20

Ladies and Germs, I am going to tell you a story. A story about a young man on his birthday. Now clearly since he is a young man this is not the birthday of a toddler or even a teenager. Nay, this is the birthday on which he becomes a true MAN, his 20th. Apparently a birthday ending in 0 is jubilee, but I don't know all of the details. All I know is that I had a fantastic time.

It began the day before. I decided to buy some ice cream to celebrate. I went to the store and chose chocolate ice cream. It looked a little cheap, I'll admit, but it turned out to be quite delicious. I shared it with a few people here before I went to bed. In the morning I slept in, watched some of the Nativity Story, and then went to find Pastor Eugene. He is one of the few people who speaks English here. He took me to the pool to swim laps and to ski on what I can only lovingly call a bunny hill.

 Here is a picture of the pool. It is only about 25 meters long yet amazingly enough it has no roof. That is right, the pool is warm and it isn't TOO cold to get out for a moment, but many people wear swim caps here if only to keep their heads warm. For those of you who don't know, I LOVE swimming (I know I'm a bit round to like swimming but that's beside the point). I ended up swimming a kilometer before we had to leave.

Here is the skiing area. It is in the middle of the city and uses man made snow to maintain a base layer. It was really fun and I seem to have retained much of my skiing abilities. The run is really short, in other pictures from a slightly different angle (we are at the top) you can see the bottom of the hill, and I stress the HILL. Anyway, super fun.

This is one of the several gifts I received. It is a picture of me on the first day of teaching a particular set of students. The class is filled with five ladies in their mid-twenties to early-thirties and one of them thought she was being subtle by taking my picture, she wasn't. I had forgotten that she'd taken it so it was a great surprise. The girls also wrote a note on the back for me and it was really sweet. Also, forgive the weird look, I was really tired and playing with the picture. This photo happened to be in focus more than most others and the others in focus had weirder faces.

My running joke with some of the people here has been that "I am only a teenager, you can't expect me to be responsible! I'll be serious when I'm twenty." Well, now I AM twenty and I STILL don't want to be serious!

A wierd description of the first snow with a long uninteresting title, because I felt like it

December fifth. I walked outside and looked up at the sky. The sky is the one thing that has both changed the most and the least. On clear nights I look up and see the familiar constellations and, best of all, the moon in her many phases. I don't know that many star constellations, but occasionally I can find the big and little dippers but the easiest thing for me to find is Orion. In this way the sky has not changed a bit and reminds me of home. But to every coin there is a flip side, and in this case that is that many days are at least partly cloudy if not mostly cloudy or overcast. This is similar in a way to Walla Wallas weather, but in some ineffable way it's different.

Most days seem to be a little cold here, but that probably has more to do with the fact that it's winter than it does anything else. The fifth was not very cold in my opinion, at least not at the start. When I went outside the sky was pale blue with puffs of gray hanging in the wind. After lunch I decided to simply stand outside. I felt it get colder and windier. I looked at the sky and saw that the color had faltered. The pale blue had given up the last of its strength and had collapsed into a somber gray. I closed my eyes and felt the wind nip at my face and bite at my ears. My nose began to run from the cold and I sniffed to clear it. When I opened my eyes I saw just the faintest whisper of snow. A single snowflake that was falling just past arms reach. It was small and feeble. It seemed to enjoy its new found freedom as it danced left and right on its way back to Earth. I stood there a few minutes longer and watched as but a few more of its snowflake bretheren followed suit. They are far and few between, but each one danced for joy in the wind. Remembering my work, I returned to my room and to my desk.

A few hours later I received a phone call. I had been hypnotized by my laptop and the phone call had broken its spell. I looked around my room while I talked. As I said good bye and hung up I looked out my room's window. I was amazed. The snowflake I had seen earlier had brought his friends, family, and even snowflakes he did not know. There must be some place where the snowflakes are being massacred by the sun because the way that they jumped for joy and hugged the ground showed that this was their safe place, a haven for them.

In the morning, many of them had moved on to safer, colder places, but may had stayed to rest from their journey. They slowly left throughout the day, and while I will miss them, I know that they will return again soon.

