This Summer

This summer is looking like a whirlwind.

Not even two weeks ago, I got in touch with a high school friend of my brother’s. He does work with a group called The Boaz Project. They serve orphanages in Russia and India. Today I had a conference call with David (my brother’s friend) and the two founders of the organization: Jim and April Jurgensen. It was a fantastic conversation in which I managed not to ramble to much. At the end I was invited to go on a trip with them to Russia at the end of August.

This opportunity is huge. I have been dreaming of serving in Russia for years. It’s amazing how God has literally dropped this in my lap when I wasn’t looking. The timing of it all, the way that this fits me in so many areas, the fact that they have a trip available for me to join, so many things have fallen into place. David said in an email today that it is crazy, but it can only be the Lord at work. I am so overwhelmed by everything that is going on that I hardly know what to feel. There’s nervous anxiety–what if things don’t work out? There’s some dread–what if I discover my dreams really aren’t what God had planned or what I had hoped for? But over all this, there is excitement and trust.

Would you pray with me about this?

I need a visa–and I have a short time frame for that.

I need strength and energy as I am preparing not only for Russia but also 5 weeks in France prior to that.

I need God’s love and patience for those around me who may not understand why I am doing this. I want to treat them with honour and respect, but it can be difficult when it seems that people are putting their grimy toes on your dreams.

More than anything, please pray that I would be sensitive and obedient to God’s will in this.

more info? http://boazproject.org or email me.

 

The joys of the body

I am still wearing my head scarf as I sit here in front of this screen. It’s sort of a paradox.

We went to a Russian Orthodox Church today. I think my clothes still reek of incense. I stood for a little over 2 hours. My back aches, my shoulders feel vaguely dislocated and my feet burned by the time we left. I had no idea what was being said outside of the Lord’s Prayer that was recited in English as well as an exclamation at the end. He is Risen! I didn’t know when to cross myself or when to bow. I didn’t take communion and I didn’t kiss the crucifix. I knew no one and nothing.

I loved it.

I loved the little boy who stared at us so suspiciously with buggy eyes. I loved the way they held up the scriptures, so gilded and embellished. I loved the little girl crawling up the steps with her grandfather close behind her. I loved the way that same little girl, held by her grandmother, was crossed, had her hand kissed and hten touched an icon of a saint. I loved the way they took communion, submissive and humble. I loved the way they sang throughout the entire liturgy. I loved that all ages were together. I loved that people came in late and no one chastised, they only loved. I loved that, though they knew we were not apart of their body, they did not question us or treat us as strangers. I loved the robes, black and regal and handsome. I loved the altar boys in white with gold crosses, bowing at all times and blessing the food. I loved the garments of archpriest Alexei and the way he tugged his beard and translated at the end. I loved the respect and the awe and the reverence. I loved how it felt that stepping through the door of the cathedral was a time warp to another land, another time. I loved the pain of standing there, because there was a man leaning on his cane who never uttered a word of complaint. I loved covering my head and feeling joined to the saints of old. I loved the incense and the candles and icons and the chants and the shouts and the beauty and the joy.

and I am bursting to go to Chechnya.