Monday, July 21, 2014
Back-fill
Just a heads up, I have returned from my mission. I didn't have internet access to write the last few posts I would like to have written and so I will write them and then talk about my return. They should be up in the next few weeks.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Kiev
Before coming to Ukraine, I always pronounced the capital as "Key-ehv". When I arrived I discovered, much to my dismay, that this is not in fact the case. It's much more subtle and I'm not sure how to explain it, but it's sort of like "Key-yv".
Anyway, I recently had to opportunity to travel to this great city and while I didn't do exactly what I wanted to do, I had a good time.
To get there, I took a train. It left at 3:30 am and was going to take me switfly to Kiev. I got to the station via a taxi t 2:30 and proceeded to wait the hour by standing around. I decided that since 3:30 isn't TOO terribly late I would just stay up and sleep on the train. This would turn out to be a mistake as my train was delayed until 5:20. I walked around for a while, read some of my Bible, even bout something to drink. Delayed again. This time 6:40. So, I went to get something to eat because obviously I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon and I was hungry. I come back from getting food and wait, only to find that it had been subsequently delayed again to 7:30.
I had seen trains come and go. I watched the sunrise over the train yard. People who had morning trains came and went before I did.
Finally, my train arrived and I got on board. For the next few hours I was woken up by various people wanting to know if I was on the train safe and sound. By the last phone call I was about ready to tak ethe battery out of my phone and in retrospect, that might have been a good idea.
Greg had arrived earlier than I because of a mix up of trains. He actually took the wrong train, which in a way was good because he wasn't delayed like I was. He and our host, Sergei, met me at the train station. Pastor Sergei then proceeded to show us a few of the major sights in Kiev before taking us to his home for the night.
There are a few photos from the infamous Maidan square. This is the location of the riots that happened a few months ago. It's hard to see from the picture, but the bridge has pictures of people who died in the conflicts hanging as a memorial. It is a sad place to visit. Now it seems to be more of a tourist scene than anything else though I was warned about pickpockets.
Below are some photos of just a few of the pieces of military equipment at the "Museum of the Great Patriotic War". That's what they call the second world war. Honestly, it doesn't make a difference to me, but it is interesting to see the difference. The jets are different types of MiG's, hint: they get more advanced with pointy-ness.
Finally, and most importantly, at the museum was the statue of the motherland. I'm told that it stands talled than the statue of liberty. I would say that this probably has something to do with the sword, but that's not the point. I don't know if we could go up the statue, but if I could've I would've.
The rest of the weekend was spent simply. Friday night was spent at the Kiev ELC Friday Night speaking club. On Saturday we went to church, then Greg left. On Sunday, I went to the woods with my host and two of his friends. We had a campfire and a lunch. It was nice. Then I returned back to Dnepropetrovsk, this time there weren't any train troubles.
Anyway, I recently had to opportunity to travel to this great city and while I didn't do exactly what I wanted to do, I had a good time.
To get there, I took a train. It left at 3:30 am and was going to take me switfly to Kiev. I got to the station via a taxi t 2:30 and proceeded to wait the hour by standing around. I decided that since 3:30 isn't TOO terribly late I would just stay up and sleep on the train. This would turn out to be a mistake as my train was delayed until 5:20. I walked around for a while, read some of my Bible, even bout something to drink. Delayed again. This time 6:40. So, I went to get something to eat because obviously I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon and I was hungry. I come back from getting food and wait, only to find that it had been subsequently delayed again to 7:30.
I had seen trains come and go. I watched the sunrise over the train yard. People who had morning trains came and went before I did.
Finally, my train arrived and I got on board. For the next few hours I was woken up by various people wanting to know if I was on the train safe and sound. By the last phone call I was about ready to tak ethe battery out of my phone and in retrospect, that might have been a good idea.
Greg had arrived earlier than I because of a mix up of trains. He actually took the wrong train, which in a way was good because he wasn't delayed like I was. He and our host, Sergei, met me at the train station. Pastor Sergei then proceeded to show us a few of the major sights in Kiev before taking us to his home for the night.
There are a few photos from the infamous Maidan square. This is the location of the riots that happened a few months ago. It's hard to see from the picture, but the bridge has pictures of people who died in the conflicts hanging as a memorial. It is a sad place to visit. Now it seems to be more of a tourist scene than anything else though I was warned about pickpockets.