Dnepropetrovsk, a new home

It struck me today that I have not truly blogged about my experience here in Ukraine. I have told small details about it and shared my thoughts that have occurred to me here, but that isn't the same. I realized on a deeper level this morning that I have a new home for the next few months. These events are important, both in the shaping of my life and the lives of those I come into contact with here.

Since will be here for several months, I suppose it's only fair to tell those of you at home a little bit about where I am staying. I am living in the great big city of Dnepropetrovsk which is home to some pretty big industrial facilities and over a million people. Interesting thing I learned is that until the collapse of the USSR, the city was closed, meaning that it was difficult to enter or leave the city without certain documents, largely due to the military factories here. There is a river running through the middle of the city named the Dnepr River. Oh, by the way, that river? Remember the factories I mentioned? Yeah... don't drink the river water...

I am currently sleeping at the church on the third floor. For those of you who are wondering, I do sleep on a mattress... sort of. As far as I have seen, a mattress like we think of in America doesn't exist here. The mattress that I have in my room is a flat sleeping pad, MAYBE an inch and a half thick. The good news is that I stole another mattress from the other bunk so now I have a solid two inches of padding! Anyway, they were nice enough to get me a desk, buy me a dresser, and I have a space heater now. I haven't needed the built in heater yet, but I a m told that it is only a matter of time.

The church is home to many things. It is actually two congregations (I don't know why) that meet in two separate sanctuaries. Below where I sleep (on the first floor) there is a small Christian primary school. Above the kitchen and dinning hall there is the Dnepropetrovsk Conference Office. Finally, around the back side of the church there is another building that houses a tiny Christian Bookstore, the pastor of one of the congregations, and the ELC.

Four days a week, I have the wonderful pleasure of eating lunch with the women from the conference office. I am able to eat a balanced meal of amazing Ukrainian food. Oh man, I don't even know how to describe all the foods, so I'll save that for another time. Suffice it to say that Ukrainians love soup, bread, and hot drinks (among many other things of course).

Razors & God

Shaving is a regular part of most peoples lives. For men it is their face, and if a woman shaves it will be her legs. Now, I have never shaved my legs, but I would imagine that it is somewhat similar to shaving your face in that dull razors just plain hurt!

When it comes to shaving and to changing the blade on my razor, I tend to wait too long. I often wait 3-5 days to shave instead of 2, leading to longer stubble. The combination of long stubble and a dull razor leads to a painful shave. Instead of changing my razor blade like I know I should, I often just force my self to "suck it up and take it like a man".

The other day I had such a shaving event. I was shaving with what might as well have been a broken dinner plate when I thought, "You know, this really hurts. I should change my razor, that would make it easier!" THEN!... I did nothing and kept shaving.

3-4 days later I was sitting in my room and I realized I needed to shave again. I grabbed my razor and shaving cream and started for the door when I remembered I needed to change the blades. That day was amazing. I shaved without pain, had not razor burn, and didn't cut myself once! Oh the differences that such a tiny change can make.

What is the best way to always look clean shaven? To shave all the time. With all of that shaving, you would need to change your razor every day! Assuming there was no financial consequence to this habit, you would become accustomed to the greater sense of comfort. I know that I would enjoy shaving more if I changed my razor every time!

I know that I am making a big deal out of a very simple thing, but I am leading into an idea, so this is where you need to start paying attention.

For the last few months, the main thing anyone seems to be talking about is LIVING with God. It isn't just because I am in Ukraine that I am hearing this. I heard it before I left and I see the idea online, too. Imagine inviting God into your life every morning. If we truly lived with God, our lives would be so much smoother at times. They would cause us less pain, not because the events are any easier, but because we have His strength in us. We must constantly change our razors, constantly dedicate ourselves to God.

I know that you should practice what you preach, but I am just a man. I am riddled with flaws and sin. I fail many days, but on the days that I dedicate myself to God, everything is better. By inviting Him to do things with me throughout the day, those things and that day are better.

Doubting Daryl

I have a person who is really close to me who is doubting religion on the whole. For the sake of pronouns, let's say they're a guy, and for the sake of a name, let's call him Daryl. Now, I was talking to Daryl about his religious views recently because he hinted that he was having doubts.

