It is interesting to consider: how do we separate Evil (the Devil) from people (who perform evil deeds)? After all, before we were with God, we were against Him ("...for you were once darkness...").

So while my first reaction is to want to avoid contact with evil-doers, I also remember Christ's example to love our enemies. I think about being a fool for Christ, and I also think about wanting to be "wise about what is good." (Rom. 16:19)

My thoughts go in circles...

How I decorated for Christmas

2010-12-18T00:57:00.000+03:00

I know it can be boring to look at someone else's Christmas decorations, but you also find ideas in there, so I thought I would post a few photos and explanations of what I have around the apartment.

I haven't lived in one place for long enough to warrant buying specific decorations, but I like to use the little treasures I've collected over the years. No Christmas tree here as we wouldn't put presents under it anyway. But the ornaments I do have help me feel more at home and excited about the season.

Step 1. Removal

The first thing I did was take down a lot of the pictures and other decorations that had been hanging in my bedroom. I was thinking about even using the frames and replacing the images with Christmas pictures for this season, but I haven't gotten much of that done. Still, it's nice to have a different look for now. more/-

Step 2. A little hardware goes a long way

My roommate is quite handy and put up a shelf on our kitchen wall. It immediately made such a difference. I set up a bunch of trinkets on top and a few nails provided a way to hang other ornaments.

Step 3. The postcards

I ended up making 3 Christmas card chains this year: one in the kitchen, one in my bedroom over the window, and one in my doorway. The idea might be losing its originality, but it is still a way to add some decorations when you're short on time, materials, and inspiration. Maybe next year I will get around to frames or something fancier.

Step 3. Bring out the antiques

Our landlord has some heirlooms hanging around, but told us to throw them away! We haven't had the heart to throw them away yet and are putting them to use. One box was full of old Christmas tree ornaments. This was my roommate's idea:

Step 4. The plants

Who says palms aren't Christmasy? Christ wasn't born in North America (or Russia). :)

Step 5. Color schemes

Just grouping things of one color or style can make a nice little display for one area.

Step 6. Candles

Whether you're planning on lighting them or not, candles make a nice statement. Here I had some leftovers from the Advent wreath, and placed them in a basket.

So the moral of the story is: use what you have and give old things new life, especially if they remind you of a special time or person. And even more importantly, if they help you focus on Christ.

Advent opposites

2010-12-17T00:56:00.000+03:00

I've read a lot of uplifting personal reflections on Advent this year. Cultivating Advent traditions seems like a great way to help kids (and enthusiastic adults) find meaning in the period leading up to Dec. 25th each year.

Of course, as we get older, we realize that it's not about the presents, or the yummy food, or even the beauty of the decorations. We start to listen to the words of the songs we love so much, look up the meanings of the candles, maybe abstain from the more materialistic aspects of the present-day holiday. We meditate on themes like darkness and light, God's love and glory, the circle of life.

And we find that that the period of waiting actually holds plenty of joy, itself. But what does this mean for daily life? I've been musing about the following:
read on/-

The Wait

While some Christian denominations may fast somberly during the Advent period, I find it to be a joyous time, even if toned down with thoughtful reflections.

I was watching the "Nativity Story" recently and was moved once again by the gifts of the Magi. The gold, frankincense, and....myrrh, for burial. His sacrifice.

With these contrasting themes of birth and death, I thought to myself...I like this time. It holds almost as much joy as the holiday itself. And it adds joy to the holiday, because we have waited.

What if we could wait for all of the joys of life with the same reverence, expectation, and even creativity? If we bustled around setting up our hearts and homes for something wonderful?

The challenge here is that we don't know the date. Okay, maybe we have an estimated date for the wedding, or for when the baby comes, or for when someone special is coming home. Maybe it's the last exam or a deadline at work, after which we can breathe a sigh of relief. But many of the needs we have set before the Lord will be answered in His timing, unknown to us. What then? We can't make paper chains counting down the days before a sickness will go away, or light a candle indicating how many weeks until we are done grieving for someone.

The countdown doesn't work here. So if we are to find joy in the waiting, it will only come from trusting in the Lord. After all, the OT people of faith didn't have Advent calendars, and they still managed to live amazing lives for Him.

It's the "joy in the journey" that Michael Card sings about so poignantly.

The Crown

As I was observing the above, I thought, but a greater joy is yet to come.

We fight the secularization of Christmas by adding Advent, until this period of waiting becomes a holiday in itself. We learn to enjoy the expectation.

But I caught myself wondering, is it possible to enjoy the wait too much? So much that the holiday itself loses its flavor?

Is any enthusiasm left for the Big Event, for welcoming Christ at last?

What I mean is, if we enjoy life too much, are we forgetting about the joy that awaits us in heaven? Or is joy in the Lord limitless? Can we be totally content with Him in this life AND still look forward to the joy of Christ meeting His bride?

More nuggets from Russia

2010-12-11T00:44:00.000+03:00

The things you learn while living in Russia! A few ideas I've encountered lately have been eye-opening.

1) Opening your mouth outside when it's cold can make you sick. I observed a mother on the street telling her crying child to close his mouth because it was cold outside! From what I figure, it's pretty annoying to have dried tears, etc. frozen onto your face. And I guess it's not very good for your vocal cords to be breathing cold air a lot. But I don't know if it really makes you sick per se.

2) You're not supposed to rub your belly when you're pregnant because it could squish the unborn baby or traumatize him or something. I didn't really understand the explanation, and I've never been pregnant, but sounds kind of silly to me. Anyone?

3) Changes in barometric pressure make people feel yucky and depressed. read more/-

I had just finished a shower singing session when I heard sobs coming from my flatmate's room. Worried that someone had died, I nervously stuck my head around the corner to where she was lying in bed.

"It hurts so bad." Okay, someone/something had broken her heart? (it happens)

"The pressure." O-kay. I have heard people walking around muttering something about "the pressure," but I never really took it seriously.