Below are some photos of just a few of the pieces of military equipment at the "Museum of the Great Patriotic War". That's what they call the second world war. Honestly, it doesn't make a difference to me, but it is interesting to see the difference. The jets are different types of MiG's, hint: they get more advanced with pointy-ness.
Finally, and most importantly, at the museum was the statue of the motherland. I'm told that it stands talled than the statue of liberty. I would say that this probably has something to do with the sword, but that's not the point. I don't know if we could go up the statue, but if I could've I would've.
The rest of the weekend was spent simply. Friday night was spent at the Kiev ELC Friday Night speaking club. On Saturday we went to church, then Greg left. On Sunday, I went to the woods with my host and two of his friends. We had a campfire and a lunch. It was nice. Then I returned back to Dnepropetrovsk, this time there weren't any train troubles.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
April showers bring May flowers
I am surprised to see that in truth, April truly does bring rain. I've never really paid attention to WHEN it rained. Ukraine has a different climate than I am used to. The last two weeks or so have had some small modicum of rain most everyday. Today was no different.
I was sitting in my classroom after class and I glanced up to see a few teens standing by the gate of the church. I could tell they'd just been to our small gym under the church and they were playing around. After a few minutes they left, but I kept looking out the window. It was bright and sunny yet the clouds were dark. Music came from a few doors down the street as someone had what looked like a bar-be-Que, obviously because of Easter. I went outside and stood there, feeling the weather. It didn't feel hot or cold, an odd temperature in between. The humidity made me sweat just a little. From the stairs outside the ELC I could tell that the air was thick with moisture, not quite noticeable up close but clearly evident on the horizon. After a few minutes I went back inside. With the windows open it was just as muggy as outside, but it was too late to close them.
I resumed doing nothing important on the internet for a while before the music stopped. There was a palpable change in the humidity. Within seconds what I imagine had started as a soft dribble (giving the neighbors a chance to get inside) turned into an absolute downpour. I was excited. In a matter of moments, dry ground manifested puddles and the road began to shape-shift. I stood on the balcony-like path connecting the stairway to the ELC under the cover of the metal awning holding my arms out in the rain. The cool water was amazing. The release of the water made in considerably cooler and more pleasant to be in. After just a few minutes the rain had finished its transformation of the roadway into a tiny river, large enough for a team of mice to go rafting on, if they so desired.
Within the hour the rain stopped. The air felt fresh, clean, cool. The puddles dried up, and the sun shone on.
I was sitting in my classroom after class and I glanced up to see a few teens standing by the gate of the church. I could tell they'd just been to our small gym under the church and they were playing around. After a few minutes they left, but I kept looking out the window. It was bright and sunny yet the clouds were dark. Music came from a few doors down the street as someone had what looked like a bar-be-Que, obviously because of Easter. I went outside and stood there, feeling the weather. It didn't feel hot or cold, an odd temperature in between. The humidity made me sweat just a little. From the stairs outside the ELC I could tell that the air was thick with moisture, not quite noticeable up close but clearly evident on the horizon. After a few minutes I went back inside. With the windows open it was just as muggy as outside, but it was too late to close them.
I resumed doing nothing important on the internet for a while before the music stopped. There was a palpable change in the humidity. Within seconds what I imagine had started as a soft dribble (giving the neighbors a chance to get inside) turned into an absolute downpour. I was excited. In a matter of moments, dry ground manifested puddles and the road began to shape-shift. I stood on the balcony-like path connecting the stairway to the ELC under the cover of the metal awning holding my arms out in the rain. The cool water was amazing. The release of the water made in considerably cooler and more pleasant to be in. After just a few minutes the rain had finished its transformation of the roadway into a tiny river, large enough for a team of mice to go rafting on, if they so desired.
Within the hour the rain stopped. The air felt fresh, clean, cool. The puddles dried up, and the sun shone on.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Karl
I am in a bit of a spiritual dry spot and I don't want to talk about it with the people here. I'm not one to ask for help and this is by no means a call for help, really just an expression of my thoughts and one way that I decided to deal with them. The other day I was feeling a bit restless so I tried to call a fellow missionary, Greg. He was busy so I had to find something else to do, which isn't a lot at midnight. One thought led to another and I decided to go for a walk.
