You can get kind of a feel for how small a train coupe in Europe is in this picture, though we were pretty comfortable.
Ignore the fact that Marc looks like he's had a little too much of Russia's favorite drink...it's still a cute pic of the girls. (Sarah Beth was trying to get a phone signal about 2 hours outside of Moscow.)
John-John loved his first train trip. Here he's sitting on a table watching the Russian countryside roll by us...he sat that way for a pretty good while.You are forgiving and good, O LORD, abounding in love to all who call on You. Psalm 86:5
Well, we are back from Ukraine (I always want to say The Ukraine, which is totally wrong), and we had a really amazing trip in lots of ways. There's so much to tell you that I thought I'd divide it up into a few parts, so this may take a couple of days.
First of all, we had to leave on this trip simply because we've been in Russia six months (!!!), and every six months we have to leave the country. We'll do this all over again in October, but for longer, in order to renew our visa. When we boarded the train (my first ever train ride) on Monday night, I don't mind saying that I was pretty nervous. It wasn't just that I was getting ready to go somewhere new or use a new form of transportation, but mostly worrying about the border crossings. In my mind, I could see all those WWII movies in which trains and cold nights play such a terrible part. (Except, of course, you have to substitute the German voices with Russian voices, but you get the picture.) When we got on the train, which was about fifty years old, we were met by our conductor, who seems to have been the original conductor for the train. (Not really...he was about my dad's age.) We knew immediately that we were going to like him. He was so sweet--allowing us to stay together in one coupe (Marc had a bed in another, but wanted to stay with us since this was our first time), speaking to us in a kind voice, smiling at us...you name it, and it if made us feel more comfortable, he did it. So we settled in, playing gameboys, reading books, coloring and drawing until we all were ready to go to sleep. Miraculously, John-John said at about 10:30, "Is it okay with everyone if we turn off the lights? I'm so tired." Of course, we scrambled to turn off the lights, since we'd all worried that he wouldn't sleep. We rocked along in our train to Bryansk, where we were to cross the border.
Crossing two borders on our way to Kiev is a little like being in a hospital--you are awakened a couple of times in the night for someone to take your "vitals." So at about 3 a.m., a knock came at our coupe. It was our conductor with the border guard from Russia. He explained to the guard that we were an American family, and that he had allowed us to travel together so that we would be more comfortable. (Of course, no one but us in this scenario spoke any English, so all of this is going on in Russian.) The border agent talked to us for a minute, checked our passport pictures against our faces (no small feat, since the kids were soundly sleeping), and took our stuff. Several minutes ticked by, and our conductor came back to get Marc. Now, to appreciate our concern, you must know that no one else had to go anywhere. No one was being called to a different part of the train. Marc got up, put on his slippers, and went with the conductor. All I heard was another border guard whisper something about the militsia--police. For those of you who work with our company, I think you can appreciate that our special three-day training started to kick in pretty hard about that moment.
So Marc went with the conductor, the kids slept, and I prayed pretty hard. About five minutes later, Marc reappeared with a grin on his face. The border guard had returned all of our passports, showing Marc where they were stamped, and wished him bon voyage, shaking his hand before Marc returned to us. Can you imagine? So we went back to sleep, praising God for friendly border guards (and our special training, too).
The Ukrainian border was exactly the same. We had a friendly border guard, and no problems at all. After the Ukrainian border was crossed, our conductor came to our coupe and told us that everything was done, and that we should sleep soundly now. Then he closed our coupe door. We all sat in our beds for a moment (Sarah Beth, Marc and I were all awake), and then Sarah Beth said, "If that wasn't Grandpa on a Sunday afternoon in his white shirt and tan shorts settling us all in, then I don't know what was." We laughed and agreed. Marc said, "If I'm not mistaken, our conductor just tucked us in for the night." We all went back to sleep, and we slept soundly until not long before we arrived in Kiev.
It struck me as I drifted off to sleep that, like everything else in this adventure we call the missionary life, God knew everything that would happen. He knew I would be nervous about our trip. He knew it would be a little scary. He knew that it would be a Russian language exercise like no other. And how did the Father comfort us? By placing us in the hands of someone who reminded us so much of my Daddy, whom we all adore. I've seen my Daddy over the years with travelers, and he always handled them much the same way...making them comfortable, placing their needs high on the list of things to take care of (my Daddy worked in the airline industry his whole career). And you know what? It didn't make me homesick or sad or lonely for my Daddy and Momma. It made me so thankful that the Heavenly Father takes such careful care of us, down to the last detail.
For right now, I'll leave off there. I'll pick up in the Kiev train station tomorrow. Irina will be here soon, and Sarah Beth's sixteenth birthday party is tonight, so there is a great deal to get done today. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are aware of the ways the Father is comforting you through whatever you face, and that you know the words for Bon Voyage in whatever language surrounds you. Blessings to you and yours!
His,
Kellye
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