Yulia described it as feeling like she was a rag being twisted and squeezed and wrung out. I was still rather in the dark about what the problem was, but I said some of my friends got headaches (migraines) so bad they couldn't do anything. Yulia said her head didn't hurt. I still didn't understand exactly what hurt, but she said everyone always thought was making it up, so I tried to be sympathetic.

Then I read about barometric pressure headaches on the Internet, and it does seem to affect some people, although I hadn't heard about it before. I suppose the people wandering around muttering "the pressure, the pressure" really are suffering, even if the cause isn't completely understandable.

Freedom!

2010-12-08T13:44:00.001+03:00

Well, after getting my residency permit and registration (which I never did finish writing about), I went right away the next week to apply for an exit visa. I wanted to get everything over with so I wouldn't have to see that office again for awhile.

This time, I didn't have to get in the registration line. This was a different category. How refreshing! I went in on a Friday when there was almost no line. In fact, it was a "live" line and I had to negotiate with everyone verbally to get into the office, but it worked out.

The lady gave me a two-sided application form and a little list of requirements including photocopies of passport pages, and passport photos. I left the building, planning to return the next week with the forms.

Wait a minute.

This was easy stuff, compared to what I had just done the week before. And there was no line. I kicked into "rush" mode, found the nearest photo place, filled out the form, and was back at the place just before they closed for lunch. The officer helped me answer the remaining questions and told me to come back in 20 business days. I was their last "customer" of the day.

This was so easy compared to everything else in the whole process! Or maybe my definition of "easy" had changed?

About a month later, I showed up, breezed through, as there was no line at all, and got my 3-year multi-entry exit visa! Now I can pretty much come and go whenever I want, although I'm supposed to be in Russia at least 6 months for residency.

Some of my characters and their destinies

2010-12-03T17:39:00.001+03:00

I've probably mentioned before that there are a few kids at the orphanage that are rather skittish and seem afraid of me. This is probably a combination of the trauma of being orphaned, teenage angst, and apprehension about practicing English with a native speaker (not that I push them too hard, but maybe they expect it). Whew.

I'm often drawn to shy kids because I can identify with them, but there are times when you recognize fear and not just a quiet nature. With the boys especially you long to see them sitting up straight, making eye contact, finding something to be confident about.

There are a few teenage boys that have slowly gotten used to interacting with me over the years. One of them seems quite wounded and childlike sometimes. I've written about him before. The good news is that a family in the States is potentially adopting him and his younger sister. I'm excited that they'll be able to stay together, and that they'll have a home.

But there are others who are still on my heart. Another of the boys is positively impish, and reminds me a little of a teenage Dennis the Menace. I was chuckling while thinking about writing this post, because I realized that his name is, in fact, Denis. :) So funny and mischievous. Please, Lord, help him find his place in this world!

First day of winter in the northern capital

2010-12-01T23:30:00.000+03:00

The view I see when walking home at 3 pm...

It's unusually cold for this time of year, but a little frost is much preferred to slush!

Shedding light

2010-12-01T01:13:00.001+03:00

The beginning of winter feels like a roller coaster. On the one hand, I'm falling in love again with the beauty of the low winter sunlight reflecting on the snowy city. A Russian kind of winter wonderland.

On the other hand, there is the depression of the darkness. Were our bodies even designed to live this far north? Everything in me screams "no" each time I prepare to go outside. Every day during the daylight hours (from about 10-4) I force myself to look out the window or maybe take a little walk if possible, just to remind myself that daytime still exists.

continue/-

But on a positive note, I find it a gift to prepare for Christmas in this part of the world. Maybe Christ wasn't born in winter in a cold climate, but it makes waiting for the Light so meaningful when it is dark outside. Maybe my life isn't shrouded in spiritual darkness, but the metaphor works. When it is dark, we feel miserable. Therefore, I can imagine the feelings of despair when one has not yet found Christ, or when He seems far away.

If you are in a different climate, maybe God speaks to you in a different way through nature. But this is the way He is speaking to me in this place, at this time. And I'm thankful for it.

On my last legs

2010-11-17T00:03:00.002+03:00

Date: October 18
Number of Days until registration expires: 1
Status: Sick in bed

(Click to read previous episode)

Two thoughts had occurred to me. The first (spoken by others until I finally accepted it as truth) was that I had to step up my energy to a new level and FIGHT. This I had already realized during the previous week, but as the working hours drew to a close on Friday and I saw how difficult it was to maintain one's place in line, I realized the gravity of the situation.

The second realization was that I didn't have any strength left. Of course it's pretty bad if you need to fight and don't have any strength, but I realized that now was the moment when I needed to lean on others. I had wanted to do as much as I could by myself, mainly because I live here in this country and need to learn some survival skills. But that didn't mean there was any shame in asking for help. continue/-

Especially when I was near the point of total collapse. Everyone prayed for me over the weekend and several friends offered to go check on The List first thing in the morning on Monday.

Monday. A morning phone call, as my friend was headed to work. "I signed you up. You're #28." It was a miracle that I was even on The List. I wondered what kind of scene she had had to deal with, and was glad that I wasn't there myself. Now I had a few hours before I needed to head down to resume the vigil.

2pm, everything was in order; they were starting to go down The List. It was slow again, but at least they were open 6 hours today instead of 4.

Another hitch: the registration window would be open from 2-8 pm, but my friends still needed the stamp from the housing authority, and that office opened at 3pm. :)

We were already in the 20's when I got a phone call from my friends with the apartment. "You won't believe this, but you have to be present with us to get this stamp." What? How? They were in a completely different area of the city (I might add that the geographic location of the registration office had no physical relation to the neighborhood in which I would be registered). But they were on their way to get me, in the car. Andrey stayed to keep an eye on progress.

Zoom. We sped down to the housing authorities. I poked my head in, flipped open my passport, and we got a stamp. Had it really been that necessary? Zoom. We were back within the course of an hour. ~~Labor~~ Things had barely progressed, since people who had skipped their turn were suddenly showing up.

Each time we would get one number closer to mine, another person would appear. Now #16 had arrived; now #1 was back with his photocopy...

