Call an Ambulance - No, Don't!

I woke up feeling quite normal that Friday recently in October, excited about the men's retreat I was at in a quiet suburb of the city (Father School, which originally came out of Korea). Normal wouldn't last long, though. Soon after I got to the morning prayer meeting the small of my back gave, and it suddenly hurt to just sit. I even needed help walking back to my room afterwards. By mid-morning, it was getting hard to sit still, and they got me a cot to lie on. I didn't tell Diana when she and I spoke that morning, because I figured she'd want me to come home or go to the doctor or something silly like that. I was on a retreat!

It took two guys to help me go to the bathroom though I could manage the act itself. By the end of lunch, I couldn't even walk with help, and so I knew I had to confess to Diana. Calling her was a watershed - literally. I just started to cry like a baby, not even sure why. Of course she was a wonderful encouragement, but I knew I had to leave and get help. The gu

ys gathered around my cot, all 50 or so of them, and they prayed for me through the pleas of a wise old Korean who was a father figure in this movement. I wept some more, still wondering why.

My ride arrived for me, but I couldn't even get up with help. So instead, six pall bearers took me to the van and did their best to transfer me in, but it was torture. I laugh at the memory of their pathetic but noble efforts.

The van was pastor Igor Sokolov's, which his wife Angela had brought for me, and they now were taking me back to the city. At first it seemed I would just go to a western clinic, but we started debating the options, particularly considering how much more expensive foreign hospitals are here than the local ones. I made calls, Angela made calls, and we settled on a plan that Angela's friend at [the Russian version of] 911 said would work:

We stopped near our apartment, but we couldn't go in (not only because I couldn't move, but because ambulance rules wouldn't allow) to call for an ambulance from the street. Despite the fact that there is a dispatch center literally across the street from our house, it was 15-20 minutes before one arrived, since the one closest to us doesn't serve our area. We couldn't not get am ambulance, as Russian hospitals won't take you from anything else. (!)

Now the team of 2, a man and woman, take their time trying to figure out how to transfer me to the ambulance while shivering from the cold is making my back tense up and send excruciating pain all around. They finally decided that drugs were their best bet, which cost me 5 more minutes while they waited for them to kick in. It was still torture to move me, which took them (the driver of course didn't care to help) as well as Igor and Angela and Diana. I protested that the drugs weren't working. The medic said the proof that they were was in the fact that I made it.

So now I freeze in the ambu

lance while they and Igor argue over where to take me and wait for directions from their superiors. My teammate, Bill, meanwhile, is also calling, pleading with me to not let them take me to a Russian hospital. I lost my cool at that point, unwilling to go back. My die was cast. A hospital was chosen, but not the one that the operator had promised that supposedly dealt with foreigners. So we finally left for a 45 minute putter through rush-hour traffic.

Once there I had a very nice impression of the ceilings, but Diana later told me that the rest of the interior caused the blood to leave her face. But lo and behold, almost immediately a doc came in and announced that they were transferring me to another hospital that would take my western insurance. Then another medic came in, transfered me yet again to another gurney and yet again into another ambulance, and we were off for another 45 minute ride to another part of town.

We had called for help about noon, and I finally settled into my final resting place by about 8pm that evening. But talk about a contrast: this was a super nice facility called EuroMed. I didn't get to experience the joys of Russian medical care, so everything went well from here out. It actually was a wonderful time for me. Except for my family visiting once, I was alone for the next two days, and I relished in the peace. I just prayed and relaxed, even after (on the 2nd day) I could start to move again.

Oh, and what was it? 2 herniated disks in my lower back. They stopped the pain and reduced the inflammation. Their recommendation: massage, swimming, and/or acupuncture. I think I'll try all three!

What is this strange feeling?

When the kids all trooped out the door with backpacks at 7:45 a.m. one day this September I was left on our inside stairs staring at the closed door with a strange feeling. What was it? Oh, yes, I was alone -- with nobody to teach!! For the first time since the summer I was pregnant with Lydia I had nobody to teach. How did this happen?

We are planning our first furlough in November, and with just a couple months of the school year before we leave, Lyle, Lydia, and I had been discussing Lydia going to Russian school with the boys during this time. I considered it a "minimester" that so many colleges offer where students take a short course in between the regular semesters. This idea percolated over the summer, and we saw several benefits.

1. Language improvement. While Lydia speaks and understands very well, her formal writing and reading need work.
2. Safe environment. We know many of the staff and students from church, and the school is small.
3. A defined length of time before returning to the US and to homeschooling.
4. I was leading teacher training in Indonesia during the first two weeks of September. Having the kids all in school would give Lyle more time for our usual ministry events.
5. Lydia could cement some of her budding friendships with the kids who attend our church.