Daryl, if you read this, I want you to know that I love you and that this isn't meant to shame you or to insult you. I want you to know that this is simply me addressing the topic publicly, expressing my views to more people than just you. If you couldn't tell, when we talked I was having a hard time answering you questions. This are my views after a little bit of thinking.


So, why did I name this post "Doubting Daryl"? Well, first of all, I wanted something to make an alliteration, because they are catchy. Secondly, I didn't want to give away Daryl's real name. Thirdly, Daryl is having doubts. He is questioning reality, trying to determine what is real and what is not. These questions are very real and I had similar ones earlier in my life. It is very hard to figure out what exactly you can trust in life, or if you can even trust that you are really alive. Sometimes, when I get really sick and sleep all of the time, I have a difficult time telling what is reality and what is a dream. I tend to imagine things happening and then have to ask awkward questions afterward to see if something really happened. To the other people it is really obvious what reality is, but to me I have a hard time knowing for sure.

This is how I imagine Daryl feels right about now. He asked me something to the effect of "How do you know that religion is real and not just a way to process your emotions and the events around you?" Well, tough question. Since Emotions are subjective, and my personal interactions with God are subjective, I don't have any proof from personal experience. I do know that I have changed since coming to God, but your question is whether or not that change is really from God or if because I took a certain point of view I was able to make the changes necessary. I firmly hold that I would not have been able to make many or even all of the changes that I have if I hadn't had the help of God.

Since emotions are subjective,one will have to view that hundreds of historical proofs for the bible. I recommend researching this area even if you do believe bible because it is very interesting. If someone were to say "eh, these things aren't real" or "the bible was written after all of these things, so they don't prove it" that's fine, I have one last thing to say. It is simple and is easily illustrated with one of the questions I had a while back.

My question was this, "How do we know any of this is real? What if we are just a bunch of brains in jars, or what if I am the only one who is real, what if I am the only brain in a jar and you guys are my imagination?" Now, for those of you who don't know, there is a philosophical question about existence that was proposed a long time ago. It goes something like this. Let's say that modern science has advanced to the point of being able to remove a brain from the body without damaging or killing it. They then place it into a jar where the temperature and nutrients are kept at just the right levels to support the life of the brain. Finally, the brain is attached at all of the proper places with electrodes to allow sensory input. Some machine is then attached to the brain and the machine send the proper signals to the brain. In theory, you could convince the brain that it has a body, that is eats, sleeps, walks, and even talks, all through the use of electrical impulses. How would that brain know the difference between life in a body and life in a jar? How do you and I know that we are not simply brains in jars attached to machines? It is a scenario that can make all of life meaningless.

I came to this decision a little while before I was baptized. I don't know if life is real. I do have a choice though. I choose to believe that life is real, that is has a purpose, that I am not just some medical experiment. I choose to have faith. Faith is the only answer that transcends all questions.

You can tell me that I am just processing my emotions in a certain way, but I have to say, that view is depressing and God is waiting for you. I love you Daryl, and I am praying for you.

Visa Problems

You want to know the truth? Why else would you be reading this if you didn't? I have been trying to live my life these past few months under the premise of absolute honesty. Half truths and partial lies have been a part of who I was since middle school, and now I have been struggling to tell the truth, and nothing else.

The truth right now, at this moment and for the past few days, is that I am scared. I am afraid that I will have to go back, back to America... Home... While the prospect fills me with joy at the possibility of seeing my friends and family, of being where things are normal, where things are safe. I have found myself day dreaming and wondering what I would do if I did in fact have to go home. Then, like a door slamming down the hall, I am brought back to this moment. I am brought to reality. I remember why I came, I remember my desire to STAY, and I am torn. I feel disappointed with myself for entertaining the thoughts of returning with such a warm and pleasant attitude.

When I am brought back to the present, to the fact that I am indeed still here, I start to think of what being here has accomplished. What have I done? How have I changed anything? Have I been a good enough example of God's love? Has God changed anything in me? What? On and on with the questions and worries.

