Archived posts from February 2007
The bad news is...we were scheduled to fly out of Moscow at 8:20 pm for Ulan Udee, Siberia, flying 6 hours east through 5 time zones, which meant we would land at 7:30 am, missing a whole night’s sleep.
The good news is...I slept 8 hours last night so I’m rested.
The bad news is...the flight was delayed 2 1/2 hours.
The good news is...we found out about it early in the morning, giving us time to schedule a trip to Red Square, which shouldn’t be missed! It was spectacular, especially so at night. I got some great pictures, and we also took a quick auto tour of the city.
The bad news is....we had already boarded the bus to take us out to the plane when they told us to get off and go back to the lounge because there was going to be a half hour delay. I was skeptical about the half hour, but what can you do?
The good news is...the lounge is really nice! Better than just about any lounge I’ve been in in the US. We had caviar and cokes (the caviar Dmitri had with him.)
The bad news is...they said an announcement would be made in an hour. The announcement was that there would be another announcement in another hour.
The good news is....there was only one other person other than our group of five in the lounge, so it was really quiet. Brian laid down and went to sleep.
The bad news is...the announcement was just made that the plane would leave at 6:30 am!
The good news is....this very nice girl brought blankets and pillows and turned the lights down.
The bad news is....I don’t even have a toothbrush.
The good news is....Igor found a brand new toothbrush and toothpaste in his carryon and gave it to me.
The bad news is...we are right in front of a huge bank of windows facing the tarmac, and there are huge lights on poles just out the window shining right in our eyes.I wondered if the nice girl could also arrange to turn those out too.
The good news is....the girl brought a remote control and lowered shades in the window. Fancy stuff!
The bad news is...I don’t know when we’re going to arrive!
The good news is....it’s in God’s hands, not mine!
At least that’s the plan....I slept for an hour in my chairs-pulled-together bed, and that was long enough. Three of the six of us stuck here in the lounge are on the three computers provided for guests, and the other three are in the prone position, hopefully sawing logs. I’ll use this middle of the night time to give some report on the ministry we’ve been a part of so far. I wish I could use this time to post some pictures, but am having to use a business center computer.
Brian was in Khaborovsk, in the far east for three days and did a conference for pastors. The room was totally packed out with several hundred people, and he didn’t know until this evening that there was an overflow room with a video screen with another hundred people watching in there. Dmitri reports that the people were very blessed and encouraged by the ministry there.
I stayed in St. Petersburg and had such a wonderful time with my friend Anya. It was the most personal time we’ve ever got to spend together, and we had so much fun together, talking, talking, talking, hearing about one another’s lives. I then spoke at a women’s meeting Friday night which seemed to me to go very well, right before taking thesleeper train toMoscow.
At the meeting, I talked about this journey with Jesus being a lifelong marathon. I told them about my favorite hobby, hiking and climbing in the mountains, and that one reason I liked it so well was that it was a perfect parallel to the spiritual journey I’m on--you have to stay on the path, and the scenery is always changing. Sometimes it gets harder than you ever dreamed, and you want so badly to quit, or take a detour from the path. But the key to not quitting is to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and that you can always do.
I wanted to get an idea of the crowd I was speaking to, so I asked how many had been on the journey with Jesus less than a year, how many five years, ten, fifteen or more. I was surprised at how many were in the last group. I asked how many had been following Jesus for as long as they could remember, and quite a few raised their hands.
The Iron Curtain fell in 1991, and somehow I had thisimpression that Jesus was only let in then. But I saw how many women said they had been following Jesus for a long, long time, and I realized that Communism could NEVER keep Christianity out....we hear about the great reports of underground churches in China--the gates of hell have never prevailed against the church of Jesus Christ!
This morning we were in a large church here in Moscow, and Brian preached about the "Four Most Important Things I Know." The people really seemed to be excited about the word. Afterwards, I had many people come to me, touch my arm, wanting me to pray for them. It’s an interesting phenomenon when you can’t understand a word someone is saying to you, but they communicate in other ways what they want. There is a real exchange of faith and love between us--brothers and sisters in Christ, with a bond that is stronger than a common language. One woman about my age came forward bringing an old woman. They were both crying. I knew in my heart immediately that they were mother and daughter, and that God was working a great healing and forgiveness between the two of them. I sensed that the younger had been praying for her mother for many years, and that those prayers were being answered this morning. After I prayed, Dmitri walked up to me, and the younger woman was able to share with him what was happening. It was EXACTLY as I had sensed, and I was able to share that with her.
Another old woman shared through an interpreter that her husband was a drunk, and her son all messed up on drugs. She was so burdened and hopeless, and cried too. I had such a heart of compassion for her, thinking she was too old to be suffering like this. I prayed with everything I had that she would feel great peace in her heart, that her faith would be strengthened, that her husband and son would be set free from the bonds that tormented that family.
I prayed with a pretty young girl of about twenty. Many of the young people speak some English, but she didn’t. She tried to tell me something in Russian, and finally pulled up the sleeve of her coat to reveal what looked like huge skin tags all over her wrist. I’d never seen anything like it....soft fatty floppy blobs as far up her arm as she pushed her sleeve. She pulled it down quickly, and I wondered how much of her body was covered by this, and how she probably was ashamed and covered herself up as much as possible.
In America this girl would have had medical attention to remove these horrid ugly things, but Russia doesn’t have America’s medical care. I read an article this eveningin the English language newspaper published here about the lack of kidney dialysis in Kaliningrad, where there are seven old machines badly in need of repair for a population of one million. Many people die for lack of machines. In response to media attention, the hospital where they are located recently started doing two shifts per day of dialysis, doubling the number of people who could be treated, but still leaving far more without dialysis. The hospital said they are beginning to explore options, but that it would take quite some time to address this problem adequately. It sounds like the old Soviet mentality still has a foothold there.