But I DID get my turn. Masha came in with me since she was familiar with the housing documents. The lady checked everything multiple times, her eyes darting quickly back and forth. Then she started to gather things together, methodically placing paperclips here and there.

She didn't find any mistakes. I couldn't believe it. I expected at least another photocopy to be demanded of me. I had been sure I would have to leave and fight my way in. Even on Friday when I had my documents "ready," I still had a list of questions. Little by little I pieced things together, but some uncertainty remained. And now she was telling me to come back on Thursday, and everything would be ready. It was another miracle.

We celebrated by going to McDonald's. I was high on feelings of relief mixed with cold medicine, even though I didn't really have a cold...it was tonsillitis. But there would be time enough to go to the doctor, now that I didn't have to worry about The List.

The month that wasn't?

2010-11-15T23:27:00.000+03:00

Today marks one month since I fell ill while the processing of my temporary residency permit was still underway.

It feels almost as though the month didn't happen, although that can't be true. There were plenty of blessings along the way; friends' birthdays, special visits, etc.

I learned a little more about tonsillitis and about the medical system, and was scared enough of the thought of a tonsillectomy to get serious about getting better. So I've been on "house-arrest," drinking concoctions and scheming about various ways to create a special atmosphere this Advent season.

Day 4 of antibiotics, Round 2...hopefully this will take care of it!

Strange medicine

2010-11-12T23:39:00.002+03:00

First the green stuff, now this...I just couldn't resist taking a photo of one of the concoctions I was told to gargle with. We'll see if it helps!

If not, I could always use it for dying Easter eggs. ;)

Wounded

2010-11-11T23:59:00.001+03:00

When my dad and I took some kids from the orphanage out last week, the counselors whispered to us about the backgrounds of some of the kids. Well, they didn't really whisper; it seems more accepted to talk about kids' behavior right in front of them. But a few of these facts were more personal and they meant it for our ears only.

The kids said "Thank you very much" after the meal. Most tried, with prompting, to say it in English. And then the counselor explained what great progress that was for many of them. I hadn't really thought about it since I see them regularly, but it really is a challenge for them to look an adult in the eye and say "Thank you." And of course, trying it in a foreign language showed special courage.

One of the boys the counselor pointed out was new (I actually hadn't met him yet), and she said that he (at 11 y.o.) witnessed the murder of his mother by his stepfather, perhaps over the summer. I saw how he held himself: not rudely like some of the other kids with "behavioral" problems, but like a bird, hovering at the edge of conversation with a wan smile.

Today I saw him at the orphanage and he again offered a weak smile, so I tried to reach out. "Pasha, right?" so he would know I remembered him. He nodded, but shrank back and quickly darted away. I wonder what is on his mind after all the trauma; what kinds of fears he lives with.

Racing against the clock

2010-11-09T17:15:00.000+03:00

I've been back-tracking a bit to explain the process I went through to receive temporary residency. After waiting almost 6 months I got the permit, only to learn that there was another packet of documents needed for registration, and not much time...

Date: Friday, Oct. 15
Residence permit: Received
Registration: Application in progress
Old registration expires: Tuesday, Oct. 19th
Working days left: 3
The line: Miles long

On Thursday, I had done my best to pull together the rest of the documents before finally going to bed around 4 am. Then I was up by 7 the next morning to try to get to the office when it opened.

I had already signed up the previous day, but you can never be sure...
read more/-

The office was open for four hours that day. Things were progressing at a snail's pace, and I was still waiting for my friends to bring the rest of the documents I needed. They called me to see how things were going, and I assured them that there was no rush.

I sat and sat and we continued going down the list very slowly. My friend did come with the documents, but they weren't completely in order, so I would have to just use this day for a preliminary inspection of what I had so far. During the last hour I was already posted by the door with the other urgent cases. I also peeked at others' documents to try to determine if I had filled out my forms correctly.

We were all panicking to the point of discussing what fines would be issued for overstaying our registration.

Then suddenly (well, not suddenly, but incredibly) #16 went in, and there were still 30 minutes left. There was hope!

The minutes ticked by.

The girl who was after me was practically in tears, yet seemed hopeful that she would make it in. She had the same deadline as I did. I didn't want to tell her that I might take a long time. I felt a tugging on my heart as I wished for my turn to come. I hated seeing everyone else sitting there with their sad eyes. There really wasn't any hope that any of them would be seen today. I had a sudden urge to give up my spot and let everyone go ahead of me. But I had to think practically. I couldn't save everyone in the waiting room, and it would be inconvenient to myself and others if I had to pack my bags and take a trip somewhere for a new visa.

We agreed amongst ourselves that we wouldn't make a list yet-we would do it on Monday morning. This was important because it was the weekend, and it would be hard to have a sign-up sheet if the office was closed.

There were a few minutes left, and I gave up. I could have fought to get inside, or tried to raise my voice above the crowd and gotten my questions answered. But it was pointless; I needed more time than was available. And besides, I was missing a stamp or two on the housing forms. So I walked away.

I went to worship rehearsal that evening, but I was already feeling a lump in my throat that wouldn't go away. Then I went on bed-rest for the weekend. I didn't even go to church, and the word spread that I was ill, but absolutely HAD to physically show up at the registration office on Monday. I didn't have a choice.

Days with Dad

2010-11-07T19:02:00.000+03:00

My dad has been here for the past week and we have been visiting with friends. Maybe he will send me some of his photos.

In the meantime, here are some taken when we went to lunch with some girls who grew up in the orphanage together. They're on their own now but still love to do things in groups, especially when friends from abroad come to visit. We always have a fun time with them.

A Russian care package

2010-11-06T21:28:00.002+03:00

My Russian friends who are from up north often say they have to "meet the train," and this means that their relatives have sent a parcel on the train via a traveling friend or acquaintance, that now has to be picked up.

The contents usually consist of something edible: canned goods like jam and pickles; berries, etc.

Well, my roommate had been complaining about missing foods from "home" (up north), and then the other day we got a parcel containing salami, smoked fish, and pressed deer meat.

My roommate showed me how to take the head and skin off the fish before eating it. I like the taste, although I'm not sure I like the process...