If I were living in an apartment building, this would be simple. The problem is that I am living in the church, which is surrounded by a fence and locked at night. Now, there is a guard whose job is to lock and unlock stuff and make sure stuff is safe from vandalism and theft, but he was asleep and I didn't know how to explain my intentions in Russian. So, I hopped the fence...
I walked for about 20 minutes and went into a store and went around looking at different food. I grabbed a cheap chocolate bar, looked through some packaged meats (tried translating them over the phone with Greg) decided I didn't know what I'd be eating, and bought an orange instead. At check out I didn't even need to speak, I just stood there while the night shift cashier rung me up. I handed her the money and left. Normally I am against littering, but orange peels are biodegradable, so is it really littering? I think not. I ate my orange on my way back to the church and not far away from the store I saw a figure approaching me. He was crossing the street and stopped in the middle of the road, evaluating my presence. I stopped to consider the possible danger that I was in. At almost 1 am, I hadn't alerted anyone to my plans but Greg and if I died, no one would know for a while. Then, after sizing me up and deciding I wasn't a threat, Karl started to approach me in a very non-aggressive way. When we got to me, I said hello, bent down, and started petting him.
That's right, Karl is a dog. I don't know what other people call him, but I named him Karl. His fur was matted and coarse, not dirty but certainly not clean. He didn't smell bad and he had this cute little face. I don't know his breed (I'm not familiar with dog breeds, they're basically all "dog" to me). I started to walk back to the church and after 10 or 20 feet I turned around and said "Karl, you coming?" He was sitting where I left him and when I spoke to him he started to follow me happily. I would stop and pet him every now and then on my way back to the church and he'd happily limp along after me. I tried to look at his hurt foot once or twice but it wasn't until we were just around the corner from the church that he let me look. He had a gash of some kind that I couldn't do anything about. If it had been a thorn I would've pulled it out, but a gash? That's out of my hands.
When I finally hopped the fence and got to my door, I'd spent an hour and a half outside the compound, most of which with Karl. I entered the church and closed the door and I heard him whining as I climbed the stairs to my room. With his whining I seriously considered sleeping outside, it wasn't that cold. But I needed to call Greg and my phone was dead, so I called it a night.
I am glad that I met the little doggy. He made me a lot happier, at least for the night.
If I were living in an apartment building, this would be simple. The problem is that I am living in the church, which is surrounded by a fence and locked at night. Now, there is a guard whose job is to lock and unlock stuff and make sure stuff is safe from vandalism and theft, but he was asleep and I didn't know how to explain my intentions in Russian. So, I hopped the fence...
I walked for about 20 minutes and went into a store and went around looking at different food. I grabbed a cheap chocolate bar, looked through some packaged meats (tried translating them over the phone with Greg) decided I didn't know what I'd be eating, and bought an orange instead. At check out I didn't even need to speak, I just stood there while the night shift cashier rung me up. I handed her the money and left. Normally I am against littering, but orange peels are biodegradable, so is it really littering? I think not. I ate my orange on my way back to the church and not far away from the store I saw a figure approaching me. He was crossing the street and stopped in the middle of the road, evaluating my presence. I stopped to consider the possible danger that I was in. At almost 1 am, I hadn't alerted anyone to my plans but Greg and if I died, no one would know for a while. Then, after sizing me up and deciding I wasn't a threat, Karl started to approach me in a very non-aggressive way. When we got to me, I said hello, bent down, and started petting him.
That's right, Karl is a dog. I don't know what other people call him, but I named him Karl. His fur was matted and coarse, not dirty but certainly not clean. He didn't smell bad and he had this cute little face. I don't know his breed (I'm not familiar with dog breeds, they're basically all "dog" to me). I started to walk back to the church and after 10 or 20 feet I turned around and said "Karl, you coming?" He was sitting where I left him and when I spoke to him he started to follow me happily. I would stop and pet him every now and then on my way back to the church and he'd happily limp along after me. I tried to look at his hurt foot once or twice but it wasn't until we were just around the corner from the church that he let me look. He had a gash of some kind that I couldn't do anything about. If it had been a thorn I would've pulled it out, but a gash? That's out of my hands.