According to La Russophobe , the average life expectancy for men is 57. 730,000 children in Russia are growing up without their biological parents, 186,000 in institutions. Another site reports that number significantly higher. Dmitri and Anya’s church has adopted an orphanage, which I would have loved to have visited, but Anya said it was three hours away and we didn’t have access to a car. I’m so glad that Word of Life Church supports their ministry so generously every month!
You are twenty times more likely to die in a fire in Russia than in the US. I’m surprised it’s not more than that, seeing the dilapidated state of most of the buildings.
And this is an unbelievable statistic, but Dmitri confirms it. One out of every twenty men in Russia is currently in prison. Many, many more have been.
I don’t know the divorce statistics, but I know they are huge. The three friends with me all have divorced parents. Anya’s parents were divorced when she was thirteen, and after she found Jesus she prayed for them without ceasing, and a few years later they both came to Jesus too. It took them a few more years, but they finally were remarried!(to each other!) Dmitri’s parents were divorced and remarried to others--I don’t think Igor’s parents ever were married to one another, but his mother is married now to a man who was divorced. They have all become Christians in recent years.
Russia is a mess, so sadly. It is a nation with a beautiful culture, but a long history of suffering, even before Communism. I’m so glad to have a tiny little part in being here, encouraging believers, supporting the ministries we do. May the Kingdom come to Russia in far greater measure!
It’s all I expected and more—such an adventure. We went to the train station at 11:30 pm after a great women’s meeting. The station was much like a big airport terminal back home, shops and restaurants. When we went out to the trains, I gasped with delight. It was just like I had read it described in
Anna Karenina , Tolstoy’s masterpiece.
We stepped across the gap to board, and walked down the little hall to our compartment. Two sleeping couches faced one another with a small table in between, laden with snacks—bottled water, juices, yogurt, cheeses, cookies, oranges, even a small jar of Russian red caviar. Yum.
There is a window, the curtains of which we purposely left open. Riding down the tracks now at 5 am, all I can see as I stare out the window is snow. The ride is quiet and gentle, punctuated by noise and light only when we pass a train going the opposite direction. Then there is a startling, high-pitched whine of the passing cars with accompanying rapid-fire flashes of light. As I laid here in the dark, I could count the number of cars of the last train going by like whistling bottle-rockets---one, two, three...sixteen.
I went right to sleep, while Anya watched a movie on the little television. It was a favorite of hers, a Russian comedy from the 60s. It looked like something I would like to watch if there were English subtitles. You can buy DVDs really cheap here in Russia....maybe I’ll look for it.
She also explained to me how to unlock the door in case I needed to leave the compartment in the night—to pull the door closed behind me and be sure to relock the door upon returning. That turned out to be good information. I woke at 4 am and decided to walk down to the toilet. Even the walk there was exciting. I got my camera out and took a picture of the hallway with the compartment doors and the Oriental runner on the floor. Fancy!
The toilet is just a little bigger than an airplane toilet, and so much nicer. I think they could enlarge those just a tiny bit and it wouldn’t cause the airlines to go under. The sink is big enough that you don’t splash water all over the floor washing your hands. The mirror is not right in your face, very helpful for those of us who need to look at things from an arm’s length distance. They had the liner on the seat that would change itself with just a touch of a button. And a revolutionary way to turn the faucet on—you push a little lever up directly under the faucet, and it turns on! Your hand is right where it needs to be to get wet, and when you pull your hand away, the water goes off! No waste, but it’s there when you need it. So simple, and yet so superior to those crazy motion-sensitive faucets we have in America. How much time have I wasted waving my hands under those silly things? I think I will go home, patent this great idea, and make millions marketing it to American faucet manufacturers.
I finally tore myself away from the very enthralling toilet, and started down the hall, when I realized to my great horror that I had NO IDEA which of the ten compartments of this car was ours. I had just gleefully followed Anya in, and now I was in a bad way. The thought of trying to explain this to some railway employee, if I could find one, was terrifying, since I know about five words of Russian—hello, goodbye, please, thank you, and toilet. I didn’t know how to say "I’m a dumb American schmuck who hasn’t a clue where I came from or how to get back there."
I decided I would just have to guess, to start trying doors, and PRAY that everyone had locked there’s behind them. What if I found one open, went in to the dark compartment, and someone else was sleeping there? Yikes!
I walked down the hall, and decided on #5. I stood there for a minute, and then tried to slowly slide it. It moved just a smidgen, and then caught on the lock. Whew. I guess that’s not ours. Maybe #4. I tried. No.
Could it possibly be #3? It slid open. What if I was wrong? I reached slowly around the corner, and caught the edge of the coat hanging there, and pulled it out into the light of the hallway. It was my black down coat. Or was it? How many other women could have long black down coats? I slid my hand up higher, trying to reach for my knitted scarf. There it is, yes, I know it’s mine. I came slowly into the dark compartment, and felt a few other familiar things. Whew. That was close.
I should be sleeping now, but I’m not. This is too exciting, and I’m still jet lagged. From 1:00 to 4:00 I got three hours—I’ll try again in a few minutes. But first, I think I’ll have some yogurt. Mmmm. All this food, right here beside my bed.
8 hours later I just read what I wrote in the middle of the night. Sheesh. It must be jetlag that gives you such euphoric feelings about a TOILET. But I’ll leave it as written, no changes.
We arrived in Moscow after a great breakfast on the train, I had scrambled eggs, which I think were gently scrambled and then put into a flat pan, covered with mozzarella, baked, and cut like a piece of pizza. Tasty! Anya had oatmeal with butter, milk, and sugar. It too was especially tasty, chewy—I think they may have been steel cut oats which are just becoming a little popular in the US. I do think we are a little backward when it comes to great food.
We checked into our hotel, we’ve got perhaps three hours to wait until the boys get here. They will have flown a long time to arrive from Khaborovsk. In fact, Dmitri phoned Anya just as the train was departing St. Petersburg—he was just getting up to get ready to go to the airport. It was 6 am there. They had meetings all day yesterday, and then were at the banya were midnight to 2. Briansky will be so tired!
I showered and then crashed.
