I hope that this letter finds you well! I
am hopeful that amidst the chaos of jobs and other responsibilities that you've
been able to spend some time resting with your friends and families this summer. I know that
I've been thankful
for some lake weekends and unexpected family vacations.
Recently there have been some new opportunities
involving my international mission work, and I wanted to update everyone. It is
no secret to most of you that I love Peru, and that I have a deep desire to love and provide for
the abandoned street children of Iquitos, Peru. In August of 2010, I became the
first staff member of a non-profit organization in Birmingham called Not
Forgotten that aims to provide for the physical, educational, and spiritual
needs of those same children. It has been amazing to have a front seat to the
work that is transforming the lives of the children that I've come to love so much over the
past 5 years. With hopes of constructing our own children's home in the future, Not Forgotten
recently purchased a large piece of land outside of Iquitos. The Lord
graciously provided
the funding, and we're aware that an amazing and crazy journey is now
beginning... (http://www.notforgotten.org))
You all have
been so encouraging and supportive of my mission work over the past 5 years, and I
cannot thank you enough for your love and patience as I've rambled on for hours
about "my boys" in the jungle. The Lord has truly transformed my life through my call to serve these amazing children, and the
passion He has given me within this ministry makes it hard not to talk
about.
While I am eager for the day that Peru becomes my
permanent home, I am confident that partnering with Not Forgotten stateside is where I need
to be for the next couple years. As a result, I am still in need of both prayer and financial support. Despite
fundraising efforts, I am still in need of about $3500 of my $5000 annual goal. The remaining $3500 will help support me with the cost of
airfare, lodging, food, and ministry supplies for three trips to the jungle.
Friends, I
cannot thank you enough for how you have all supported me in the past, so
please do not feel pressured. I've been incredibly blessed and am so thankful. Truly.
If you're willing to be a part of my prayer team, please send me an email @ kristen@notforgotten.org.
If you're willing to partner with me
financially, donations can be received online or by check.
By check- Makes
checks payable to Not Forgotten, put my name on the subject line, and send them to: Not Forgotten ATTN: Kristen McKee 1111 Fern Street,
Homewood, AL 35209. All donations are tax deductible.
Online Donations- You can go to notforgotten.org,
and make an online donation to work teams. Specify my name in the
comments section, and the donation will go directly to my support
account.
This call is an adventurous one and I'm reminded daily
that it is ONLY by His strength and the support of His body that I am able to
pursue it. Thank you for believing in the work He's doing through me with Not
Forgotten in the jungles of Peru and for playing an integral role in my service overseas!
Blessings,
Kristen
"Unless the
LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the LORD
watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain."
the blinking cursor taunts me. it mocks me. daring me to write.
I've tried for 6 weeks and come up empty every time, knowing that im due for an update.
But how do you summarize adjustment into a life that should be easy? I know this world. I know these people. It's familiar, and it's - comfortable. so, what's the problem?
Well, if I truly explored that question, we'd be here a while. We don't have time for that. So, summarized version? This readjustment has been way more difficult than I anticipated. I've lost my community and immediate access to the only 5 women who walked every inch of this journey with me. I don't really know how to do life outside of community anymore, and that's overwhelming. I'm in the process of trying to merge very different parts of my life, and I don't know how. I'm trying to process and organize what the next step will look like in pursuing the enormous dreams the Lord has laid on my heart to make reality. Dreams that He has blessed me with on how I can better love His people, in His name, around the world, and if I opt to ignore those dreams, I'll never be content. Basically, I'm irrevocably screwed up. Discontent with the ordinary. Forever a gypsy. However you want to phrase it...
Tonight, a friend was gracious enough to lend their ear while this verbal processor talked herself into a more concise explanation of her current situation and plans for the future.
Basically? I'm at a fork where I must make a choice that will launch me in one of two different directions. Do I follow the familiar path of stability that I've loved before the World Race? Or do I risk following a new, often misunderstood, and unknown path? Regardless, I can't stay still. I don't do stagnant, but I know I can't make everyone happy in the pursuit of the next step. So, I'm just sticking with where i feel Him leading. It will be uncomfortable. It might ruffle feathers, but - hey, ive always been good at that.
Right now? Well, I'm finally back in Birmingham and working to make it home again. I'm subbing and preparing to spend my summer back in the jungle at Puerto Alegria. 2 full of months of Peru. I might be excited about that...
