I don't know if you can really see this, but it's a cross standing on top of a hill in Karlovy Vary, Czech Republic. I have been struck lately by little things God sends my way to let me know He is at work, and I stared at this one for a long time before snapping this picture.It has been quite a while, my friends! I hope you didn't think something was wrong--just really, really busy. Right now, Marc is in Prague working on a video for CEE leadership (and having fun with friends, too....just a nice bonus for him!), and that means handling things by myself, which leaves little time for blogging (or anything else). In fact, even as I write this, I am having to hurry so that I can finish baking cookies for the juniors to sell at today's Fall Festival. So in a few minutes, John John and I will have to head to the metro and leave for school--Sarah Beth is already there, hanging signs and getting ready, and Hannah spent the night at a friend's house. Please forgive my absence, and know that if I disappear from the web for a while, it's probably that I'm running like a chicken with my head cut off.
Since we came home from Prague a few weeks ago, I have struggled with being here. Russia can be such a difficult place to live and minister. Russians are not naturally trusting people, and they can, by American standards, seem unfriendly and cold and difficult. But lately, it seems to me that God has put in my path small signs, things that are reminders to me that He is at work even when I am unaware of what He is doing. I thought it might encourage you to read about my small signs and think about how God is showing you what He's doing wherever you are today.
The cross on the hill
- Maybe it's not even a cross in my picture. Maybe it's an electric pole with a funny configuration. But for me, seeing it in a place where atheism reigns (Czech Republic has some of the lowest numbers of believers in the world) reminded me that just because a people has abandoned God, He has not abandoned them. There is no "God-forsaken" place. He is the God of the whole earth, not just of America. He was here long before I showed up on Russia's front doorstep, and He'll be here long after I'm gone. He isn't asking me to save anybody--He's got it covered. He's only asking me to be faithful to what He's called me to do.
- Nothing is as frustrating on a hard day than to get on the metro and have people, as Sarah Beth would say, all up in your business. Russians (and Europeans in general, I'm guessing) have zero personal space. It doesn't exist here. There is no such thing as too close. Remember the old Sting song, "Don't stand so close to me"? I'm guessing it wasn't a hit here. Probably got no radio time. So the metro, while an excellent form of transportation to be sure, is not always a lot of fun. But on a daily basis, someone does something kind on the metro. For every time I have been shoved against the back wall by people pushing themselves into the compartment, someone has given up their seat for John. Or they've shoved another adult out of the way so that John isn't so squished. Or they've smiled at him and called him maladyetz, or fine boy. Russians are in love with children, more so than any place I've ever been. And when I am the most frustrated with them, I am always given some reminder of their finer qualities, too. And it makes it just the tiniest bit easier to be here.
- On Tuesday, I was running way behind by the time we got to the metro. We'd seen Marc off to Prague and then waited for a bus to take us to the metro. And waited. And waited. Finally, we realized that because it was a Russian holiday, there was little public transportation running, and we would have to make the walk to the metro. So we did. A mile and a half. So you can imagine that by the time we stepped onto the metro, none of us was in a particularly happy state of mind. And because we were later than usual, everything about the metro was irksome. Other people. My own children. Everything. So I'm standing there, looking up to try and get a fix on my anger and frustration, and a small ad that has been plastered to the wall catches my eye. It's clearly a picture of a fetus, much like you would see on any pro-life ad in America. But Russia is not a pro-life place. Look at the statistics on abortion in Russia--it's heart-rending. So I'm curious as to what this ad is. I start reading/translating. And what do you know? It IS a pro-life ad right there on the wall of the metro. Unbelievable. It even has a web address where you can go if you need help with an unexpected pregnancy. I have never, in the entire year we've been here, been so stunned by anything I've seen in the metro. I just stood there, staring at it. Suddenly, my anger and frustration with this place was a little easier to handle. God is working here. There are little signs, literally, everywhere. He is moving in this place. Maybe not the way I want Him to move or at the pace...but He is moving. Amazing.
One of the verses that God has given me in the last year is Psalm 31:21--Blessed be the LORD, for He has made marvelous His lovingkindness to me in a besieged city. Sometimes He has made His lovingkindness obvious to me. But more often than not, it has been the little signs He has given--beautiful sunshine, gorgeous leaves on the tree outside my classroom, a smile from a babushka--that have meant the most to me. And so today, in the midst of my very busy life, I am stopping to be grateful for those little signs, and for a big, giant God who is so gracious to me. He often "thunders with His voice wondrously, doing great things which we cannot comprehend" (Job 37:5), and so I am thankful that He daily puts in my path some of the smaller things that I can comprehend. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you will see today the small things that God is using to comfort you and keep you going, and that your snickerdoodles are crisp at the edges and soft in the middle like they should be. Blessings to you and yours!
His,
Kellye
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