I had to open the window in my room on the 21
st floor because, just like the last hotel, it is SO HOT!
Now I’m sitting in the hotel lobby where they have free internet, waiting for my sweetie pie to show up. I can’t wait to see him!
American music is everywhere. I woke up hearing the Beatles down the hall, and listened to Norah Jones here in the restaurant at breakfast. Yes, America does a lot of things well. But there’s got to be a fundamental problem when a country can’t produce something as basic as decent bread.
This morning I had the flakiest croissants ever, with a few raisins, just a hint of sweetness. Yes, I did use the plural form of that word. They were just too good. I’ve just been eating two meals a day, so I can justify it! I also had the regular bread, a light rye with nuts—just everyday bread, but it’s SO good. In America we have Wonder. It’s an abomination to the name of bread.
My hotel is called Five Corners—it’s at the intersection, yes, of five streets coming together. I sat at the corner table at breakfast and had a great view of all the foot traffic.
No one is outside without their coat buttoned all the way to their chin, and there are few bare heads. Toddlers waddle by stiffly, encased from head to foot in bright snowsuits, pulled along by hurrying mothers. I haven’t seen one teenager amble by in shorts and t-shirt. (Those few that tried probably died instantly.) I’ve seen lots of beautiful coats—lots of unusual furs. And to all those who tease my about my constant weather observations, weather does affect everything we do....
written Friday am....posted 24 hours later in Moscow
Wednesday started out with a phone ringing in my ear at 9 am, and a torturous, clawing, confused climb out of a deep, dark hole to answer it. Yes, I was jetlagged. I hadn’t thought I would fall back asleep at 6am, after having been up for some hours, but I did, and I was sleeping hard, but it was time to get up and live. Anya said Valodya had agreed to pick us up at 10:30 and take us to the Hermitage Museum which opened at 11. We had planned to get there by hook and by crook, actually by feet and a couple of trolley rides, which is how Anya gets around all the time, and when I begged a little more time and said the trolley arrangement was fine with me, she said, no, let’s ask him to come one half hour later. So that’s what was arranged, and I drug myself off to the shower.
It didn’t take long to wake up after all, and I showered and went to the hotel breakfast and checked my e-mail, and was ready by 11. Valodya took us to Alexandrinsky Square, and we walked across it in the cold, cold day with a fairy tale mist of snow sparkling around us.
The museum was wonderful, and Anya is a wonderful guide. She knows art and can share it in a very non-superior way. She said she once had dreams of studying art and someday becoming a guide in one of those museums, but that it turned out God wanted her to dream far bigger dreams. I learned a little more of Anya’s story that day. She had dropped out of engineering school in her town at age seventeen, despite the great promise she showed in that field. She said math and the sciences—physics, chemistry, and others—had been extremely easy for her. That didn’t surprise me at all. She had left a hysterical, worried-sick mother at home, and came to the big city in search of her destiny. For nine months she was unemployed and homeless, living with one friend and then another, sending letters home weekly telling her mother wonderfully concocted lies about the grand life she was living. In Communist Russia it is a serious thing to be unemployed and not in school. It will affect the record that will follow you everywhere for life. Anya was a good, compliant Russian citizen. She didn’t believe in God, but after nine months of this, she stood in a specific spot on a specific day looking down into the waters of one of the many canals in St. Petersburg, and said, "God, if you are real, you need to give me a job and a place to live by my birthday, which is September 1." She then went and told her brother, also a student in St. Petersburg that she would have a job and a place to live by her birthday, and her destiny began to unfold.
To work for an art restoration company is a pinnacle of achievement for many of the artists who live in St. Petersburg, in my mind the art capital of the world. Russians appreciate all the arts like no other culture on earth, and the beautiful historic churches were allowed to exist throughout the Communist regime because of the art they contained. It is necessary to have an art degree to get a job there, and even after obtaining one, most people must work menial factory jobs for years waiting for their opportunity. Anya got her job by her birthday. She said for years afterward people would ask her how she got it, what relative had the clout to pull that off, or who she had slept with. She doesn’t really know HOW she got it, it just happened. There are five levels of achievement in the company. The top level is in gilding, the art of applying gold leaf to furniture, chandeliers, gates, and whatever items need to be of gold in the various palaces and theatres of this beautiful city. Anya bypassed several levels when one day it was determined the company was short on gilders, and she volunteered to learn. She describes it as saying she was walking in a FOG, the favor of God. That is a perfect description. She didn’t yet know Him, but says He chose her before she knew enough to choose Him.
We entered the museum, bought our tickets, and then went to check our coats. But before we could begin our tour, I had to sit down on a bench, draw up and cross my legs Indian style, putting a hand over the toes of each foot to try to warm them up. I had no feeling in my toes, they were so cold. I told Anya, "I hope I don’t look like a dork." In her very sweet Russian accent, she said, "Oh no, you don’t look like a dork. You look like a Buddhist."
The museum was wonderful. There are many beautiful Rembrandts there, and the first one you see entering the Rembrandt room is The Return of the Prodigal. I could have stood and looked at it for hours. We saw the Dutch masters, the Brueghels and other miniatures; the Impressionists—Monet, Renoir; several Van Goghs which are another favorite, and a whole room full of Pablo Picasso, which to tell the truth is just a little bit of a stretch for my tastes.
The Hermitage itself, the winter palace of Catherine the Great, is a sight to behold. It was particularly beautiful in the snow, surrounded by graceful, naked trees. We walked out a different way than we had come in, and I kept stopping and taking more pictures, and although the sun had come out while we were inside and it had seemed to warm a little, it was still bitterly cold, and taking my glove off to snap the photos caused my fingers to go instantly numb.
We crossed the street, Anya put out her hand, and a sort of van instantly stopped to pick us up. It is the transportation form between a trolley and a private taxi, running a specific route, and only cost seventeen rubles, about 75 cents. It took us to down Nevsky Prospect, the Fifth Avenue of St. Petersburg, to where Nevsky intersected with the street my hotel was on. We would walk from there. Actually, we got out a few blocks early, because Anya said we could at that point walk faster than the traffic was moving.
