Journey to the land of Elama ("life")

If you've been following Mike's blog or the Bull Herd, you might have heard of Elama. If not, by way of explanation, it is a piece of land containing an old campground that we've been allowed to use free of charge for ministry purposes.

Taking care of a piece of land 2 hours away is a big commitment, but most local churches around here wouldn't even be able to come close to purchasing something like this, so it is a blessing not taken for granted.

The time investment has been very rewarding, as summer camps have been run here for the past few years and families have been able to come out for a weekend or short vacation. Continue reading/-

I hadn't been there for two years, when we had a work day out there shortly before I left for Africa. I mentioned it briefly here. 

I don't have too many pictures from the early years, but I went out there last weekend, and, wow...what a difference! It had previously been all overgrown and run-down. Now there are lots of details that make a difference: new paint jobs; pictures on the walls; dishes; long tables for eating; a sandbox to play in...

 And, best of all, friends to have fellowship with!

Yulia's gift

I had a little friend at camp who captured my heart, about 7 or 8 years ago. She was just this shy little thing that would always beam at me in greeting.

In “Russia-A Love Story,” I posted a photo of us together. That was a day when we were saying goodbye as our group left for the airport, and Yulia gave me a little parting gift. It was her own purse, with my name scrawled on a piece of paper. Inside, a note addressed to me said “Farewell.”  Continue reading/-

Just what was in that purse? An icon (Saint Tatiana), a hair elastic, and a 2004 calendar. I have no idea why this particular assortment was given to me. Were they her dearest possessions? Ones she thought I could use? Or the quickest ones she could find before running to see us off?

We met again at the orphanage in the fall. When you have a reunion with orphans, it’s not what you would expect. Yes, there is some joy and exchanging of hugs, but it isn’t like a happily-ever-after feeling. I was happy that I had the opportunity to see them again, but there is something about the camp atmosphere where you love and yet keep your distance. And here, we didn’t quite know how to be the kind of friends who saw each other regularly.

So some of the kids who were my little shadows at camp grew cold fairly quickly. Yulia would often come up to give me a hug, but I was working with a different group and without the sports and other mixers at camp, it was hard to find a reason to just “hang out.” The kids had school and were kept pretty busy after school. Well, I wouldn’t have minded just hanging out, but you have to be purposeful in relationships with orphans. Just like in any relationship, if you are going to involve someone’s heart, you had better be serious about your intentions.

Within the walls of the orphanage, I go months without seeing certain children. Whenever I would see Yulia, she had gotten taller. Her smile was now more flirtatious than innocent, although I wanted to believe she hadn’t changed.

The last time I saw her, she was standing outside with a group of…well, teenagers. Smoking, dressed like teenagers, conversing like teenagers. Yulia’s hair was dyed black and I wanted to yank her away from the other kids and return her innocence, and her little brown pixie cut.

Camp and St. Petersburg

No camp for me this summer! But I hear that St. Petersburg camps have been buzzing with life, as always.

Around the Internet I've seen reports of fellow laborers who've been at camp with the orphans I work with. I am so glad that they got some attention this summer! The orphans are often rather isolated at camp, so it's great for them to meet some new friends for a change. Better yet, they may have heard the Gospel from visiting teams. Maybe I'll return to see some changed kids. But as another school year in the orphanage begins, life hasn't gotten any easier.




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Another "camp" has recently risen out of the ashes of an estate on former Finnish territory that had become overgrown. It's been offered to local Christians in St. Petersburg, to use at least for a time.



My church is one of the groups that has been breathing new life into the camp and using it for running summer camp as well as family vacation times.

A colleague of mine has some more information about the camp on his blog.

Russia-A Love Story

As I meet new people on here, I realize that a lot of you don't know my story. Maybe I have told bits and pieces of it along the way, but I have never told the whole story in one place.

The time has come. Of course, there is no way to capture it all at once, but I'll do my best. Then I'll file it under "key posts."

July 1996

I feel old, reminiscing. I was 14 that summer and heading to Russia for the first time. We had been invited to a place called "Camp Karavella." We were the first team to visit that camp, and our church had never sent a team to Russia before. It was a first for everyone. It was a curious meeting.

I don't remember much from that trip, although my teammates could tell stories of friendships that were formed. I experienced a lot of culture shock, as well as amazement that such an exchange could take place.

I didn't know any Russian, and I didn't particularly know how to use an interpreter. Besides, what was there to say? I am a reticent person, and I don't like making small talk. I found other ways to bond. I remember many times looking into the eyes of new friends there, and finding understanding hidden there, beneath the confusion of different cultures.