March? I'm really excited to be heading back to Berlin for a BURN March 8th-17th. I'll be joining Hollis and the Magnet family for a week of worship, good coffee, and electronic monopoly! :)
AUGUST?? The Lord has opened up an amazing opportunity for me this August. Not Forgotten is a nonprofit organization in Birmingham that raises funds for Puerto Alegria, the children's home in Iquitos, Peru where I've served for the last 5 years. Not Forgotten is continuing to grow and has offered me a position on staff with them starting in August. I'll be working alongside some of the greatest people i know to promote awareness of Not Forgotten and needs within the children's home. My JOB will be talking to everyone I know about Peru and helping lead people to the jungle. SERIOUSLY?!? Anyone who knows me might find that amusing. :) If you're interested in serving with me or supporting my future within Peru, PLEASE check out the website @ http://www.notforgotten.org/
After 18 months of absence, this "jungle bunny" returns to the land of tree frogs, fish, and Peruvians. Home has
changed though. The ministry has shifted, boys have left, and the ones
who remain have grown up. I'm anticipating the change but unaware of
how it will affect me. Oh Lord, calm this anxiety cause I don't know
whether to scream, laugh, cry, or pull a 180 back to Lima. I'm
seriously on the verge of losing my mind.
The
jungle humidity offers no apologies, the vultures hover, and the heat
wraps around me like a warm blanket. I step off the air-conditioned
plane and into my first dose of familiarity all year. Am I excited?
That would be an understatement. Am I horrified? Absolutely.
The
familiar charges me forward. I've been anxious all year to reach that
rickety staircase where 40 children await our arrival, but I'm nearly
paralyzed by fear. I'm scared they've forgotten, hopeful that they
haven't, and anxious for the result either way.
Despite my anxiety, it's time for hammocks, soccer, and cement. I say, "Bring it on."
My
reunion wasn't one of screams and leaping children. My children have
grown. It wasn't full of tears. Except for my tears of relief in
private. It was calm. And had I not been paying attention, I would have
missed the mumbled promises throughout the week that I was missed.
I had water fights with Luis Enrique, jumped on the trampoline with Hox, and fished with my beloved twins. It was amazing.
Construction was the same. The sun still scorched me and my heart was
overwhelmed each time I held one of those children. I still love them
as much as I did a year ago, and much to my relief, they still love me too.
So, at
this point, I know a lot of you are probably shaking your heads saying,
"Kristen, it isn't about you. It doesn't matter if they missed you." My
response? Yeah, I know, but I love those children fiercely and can't
help but wonder if they noticed my absence while I prayed for them
everyday. I know it's not about being remembered. But to return to a
land that looks so much like the others where I've been this year, but
see recognition and comfort in the smiles of the children, reminds me
that such consistency can exist for those I invested in for such a
short time this year. To know that the relationships that I have in
Peru can exist for the children I played with in Botswana too. Even if
it isn't me....God will provide.
My
return from the race has been far more difficult than I ever
anticipated. I've felt more distant from the Lord and questioned more
about my life in the last 5 weeks than I did the entire year overseas. This made me a little nervous heading
down to Iquitos. But all of the doubt, frustration, anxiety and
loneliness that I've felt since I got home vanished as I played with my
friends in Peru. The love of Christ wells up within me each time I'm
down there and it allows me to recall His greatness. I feel Him every
time that I invest in those children. It's beautiful and overwhelming.
Returning
from Peru was almost impossible. I thought my two best friends would
have to carry me back onto the boat. The reunion I had waited for was
too quick to end with no promise of a next time. But while the first
few days were terrible, I've found myself on a steady foundation again.
If anything, this year showed me that I can be joyful anywhere as my
Heavenly Father goes before, with, and after me. I'm
not keen on thinking that I might not be called to the jungle full
time, but I know without a doubt that I would make it. I'll truly go
wherever He calls, trusting that His ways are better than my own.
A big thank you to all have encouraged, supported and followed me throughout this journey. I'll be posting a few more blogs on my World Race page, but be transitioning over to http://kmariemckee.blogspot.com/ . Feel free to keep up with me there for more details about Peru trips and the next leg of my adventure. :)
My new coat is soaked through. My hair mattes in a wet clump
at my shoulders, and I'm really wishing I'd made a better shoe selection. Why
did socks not seem like a wise decision in 35-degree weather? But as the crowds
start to scatter and I exit the Berlin Subway, my eyes soak in the celebration
and the focus on my own discomfort dissolves. I'm standing directly in front of
the Brandenburg gate. It's illuminated beautifully and the square is so full of
excitement that I know looking back on photos will never fully capture the
experience. The smell of spiced wine and sausage overwhelms your senses, and as
the primary-colored umbrellas trot along, they temporarily block your view from
the various ages and nationalities flooding the square. It's the 20-year celebration
of the Berlin wall coming down, and the enthusiasm is contagious.