We started walking. My coat kept me very warm, but my sensible Missouri shoes did not. The pavement was so cold it felt that my feet were being flash frozen, or maybe burned, with each step they took. The cold came right up through the soles of my feet. Anya said it was because I was wearing summer shoes. I was not! She said they must be fur lined, or at least have a thick rubber sole. I didn’t argue. The soles of my feet were so painful by the time we arrived back at the hotel that I could hardly walk. We were meeting Anya’s friend, Nina for lunch, but although the two of them went straight in to the restaurant, I had to limp up to my room to remove my shoes and thaw out my feet with warm water in the sink. It was pathetic. I made the decision to go back and buy the furry Russian boots I had tried on earlier. I may not ever wear them back home, but I’m committed to returning home with all ten toes. I still have Siberia in front of me!
The afternoon was AWESOME. God is full of surprises. Still processing....then.....a long night, awake more than I was asleep, but thoroughly enjoying myself, alone with my thoughts, praying, reading, thinking....
This morning--breakfast with Anya at 10, and then buying my boots. I shopped a little more, and finally ended up with black boots with rabbit fur, very classy, at least here. We spent the entire day outside, walking and walking. It was about 3 degrees most of the day. I couldn’t have done it without my Russian boots. They truly are warm. I’m back in the room now at 5:30.
Wednesday was all of that. A delightful day out and about with my friend Annishka, and then a delightful evening and night spent alone in my room, writing, writing, writing, which is how I frequently process things, and then turning the light off for a while and lying in my bed in the dark thinking, thinking, thinking....
I guess my Father knew the only way I could get quiet enough to hear him say some things to me was to put me in a hotel on the other side of the world by myself for three days—I’m usually far too busy. He knows me all too well.
Sometime soon I’ll need to sleep, but so far I’m not missing it too badly. And when I get this stuff processed and it’s done percolating in me and on paper, it’s probably going to be way too personal for Xanga, at least for a while. Sorry. Suffice it to say that I’m seeing that the good news Jesus came to deliver is far, far better news than I ever knew, following Him can and should be so very much more fun than I’ve generally experienced, and that He has joy inexpressible and full of glory for me and anyone else who wants it.
This good news seems too good to be true, but in this case, IT IS!
Brian was right. Russia in the winter seems more like Russia. The moment we exited the airport in Moscow, I felt the embrace of the cold Russian winter. Yes, it’s cold, but in an entirely different exhilarating way. As we excitedly exchanged greetings with our dear friends, Dmitri and Anya, the happy conversation hovered among us visibly as the words tumbled out of our mouths—you can sometimes see your breath back home, but nothing like this! It made me want to laugh. I’m going to love this trip.
A driver was waiting for us—Dmitri explained that our next flights were from different airports—Anya and I would fly to St. Petersburg from another nearby airport, but that he and Brian would need to travel a long way to the other side of Moscow to catch the ten hour flight to Khaborovsk after an eight hour layover. I would be snug as a bug in my hotel in St. Pete before Brian even left Moscow. Poor guy. I sure was glad not to be going with him!
We found the car, and I knew the moment I saw it we would be making other plans. It was a clown car—one of the tiny ones that they all come tumbling out of in the circus. And we had a LOT of luggage. The driver went through a silly routine acting as if he would get the six pieces of luggage for all of us in the tiny trunk. I was surprised he didn’t have a big red honking nose.
We were blocking traffic and a hasty decision was made—the driver would take the boys on, and Anya and I, who had a shorter distance to go, would take a cab. We were splitting up now. I had thought we had more time, and I said to Brian, "Am I going to be able to reach you there?" Dmitri said I could use Anya’s phone to call Brian on Dmitri’s phone any time. I hate it that our cell phones don’t work overseas. Brian said, "Don’t forget the time change!—don’t wake me up in the middle of the night!" And they were gone.
I am staying in a small private hotel in the heart of the city—the same block where Dostoyevsky lived and wrote. The hotel is new and very modern—my room is very nice, in that high tech, minimalist European style. The hotel was opened about five years ago on the third floor of an old building—it was all gutted and remodeled. They have recently expanded to another floor—I’m guessing they have about twenty rooms.
I have a big kingsize bed, with one small pillow right in the middle. That was kind of funny. Maybe it’s good I’m staying here alone. The bath towels are also in the minimalist style. We Americans are so used to everything big.
I got settled in the room, Anya’s apartment is a few blocks down the street, and she and I met at 6:30 to go to supper. We walked several blocks and window shopped along the way. She says this is the neighborhood for shoe stores and electrical appliances. So I tried on some furry Russian boots and bought a 220-240 curling iron with the right kind of plug. Even though the one I use at home is supposed to be dual voltage, it never works anywhere I travel. I decided that although I loved the Russian boots HERE, I’d probably not love them as much back home.
We had a wonderful supper—beet salad, fish soup, and meat jelly with horseradish. We finished it all with pancakes and caviar and a good cup of tea. And then I was ready to crash. It was 9:00.
The room was very cozy, but I was concerned it was going to get hot sleeping. There is a fancy electronic thermostat in the room, but I had turned it way down when I left, and there was no discernable difference. I messed with it a while, but decided it was probably just there for show.
It felt so good to crawl into that bed. I pulled the duvet up under my chin, and suddenly my feet were sticking out of the bottom. I turned the light back on, and discovered the comforter was only about four foot long. In my opinion, that’s taking the minimalist thing a little too far.
I solved the problem by using the duvet sideways. It worked great, but only for one person, since the blanket is now only four feet WIDE. Oh well, there’s only one pillow anyhow!