Summer 1997-2000

We were invited back to Karavella the next year, and for many subsequent years. Karavella was the place where I grew up, in various ways. I can mark how I was changing by recalling the fruit of each summer there. And my Russian peers were going through growing pains at the same time.

We went to Russia to preach the Gospel, and we did this by way of friendship. I know that this doesn't always work. Sometimes motivation is incorrect; sometimes the methods are incorrect; sometimes we are too fast or too slow; misunderstood or failing to understand.

But the friendships we formed were real. The tears and the smiles we shared with our friends there were real. The conversations about God were real. When I meet with old friends from Karavella, they have fond memories of that camp. They were kids there, and then became counselors. Now their own kids are campers or even work there. And we have this shared experience.



My heart

I remember feeling how God was changing me. As I became bolder and took more initiative, I also felt more burdened, sharing in the responsibilities. I remember walking through camp and seeing people as though God had peeled off the layers and was showing me their hearts. He was inviting me to go deeper. He was clearing the way for me. I watched the youth respond to the Gospel message. I saw on their faces how it penetrated their hearts.

I also was becoming more culturally sensitive. Now I could speak some Russian, and had a new level of understanding. I understood that we were not just honored guests. We brought challenges with us. It was not easy to accommodate us, and it was not easy to make room for the message we had brought. There were believers in that camp, but it was not a Christian camp. It was a former Pioneer camp. There were strict laws about evanglization. I felt that conflict.

Journal entry 7-16-01

"There is a conflict here, but somewhere underneath there is hope. Help us uncover that hope. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. (Hebrews 12:11) What is the truth? The truth is that we are your children. You sent your son to die for our sins. You love us and you are faithful and just. You are forgiving. You called us here to serve you. And serving you means serving others. It means respecting our leaders. It means being faithful in our responsibilities."

And I faced inevitable times of doubt.

Another journal entry from the same summer:

"Oh, Lord. I need to talk to you. I'm in one of those low spots...I'm not sure what to do or if I even need to do anything other than wait for your healing and your comfort. I guess I'm frustrated about being shy. It's hard for me to make friends. I know that reaching even one person makes a difference to you, but I need to feel like you're really using me."

Each summer, we went back to the U.S. after our trip. I felt awful that summer when we left. I thought of the new believers whom we had told "you're now a part of the Body of Christ." What Body? We were now in the States and they were back at camp or in the city with their families. They weren't connected with anyone. At least, not that we could see. We could only pray for them to find other believers in St. Petersburg.

And besides that, I missed Russia. I had an awful feeling of grief that produced wrenching heartache. It seemed, this way of life was not of God. I felt deceived. "How could you let me love like that and take me away?" I asked Him. It was baffling.

I have had a few other experiences in life when it felt like I loved too hard. I remember feeling devasted after graduating from college and leaving all my friends and church. It felt very final. I wondered why I hadn't held back a little. After all, I knew that I would be leaving after 4 years. Why hadn't I been more careful?

And I feel that way now. I love some people so much that it scares me (and others, not enough. But that's another issue). God comforts me and whispers, "I know." But He doesn't make it go away or make love less of a risk.

Back in the summer of 2001, I felt as though everything was very wrong. And I decided that there would be no more short-term missions for me. I was sure that I would die of heartache if I had to experience that again.

No more camp

I didn't go back for a few years. One year I was busy, another year I was in St. Petersburg, studying abroad. That was an interesting look at life. I was staying with a Russian host family, and hanging out with fellow students from my university. It was very different engaging in secular activities in Russia, rather than being there for a missions trip. Though I lived in the student bubble, I became a bit more independent, and got a taste of the city.

I continued to study Russian during the school year. I prayed for Russia. In the meantime, my parents had adopted 2 teenage girls from one of the orphanages we were familiar with in St. Petersburg. Now Russia was with us all the time.

When I was at university, I felt twice removed from Russia, despite it being my course of study. No one understood what I had experienced. But of course, it wasn't their fault that I couldn't explain it to them. When I opened my mouth, nothing came out, and tears formed in my eyes.

The next step

Senior year. I was graduating soon. My father had formed an organization to do full-time work in St. Petersburg, rather than just in the summer. Over eight years we had formed many contacts. There were young people in need of counsel, and there were orphans in need of attention. I began to think of going over there to serve alongside Russian Christians.