It has boiled down in my mind to this. What am I to learn from this experience? The situation is simple enough. Bureaucracy is complex and we are at the end of the rope with my visa. Down to 4 days before it expires, it is getting too close for my comfort and I am starting to worry. The lessons could be anything, but here are some guesses I have.
     One could be that God wants to test my patience and my nerves and yet show that He is in control. This would be accomplished by my visa extension being approved at or near the last minute. It would show that God finishes things in His own time, and that He does things when everything is ready.
     The other, near as I can figure, is that I am not meant to be here. Maybe I wasn't supposed to come here, maybe I was supposed to go somewhere else, or worse yet, stay at Walla Walla.

The only thing that I can do is pray. The problem with prayer is that I am so emotional,so confused about where I want to be, I don't know what to pray for. Should I pray to stay? Should I pray to go? The best I can manage is to pray for some semblance of peace and that God would lead me, showing me where and what I am supposed to do. I don't know what else to do...

Edit:

My biggest fear about returning home is that one some level it would represent some kind of failure. I am afraid that it will be yet another thing that I didn't see to the end...

Sad Sky

"The sky is about to cry," Maria said this today. I liked it. It was cloudy and overcast, and there was a nip in the air as a humid cold had followed the clouds to Dnepropetrovsk. She had said this to Greg, and continued on by saying, "It is sad because you are leaving."

Gregory Wilkinson, one of my hall-mates and friends from Walla Walla University this last year came to Ukraine on Wednesday and arrived in Dnepropetrovsk really late. I was so excited to see him. Another American, and one that I knew! A few weeks ago there was a wonderful gentleman by the name of Christopher Beason who came to shoot a video for the Christian School here at the Church, but I didn't know him. This was my friend! When I got to the bus station to pick him up, I was early. I waited until the time came that his bus was supposed to arrive, but it didn't show up at 10:15 pm... or 10:30... or even 10:45!

By now I was worried, but luckily I was with Pastor Alexi who went and asked the clerk at the ticket counter what was going on. He found out that Greg's bus would be late.  If I hadn't found out that his bus was late, I don't know how I would have survived the next 45 minutes! I was getting worried that I hadn't seen him on one of the buses that had come and gone, and it had only been 20-30 minutes, imagine if I had to wait another 45. I would have been freaking out. When he got here, we took him back to the church and went to bed late (or early, depending on how you view 12:30 am).

Thursday, I showed him around the church and we went to my classes. I attempted to teach him some Russian, but to be fair, for me to teach Russian is more than a little bit like a blind guy leading the blind. I also tried to show him how to teach, but considering I know almost nothing myself and I don't even know how to teach well, this was worse than me teaching Russian...

Friday was an action packed day, filled with preparing for Friday Night (our English Speaking Club that we use as an outreach tool), visiting the class of a wonderful and entertaining teacher, Skyping with some of the best people ever (Anne Mulder, Kyle Jacobson, and Heather Ueeck), finishing with Friday Night. I think that Friday Night went really well. Our topic was "Travel/Traveling" and we discussed some vocab for travel, some quotes about travel, and ultimately tied it to the Bible. Our question that we decided to leave everyone with was something to the effect of, "What is your destination in life? Are you going to the cemetery or heaven?"

Then we had a lovely Sabbath, went to church, and I saw Greg off at the bus station. I am so thankful that I got to spend a few days with Greg, and I hope that I can spend more days with him in the future.

Nicholas

Today I had the opportunity to have a Bible study with a man named Nicholas. He is a retired man who used to work in the railway construction industry and in the Soviet Army (or I think, he only mentioned it briefly). He and I discussed how in the USSR, it was not illegal to be a Christian. It was, however, strongly discouraged and looked down upon. According to the teachings of his youth, religion is a tool developed by the ruling class to hold the worker down, to keep them happily submissive.