One woman in particular catches my eye. She's hunched over
and shuffles through the crowds clutching an umbrella in one hand and her cane
in the other. Periodically glancing at her son, she mumbles something in
German and let's out a hearty laugh before wiping her brow with her sleeve and
continuing on. Soon she'll find herself as wet as I am, but she doesn't seem to
mind. I suspect this celebration represents something more personal and
wonderful to her than I could ever imagine, and it doesn't appear as if she'll
let a little cold and inconvenient rain get in her way. After all, she's walked
through worse.
Men and women of all ages fill Pariser Platz and cause my
mind to race in 100 different directions. My team of 10 has been in Berlin for
3 weeks now, trembling our way through holocaust museums, concentration camps,
and paths where the Berlin Wall once stood, overwhelmed by the struggles that
have plagued this country for so long. As we toured Oranienburg
Concentration Camp, I couldn't help but wonder if I would have had the strength
to endure such hardship. Regardless, I currently find myself surrounded by thousands of people who
had family willing to endure and those who were willing to endure themselves.
It makes me want to be a fighter. It makes me want to push through hardship with a smile on my face and a song in my heart just because I know that I serve the Most High God, The King of Kings, and the Alpha and Omega. It reminds me that sacrifice occurs with nothing in return. So, I sacrificed nothing to come on this journey. I just obeyed. It makes me see how hard certain people fought for freedom, and how much harder I should be pulling and praying for it considering this freedom is eternal.
So, as my mind shifts back to the festival, I watch the giant dominos begin to topple over. Cheers rise up from the crowd and I watch a country unified.I'm
inspired by their willingness to laugh again. I'm challenged by their
perseverance, and I'm grateful the young people recognize how blessed they are
to have this day to celebrate. I pray I remember this moment and let it challenge me in the future. May it remind me of the beauty of freedom and how Christ alone releases the captives.
Below is a video that I made of our month in Berlin. There are hardly words to express how phenomenal and freeing it was. Our contacts were such blessings and became family. It was the perfect ending to an amazing year!!! Enjoy.
So, I spent the month worshiping and roaming through the streets of Berlin with ten squad mates. We'd never served alongside one another before, but it was a month full of laughter, tears, and surrender. Our contacts were phenomenal and were the perfect piece of encouragement before heading back to the States. During our month, one of my new teammates wrote a blog that really expressed some of the thoughts that have overwhelmed me about returning home. I just thought I would share it with you all...
::Steph Pridgen::
I feel like we are strangers now.I know you and you know me but we have missed
out on one another's lives for almost a year. You have seen glimpses of my
stories through the sentences I have written but there is so much untold, so
much unseen, so much that is simply unexplainable.
Please know that I am glad to see you. I am excited to hug
you, to see your smile, to share life again with you. However, I am also torn.
I am leaving behind another family, new friends, and all that has become
familiar.
I will laugh at things, as will you, and we will not
understand why the other finds it funny. I will probably melt into a puddle of
tears and be unable to tell you why. I
will most likely dance for joy at random, normal American things, likes clothes
dryers and sheets, and it will seem silly.
I am two weeks from landing on US soil again and already I
feel the pressure. It lurks in my thoughts and it invades my dreams. I cannot
tell you what is next because I do not know. I cannot tell you how I will pay
my bills or afford normal commodities of American life. I cannot fathom how to neatly
summarize a year that has encompassed every emotion imaginable.
I am not sure what you expect of my return. I am not coming
home as a beautifully wrapped, crisp-cornered Christmas present. Instead, I am something
like a present that is patch-worked together with previously used paper and
half a roll of tape.
I guess what I am trying to say is that our reunion may look
a little differently than expected. I am asking for your love and patience,
sprinkled with a little grace and mercy, as we both adjust to my return.
Love you. See you soon.
I couldn't have said it better myself.
I have another blog coming soon about our month in Berlin. One blog won't do that month justice, but I'll do my best.
This is Ashley and I in front of Brandenburg Gate. This is where the freedom festival was held.
This was the BURN Crew that spent a month together in worship.
Darci, Ashley, Pridge, Kim H, Chris, Hollis, Cam, me, Benny, and Kim J.
I board the metro and shuffle my way to the back row.