I am not sure how I eventually made the decision. I just took one step after another, and let the Lord lead. The doors were open. I remember people thinking that I seemed uncertain, because I wasn't running around shouting something emotional about the vision I had. Maybe I was uncertain, but I was trusting in the Lord.

2004-2005

I committed for a year. After a few months, I knew that it was going to be longer. Therefore, I devoted that time to building a foundation. I found a church. I met as many people as I could who had the same goals as I did. I became grounded in the Word. I searched for opportunities and asked questions. I learned how to buy groceries and do laundry and mail letters and ride the public transportation.

And then, I decided to stay.

Sometimes, I think of Russia as a person. She has impacted my life in so many ways. She has brought me joy as well as pain. Sometimes I wonder if we will go our separate ways. I want to be faithful to her, yet my first love is Christ.

One day I wrote in my journal, "I will walk humbly all my years because of this anguish of my soul. (Isaiah 38:15b) I think this pretty much sums up how I feel about living in Russia." Perhaps this is accurate. But it is not only anguish. There is a sweetness and contentment when I feel God's presence with me here.

One I will miss

At camp there was an 8-yr-old named Angelica. I’m not going to lie, she was a little obnoxious. But for some reason she made an impression on me.

She always showed up and followed us around. It didn’t matter which group we were supposed to be meeting with, she was there. But she was always interested in an activity other than the one we were offering. If we were singing, she wanted to draw. If we were playing Frisbee, she was asking for the Uno cards. And she wasn’t going to take No for an answer.

When we did face-painting, she always wanted to be a cat. And we had conversations consisting entirely of “meows.”

The day before the session ended was a stressful one, especially for the younger kids. Everyone had to pack up all their things and put them somewhere. Even those who were staying for another session had to do this, as they were being moved to other groups.

We comforted many a child who came to us sobbing about his/her friends leaving, or about not receiving a present, or another such matter.

I was supervising the crafts table alone when I heard the sound of sobbing coming from outside. I turned to see Angelica coming towards me, crying hysterically, and with a stream of blood running down her chin. Uh-oh. Where had an innocent ping-pong match gone wrong? As far as I could understand, it was something with her tooth. I started asking the other kids if the infirmary was open. Just then, a passing counselor stopped, took a look, and said, “Oh, you’re just losing a baby tooth. Go rinse your mouth out.” Whew. Once we did some rinsing, Angelica was still convinced she was dying, so I escorted her to her counselor, who would deal with it further.

The next day, as she left to go home, Angelica was all smiles, minus one tooth.

And then as we got to know the new kids, I realized that I missed a certain 8-yr-old very much!

Karavella, where it all began- 11 years later

Earlier this week, we traveled out to the camp where our ministry in Russia began 11 years ago. This year is the first since 1996 that a team has not traveled to Camp Karavella from our church in Massachusetts. But the friendships that began there live on, and we visited with some of our camp friends.

As we drove in the gate, the first person we caught a glimpse of was Lyudmila the librarian, a believer who became our friend and always welcomed us every year. She was babysitting for her great-grandchild when we arrived.

As we neared the administrative building, other friends awaited us and gave a warm welcome. They asked for news about all their American friends, and then spent some time with us, catching up.

The lady on the left in the bottom photo is Irina, the assistant director. She was one of the first people whom we met, on our first visit to the camp. “It’s terrible that you aren’t here this year,” she said. Irina grew up going to Karavella in the summer, and now her grandson is a camper. Next to her is her daughter Nastia, who has been receptive to the Gospel message. Though now in college, she continues to come out to camp for her summer vacation. To the right of my mom is Vanya, one of our interpreters from our first year. We are still in contact with him and his family too. He took a day off work to drive us out to camp and spend the day with us.

While at camp we were noticing how the years have gone by and children have grown up. There are different kids at camp now, but many of the staff have remained throughout the years, and now proudly show off their children and grandchildren. We shared with them news about our family too and how we have all grown.

Sergei, above, is a former camper. He graduated from one of the orphanages I visit regularly, and now coaches soccer.

Camp life goes on. There are always little changes being made, but as Irina proudly noted, “It’s one of the few camps that remains a true camp.” Kids come here to be kids; to play sports and sit around campfires, and to make memories. We pray that the Holy Spirit will inhabit this camp, so that those memories will include an encounter with Jesus Christ.

Camp Karavella-where it all began, #2

Camp Karavella-where it all began, #1

The dock by the lake...my favorite place to watch the sunset and pray at 11 pm during White Nights! :)