New beginnings

2010-11-06T00:27:00.000+03:00

I'm determined not to go to bed again without blogging!

I'll finish up my little bureaucracy tale in the weeks to come, in case any of you are sitting there biting your nails. But I'm trying to move on, little by little.

The stress wreaked havoc on my immune system and I've been sick on and off for the past 3 weeks with back-to-back episodes of tonsillitis. And no, I'm not planning on getting the surgery anytime soon.

I was going to write that I'm waiting to get my life "back." But in fact, all of this IS life. I do hope to return to a few activities that I had to set aside while working on paperwork. And I look forward to the coming weeks.

Advent starts in less than a month! :)

The moment of truth and an identity crisis

2010-10-29T00:02:00.001+04:00

A Fatal Error? (Continued from this post)

The lady at the fingerprinting station had told me to check EVERY LETTER very carefully. Those words would come back to haunt me...

For the rest of Tuesday and all of Wednesday I was thinking about the fact that I had chosen the spelling that was in my current visa. After all, that was the most authoritative document, right?

BUT the spelling which I had written on my residency application (under a different visa) was totally different... and to be honest, preferable.

To make a long story short, it probably didn't make sense for me to be a resident under one name and have my fingerprints registered under a different name...even if it was a matter of transliteration. continue/-

What to do, what to do? Did it even matter, or would no one notice? There was no room for error, as I would need to pick up my permit on the first try and would not be able to run around the city changing things.

I asked a few people their opinion and most felt that I should go with the spelling on my residency application, as the visa would be canceled in a few days anyway and then no one would know that I ever had an "alter ego." I wasn't thinking very clearly at this point, but figured that they were probably right and it was worth trying to change the spelling.

Thursday, October 14th-my last attempt to get my residency permit before my visa expires

The moment of truth would come in the afternoon when I would find out if the local authorities had picked up my residency permit on Wednesday and I could finally claim it.

In the morning, I went to the fingerprint place again. It was the same story: everything under construction, and the one lady there, with no other customers.

She yelled at me even though I couldn't possibly be bothering her as there was seemingly nothing else for her to do all day. But she scolded me in a nice way...maybe it is a cultural thing.

"I TOLD you to check every letter. You've made so much trouble for yourself, having to come down here again. Now we'll have to write out your form again." (it took 2 minutes)

I didn't even have to get the prints taken again (I did have hand wipes with me, just in case).

I felt at peace about the decision and made my way back home with my new fingerprint registration, where my last name was now written "correctly."

Then it was time to leave for the immigration office...

The Big Moment...

We went upstairs to where the inspector was. Apparently they did a lot of the paperwork up there and worked with clients downstairs. I poked my head in the door and the woman, seeing me, said "It's all set. Your document is here. Go downstairs and they will call you by your last name."

So that was that. It had come!

But I Have to Wait Again

Now, more waiting in the familiar hallway. There seemed to be no method to how they were calling people, as far as the order. When they called my name, I sat down at the desk while they checked my passport, visa, etc, according to the list. More problems with the last name: they were NOT happy that my current visa deviated from the application they had on file. Thankfully I had held on to a copy of my visa used at that time, so I could sort of prove that the other spelling existed and referred to me personally. This confirmed that I had done correctly by changing the spelling on the fingerprint registration.

After a lot of grumbling and checking with her superiors, the lady on staff gave me a few documents to sign, and told me to come back with them in a few hours! This was already the 3rd assignment that day, whereas I had thought I would just show up and get the permit. But I was close...

Something Material!

We returned with my signed forms at the appointed time, and I had another mini- panic attack while waiting for my last name to be called. Finally it was my turn (again) and I sat down and handed over the forms, keeping a copy for myself. Then there was a stamp in my passport, where I checked everything carefully. I was granted permission to reside "temporarily" in St. Petersburg for 3 years. I was given a chance to ask questions about registration. But unfortunately I had not studied the forms thoroughly enough yet. I couldn't use the opportunity to get information.

"Oh, if there aren't questions now, they'll come up later," she said drily, as I left the room in a daze.

We walked out into the hallway and somehow in my shaky state I was aware of a sign-up sheet being passed around for the next day. It was for registration. I signed up and was number 17. Despite the stamp in my passport, I wasn't out of "danger" yet. I had just a few business days left to have everything filled out CORRECTLY and handed in.

More to Come...

I felt a bit weak in the knees as we walked away. I could feel that I needed to kick into high gear to be successful, but I didn't have any strength left. Thankfully, there were a lot of people, and especially the Lord, standing by my side.

Unusual missionary jobs

2010-10-28T00:56:00.001+04:00

At some point I was in a biography mood while Kindle-browsing, and decided to download a few missionary volumes. One of these was about Gladys Aylward, missionary to China.*

I'd heard of her before, but only briefly, and I was interested in reading more of her story. It has turned out to be quite a page-turner even though I feel like I'm reading something I might have read in grade school as far as the reading level.

It always amazes me when I read about someone who may have been similar to me but had a totally different calling. Maybe my life would have seemed intimidating to Gladys, but I don't know how I would have survived in her situation. I like this book overall, but I had to take a break after it gave me some violent dreams.

This passage blew me away the first time I was reading it: click for more/-

'So,' continued the mandarin, looking rather proud of himself, 'the government has given me a problem. I need someone to be a foot inspector. A man would not do, because men are not to look at a woman's feet. I need a female foot inspector. But where, I asked myself, would I find a woman who could travel on foot over rough roads and climb mountains to reach the small villages to make sure every girl's feet have been unbound? Only a woman with unbound feet could do that. And I asked myself, in all of China, who is the woman who speaks the Yangcheng dialect and has unbound feet? That woman will be my foot inspector.'

The mandarin stopped for a moment to smile at his logic. Then he proceeded. 'There is only one such woman in the whole district, and it is you, Gladys Aylward!' (see book credit below)

Can you imagine moving to a foreign land to be a missionary, and being commanded to look at people's feet? Obviously many missionaries have medical duties, but what a specific task! It is so bizarre on the one hand, and on the other hand so clearly a witness to God's leading and providence. He brought her there and showed her exactly what to do...