I'm nestled between a tiny babushka holding a bouquet of flowers, and a teenage
boy who would never make it through a metal detector with the 53 spikes jetting
through his face. How I love Ukrainian diversity...
It was a cold and rainy walk to the metro this
morning. The stale alcohol and smoke-soaked clothing meet the damp air and could choke you if you inhale too deeply. I quickly find myself breathing
through my mouth. I never knew the smell of liquor could turn my stomach so
much, but 3 weeks have about done me in.
It's every man for himself as you shove
your way through the crowds, praying you'll file off of the metro before the doors squish you. Before I hit the door though, a man three times my size stumbles
into me, grins a golden smile, and the odor sweeping off of him is so pungent
that I turn my head for fresh air. He mumbles something in Russian, uses me as
a stabilizer, and trips off the train, slamming into one of the station's
pillars. He leaves me there staring, battling between annoyance and compassion.
Compassion wins out though and I can't help but wonder what has caused such
hopelessness in him. What has become so difficult that he's decided life isn't
worth walking through sober? I just can't imagine ever thinking things were so
bad that I had to dissolve reality. Thank goodness...
At first, I thought men like my incoherent drunken
friend were a rarity who only frequented the metro platforms and small train
cabins. ((You know who I'm talking about...the sloppy drunkards that justify
rubbing against every woman they pass. Their stench sticking to your
clothing.)) But then I noticed men and woman a like boarding public
transportation with liters of beer in hand, downing swigs like it's coca-cola. No
one seems to stare but my American teammates and myself. It's one of those culture
shock moments that rattle me pretty regularly these days on the Race. Some more
disturbing than others...but all upsetting.
Watching these men stumble around the metro
triggered another thought this month. Where did this all start? This
addiction and abuse. A desire to wipe out truth. Then recalling the history I've
learn throughout the walking tours of each city we visit, I'm clued into a
possible explanation. I'm amazed to see how the haunting history of the
countries we've been in, continue to permeate the nations current people and
culture. The shame, control, and fear that have directed so much of Ukraine's
past is evident in its people. No one smiles. Few are patient. It's cold. So,
perhaps the drinking started to loosen them up? Or maybe it's just there to
help them forget. Ukrainians will admit their country is learning to be happy,
learning to dream, and learning to hope. Maybe the alcohol was a stumbling
block placed to distract them from such phenomenal discoveries.
I've spent a lot of time praying for freedom from
history's chains over the country of Ukraine. I can't help but pray similar
prayers over my own country and its people. It makes me reflect on how American
history haunts us. I mean we've been
through a journey. We've battled for religious independence. We've battled for
gender and racial equality. We were all under-estimated, robbed of
freedom, and clawed our way to independence. I watch as Americans today still struggle
daily for independence. They struggle to prove who they are and what they're
capable of because they're so concerned with what other people think of them. But has our fight for independence warped into an inability to be
submissive? Have we become too prideful in the fights others have won? Do we
hate what is different in color, religion, or gender, even though America was
suppose to be a melting pot of freedom? Hmm...Lord, we can't seem to ever get it
right. Teach us.
---------------------------
We've arrived safely in Berlin!!!! More to come on our month of worship! :)
**This is a guilt blog because I've yet to post
anything this month. My real blog is coming soon**
You might be in Ukraine, if..
1. 85-year-old
grandmothers will trip and/or tackle you if you get in their way while boarding
the metro
2. It's 8 am
and the three piece suit next to you just boarded the bus with his coffee mug full of beer.
3. You're
only cool if you have on fur, sequence, high heeled boots, or 17 lbs. of eye
makeup. (So, being a dork works for me here)
4. You feel less trendy because you're not sporting a multicolored mullet
5. You're
pretty sure it'd be easier to carry your Ukranian groom over the threshold than
to ask him to pick you up.
6. You don't
just worship Jesus, you worship "the Jesus"
7. When you walk into a McDonald's (whose doorway you'd NEVER walk thru at home) all the Ukranians nod at you like, "yeah American...you WOULD eat here."
8. You feel
like a bodyguard escorting your stunning teammate around the city as everyone
walks into metro windows admiring her
9. You and
your teammates have gone half insane come month 10 and decide to pay $2 to
dress up in Victorian dresses for photos. no seriously, we did that.
10. You find
that your Southern manners are completely out the window as you bow your way through crowds of people and no longer apologize to every person you bump.
Just a story I thought I'd share:
So, while enjoying my peaceful bunk of the 3rd
class train ride...I was rudely interrupted by the two intoxicated men next to me.