When I finally hopped the fence and got to my door, I'd spent an hour and a half outside the compound, most of which with Karl. I entered the church and closed the door and I heard him whining as I climbed the stairs to my room. With his whining I seriously considered sleeping outside, it wasn't that cold. But I needed to call Greg and my phone was dead, so I called it a night.
I am glad that I met the little doggy. He made me a lot happier, at least for the night.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Humor
There is a chapter about humor in one of the upper level books and I learned something. Knock-knock jokes are not a thing here in Ukraine. I was shocked and so I tried to tell one to a student. It went something like this:
Me: "Wait, you really don't have knock-knock jokes?"
Her: "No"
Me: "Awe, great! So it goes like this, I say, 'Knock-knock', and you say, 'Who's there?'. Then I say, 'something', and you say, 'something who?'. Finally, I say the punch line. Wanna try it?"
pause... pause... pause...
Her: "okay?"
Me: "GREAT!!! So... Knock knock."
Her: "Who's there?"
Me: "Banana."
Her: "Banana who?"
Me: "Knock knock."
Her: "Knock knock who?"
Me: "No no, after 'knock knock' you say 'who's there, remember?" She nods understanding and I say, "knock knock"
Her: "What's there?... Who! Who's there?"
Me: "Banana."
Her: "Who Banana who?"
Me: "Knock knock"
Her: "I'm confused... who's there?"
Me: "Orange."
Her: "Orange who?"
Me: "Orange you glad I didn't say banana?"
*blank stare*
And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is why you should tell an easier knock knock joke for someone's first knock knock joke experience. I know it may not be the funniest thing now, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. Also, I don't remember all of the mistakes, but these are the few I remember for sure, I do know that there were a few more.
Me: "Wait, you really don't have knock-knock jokes?"
Her: "No"
Me: "Awe, great! So it goes like this, I say, 'Knock-knock', and you say, 'Who's there?'. Then I say, 'something', and you say, 'something who?'. Finally, I say the punch line. Wanna try it?"
pause... pause... pause...
Her: "okay?"
Me: "GREAT!!! So... Knock knock."
Her: "Who's there?"
Me: "Banana."
Her: "Banana who?"
Me: "Knock knock."
Her: "Knock knock who?"
Me: "No no, after 'knock knock' you say 'who's there, remember?" She nods understanding and I say, "knock knock"
Her: "What's there?... Who! Who's there?"
Me: "Banana."
Her: "Who Banana who?"
Me: "Knock knock"
Her: "I'm confused... who's there?"
Me: "Orange."
Her: "Orange who?"
Me: "Orange you glad I didn't say banana?"
*blank stare*
And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is why you should tell an easier knock knock joke for someone's first knock knock joke experience. I know it may not be the funniest thing now, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. Also, I don't remember all of the mistakes, but these are the few I remember for sure, I do know that there were a few more.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Untitled
I have been struggling to put these thoughts into words. Well, concise words anyway. I'll let you in on a secret, I can ramble sometimes.
I have been thinking about my time here and I feel very UN-missionary-like. No, that is not UN like United Nations, that is UN as in "opposite of". Why do I feel like the opposite of a missionary? Well, I'm not on the classic mission trip. I am not in the back country teaching the gospel through a translator. I am not healing people with medical problems. I am not even building a bridge, city, or orphanage somewhere. I live in a church, teach English in the evenings, and my mornings are mostly free. With so much free time, rather than spend it getting closer with God, completing weekly tasks early, or studying Russian which I claim to want to learn, I get distracted. I have the internet. The internet is a wonderful tool to find information and ides, to connect with people thousands of miles away, to get ideas and inspiration. The internet is also filled with games, memes, and more, all meant to distract you from daily life.
I wondered why God would send me thousands of miles away from home if He was just going to have me teach English. I thought I was going to be doing more "important" things here. Don't get me wrong, I am enjoying teaching, it can be quite a challenge.
Greg, my fellow missionary from WWU, said something like, "God is training me in everyday life". I agree with him wholeheartedly. In everyday life, I struggle with internet, I struggle with motivation, with maintaining a daily devotional and prayer life. God is not training me to be extraordinary, but to be ordinary. It is a tough thing to realize because our egos want us to be someone big, someone special. The truth is that I need to be trained to be ordinary before I should expect God to train me for anything else.