I had agreed with him that he and I would trade information, he would teach me a little bit of Russian, and I would teach him a little bit of the Bible. When it came time, it was true that he taught me a little Russian, but I found it difficult to switch the subject to the Bible. When I finally got the topic switched over, I only spoke for about half an hour. I told him the basic idea of each book of the bible. That Genesis described where the universe came from, where man came from, and where the Israelites came from. That Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy describe the Jews journey from Egypt to Israel and outlined laws for them to live by. That the next few books were their history, and that Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Songs were poetry. I described the books simply, and as effectively as I could. Then came the final moment. I had just finished describing the New Testament, mentioned that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John were about Jesus and His sacrifice, and BOOM there it was. He asked the question. Why is Jesus a sacrifice? Why does His death cleanse you, me, and everyone? I was just beginning to answer the question when we ran out of time!

I think that he likely just wants to speak English, but if he wants to practice, and the Bible is the discussion topic, I don't see any harm in talking with him again.

Mickey D's

So, there I am, walking through downtown Dnipropetrovsk, on my way to meet the Director of my school, Maria, to work on my visa when what do I find? Mc-fricken-Donalds!

 It is EVERYWHERE!!! And the best part is that while I waited of Maria outside the fast food joint, I had the opportunity to talk with some of its patrons. That is right, I walked up to random strangers and told them about the food they were eating. Now, I said it in a nice tone and with a smile and they looked at me blankly, not knowing what a single word that passed my lips meant.

 

Now, after we had worked on my visa a little bit (only to hit a bureaucratic wall) we decided to eat. I thought it would be fun to see how similar the food was. I thought it would be even more fun to order in English. Before I had finished my first sentence the guy had almost melted with the realization that I, yes I, was an American. No doubt, as he would correctly assume, I knew nothing of the Russian language. Yet, he still had to serve me. In fact, his manager was watching over his shoulder! I was having a grand old time. I got 20 Chicken Mc Nuggets for me, a cheese burger for Maria, and fries to share (and separate drinks). After we had taken struggled through the order, both smiling and me almost laughing, Maria revealed to the young cashier that she spoke Russian, and he just about died. We all thought that it was hilarious and he must have said something like "Why didn't YOU order!?!" I'll tell you why, for my enjoyment, for her enjoyment, for his growth, and hopefully your enjoyment now. BTW, this is the great sport of a young man who took my order.

 

 Then we sat down to eat. I didn't get a good picture of the restaurant, but imagine a crowded McDonald's with mirrors for decorations, light weigh silver chairs, a couple TV's, and oh yeah, did I mention crowded? NEVER in my life have I EVER seen SO MANY people clamoring to eat in a Fricken McDonald's! An empty chair remained empty for a [insert clever way of saying short period of time]. As follows are pictures of Maria with our food (she is a healthy eater and this food is NOT healthy so she is hiding her face in shame). The smallish picture is my last McNugget and the box they came in. Then there's me, munching on a McNugget.

 This just goes to show you that even when you are in a city that dwarfs your hometown (over 1 mil vs 3k), and even when you are in another country, you can always find McDonald's to make you feel at home...

Teachers Day

Here in Ukraine, the first Sunday in October is a national holiday to honor teachers. They have some sort of half day on the Friday before, and in general it is meant as a day to remember the people who did so much to educate and influence the children of the nation. Our Friday Night English speaking club focused on this topic, and even tied it into Jesus being the most influential teacher.

I would like to take a moment to thank Mrs. Lynn Brant, Mr. Jeff Charbonneau, and Dr. Tom Thompson. They are the three educators that have had the largest impact on my life.
      Branty and Charb helped me to mature in high school. Without their guidance I would be a very different person. Not necessarily a trouble maker, but just a less pleasant person to be around, and possibly a very unsocial person. Charb was recently chosen as the US National Teacher of the year, and he deserves it. However, with all of the congratulations that he has been receiving, I think that Branty has been a little forgotten. She is an excellent teacher, too! I don't want to down play the significant award that Charb has been given, but I do want to up play Mrs. Brant.
     Dr. Thompson is one of the professors that I had at WWU this last year. I had a math course at 8am, 4 days a week, all three quarters. He is retiring from education soon (or so I am told). In my first quarter, I really did not like Dr. Thompson. He was, in my opinion, too strict a grader for the written homework, he taught in a way that I did not understand, and I was afraid to go to his office for help. By the third quarter, I had completely changed. My first assignment (in Fall Quarter) had been a half connected string of scratch work and answers, and my last assignment (in Spring Quarter) was a full fledged document outlining all of the steps required to complete the problems and even some logic here and there to discuss some jump or conclusion. I had gone from one page to 8 front and back.
     The change that Dr. Thompson affected in my was not the same as the one that Charb and Branty had. They had helped me to grow as a person, and I am eternally grateful. Dr. Thompson helped me to grow as a student.