They were loud, happy, and extremely drunk. Refusing to understand that I couldn't
speak to them in Russian, they just kept talking and staring at me while I read
my book. ((A Thousand Splendid Suns...great book)) Well, my wonderful teammate
Blair decides to come relieve me of this awkwardness by sitting on my bunk and chatting
with me. Well, the redhead only added to the excitement and in celebration of
Blair's arrival, our Russian mates decide to buy cards from the vendor so they
can teach their American friends (that would be Blair and I) a card game. Well,
amidst the excitement of the card game, my extremely drunk friend misinterprets
my: "No, I don't want to play cards" for an "I don't understand what you're
asking me." As a result, he proceeds to walk over to my bunk, PICK ME UP, and
CARRY ME TO HIS BUNK FOR A GAME OF CARDS. WHAT?!?! Who would EVER think that
was a good idea? Well, friends...I was so stunned by what was happening that I
ignored what would have been my first reaction normally ((flailing around
violently until he took a hint and put me down)) but instead, I opt to sit
there frozen while he places me down in my new seat. Blair's eyes are as big as
quarters, Shannon about chokes on her water, and his creepy bunk met nods in
ridiculous approval. But it's not over, he doesn't miss a beat, and after
struggling with me, the lunatic turns around like he's going to pick up Blair. A quick "no thanks" flies
out of her mouth and she practically jumps over him to the other bunk, in an
attempt to avoid the awkward cradle hold like her unfortunate teammate. Seconds
later, Ashley's head pops out from around the corner. She's clearly concerned. "Kris,
you two ok?? All I know is I looked down here and saw you being carried across
the train by some stranger." Still shocked, I mumbled an "I'm fine," and tried
to pull myself together for a card game.
Drama.
Where am I now?
Well, we've just concluded month 10. Team Bling
was living in an apartment with another all girls team in Kiev, Ukraine. We
were involved with various English Clubs, a seminary in Kiev, and a rehabilitation
center for street children. They were all so amazing and allowed us to meet
some phenomenal people. The students spoke much better English than we've
experienced in a while and it allowed for real conversation and friendships.
The month started rough for me as I was sick and unable to leave the apartment for
ministry for 3 full days, but I survived. The rehabilitation center that we
were involved in was incredible and such a blessing to witness. They were so
well organized and truly devoted; both to the Lord and the children they were
serving. I'd LOVE to see programs like that started in every city that has
street children. Honestly, the ministries that we saw this month encouraged me
so much, and inspired ideas of beginning similar programs in Latin America.
I find myself having a hard time grasping the idea
that I'll be headed home in a month. So, I'm soaking up every second of time
here with my team and Squad family. Some different and exciting news that you
may not be aware of is that Ashley and I will be separating from Bling this
month and heading to Berlin, Germany with 7 of our squad mates. A new team has
been formed this month to send some of us who have a heart for worship to serve
with Fire & Fragrance, a prophetic worship ministry at their Halloween BURN
conference. If you're not familiar, BURN conferences consist of at least 24
hours of straight worship in some of the darkest places of the world. As hard
as it might be to be away from BLING for the last month, Ashley and I are
really excited about this opportunity!!!
We leave Kiev tomorrow for our 3 day debrief and
leave on a bus for Berlin next Tuesday.
Prayer Requests
-That I don't freeze to death. This jungle girl
isn't cut out for European Winter. ((Only partially kidding...)
-Transitioning to another team on my final month
-Safe travels and good health
-For my entire squad as we prepare to head home
for the holidays
-The next step. Whatever that might be.
Love and miss you all!!!
Enjoy the video Shannon just finished about our time in Ukraine!
"As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another."
~Proverbs 27:17
The
following excerpt was from one of my first journal entries on the race.
Did she
really just do that?? The exclamation takes places in my mind. That girl just
took my spoon out of MY cereal and used it in her own Cheerios. Creepy. She
doesn't even know me. I could have some kind of disease. Whatever. Gross. I
don't understand these people.
FLASH
FORWARD -> -> -> 10 months later
We arrived
in Moldova in the middle of the night last night, making our primary agenda this
afternoon sleep. Due to "wars" in
various Ukranian locations, we've had to dodge certain train stations. Thus, we're
all sitting around waiting for our train that takes off in another 12 hours.
So, I'm
leaned up against the wall of a Moldovan station listening to the familiar
snores and heavy sighs that resonate off the vaulted ceilings of our current
resting place. I'm overwhelmed, thankful, and amused at how dear those sounds
have become to me over the last ten months. In January, I couldn't even sleep in the same room with these people
out of fear. Stupid? Maybe. But sleep
is so intimate and requires feeling safe before you dose off. It leaves you vulnerable.