I went right to sleep, and slept until a little after one. It was a little warm, and I laid there for a while, but went back to sleep. After a while, Brian came in and came to bed! I was so surprised, but he whispered he would explain in the morning. I went back to sleep, and dreamed my cell phone was ringing! It was so real that I woke up to find myself running around the room looking for it! It was actually quite funny. I reoriented myself, told myself where I was and that my cell phone didn’t even work here. I started to go back to bed, when it began ringing again, for real! I still didn’t know where it was, but I was awake enough now to trace the ringing to a piece of luggage. I didn’t realize it was still powered up. I grabbed it, and the caller ID said Brian’s mobile! I answered, and it was HIM!! I was so freaked out.
He was really happy, asked how I was. Told me it was 10 am where HE was. I told him I didn’t have a CLUE what time it was where I was, but that it was definitely the middle of the night. (It turned out to be 3 am.) He said he was sorry for waking me, but was so surprised to find out his cell phone was working in Khaborovsk, Russia, he decided to try to leave me a message. (Remember his last words to me? Don’t wake him up? Ha) I didn’t care, and as I went back to bed, I remembered my DREAM that he had come in in the middle of the night. He hadn’t!
So I went back to bed, and it was TOO HOT TO SLEEP, and so I opened the big window, and it started cooling off in a hurry. Unfortunately, the window is either open or shut, there’s no cracking it....so I laid there for a while and tried NOT to go to sleep, so that I could get up and close it when it got too cold, since it’s well below zero outside, and the short story is, that was the end of the road for sleep for me.....I think I got five hours, plus one on the plane from Moscow to St. Pete yesterday, that’s a grand total of six since leaving home, plus the five I got the night before I left.....it’ll catch up with me sometime.
"The moment we’ve all been waiting for has finally arrived. Hours of preparation and training have gone towards this moment....and it’s finally here!"
We’d been on the plane out of Atlanta, bound for Russia, for about 3 ½ hours now, after leaving Kansas City earlier this morning. I’d finally finished The Divine Conspiracy (Yeah!) after having started it seven weeks ago, at the beginning of the new year. I’d caught up on about eight issues of various news magazines, Newsweek, World, and The Week, read seventy pages of Dr. Zhivago, a little Anne Lamott, and had my supper. I’d just returned from brushing my teeth in the teeny weeny lavatory. (I read a story last week about a man caring for his wife who had Alzheimer’s, and how he’d had to crowd into the airline toilet with her to help. I don’t know HOW he did that.) But now THE MOMENT had arrived, and required appropriate fanfare.
Brian just looked at me and raised his eyebrows, finally saying, "What?"
I asked for a drumroll, and then announced, "I’m about to listen to MUSIC on my I-pod!" That got me a small chuckle.
He said, "What are you going to listen to?"
"Sarah McLachlan!" That got me a wrinkled up nose. Saturday night, when all my I-tunes were mysteriously erased, he generously offered what he thought was the perfect solution. He would just sync MY I-pod to his I-tunes. The only problem with that was that I would be stuck listening to HIS choice of music. There are lots of artists we enjoy together, and lots we don’t! Sarah McLachlan is not his choice of music. The Black Crowes is not mine. So I stayed up late Saturday night downloading 23 new albums, and I was now about to enjoy the fruits of my labors. I dug the I-pod out of my purse, and the bag of accessories out of my carry-on.
I got everything hooked up, my pillow arranged just right, my blindfold over my eyes, switched on the little button for the noise cancelling headphones my boy Aaron had loaned me at the last minute the night before, and entered into I-pod heaven.
I listened to Sarah, I listened to a couple of NPR podcasts, (slept through 30 minutes of one, waking up to a singing cowboy); I listened to Steve Parsons and Julie Meyer. Mostly pretty mellow stuff—it was so enjoyable and relaxing. I loved it, and the time passed so quickly.
Then I realized I couldn’t find my glasses. I had set them down somewhere. The plane was completely dark. I turned off the great music, and started feeling around. Nothing. I didn’t want to put my seat back up and my foot rest down for fear I would crush them. I started feeling around in Brian’s seat too, which woke him up, and he sweetly started helping me look for them. I finally found them, on the floor, and yes, I probably would have destroyed them if I’d put my foot rest down, so it’s a good thing I missed them when I did. Then I decided to take the wonderful noise-cancelling headphones off and use my earbuds, because I was getting tired of having to keep my head straight ahead. I found them, got all settled, and then realized I had lost my blindfold. Oh well. I needed to get the music going right away, because the big guy across the aisle was snoring pretty loud.
Back home, it’s midnight, we’ve been on this plane about nine hours, and I’ve just watched the sun come up.
Morning has broken. Short night—I slept about thirty minutes with the singing cowboy. But it was a great night! We’ll be landing in another hour.
Maybe there will be internet in the airport, and I can post this then.
EDIT: Evidently not. This was posted about 24 hours late.
it’s a gorgeous day....the sun is shining, but the ugly brown grass is hidden by fresh white snow. It was a wild stormy evening yesterday--fishtailed all the way to church, and so cold. When I was ready to come home about ten o’clock, I spent a little extra time winding my scarf around my neck, buttoning my new ankle length down jacket all the way up, before braving the elements. (haha, you button a down jacket up!) But I went outside and it was WARM--so much warmer than when I came in three hours earlier--a whole twelve degrees according to my car thermometer! That made me happy! Actually, I should say happi-ER, because the message at church made me happy. Learning more about this great salvation our Creator arranged for us--his wonderful intentions for us, keeps chipping away at those clinging remnants of fear and worry, bit by bit I feel those old feelings falling off, being replaced by the joy of trusting a totally competent God who loves me incredibly! Whoopee!!!
We’re leaving for Russia on Monday morning....Kansas City to Atlanta, and then a direct flight to Moscow, arriving mid-morning Tuesday. Our friends Dmitri and Anya will meet us, and a few hours later Anya and I will take a 40-minute flight to St. Petersburg, while Brian is stuck in Moscow until that evening, when he gets on a plane for a ten hour flight to the far east. (I feel his pain. I’ll be snug in my room when he gets ON that plane.) He’s doing a pastor’s conference there, I’m doing a women’s thing in St. Pete, and we’ll connect again in Moscow on Saturday. I’ll be taking the sleeper train to Moscow on Friday night--leaves at midnight, arrives at 9am. That will be a new experience!