I will say one more thing about teaching before I go. I am a teacher here in Ukraine. I am helping people learn to communicate with a whole new world of people. When I chose to come here I had no idea that my job would be this difficult. I assumed that because English was easy for me to speak, it would be easy for me to teach. I knew on some level that I would struggle with teaching grammar, but I thought on the whole it would be easier. I knew that I would not be a good teacher right away, but I figured I would learn.
     I feel that I am learning to be a good teacher and that I am getting better every day. I struggle with the fact that some words are completely new to those I teach. I cannot define them all, and that is my largest struggle. Because of this expereince here, I have more than a students graditude to Mrs. Brant, Mr. Charbonneau, and Dr. Thompson, I have a teachers respect for the amazing job that they did for me.

Branty, Charb, Dr. Thompson, if you are reading this, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.

T-rex

So I had this dream last night. Now, I normally don't remember my dreams, but this one stuck with me. Only glimpses in my mind now that I am conscious, but still, it stuck.When I was waking up, I still had the dream on my mind and I started to think about it, and to my surprise, I came up with an interpretation of the dream.

In m dream, there were some people. These people were running, fighting, and doing everything they could to stay alive and not be eaten. Eaten by what you ask? Great question, They were being followed, or attacked rather, by a Tyrannosaurus Rex. This T-rex is doing everything it can to try to eat you. Tearing down trees, biting stuff in half. The people try to defend themselves by building a fence, it gets shredded. They try using spears, they do nothing. So the people start running.

They run, and they start up a steep mountainside. While this happens, it starts to rain. The rain turns the mountainside into mud and it is too slick for the T-rex to keep up, and eventually it slides down the mountain. The people, however, have no problems going up the mud. They had been saved by the rain.

Now, I know it is slightly corny, but I had the thought that this dream represents, in a way, God's love. First, let's start with the T-rex. I think that this T-rex represents some combination of Satan, sin, and the inevitability that sin will kill us unless we can be saved. Then there are the people, they try everything in THEIR power to stop the sin from killing them. The problem with their power is that it isn't enough and that the T-rex, the sin, was still catching up to them. Finally, there is the rain. To me, this represents how God's love is raining down on us, how it can literally wash away the sin, and save us from our fate.

I know that a T-rex is a little nerdy, but I am a nerd, so the message was tailored especially well for me and other like me.

The Language Barrier

For those of you who are great with the opposite gender, read no further, you won't understand what I am talking about.

Does anyone else have a hard time talking with someone that they find attractive? Be it a guy or a girl, I think that many of us would agree that it can be difficult to find the right words to say to that special someone. You want them to like you, and you don't want them to have a opinion of you. The problem is that you don't know what they like or dislike, you don't know what subjects you can discuss to impress them, and you might even be a little bit afraid to try and find out. At least, that is true for me sometimes. If you can imagine the helpless feeling of not knowing what is okay to talk about and what might upset them, then you might have some idea of the language barrier I am facing.

At this point in time, I speak little to no Russian. I am trying to learn, but that does not mean that I can communicate yet. In a way similar to talking to a beautiful woman, everyone I meet has me speechless. I don't know how much English they might understand. Worse than talking to a beautiful woman in English and not knowing what to say is talking to ANYONE here that only speaks Russian. I want so desperately to have a conversation with them, to get to know them, to see how their day was. But, just like the beautiful woman, I am left standing in the middle of the room, awkwardly trying to find something, anything to say that they might understand.

There is good news, however, in that there are some English speakers here. They communicate with me and I with them. Because of them I do not feel utterly alone, which is good.

Week One

It's the end of my first week here in Dnipropetrovsk and while it could have gone better, it also could have gone worse.