I have been thinking about my time here and I feel very UN-missionary-like. No, that is not UN like United Nations, that is UN as in "opposite of". Why do I feel like the opposite of a missionary? Well, I'm not on the classic mission trip. I am not in the back country teaching the gospel through a translator. I am not healing people with medical problems. I am not even building a bridge, city, or orphanage somewhere. I live in a church, teach English in the evenings, and my mornings are mostly free. With so much free time, rather than spend it getting closer with God, completing weekly tasks early, or studying Russian which I claim to want to learn, I get distracted. I have the internet. The internet is a wonderful tool to find information and ides, to connect with people thousands of miles away, to get ideas and inspiration. The internet is also filled with games, memes, and more, all meant to distract you from daily life.
I wondered why God would send me thousands of miles away from home if He was just going to have me teach English. I thought I was going to be doing more "important" things here. Don't get me wrong, I am enjoying teaching, it can be quite a challenge.
Greg, my fellow missionary from WWU, said something like, "God is training me in everyday life". I agree with him wholeheartedly. In everyday life, I struggle with internet, I struggle with motivation, with maintaining a daily devotional and prayer life. God is not training me to be extraordinary, but to be ordinary. It is a tough thing to realize because our egos want us to be someone big, someone special. The truth is that I need to be trained to be ordinary before I should expect God to train me for anything else.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Division vs. Long Division
There is something that has been bothering me. Sometimes, when people talk about a difficult thing to learn, they reference long division. It is such a stigma that I always assumed I had never learned this dreadful skill and felt a little ashamed to admit it, and thus joined in dissent at its terribleness. It occurred to me one day (today) while I was on the internet that I could look it up and finally learn this devilish math.
I hoped on over to Google with a simple click of my mouse, and the internet decided to slow down. Perfect timing. I tabbed over and started reading an article I'd been interested in but hadn't read. A couple minutes later I remembered my hunt for answers and went back to my Google tab. When I saw the search results, I was perplexed. On the page before me was something quite simple. It was a series of Google-images depicting simple division. Don't worry about going and doing your own search, here is an example:
I wasn't sure why Google had messes up. This was simple division! Where was the LONG division I had searched for? I decided Wikipedia would help and opened the link. We all know that Wikipedia is filled with lies, so we should go to YouTube for a second opinion, right? THAT is when I learned that there is apparently a NEW way to do long division. If you haven't heard of it yet, you should go check it out. For those of you who were unable to learn the original way, the new way is just as accurate, but it takes longer. For those of you asking why you need long division, I refer you to Dr. Thompson's story of the Motorcycle Mathematicians.
I hoped on over to Google with a simple click of my mouse, and the internet decided to slow down. Perfect timing. I tabbed over and started reading an article I'd been interested in but hadn't read. A couple minutes later I remembered my hunt for answers and went back to my Google tab. When I saw the search results, I was perplexed. On the page before me was something quite simple. It was a series of Google-images depicting simple division. Don't worry about going and doing your own search, here is an example:
I wasn't sure why Google had messes up. This was simple division! Where was the LONG division I had searched for? I decided Wikipedia would help and opened the link. We all know that Wikipedia is filled with lies, so we should go to YouTube for a second opinion, right? THAT is when I learned that there is apparently a NEW way to do long division. If you haven't heard of it yet, you should go check it out. For those of you who were unable to learn the original way, the new way is just as accurate, but it takes longer. For those of you asking why you need long division, I refer you to Dr. Thompson's story of the Motorcycle Mathematicians.
Monday, January 13, 2014
барвинок (periwinkle)
Holidays are often times of great Joy and great Sadness. There are many reasons why and I couldn't possibly fathom all of them, but I will say that one of the joys is family. In America we celebrate the birth of Christ on the 25th of December and here in Ukraine it is more common to celebrate it on the 7th of January. I have spent few Christmas' away from home and those that I was away from home on I was visiting my mother in Illinois. This last Christmas (both the 25th and 7th) I wasn't at home again, but this time (as you already know) I was in Ukraine. So, what did I do for the 25th? I had class and opened 2 packages from home. One was a birthday/Christmas gift to me from me, a nook. I was very excited to have received it in time for my trip to барвинок, the Sanatorium I visited with Greg. After the Christmas party the ELC held on the 29th, I was free to hang out with Greg who had come to do just that.