*Gladys Aylward: The Adventure of a Lifetime (Christian Heroes: Then & Now)

Where I left off

2010-10-24T21:28:00.000+04:00

Another day in the life of a foreigner in Russia trying to get a residence permit...

Date: Tuesday, October 12
90 days in the country are up: Tuesday, Oct.19

Time is ticking...

Friday (Oct. 8th) had produced another "no" answer; meaning, the local immigration office didn't have me in their file. They kept telling me no sooner than October 23rd, even though the other office had told me September 23rd. Who was bluffing?

Monday was spent trying to get some answers by phone. The central office confirmed that my results had been "sent out" and that they had done their job. The local offices didn't answer their phone. The next day, there were working hours at the local office, and Andrey and I went in once again to see if there was any sign of my residence permit. continue reading/-

There were long lines as usual in the immigration office. As we were discussing our plan of action, a young woman was sitting nearby, eavesdropping.

We went into the waiting area/corridor and signed up on various lists. Maybe they weren't the right ones, but at least I could try to speak to an officer.

Then a young man came in, looking a bit anxious. He didn't speak perfect Russian, but he was looking for the right list, where he had been sure he'd signed up. He unfolded a notice that he had gotten in the mail. It was notification that his application had been approved and that he could show up at the local office. It was the piece of paper I was supposed to have gotten in the mail...

He couldn't find the list and we all looked around, and then our eyes narrowed on the young woman who had been standing off by herself in a corner (and eavesdropping on our conversation). She was tightly clutching a white piece of paper. A list. She reluctantly surrendered it, claiming that it was only for people who had their notification.

I was #5. Not bad, but they were only open for 2 hours. We left and came back and there was another huge group of people, all claiming that only those with the magic "notification slip" would be let in. I pushed my way in anyway, when it was my turn.

Same story. I wasn't on their list. My papers might be "on the way," but there was no way to check. Wednesday was the next day they would pick up the mail, leaving Thursday for me to claim them. The next Thursday would be too late; I'd have to be across the border by then.

I don't know if it was Andrey sitting next to me or the urgency of the situation, but the woman at the desk (after glancing at my visa and the calendar and cursing under her breath) decided to give us a few more helpful pieces of information. One was a list of items to have with me on Thursday, in the event that my permit DID come. The other was a list of documents to gather for registration. They too would have to be produced almost immediately, before my other registration ran out a few days later (not sure why they couldn't have given them to me a month earlier when I had asked).

For Thursday, what I mainly needed were photocopies of my current documents, as well as proof that I had gotten on the fingerprint registry at a certain branch of the police station.

To get fingerprints taken, I was advised to have a copy of my letter of notification, if received (mine hadn't been), as well as some antibacterial hand wipes.

I sped back home, made a quick phone call to my friends notifying them that they would have to get their apartment deeds together in a flash to register me, then set off to find the fingerprinting place. It was at the edge of the city, at the end of a tram line. As I looked for the right building, I remembered that I needed hand wipes. Arrrrrgh. What would happen if I didn't have any?

Bingo. Grocery store on the corner. But it would have a long line..ah, drugstore next door. Popped in, got some hand wipes, and then found the police building. They were doing "remont" and I had to knock. A lady let me in and led me to her office. Apparently I was the only "client." We filled out the paperwork and she made me CHECK EVERY LETTER. Then she rolled my fingers.

After that, she left me to clean off my fingers using my own hand wipes (which I couldn't get open now that my hands were covered in ink), and that was it.

Everything was in place for me to pick up my permit...except the permit itself...

Enemies?

2010-10-22T21:59:00.000+04:00

In Russia there is a lot of waiting in line. There are some rules of etiquette that go along with it, which I've discussed before.

Sometimes the waiting seems normal and bearable, like at the grocery store or the bank. But there are a lot of more critical situations, like at Immigration or the doctor's office, where every minute that passes seems like torture.

In recent experiences I found that it wasn't so much the waiting that was the hardest part (although it was truly challenging). What I found most disturbing was the way that people turn on each other. I can include myself in this; although I didn't do anything punishable, there were certainly times when I thought to myself, Why can't they all just go away? How can that man be so stupid? Didn't he read the schedule? How could that woman show up this late and think she could get a place in line? read more/-

I found to my horror that these people whom I didn't know were becoming my "enemies." After all, there was no way for us all to succeed. We were destined to fight. We were all just as desperate as the next person. Most people had taken time off work and some had left children at home alone. Some had been up in the middle of the night, guarding the List.

No one was in a non-urgent situation, as far as I could tell. We were all just about to miss our deadline, or had already missed it, evidenced by a few there to pay a fine. There was nothing we could do to make the time pass any faster. I was torn between a compassionate sense of wanting to help everyone else in line succeed and a logical sense that I was going to have to leave the country if I didn't get my own paperwork in order.

I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I had given up my place to someone else? Would God have helped me get my paperwork done another way? Or was it right for me to "fight" my way through the crowd?

I think I'm alive

2010-10-22T20:22:00.000+04:00

Pretty soon I am going to write about what it took to get two stamps in my passport. One thing it did take was a lot of energy that I didn't have, so I've spent the last week recuperating and letting my immune system replenish itself (if there is such a thing).

I'm thankful to be able to legally stay in Russia and not have to worry about counting 90 days out of 180. It makes me appreciate anyone involved in an immigration/refugee situation.

I'm thankful for God's faithfulness, and I'm also thankful for friends who remind me of His faithfulness when my own hope is wearing thin!

10 months later

2010-10-15T01:54:00.002+04:00

Lots of waiting, and it came down to the last 20 minutes on the last possible day.

As you can see, my temporary residency permit was approved...on September 23, the date that they had promised. 5 months after submitting my application. But I didn't know it was going to be "in limbo" for the next 3 weeks...something I will be warning other applicants about!

The work's not quite over; I have to submit another round of documents in a very short amount of time. But at this point I am in! Praise the Lord.