At my first class I was so nervous that I was boring and dry. To top off boring and dry I also assigned way too much homework and misunderstood how the lessons were supposed to go. Fortunately, I had a better time teaching my next class and things went smoother. People had more fun, they laughed, and we got almost as far as the first class (they were two different classes that are the same level so they have the same material).

I am getting tons of help with how to be a teacher. I may not know how to be a teacher now, but by the end of the year I think I will be an alright teacher. I might even know English better to boot!

Boiled Oats

In middle school my dad taught me how to cook from scratch. I still retain this knowledge, but the skill is rusty. Most of the food that I have prepared in the last 4 years has been with a microwave (not all but most).

Today I did something that I had not done in a long time. I made breakfast. I don't mean milk and cereal. I don't mean instant oatmeal. I mean stove, pot, boiling my oats, waiting for it to thicken, MADE breakfast. Unfortunately, I barely over salted my oatmeal. It wasn't actually a bad taste, it was just a LITTLE too strong for what I wanted.

In Ukraine, peanut butter is a rarity. It is apparently hard to get, and if a store can get it they don't give it up for anything less than a small fortune. The scarcity of peanut butter meant that I had to add something else to my oats than I usually do. I chose a banana, but the quality of the boiled oats FAR out weighed the quality of instant oats.

Bottom line:
The thing that I learned today by boiling my oatmeal is that there is a better way to eat breakfast.

The Journey

On Saturday I left for Ukraine. I was so nervous about missing my plane that I had my Dad drop me off at the tiny little airport in Pasco 2 hours early. I was so early that I had to wait an hour to even check in for my flight (thus defeating the purpose of that extra hour). At security, having already humiliated me by stealing my shoes, decided that I look the type to make bombs or drugs or something because they decided to swab my shoes for residue.I had no more sat down in my seat on the plane when the captain told us to leave the plane, there was to be a two hour delay...

Upon arriving in San Francisco, I was upset to realize that I had to go through security again. This time, instead of swabbing my shoes like I was some kind of criminal, they decided to create a 3D image of my entire body. Kind of a neat idea when you do it for fun, not when they are looking for shanks and guns though.I think that is was quite the breach in privacy! Call me old fashioned, but I think that the only one who should know what my guts look like is my surgeon, just saying... Once past the full body scanner I was allowed to wander the international terminal for a few hours before my flight. I found the best way to waste money on a trip, airport souvenirs. I spent $5 on a freaking pen! I wasn't looking for a souvenir either, I just needed a pen. Worst of all is that I bought what I thought was a pen, but it was a mechanical pencil. Then I had to convince the woman to let me exchange it for a pen of equal value, not easy to do when I had grabbed the cheapest thing I could find. I can only imagine how much something from the Best Buy vending machines might cost. That's right, Best Buy has vending machine at the airport, stocked with tablets, iPads, headphones, and more... Freaking Best Buy....

Anyway, the flight from San Francisco to Munich was eleven hours long. I was amazed by the speed we traveled. According to the inflight display, we traveled at over 600 mph most of the time. By 2 hours into the flight we were over South Dakota, 4 hours we were over Quebec, 6 hours we were over the ocean south of Greenland and north of Newfoundland. After that I fell asleep and woke up over Germany, 1 hour out from Munich. It was amazing to travel on such a plane. I had traveled in large planes before, but this one has individual touch screen for everyone. I was able to choose my own movies, volume, and stop, start, and rewind it whenever I wanted. Truly impressive was the service. The flight attendants were kind, bringing drinks by every few hours (apple juice, orange juice, and water) and two meals (I slept through the second but I woke up in time to see them pick up the trash for it).

I was worried about landing in Munich. I didn't realize that English was the international language that it is. I mean, I know that is is called the "international language of business" sometimes, but I had no idea that it went beyond simple business interactions. I walked off of the plane, and as I expected, could not read a single sign.That is, until I got past the boarding gate and into the terminal. Then everything was either in German or English. I was astonished. The urinals were fancily shaped, but that is to be expected of any high quality place. I walked up, started to go to the bathroom when I was startled by a fly in the urinal! I waited a second, but it didn't move. Being a guy, I thought it would be funny to pee on it, so I did. It still didn't move! It was only at this point that I realized how dimwitted and tired I was. The fly was a sticker, and there was the same sticker in all of the other urinals. Man did I feel stupid when I realized that...