I wish I could sit here in my jammies all day, but alas, I have to get dressed and go to the bank before it closes at noon. I have 15-bean soup simmering on the stovetop. I need to make some cornbread to go along with it......next week I’ll be having pancakes and Russian caviar! YUM!
Check this out....
"If your right hand makes you stumble, cut it off and throw it from you, for it is better for you to lose one of the parts of your body, than for your whole body to go to hell." ----Jesus
I don’t want to cut my arm off, but I might toss my computer out the window.
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I have a dip in my garage floor right where the passenger door of my car is. Whenever the roads are bad in the winter, all the ice and snow and mud falls off the car when it warms up, melts, and pools in that dip. That means when I go out to get in my car to leave, I have to open the door, then stretch and leap to get in without getting wet feet. Then I back the car out, get out, and come in and squeegee the mess over to the drain so it will dry out when I come back. When the kid is with me, he does the squeegeeing....it won’t work to trade sides of the garage with my man, because his truck is bigger and only fits on that side....
It’s no big deal, I was thinking today how grateful I am that I’m agile enough to get in that way. If I wasn’t, I’d be wearing more sensible shoes anyhow! And I’m grateful to have a garage where my car warms up and the crud DOES drop off! I went many years without a garage, heck, we went many years with only one car between the two of us, with me working the 3-11 shift at the hospital, and Brian having to throw the baby in the back seat to come get me at midnight....and even that really wasn’t so bad. There’s a lot of people in this world who have things worse.
But hey now, here a few hours later, I’ve got a real problem. And it’s a test. Am I going to keep my joy? Am I going to lose my cool? So far, so good. (umm, pretty good)
So I got an i-pod for Christmas. I’ve spent a lot of time building up my i-tunes library, downloading tons of CDs. I was imagining this long plane ride I’ve got to Russia on Monday, and hours of great music. I downloaded a couple of audiobooks, which I’ve since returned to the library. And then, POOF! tonight, syncing the i-tunes and the i-pod for the very last time, making sure everything is good to go, now instead, --EVERYTHING IS GONE!!
I got puzzled and carried my computer down to Brian, who doesn’t know a whole lot about computers, except that he is a genius compared to me. He looked at it and said, "What did you do? Everything’s gone." Not just my i-tunes library and the audiobooks, but he informed me that ALL "my documents" is also gone, including all my pictures.
I wanted to scream, but had to overrule myself and stay calm. When stuff like this happens, I want to yell at the closest ones present, which happened to be my dear husband and son, who didn’t cause this to happen. Actually, I had to walk away in order not to scream and try to calm the raging emotion inside of me. Computers have a way of making me crazy.
What is important here is NOT my computer, it’s my REACTION. Am I going to behave emotionally and irrationally, or calmly, rationally, and like a person that has the spirit of God living inside? I mean, if we ever need that mantra, What Would Jesus Do?, it would be here. I just can’t see him freaking out over his stupid computer.
Life is really not about everything going smooth. Life is about becoming the person you were created to be. Life is about learning and practicing A NEW WAY TO BE HUMAN. So here I am, hours later, downloading CDs and developing a new library. I’m choosing to be happy. If my pictures are lost, then they’re lost. Worse things happen all the time.
"Now, Lord, lead me not into temptation! Deliver me from evil! You told me to pray it! Please don’t let it happen again, at least anytime soon! I passed this test, doggone it!"
A friend just asked me if I’d read his biography, as she’d just come across his music....this was my reply, and decided to share it here.
did you not know about Keith Green before???? i think of him asa true prophet of God, like Elijah or Isaiah. What a tragedy that his life ended so early. Way back when, we ran a Christian coffeehouse called the Catacombs. We sometimes booked musicians who were touring, as well as local bands, for our Saturday night gatherings. One time this promoter called Brian, wanted to book "Keith Green, the hottest new guy out here on the West Coast." Brian told him he’d never heard of him. The guy explained he wrote the title cut of Phil Keaggy’s new album, Love Broke Thru. We both love that song. Brian agreed to book the guy, and before the concert date rolled around, "For Him Who Has Ears to Hear" came out. What an album!! We were so excited.
We had a baby grand brought in, set it there on the bare plywood platform, and that guy made the whole building shake. I thought the piano was going to dance out of there. It was an empty metal warehouse we rented for $1 a year from the Salvation Army--partial dirt floor, with sprayed insulation on the walls and ceiling--we crammed about 200 people in there. Yeah, it was a coffeehouse, but we didn’t serve coffee--just pop and candy. Only old people drank coffee back then. Brian and I were both just 17.
We loved the music and his preaching. He gave an altar call--told people to raise their hands while he continued to bang away on the piano. He saw a hand, and then he told that one to come forward. No one did. He said he’d give them another chance, and quoted the scripture about Jesus being ashamed of those who were ashamed of him. Then he abruptly stopped the music, and pointed his finger at a young teen girl--the one who hadn’t come forward. She was one of our regulars, slightly mentally handicapped, and we were mad at him for humiliating her and told him so.
Then we went out to Denny’s. Brian and Keith got into an argument. They were both STRONG personalities. I can’t remember what they argued over. Keith was a little arrogant, but hey, he was like 22 at the time. We begin to get his Last Days newsletter, and read about a powerful spiritual experience that occurred shortly afterward that changed him forever. I know if Brian and he had continued to be around each other, they’d have become great friends. They were two peas in a pod--radical Jesus freaks determined to change the world.
I remember so well the hot July morning a few years later--we were married, and fixing bacon and eggs for breakfast, when we heard on the television news about the small plane crash that claimed the life of "popular Christian singer and songwriter" Keith Green. I remember collapsing on the sofa, crying and praying. I don’t think we ate breakfast that day.
Yeah, I’ve read Melody’s book " No Compromise ", Keith’s life story--right when it first came out. She was a great inspiration to me. There is a great documentary video out as well.