Detour

2010-10-12T00:28:00.000+04:00

I was walking home one evening a few weeks ago, and my road had been torn up during the day, just like that.

That's my building (the one in the middle of the photo) across the street. How would I get home? see more/-

Turn right and go past the building materials...

Turn left and trot over the bridge(s). They built the right one first and it was quite a feat to get over! The second one is MUCH better except for in one spot where there is sort of a half step because they didn't space them evenly and there was too big of a step at the end.

Just what are they doing?

This explains a lot

2010-10-10T16:56:00.000+04:00

I tutor a young woman in Business English. She's quite fluent but needs to work on a few skill areas, especially for work. We did some talking about cultural differences in the business world, since she works with both Europeans and Americans in addition to Russians.

A recent homework assignment asked the student to rate her native culture on a scale between contrasting behavior traits. To be honest I couldn't make sense of all of the terms that the textbook gave.

One pair related to time perception. Is your culture "monochronic" or "synchronic"? What did that mean? I offered an approximate definition, but promised to find out more. A search yielded the table you can see below (after the jump).

I can think of a few situations with roommates and such where these differences were obvious. For example, a Russian friend would notice something dirty (shoes, the stovetop) and stop immediately to clean it, whereas I would put it on my to-do list to take care of when I could work it into my schedule. However, I also switch back and forth between planned activities. Uh oh! click to see table/-

Monochronic People	Polychronic People
Do one thing at a time	Do many things at once
Concentrate on the job	Highly distractible and subject to interruptions
Take time commitments seriously (deadlines, schedules)	Consider time commitments an objective to be achieved only if possible
Low-context and need information	High-context and already have information
Committed to the job	Committed to people
Adhere religiously to plans	Change plans often and easily
Concerned about not disturbing others; Follow rules of privacy and consideration	More concerned with relations (family, friends, close business associates) than with privacy
Show great respect for private property, seldom borrow or lend	Borrow and lend things often and easily
Emphasize promptness	Base promptness on the relationship
Accustomed to short-term relationships	Strong tendency to build lifetime relationships

Source: Hall & Hall (1989)

Getting a package slip

2010-10-07T00:24:00.001+04:00

I check our mailbox in the entryway a lot and it usually contains a flier or notice of some kind. And the notices are for the landlord or his mother: a registered letter, something from the pension fund, etc.

The other day I grabbed the usual assortment and started to put it in the pile to give to the landlord for when we actually make contact with him (it's already the 6th of October...he does want the rent, right?). But then I looked a little closer and noticed that it was MY name there on the slip. I had received a...banderole? Hmmmm. Something between a letter and a package...

There was an address of a "pick-up center" I needed to find in order to claim my "banderole." A hassle, yet at the same time I remembered back to the college days, when we received those yellow package slips with joy, even if we knew the package would contain something we had ordered ourselves. It was such a treat to get mail! Continue/-

And now, who knew what surprise was waiting for me? Not many people knew my address, but someone had decided to take a risk and send something from faraway...

It took about a week before I found the time. Not that the pick-up center was far, but knowing the usual situation at the post office, I might have to stand in line for hours. Plus, they had lunch from 1-2 pm. So I would have to factor that in.

I got to see a new part of my neighborhood. It was pretty, with tree-lined alleys of different colors in the fall sunlight. I even ran into a pretty little church building. Who would have known it was hidden back there?

The package slip noted that the pick-up center was "in the courtyard." Good thing, because I don't know if I would have thought to go around the corner. In a regular apartment building, from the courtyard side, was a little "post office" sign.

I went inside to find...an empty waiting room. So much for the queuing drama! The room was lined with post office boxes and then at one side there was a little window you could go up to in order to receive your package. Once I got the ladies' attention, they looked carefully at my passport and registration (to confirm it was the same person), and then I got my media envelope. Oh, that's what a "banderole" was.

The return address was marked "Sweden." Too impatient to wait until I got home, I ripped open the envelope. Inside were two boxes of...business cards, with my name on them. And the name and address of a company who hired me, but hasn't contacted me for a month. Very interesting...

Bureaucratic phone calls

2010-10-04T13:04:00.002+04:00

The quest for a residency permit continues, as my 90-day visa gets close to expiry...

I suppose the possibility of deportation is enough reason for anyone to get motivated to make some phone calls. :)

Since I last wrote about needing to make progress, nothing had happened. Last week was spent "trying" to make a phone call, which meant that pretty much every day I "intended" to do it, but put it off due to the fact that I either 1) didn't have time 2) didn't have a working phone 3) didn't have the right phone number.

It's imperative to call during work hours, of course.

I know that a lot of this was due to my own procrastination, but it didn't seem possible that SO many things could go wrong when trying to make one phone call!

Then there was the weekend...continue/-

Monday

This morning I woke up and picked up my cell phone to see that the balance was 3 rubles (about 10 cents). Not again! Then a friend came to my rescue and put some money in my account using an electronic pay station. :)

Now that I had both a working phone AND a phone number, I could finally get down to business. I dialed the number...and got a fax machine. Arrrrrrrgh.

This happened several times. I checked and rechecked the phone number and it was the one I had used before and that a friend of mine had recommended. And I still got a BEEEEEEP. So I thought maybe it was just an automated answering machine?

An hour later...success! The phone RANG and there was a PERSON on the other end. She looked up my last name and said everything was all set and I could go to the local office for pick-up....after Wednesday.

This is great, but I'm still not sure when I can actually get into the local office and get my hands on this piece of paper, or get the stamp, or whatever is going to happen next. I can't seem to get through by phone to that office. So far I just have a few words of verbal confirmation from the central office, and that will have to be my progress for the day...

The green stuff

2010-09-30T13:48:00.001+04:00

Medicine is such an interesting concept to observe in another culture.

I don't think I have written about chicken pox on here before.

But before I get into that story, I must acquaint you with a staple of Russian first aid: the green stuff. It's a popular antiseptic here that is BRIGHT GREEN. In fact, its Latin name translates literally "Brilliant green." And it doesn't wash off right away. Before I knew this, I thought Russian kids really liked to play with markers...