On the 31st, he and I loaded up onto a train bound for Lvov and joined his caretakers family. I don't know if I have mentioned this or note, but Greg and I seem to be precious cargo for the Ukrainians and have basically been assigned caretakers. I have Maria, my boss at the ELC, who helps me with official government stuff, Friday Nights, and more. Greg has Lyena, a woman in her late 20's who is relatively new to teaching English who helps Greg in the same ways. Without these women, we would just be two bumbling idiots wandering around Ukraine, but that is beside the point. We boarded the train here in Dnepropetrovsk and joined Lyena, her husband Ruslan, and their son Misha. After several hours we were in Lvov and after some scurrying around and asking for directions, we were on a bus to a tiny town to the south of Lvov named Nova Rosdil. There we were picked up by a van from барвинок.
It was quite beautiful there though no snow. I had been told to expect snow and while my expectations were not met, I was not disappointed. I won't go through all of the details of the trip because, after all, I was there for 9 days, but I will hit some highlights.
There was a frozen lake nearby and Greg walked all the way around it and I walked most of the way around it plus some screwing around on the ice. At first we were not sure that it would hold people, but then we saw some dudes ice fishing so I figured it'd be fine and went to go play on the ice while Greg started his long trek. When we got close to the end we met some fishermen and they offered us one of their fish but it was so tiny and we had no way of cooking it, and Greg is a veghead, so we said no.
The food was amazing everyday that we were there. I took a lot of photos. I am apparently obsessed with Borscht and I am somehow at peace with that, probably because it's at least a little true. They had amazing spreads, vege cutlets, soups, and more. They love poppy seeds by the way. And as long as we are on the subject of food, one GREAT trend I've noticed in Ukraine is the consumption of raw onions and or garlic. I have encountered the onion part before when I worked in an orchard and this super old mexican guy ate them like apples, but the garlic was a little newer for me. I was not and am not disgusted by it and in fact, I am very happy that it is acceptable to do so because the taste is just wonderful.
Since it is an Adventist Sanitarium (I don't know the difference between sanitarium and sanatorium, whichever is meant for physical health improvement) there was no meat... or dairy... But it wasn't really a problem for me.
Greg and I showed up a few days before everyone else did and basically got to explore the surrounding woods, take naps, read, got a massage or two and even tried a dry sauna (it was very tiny, two people MAX). When people did show up, the schedule changed. The idea was that this was a sort of a 10 day boot camp to help people learn and jumpstart a healthy life style while showing them that Adventists aren't crazy and softening their opinions of the SDA church (not doctrine was preached, just the need for God and the demonstration of His love through service to the customers). The basic schedule was something like, wake up at 6, morning exercises and 620, drink tea at 7, morning worship/inspiration at 710, breakfast at 8, then a walk, then some medical procedures, lectures, etc. throughout the day and in bed by 10pm. They even served the meals in a healthy way, meaning Breakfast was BIG, Lunch was ample, and Dinner was light. I wish that I was able to understand Russian though because some of the classes would have been interesting. One was eye exercises, another back exercises, and the last one I liked was cooking, but with a translator it is difficult to get everything... o well
One of the days we went to Lvov and saw many churches and I nearly lost my beanie. It was actually a very distressing moment for me because we had climbed a hill to get a view of nigh time Lvov and somewhere along the way I'd love the beanie that had been crocheted for me by a friend. After a quick prayer I tried to put my worries out of my mind and on the way back down we found it! Someone had been kind enough to place it in a tree so that it'd be easier to see and not get stepped on. I know that you can rationalize it, and I know that it is small, but it was a good reminder that God does care.
The train ride back was uneventful, I rode alone. At first there was a beautiful young Ukrainian lawyer who spoke pretty good English to talk to, but she was gone after about an hour or two at Chernobyl and I was left to go to bed the only English speaker around. I read and at some food, but there really weren't any highlights other than the sauna-like conditions of sleeping on the top bunk.
All in all, I would say that it was a successful and exciting trip. If I could do it over I'd change little, and the things I'd change wouldn't be big.