It’s Saturday. Today I went to the gym, bright and early. It had been quite a long time. I had thought about going last month, but didn’t want to be like those poor folks
cotaroba ridicules for starting back to the gym the day after New Years and disappearing in a couple of weeks. So I gave myself another month off. I did ALL the Nautilus machines and was planning to head up to the elliptical after that. But I could hardly make it up the stairs and so instead I stumbled out to my car and went home.
This afternoon, I had a Russian language lesson with my favorite Ukrainian, Albina, which did the same thing to my brain that the gym had done to my body. I’m hoping to make it to 8:00 before I go to bed. But I couldn’t do that without commenting on the message I heard at church last night. It went along so well with what I’m reading....
GOODBYE, BABYLON!
Part III in the Heaven and Earth Series
The Bible is the original "Tale of Two Cities"--Jerusalem and Babylon
Jerusalem--the place where God’s purposes are released into the earth
Babylon--the place of darkness, death, confusion
Abraham’s story is his journey from Ur, in Babylonia, "seeking a city whose maker and builder is God". He journeyed from the place of fallenness, darkness, confusion, into a place of knowing and experiencing God! He had spiritual encounters in the very place that would someday be the holy city of Jerusalem--encounters with Melchizedek, his near offering of Isaac...
Every human must make a choice about their life: are they going to Babylon or Jerusalem? Into the purposes of God or rebelling against Him?
Babel (Babylon) was the first city built after the Flood. "Babylon is fallen"-- frequent refrain about Babylon, not just prophetic about its demise, but a proclamation that it IS fallen. ("We live not in a fallen world, but falling everyday."--The Call)
2 MYSTERIES surrounding these spiritual places: the mystery of iniquity (2 Thess 2) and the mystery of godliness (1 Tim 3:16)
2 WOMEN: the mother of harlots, and the bride of Christ
2 SYSTEMS: the cosmos--world system (loss of absolutes producing confusion, darkness) and the Kingdom (peace and truth) Jerusalem MEANS "King of peace"--the more truth you have in your life, the more peace you will experience.
Project Babylon--the devil’s agenda--to displace the worship of the true God with idolatry, the worship of other things--man is created to worship, and he MUST worship something.
Western culture, American culture too sophisticated to worship statues and animals as in India, Hinduism
but instead there are systems in place that challenge the Lordship of Jesus in:
POLITICS
RELIGION
COMMERCE
Revelation 17, 18, 19 respectively show the fall of these three idolatrous systems.
Political Babylon --people putting their faith in a political party to deliver them--give it up!
Religious Babylon --religion displacing Jesus as Lord. it’s easy to see when it is a false religion such as Islam or Hinduism, but a distortion of Christian truth into RULES religion is also religious BABYLON!!!! It’s what happens when knowing and following the RULES becomes the focus rather than knowing and following JESUS!!!
It is CHOOSING THE TREE OF THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND EVIL rather than the tree of life, so that we JUDGE rather than LOVE!!!
Commercial Babylon-- materialism displacing Jesus as Lord. The worship of STUFF! Gotta have more money, gotta get a better car, a better house, a better bank account....the relentless pursuit of MATERIALISM. In the culture we live in, Materialism is the whore we are most often tempted to cheat on Jesus with.
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Goodbye Babylon! I am after something so much better. Teach me God to live for you, to worship you alone.
And this I pray: that your love may abound yet more and more and extend to its fullest development in knowledge and all keen insight, that your love may display itself in greater depth of acquaintance and more comprehensive discernment, so that you may surely learn to sense what is vital, and approve and prize what is excellent and of real value, recognizing the highest and the best, and distinguishing the moral differences! --Phil. 1:9,10 AMP
This message will be in audio archives
here , probably by Tuesday of next week.
OFF TO BED!
Yes, I’m still reading this book. I’m taking it slow. It’s not that the reading is so hard, but I can only deal with so many mind explosions at a time. I have to ponder, to take it in. I can’t remember a book impacting me so deeply, maybe ever. Take a minute and look at this short passage from page 217-218. (bold emphases mine)
...If we would really help those close to us and dear, and if we would learn to live together with our family and "neighbors" in the power of the kingdom, we must abandon the deeply rooted human practice of condemning and blaming. This is what Jesus means when he says, "Judge not." He is telling us that we should, and that we can, become the kind of person who does not condemn or blame others. As we do so, the power of God’s kingdom will be more freely available to bless and guide those around us into his ways.
But when we first hear this we may feel as we did when he heard about laying aside anger, contempt, and cultivated lusting—disbelieving. Can we really live that way? Could we successfully negotiate personal relations without letting people know that we disapprove of them and find them to be in the wrong? Condemnation—giving and receiving it—is such a large part of "normal" human existence that we may not even be able to imagine or think what life would be like without it.
At least we need the choice of giving others a good dose of blame and condemnation when it seems appropriate, don’t we? We have great confidence in the power of condemnation to "straighten others out." And if that fails, should we not at least make clear that we are on the side of the right—no small matter itself?
But what is it, exactly, that we do when we condemn someone? When we condemn another we really communicate that he or she is, in some deep and just possibly irredeemable way, bad—bad as a whole, and to be rejected. In our eyes the condemned is among the discards of human life. He or she is not acceptable. We sentence that person to exclusion. Surely we can learn to live well and happily without doing that.
This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.
This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.
This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world: the battle is not done:
Jesus Who died shall be satisfied,
And earth and Heav’n be one.
This is my Father’s world, dreaming, I see His face.
I ope my eyes, and in glad surprise cry, "The Lord is in this place."
This is my Father’s world, from the shining courts above,
The Beloved One, His Only Son,
Came—a pledge of deathless love.
This is my Father’s world, should my heart be ever sad?
The Lord is King—let the heavens ring. God reigns—let the earth be glad.
This is my Father’s world. Now closer to Heaven bound,
For dear to God is the earth Christ trod.
No place but is holy ground.
This is my Father’s world. I walk a desert lone.
In a bush ablaze to my wondering gaze God makes His glory known.