The flight to Kiev was uneventful, mostly because I passed out for most of the two hours. When I arrived, it was time to travel through customs. Again, I was nervous because of the stories I had heard. Again, I was relieved at how easy it was. God was making the process quick for me. When I was about to leave the building I was stopped by a Customs agent. She had a fancy police-like uniform and said something I didn't understand. I responded with "excuse me?" and she was surprised and said "oh, English?" and asked me a few questions. I started for what I thought was the exit when she redirected me to the wall... at least it looked like the wall at a glance. See, the wall was made of grey glass with metal frames, so the low profile, sliding grey glass door blended together with the wall. In my defense, I had only a few hours of sleep and the door was the same color of glass, I mean come on!

Outside I met a man named Alexander who had been sent to pick me up and put me on a bus. Up until now I had been able to read signs, tickets, or get some sort of translation. Here is where the international language gave way to local language. I sat in my seat, not sure of where I was of what was happening, for about 7 hours. Luckily there was someone waiting for me in Dnepropetrovsk (my destination city) or I would have never known that I had arrived.

Dressing up

Oddly enough, in my everyday life I am very informal. I rarely dress up. For me, buttons, a collar, and maybe even a pocket mean that I am dressed up. On a typical day the best I will dress could be a t-shirt, on a really fancy day I will probably a polo shirt, MAYBE a dress shirt. This isn't the odd part though.

The odd part is that on my mission I will be expected to wear a dress shirt almost everyday. I am about to spend a year in another country, doing my best to serve, and I think it's funny that part of my service will be dressing formally. Formal clothing and short hair...

Background

Here is the back story to my salvation and decision to go to Ukraine.

     I was dating a girl in high school and part way through my senior year I broke up with her. I had spent too much time and energy on my relationship with her and none went into my relationship with God. To me, He did not exist. I looked through a few religions and came to Buddhism as the ultimate answer. Their veiws made sense to me so I began to pursue it. I purchased some books, listened to podcasts, began to meditate, I even went to a Buddhist meditation hall. I was convinced that this was the path for me.

     Then I went to Walla Walla University for my freshman year and I felt like I was a tuna swimming alone in an ocean of sharks. Everywhere I turned there were Christians talking about things I had no interest in. I had to attend "worships" and "CommUnitys". I had to take religion classes, and much to my displeasure the only religion offered was Christianity.

     I didn't make it through the first quarter before God started to show me His love. There were a bunch of great guys on my hall, most of which were freshmen. There were five that had a profound impact on my religious views. Their love for me was astounding. They loved my without knowing what religion I was. When I told them how wrong they all were, that there was no God, they were hurt by my words, but that didn't mean that they stopped loving me.

     By the time that Thanksgiving break rolled around, I was starting to see the light. Over break I went for a walk where my thoughts eventually lead me to saying a simple prayer. It was something to the effect of "I don't know if you actually exist, but they seem to believe so. If you are up there, we've got a few things to work on. Not right now, but soon". Over Christmas break I decided to read the Bible in 90 days. Before you sit back and think that I made this impressive goal a reality realize this, Christmas break is not 90 days long; I had school, too.

     While I did not reach my goal, I did read enough that I am confident in God's existence. I made it far enough to realize that I was being called on a mission trip. I was able to pull up my big boy pants and go in to the Student Missions office for information. While there I noticed a call in Ukraine. I don't know why, but I have not been able to get that call out of my mind since. I just had to go, and I made it all the way through the application process to being accepted.



     People have asked why I want to go on this trip. I have given the simple answer,  "I feel like I need to do this". The truth is a little more in depth than this. While I do feel like I am being called to go on this mission, I also believe that this trip will solidify my faith in God. Nothing will prove to me more the power of God than placing my life in His hands. Nothing can grow me more, both spiritually or otherwise, than spending a year in a foreign country serving Him.