On the 31st, he and I loaded up onto a train bound for Lvov and joined his caretakers family. I don't know if I have mentioned this or note, but Greg and I seem to be precious cargo for the Ukrainians and have basically been assigned caretakers. I have Maria, my boss at the ELC, who helps me with official government stuff, Friday Nights, and more. Greg has Lyena, a woman in her late 20's who is relatively new to teaching English who helps Greg in the same ways. Without these women, we would just be two bumbling idiots wandering around Ukraine, but that is beside the point. We boarded the train here in Dnepropetrovsk and joined Lyena, her husband Ruslan, and their son Misha. After several hours we were in Lvov and after some scurrying around and asking for directions, we were on a bus to a tiny town to the south of Lvov named Nova Rosdil. There we were picked up by a van from барвинок.
It was quite beautiful there though no snow. I had been told to expect snow and while my expectations were not met, I was not disappointed. I won't go through all of the details of the trip because, after all, I was there for 9 days, but I will hit some highlights.
There was a frozen lake nearby and Greg walked all the way around it and I walked most of the way around it plus some screwing around on the ice. At first we were not sure that it would hold people, but then we saw some dudes ice fishing so I figured it'd be fine and went to go play on the ice while Greg started his long trek. When we got close to the end we met some fishermen and they offered us one of their fish but it was so tiny and we had no way of cooking it, and Greg is a veghead, so we said no.
The food was amazing everyday that we were there. I took a lot of photos. I am apparently obsessed with Borscht and I am somehow at peace with that, probably because it's at least a little true. They had amazing spreads, vege cutlets, soups, and more. They love poppy seeds by the way. And as long as we are on the subject of food, one GREAT trend I've noticed in Ukraine is the consumption of raw onions and or garlic. I have encountered the onion part before when I worked in an orchard and this super old mexican guy ate them like apples, but the garlic was a little newer for me. I was not and am not disgusted by it and in fact, I am very happy that it is acceptable to do so because the taste is just wonderful.
Since it is an Adventist Sanitarium (I don't know the difference between sanitarium and sanatorium, whichever is meant for physical health improvement) there was no meat... or dairy... But it wasn't really a problem for me.
Greg and I showed up a few days before everyone else did and basically got to explore the surrounding woods, take naps, read, got a massage or two and even tried a dry sauna (it was very tiny, two people MAX). When people did show up, the schedule changed. The idea was that this was a sort of a 10 day boot camp to help people learn and jumpstart a healthy life style while showing them that Adventists aren't crazy and softening their opinions of the SDA church (not doctrine was preached, just the need for God and the demonstration of His love through service to the customers). The basic schedule was something like, wake up at 6, morning exercises and 620, drink tea at 7, morning worship/inspiration at 710, breakfast at 8, then a walk, then some medical procedures, lectures, etc. throughout the day and in bed by 10pm. They even served the meals in a healthy way, meaning Breakfast was BIG, Lunch was ample, and Dinner was light. I wish that I was able to understand Russian though because some of the classes would have been interesting. One was eye exercises, another back exercises, and the last one I liked was cooking, but with a translator it is difficult to get everything... o well
One of the days we went to Lvov and saw many churches and I nearly lost my beanie. It was actually a very distressing moment for me because we had climbed a hill to get a view of nigh time Lvov and somewhere along the way I'd love the beanie that had been crocheted for me by a friend. After a quick prayer I tried to put my worries out of my mind and on the way back down we found it! Someone had been kind enough to place it in a tree so that it'd be easier to see and not get stepped on. I know that you can rationalize it, and I know that it is small, but it was a good reminder that God does care.
The train ride back was uneventful, I rode alone. At first there was a beautiful young Ukrainian lawyer who spoke pretty good English to talk to, but she was gone after about an hour or two at Chernobyl and I was left to go to bed the only English speaker around. I read and at some food, but there really weren't any highlights other than the sauna-like conditions of sleeping on the top bunk.
All in all, I would say that it was a successful and exciting trip. If I could do it over I'd change little, and the things I'd change wouldn't be big.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
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!
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.
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!
Friday, December 6, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, November 18, 2013
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).
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).
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
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.
Monday, November 4, 2013
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.
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.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
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...
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...
Saturday, October 19, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
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...
Monday, October 7, 2013
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.
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.
Friday, September 27, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, September 23, 2013
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)