This is my Father’s world, a wanderer I may roam
Whate’er my lot, it matters not,
My heart is still at home.
--Maltbie D. Babcock
I love my birdfeeder, using my handy little bird book to identify new visitors--"Look, it’s a black-capped chickadee!" My favorite regulars are the pair of red-bellied woodpeckers, which I took for red-HEADED woodpeckers until I was made aware of the distinction. (I’ll never confuse THOSE two again.)
I love them all....the dark eyed juncos, the bluebirds, wrens, cardinals, the tufted titmouses. (or is it titmice?) I’ll be shouting "spring" when the first robin shows up. I confess to even loving those notorious bullies, the bluejays, as long as they come one at a time and don’t run everyone else off.
This is another world, another existence, a community of interacting personalities, one we humans are only ever so marginally aware of. The bird world gets an early start every day--in the summer the markets are open, the hawkers are squawking, business is booming way before it is for most of us humans.
I know far more goes on that any of us realize, there is an awareness, busyness, dramas we never imagine. Those tufted titmouses are notorious for pulling hair from sleeping dogs, cats, and squirrels to line their nests. Are they the comedians of the bird world, or perhaps the Evel Knievel stunt guys? Do they go home and amuse their young with stories of their derring-do? Do other birds spread the news with their chatter? What else would they be talking about with such enthusiasm?
Chickadees can be tamed and handfed, the social butterflys of the bird world. A brown thrasher has the largest documented song repertoire of all North American birds, with over 1,100 song types--he’d be the karaoke king here for sure. How many humans can sing that many songs?
I know the kick I get out of watching and learning about these creatures--I can hardly imagine the kick my Father got out of thinking up and then creating them one by one, giving each those very distinctive and often quirky traits. There are over ten thousand species of birds in the world--He created them all individually! What a mind!
"Then I, wisdom, was beside Him, as a master workman: And I was daily His delight, Rejoicing always before Him, Rejoicing in the world, His earth, And having my delight in the sons of men." --Proverbs 8:30,31
The Holy Trinity, creating, rejoicing, delighting together.
I’m not even going to get started on the insect world....
I hate it when you can’t find something you know is not really lost. I misplaced my car phone charger in August. I went to considerable lengths to get it back.....long story, taken accidentally by my brother, bla bla bla.....I had his. I finally got it from him, had it in my hot little hand, but somehow it never got back into the cigarette lighter of my car, and I was so mad at myself for losing it TWICE I refused to buy another one...I KNEW it had toturn up. I went six months, frequently being without my cell or having a dead battery. Last Saturday I broke down and bought a new one. It cost me $28! Leaving the office yesterday afternoon, I had to brush the snow off my car. I reached into the pocket of the door where I keep it, and brought up the blasted phone cord. It would have been better not to have found it.
With great irritation, I considered last night going through several bags of trash, but decided if I possibly did find both the packaging and the receipt, they would probably be covered with coffeegrounds and eggshells. I decided my irritation level would probably rise higher in that process and elected not to proceed. But if anyone wants to come go through my trash, I’ll split the money!
OK, then last night I spent CONSIDERABLE time messing with I-tunes and downloading some audiobooks I got at the library so that I could listen to them on my new i-pod. This i-pod was a Christmas gift from my dear husband. He either wants me to conquer the demons that taunt me whenever I deal with electronic gadgets, or go STARK RAVING MAD!!!
So I got five CDs downloaded, had to rename them because they wouldn’t sort right in my library, and was feeling pretty good about my accomplishments when I went to work on the sixth and final CD of the audiobook. This one kept locking up my computer. I mean, to the point where I had to turn the whole thing off and reboot about five times. I felt my inner irritation beginning to mount and decided it was a good time to set the whole thing aside and go to bed. You know, if the thing was music, you could just not have some certain songs, and enjoy what you do have anyhow. But this is a BOOK! It would be like tearing 25 pages out of your book and pretending it just didn’t matter....ain’t gonna happen.
So I went off to bed. But before I could do that, I had to put the cats in the laundry room. We have two new kitties, Buechner and Yancey, who I adopted from the pound a couple of weeks ago. I have a newfound compassion for mothers of twins. The kitties have to sleep in the laundry room where the litter box is, until I become convinced they won’t pee (or worse) anywhere else. I couldn’t find Buechner. I looked EVERYWHERE. (Remember, I am already irritated but trying hard not to let it show.)
I finally found him under the couch in the library. It was dark under there, but I saw a darker furry form. I called "here kitty kitty kitty..." The thing didn’t move at all. They have never responded in any way to my calling, but we’ve just had them a couple of weeks. We’ve not had a lot of emotional paybacks yet from these creatures Brian calls "the fraidycats". We rescued them from a cruel death and have done nothing but good for them, and they cringe and run from us. I went downstairs and got the yardstick, laid down on the floor, peered under the couch, and gently poked him. There was no movement, no response. Was it not the cat? Or was it the cat, and he had died? I poked a little harder. Nothing. I tried to push him. Nothing. I stood up and drug the couch out from the wall, then ran around behind, knocking over a lamp and a stack of books in the process. The thing had crawled further under the couch. It was the cat. He wasn’t dead. I went back behind the couch, pulled it out further, and pounced (gently) on my cat. I caught him, and hauled him off to the laundry room, saying "you stupid cat" but in a sweet calm voice, figuring he wouldn’t know the difference.
So that was my evening! Is there a point? I don’t know. We’re never gonna eliminate everyday irritations from our life. Live with it. It’s not worth losing your cool, losing your joy, losing anything. Go to bed. Tomorrow is a new day!
PS--I have enjoyed my new i-pod immensely. I have spent a lot of time getting CDs onto i-tunes, and then on to the i-pod. I haven’t ever actually listened to anything on it yet however. I’ve only had it a month though....I just need a little more time!
PPS--Why has the font on my page suddenly turned blue? I DON’T KNOW!!!!!! But I’m not going to sweat it or lose my cool. See ya all later!