I didn't want to embarrass anyone I know by taking a photo, so I swiped one off the internet...

And that brings me to the chicken pox. A friend of mine (a college student here) recently became infected, and we went to visit him after church, since we'd all had it in childhood. Hospitalization is more common in Russia, but our friend also lives in the dormitory, so that made it even more necessary for him to be quarantined. continue/-

The hospital is one of the bigger facilities in town, and instead of being divided into wings, the wards are all in separate buildings, probably built at different times over the years.

We had a fun time finding the ward where our friend was staying...

We didn't have to show ID, but we did have to have shoe-covers and were not allowed to enter the ward wearing a coat (although one could carry said coat over one's arm).

When we finally made our way to the right place, we saw our friend, and he was...green. Most of his face and neck and then selected spots were covered in the green stuff.

But he wasn't the only one! A few older guys were shuffling around, with sections of their head and scalp dyed green by the ointment! Think rock concert meets nursing home.

We sat in the hallway for awhile hanging out and playing with balloons leftover from Sunday school, when the nurse wasn't looking.

Into the furnace

2010-09-28T22:59:00.000+04:00

The story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego (I always liked saying those names) is one so familiar from the Sunday school days. But even now, I'm amazed each time I read this testimony of the Lord's power and favor.

It struck me recently that the story isn't only about what happens when we trust in God, it's also about what goes through the mind of someone who does not yet believe. And that's a perspective about which I sometimes lack understanding.

While reading Daniel 3, something made me examine the king's point of view. This isn't a fairytale-God gives us examples in the form of humans who really lived and experienced real emotions that we can relate to. It might be obvious who the "good guys" are, but the "bad guys" sometimes aren't too far off from our flawed selves. Here is a king, full of power, grasping at human answers to a problem that only God can solve. more/-

King Nebuchadnezzar has already been shown what will be in the future, and now he tries to somehow change his fate.

What I saw in these measures was fear.

And then my mind flashed to all the presidents and other leaders of the world's nations, who make such decisions...when to go to war, how to deal with enemies, how to keep the peace...

All of this "policy," "tolerance,"...whether on a local level (in the workplace, school) or international, it all comes down to fear, and the ultimate fear is fear of death. How many people around me live with this fear? How much does my own lifestyle subscribe to this fear, when I should instead have an eternal perspective?

A new bundle of joy

2010-09-21T22:33:00.000+04:00

A year (+ a few days) ago, I was attending my sister's wedding, and crying over visa woes.

Yesterday, my sister gave birth to her first child, a boy! His name is Benjamin. :)

Hooray for this miracle of life, and thanks be to the Creator!

Refurbishing

2010-09-18T00:51:00.000+04:00

The table (AKA my workspace) in my room was peeling, and I didn't really feel like repainting it...too time-consuming and boring. Then I was looking at an "IKEA hack" site and got the idea of decoupage. I liked the idea of having something personal and unique, and some scrapbook paper did the trick. Who cares if it clashes with the other furniture? :)

To paint or not to paint the legs?

The return of the red tape

2010-09-16T22:32:00.002+04:00

It's mid-September, and that means it's time for my residency permit! Time to go from "passive" to "active" bureaucracy mode.

Last week I went to the regional authorities to try to ask some questions. I thought if it wasn't ready then I could at least get some information in advance. My prayer was to get just one bit of helpful information.

Well...does finding the building count? Thankfully, I had checked the website and it said "entrance via hotel." Otherwise, I would not have guessed that the windowless door under the hotel/cafe sign would lead the way to a government office. It surely did not look like it had anything to do with passports or citizenship. Yet, beyond those very doors, people were taking care of important-and even life-changing-matters. read more/-

The hallway/waiting area was blissfully uncrowded. Too good to be true. As usual I was too shy to break the silence by asking who was last in line. So I played it cool and pretended I was interested in the information posted all over the walls. Actually, I WAS interested. I was hoping that I would see samples of the forms that I would need to fill out for registration.

I was also trying to figure out if I was even there for the right category of documents. There were several timetables posted, and I could not make sense of them.

As I sat down on the bench and tried to figure out what to do, I happened to glance at the man on my left, who was holding...a list! He was the keeper! And it even happened to be the right one...for temporary residency, not for passports or whatever else was going on.

And there were just a few people ahead of me...but....when did they close?

Nobody knew if they would close at 1 or stay open until 3 or some other time. Toes were tapping and thumbs were twiddling nervously as it got closer to 1. There was only one person ahead of me...and they closed for lunch.

(McDonald's break)

I came back at 2....instead of the practically empty hallway, all the seats were filled up! A new batch of "customers"!

A few people came in as I stood there, and asked who was last in line? "Which line?" was the response. Uh oh. Now there were even new categories of people. The guy who had been in front of me was still waiting; apparently, a few people who had been in front of him had now resurfaced. I was still in line, but everything was going very slowly, and time was ticking.

Besides that, I listened in a little bit as the others compared notes. They were there for their yearly review that comes with having residency...and it seems that regulations for that change each year too; there is a minimum income that you have to report. I suddenly realized that having residency won't be much easier than having a visa, after all...

I didn't care anymore if I was in the right line or not and what the status of my documents was. I just wanted to talk to a live person and get some answers.

FINALLY, my turn. I walked in and showed a representative my sheet of paper proving that I had turned in the application in April. "They said 5 months," I told her, "but I haven't received notification yet."

"6 months," she said, literally yawning at me. "October." What? I had been told so clearly, at the central office, that it was 5. One month makes a big difference when you only have a 90-day visa!

"Well, what happens after that? How do I get registered?" I was going to make my visit worthwhile. "After you have the permit, they give you the forms to fill out."

"So they'll give me the forms here, at that point."

"Yes."

Grrr...why could they not give me the forms now, then I'd have them all ready? Makes no sense...

I went home very frustrated...and worried. I didn't have any "Plan B" for not getting the permit in time. I had built in an extra 3-4 weeks until the end of my visa, but not a whole month!

