Going barefoot in Russia

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us. Romans 8:35

I have had a NIV translation of the Bible my entire life, or at least as long as I can remember. So when Marc bought a NASB, I was a little leary. But when I found out that Kay Arthur's Inductive Study Bible only came in NASB, I knew I wanted that Bible, so now that's the translation I am using. There are times that it's just enough different to throw me off. But there are times I love it so much I could squeal in glee. This is one of those times. Can anything separate us from Christ? No. We overwhelmingly conquer everything through Him. Overwhelmingly conquer...come on, that's good stuff. And since this week we learned not only about the persecuted church, but also about how to acquire the new language, we needed to hang on tightly to the verses that say we are going to overwhelmingly conquer something.

We'll be doing something called barefoot language learning. (Hence the title of this post.) It is how the vast majority of missionaries acquire their language. We will not be sitting in class for hours on end. Instead, a tutor will come to our home, and we will decide what we need to learn that day. For example, today I want to learn to buy chicken, so I learn all the sentences and phrases and vocabulary that go with learning to buy chicken. It's a very, very practical approach to learning a new language as an adult.

Here are the things that terrify me about learning Russian: I will look stupid. I will sound like I'm from the south of Russia. Nobody will want to talk to me because I'm babbling like an idiot. But here's the big one: I will make mistakes and not do it perfectly. If you have only known me from a distance, then you don't know my terrible, awful secret, but if you really know me well, you are well aware of this about me: I am a perfectionist. When I do something, if I do not perceive that it is absolutely perfect, I am terribly disappointed in myself. My fears about being a full-time mom in Russia all revolve around making mistakes and messing them up forever. The hardest thing for me to face here has been the toll my perfectionism takes not only on myself, but on everyone around me. One night, I was worried about John--that he had upset someone, that someone would think we were not good parents. And our friend said, "Kellye, you have to get over this thing with John. He's a great kid. He's not perfect, but he's a great kid." And I realized the only person in the room who didn't see John as a "great kid" was his mommy. Why didn't I see all the good stuff in John? Because I was too busy looking at what wasn't perfect about him. Then I sat down to really assess my views of my family, and I found I concentrated on weaknesses and not strengths. Now I never did that as a teacher. I could always find something good to say about and concentrate on in every child. So why would I do that as a parent and wife? Because somebody might think that I am not perfect because I did not marry a perfect man nor am I raising perfect children. Oh, my friends...it was a come-to-Jesus moment in my life.

So here is my confession to you: I am not perfect. (I know...you already knew that!) Sometimes, I leave my dishes overnight in the sink. I nag my husband about getting his schoolwork done. My children are sometimes absolutely wild Indians running around. I struggle to memorize scripture. I do not always have an hour-and-a-half quiet time. My prayer life often seems lacking to me. I have gained three pounds since coming here, though I am exercising daily. I worry more than I should. I can be highly critical of people. I sometimes care more about getting things done than about the people around me. I do not have all the answers. And I cannot for the life of me understand why God called someone like me to go half-way around the world to tell others about Him. (Whew...that was hard for me. I need a nap, now.)

There is something freeing about acknowledging your own imperfection. It lets me just be me. I can let down the intensity level for a minute and have some fun. One of the things I have come to appreciate about Marc more and more as we've been here is that he's a lot of fun. People really like him, because he's fun and he cares about them, about what's going on in their lives. I'm sometimes too busy in the kitchen making sure everyone has something to drink to really sit down and visit with people. Undoubtedly, Marc is going to make a great missionary. And the reality is that I'm going to make a good missionary, too. I want badly to do well. But I'm learning that the secret is to give myself and those I love desperately a break.

So today, I'm cutting us all some slack. We're headed out to an old-time festival here in Rockville, and we're going to learn how to make hay bales or something like that. Then we're shopping, and we might even eat some fast food. We're going to spend the whole day together, and then we're going to a giant bonfire and s'mores party tonight here on the farm. It's going to be a fun day, and I'm not going to worry the whole day about what anybody else thinks of me. (or my three extra pounds)

So here's my challenge to you: if you're a perfectionist, give yourself a day off. Enjoy your family. Laugh at the silly things they do. And praise God for the olive trees He's planting around your table. (Psalm 128)

His,
Kellye