The toughest woman alive can look as gentle as she
truly is when she sleeps. Unknowingly, you let people know that you're not as tough as you think you are. So, in month one
that was definitely not a game I was willing to play. There was no sleeping in public.
Well, I'm
beginning to see how much the Lord has changed this insecurity within me as my
squad mates are piled up across the station, sleeping on one another's packs
and pillows. I'm no longer surrounded by strangers, but alongside 51 people that know
more of my embarrassing idiosyncrasies and quirks than most people ever will.
We all know who talks in their sleep, who snores, who drools, and who has a
shopping problem. I know guys turn into babies when they get sick, I know who
doesn't shower, and I know who claims not to be a picky eater but is the
biggest diva I've ever met. (You
know who you are :) )
A typical
day has me sharing silverware, wearing a teammate's clothing, and using the community chap stick when my lips are
dry. Quite the transformation from January, isn't it?
So, as I
watch Jenn Myers curl up in a little ball with her Eskimo jacket, and
Tim flopping from side to side on a sleeping mat like he isn't an enormous, 6'4
giant, and powerful leader, I'm overwhelmed. I am so
thankful for this unexpected family. If I never saw these people again after
this 11-month journey, my relationships
with them would never have been wasted. For a short while, the Lord used these
51 men and women to encourage, empower, and challenge me. I'll be forever
grateful.
But in the
meantime, I let the exhaustion from my overnight bus ride get to me, and drift
off to sleep alongside my squad mates.
I wrote this for a magazine....thought you all might want to read it. Some of it might be repeated from my earlier blog.
Living in a small gypsy village settled amidst the rolling
hills of Romania, I've had a job picking apples, charaded my way through
conversation, and spent hours picking grapes off the vines that fill the
village. Walking to my ministry location for the day, horse buggies clack down
the street next to me as scarved gypsy women nod and blow kisses from their
frequented benches. It's one of those moments where you shake your head, close
your eyes, and are almost surprised to open them again and find that this small
village is your present reality.
Welcome to Ville Tecii, Romania.
My team of 5 readjusts to our ninth month overseas, as we
familiarize ourselves with gypsy lingo, the long drop and mixing cement. It's
no longer a surprise that plumbing and warm showers are a luxury 2 months from
our grasp, as we've grown accustomed to the "norm" everywhere else in the
world.
Wading through the scent of honeysuckle and horse manure, I
jump across an open sewage line, hold my breath, and grab a hold of the rusty
fence outside the house I've frequented all week. Before my feet hit the dirt
on the front walkway however, a 4 year old little boy graces the front steps.
He screams my name and bolts towards me as fast as his little legs will carry
him, leaping fearlessly into my arms.
I've grown accustomed to this warm greeting with my new
Romanian friend.His name is Feli
and he's a 4-year-old gypsy who loves soccer, riding his bike, and playing with
his 2 cousins. His 16-year-old brother and his brother's girlfriend seem to care
for him while his mother works in the orchard all day. Food is scarce and the
house is falling apart. I practically have to play hopscotch across their
living room floor when I visit or I'll slide right through the gaping holes in
the floorboards.
Feli and I spend hours together working on his bike, flipping
through picture books, and playing soccer with all of his friends. We pick
apples when its time for a snack and sit on the lumber in the soccer field when
it's time for a break. Our time together is simple. We don't have detailed
discussions about life, avoid each other because we can't communicate, or watch
television to pass the time.We
just play together. That's enough.
Traveling the world can be frustrating sometimes as you surround
yourself with people of different nations, languages, and backgrounds. You want
to know the people you're with, you want to know their story and details about
their lives. When that communication barrier exists, its easy to just opt for a
day with the Americans. It's easier, but choosing the easy road this year would
have robbed me of so many precious relationships. I've loved so many people all
around the world because I've trusted in the Lord to offer different venues of
communication. He certainly has
provided too. In Asia, it was hand signals. In Africa, I had smiles, and in
Eastern Europe, laughter was all the conversation we needed.
My communication with Feli might have been limited, but
pushing through the barrier was well worth the relationship. No words were
necessary, but laughter, hugs, and the Lord allowed an American woman to let a
Romanian gypsy child know how special he was.
We're headed to Ukraine tomorrow on a 36 hour train ride. Pray for sanity. :) Love you all.