Now I've calmed down a bit. I talked to someone who got his permit last year, and he advised me to wait until the end of September to start checking on it again. It's possible that everything will come together in plenty of time. And by "plenty," I mean...with an hour or two to spare. Does it ever happen differently? ;)

Notes

2010-09-08T11:52:00.002+04:00

I have a new roommate...

She is given to creative outbursts, but I guess I'm not one to talk.

When she asked me if she could post something on the refrigerator, I thought it would be fine...I like the refrigerator to display little snapshots of life.

And then she elaborated..."I have to remind myself to go to the woods to gather pinecones." :)

Back to pedagogy

2010-09-07T12:50:00.000+04:00

Before I even had time to think about fall activities, an opportunity presented itself. Someone contacted me to ask if I would like to teach Business English part-time to some corporate clients. It seems like a good fit: reasonable pay; a reasonable amount of hours; a sound contract.

I'll be starting up at the orphanages again this week and next, and private lessons are underway.

I was nervous that I'd lost my skills over the last year as I was more of a student than a teacher. But as I begin again, I can feel inspiration rising and the lesson planning machine whirring to a start in my brain. :)

Here's to a new semester...

Not vacation anymore

2010-09-05T22:58:00.000+04:00

I'm still here...sort of.

Unfinished repairs+the beginning of the school=CHAOS! Life is not dull at all around here.

For instance.

Saturday, 9pm

I arrive home and ring the doorbell. Instead of my roommate, a man (a friend from church) lets me in, covered head to foot in grease and grime from working on the plumbing. My roommate is at the hardware store.

I can't find paper to print the handouts for Sunday school. more/-

10pm

My roommate arrives. She unrolls a large piece of paper to begin making a poster for Sunday school.

The other Sunday school teachers decide to start calling each other and editing major portions of the lesson. Could I type up the new version?

I found some old handouts...maybe I could print on the other side?

Midnight

Our plumber friend is getting a taxi home. We have cold water, but no hot. The bathroom looks like a war zone.

1am

It's past my bedtime. My roommate decides she isn't feeling well enough to go to church the next day, but is feeling well enough to keep talking. I retreat into my room and close the door.

2am

My printer is slow...

2:30am

Time to get some (warm) sleep under my new comforter. I wonder when the central heat will come on?

Sunday, 8:30 am

I'll get up and finish preparing for the Sunday school meeting. Or not...

8:45 am

I think I'll check my email...

9:00 am

I have to get dressed.

9:30 am

I have to leave. I'll read my notes in the metro?

10:00 am

The metro ride is too short...I'll have to wing it.

Sunday, 10:45 am

The service starts in 15 minutes. I pick up my flute, start to warm up, and...did I forget my scales? My flute is...broken? It is not sounding the notes that my fingers are playing.

Sunday, 10:55 am

There is no computer to project the words to the songs. But I don't know the words myself! Could we maybe pick some different ones? Or I'll just...use a cheat sheet....and pretend that those long pauses are on purpose and not the places where the flute solos were supposed to be.

Sunday, 5pm

Text message: Are you going to meet up with us?

Nope. I'm going to sit right here and enjoy the quiet for a moment :)

And try to fix my flute.

Sunday, 6pm

The plumber is back...

Back to school

2010-09-03T17:51:00.000+04:00

We did some shopping with kids from a local orphanage. I met the two oldest girls shortly after I moved to St. Petersburg in 2004. Coming up on the 6th anniversary! :)

Making progress

2010-08-27T00:00:00.000+04:00

Thank goodness for good friends! Some girls from church came over and helped me with priming and spackling.

No need to judge, we're only amateurs...:)
+/-

Home sweet home?

2010-08-24T23:45:00.000+04:00

I think my room needs a little more work...

The truth about taking offense

2010-08-24T00:11:00.001+04:00

Only a friend can betray a friend
A stranger has nothing to gain
And only a friend comes close enough
To ever cause so much pain

-Michael Card, “Why?”

This isn’t meant to be a sad post, just some reflections on conflict in relationships.
read more/-

Jesus was betrayed by Judas, a friend. Anyone could have done it; He had plenty of enemies. But God chose a friend.

It’s painful to reflect upon, and yet at the same time, an indicator of how Christ lived his life. Knowing He would be betrayed, knowing His time was short, He still sought deep, meaningful friendships.

Only people close to us may betray us, yet there is a positive side to the vulnerability, for it means that we have truly loved. They will not all betray us, but they may hurt us in a number of ways during the process of getting to know each other.

There are times when seemingly harmful words from friends can be upsetting, and we wonder what it was that made us so sensitive. But the fact is that the same words from someone on the street wouldn’t have mattered. A stranger's words don't hold as much power.

"Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses." -Proverbs 27:6

When we are humiliated or lash out at friends, it’s because they are important to us.

We want them to approve of what we do and how we look (just being honest here), so we wait for words of affirmation.

We want them to take an interest in our lives, so we wait for them to ask questions.

We want them to accept our gifts to them and other displays of affection, so we wait for some positive response.

We want them to accept us, with all our flaws. Is it egotistical? We were made to be relational.

With all our different “languages of love” and other factors, it’s pretty hard to guarantee that the words coming out of our mouth match up with what our friend wants to hear at that particular moment. And it’s hard to guarantee that we won’t say something harsh when we ourselves are wounded.

Criticism is hard to take from a friend, but it indicates an interest in the other person; an investment. There wouldn’t be anything to criticize if we didn’t pay attention enough to make an observation. We hear "I want to fix you" when all they want to do is help. In fact, pretending nothing is wrong might be worse than saying something potentially painful. Confronting a conflict is so important for the friendship to deepen.

So during the times when I feel wounded and think “why is this person so insensitive?,” I realize that I am reacting because I love him/her. And when a friend reacts to something I’ve said and I’m annoyed by what seem like unnecessary emotions, I can remind myself that our friendship has reached the point where words can do a lot of damage, as well as encourage.That means progress.

As for that person on the street who ruins your day, well, I am not saying that a stranger’s insults can’t be unpleasant. Certain forms of speech would be hurtful to anyone. But it’s not the same as when it comes from someone you care about.