Lydia decided she wanted to give this experience a try. She was ready with backpack, notebooks, and, most importantly for a Russian student -- blue pens. (Seriously, they do everything in blue pen.) All the kids participated in the First Bell celebration, which is always September 1 throughout Russia. On September 2 I left for Indonesia -- the very first day of school! I checked-in with the kids from the airport awaiting my flight. What kind of a mother am I? Each night I got an update about the school day via Skype. It was rough going at first on a number of fronts, and I was pretty sure Lydia would opt to return to homeschooling when I returned. Even Lydia hinted that this experience might be short-lived.

Oh, I must also mention that I am taking a sabbatical year from teaching online for the Potter's School where I have taught for the past eight years! Our furlough travels would not allow for me to stay sane and continue that this year. I also did not renew my teaching at the orphanage down the street for the same reasons. The kids there need a consistency I can not provide this year.

So, I returned home from Indonesia expecting AT LEAST to be homeschool mom again. Suprise! Lydia decided to tough it out at school! We are thrilled with her maturity and realize the grace God has given her to face some steep adversity. This left me...alone. Even though we have our homeschool day on Monday, and Wednesday is my Russian lesson, I have 3 days where I do not have a long-standing commitment. It's weird. Really weird.

At first I actually felt PANIC. What do I do? I must be forgetting something! What should I prepare?
I felt irritated. I felt sad. I felt useless. All within the first few minutes of their departure. I headed to the bathroom.

From our bathroom basket of books, I picked up Hope Rising by Kim Meeder -- a compilation of vignettes about Crystal Peeks in Oregon -- a recovery ranch for hurt and neglected horses and for neglecting, hurting children coming there as a kind of therapy. As I cried my way through the first few chapters, I wondered why this book touched me so much. I realized the focus on healing emotional pains had struck a chord. But why? I'm not abused or neglected.

Ah, but God is so good and so gentle. He has led me into a time of reflection that I could not have had if there were kids to teach, lessons to plan, and papers to grade. It is a time for the Lord to teach me in these few quiet hours before the bedlam of furlough. No, I'm not abused or neglected by any person, but life in Russia takes its toll physically, emotionally, and mentally. Now I fight back the tasks that are creeping into my quiet times so that I can continue the lessons with the Lord as my ultimate teacher.

Raising up Husband leaders

I had the joy of being able to start a "class" this summer for husbands, centered around a study I wrote a few years ago that I called, "On Becoming Mr. Ephesians." 25 men from 5 different churches came to participate. We started with a viewing of "Fireproof," which didn't fail to move the men to tears. From there, we broke into groups, where they discussed the first several (of 30 total) topics, all based on Eph. 5:25-32. By the end of the day, all were ready to commit to finishing the study by doing the work alone, with a partner, and in small groups.

Summer has complicated things for some, so I ask for prayers that they would all finish, but I got this from one wife recently:

"I love how he is changing. He has become a lot more attentive, soft, and caring. I think it's completely a result of the material he is covering."

My aim is to get a few guys finished by the fall who will become group leaders for a second round. Pray for God to raise them up!

Year two at the orphanage

I (Diana) have gone from tutoring English one afternoon a week to two days this school year at the orphanage that is near our apartment. This year was about getting to know the kids and staff more and more. Building trust with anybody takes time, but Russians are wary by nature and slow to accept. Russian orphans have the double whammy of the cultural mistrust in addition to their abandonment. I knew I had to be as consistent as possible and show up even when I felt poorly.

Let's start at the door. The vachtas -- security -- are older ladies who guard the entry way for all their worth, and all know me by now enough to remember my name to write in the visitor's book. They even know I want the key to kabinet 202. We sometimes make small talk, and usually I get a smile out of them. My favorite is a sweet babushka with brightly-dyed red hair who reminds me of Beatrix Potter's Mrs. Tiggey-winkle. She bobs her head and shuffles around to get my key.

With key in hand, I head up to the 2nd floor passing several resident kids on the way. They all know me by now and practice saying "Hello". That's about as far as they can manage, but I always stop to ask about what they did that day. In fact, as a wait in my room for my "tutorees" to come, a few little boys have taken to stop in and chat. We usually talk about soccer. My heart has grown for these little guys, as they are child-like still and eagerly seeking attention. Whereas the older teens I tutor have no problem showing their contempt for English lessons and the inconvenience I bring to their ordered lives. One day I was hunting down 14-year-old Masha on her residence floor (I now have free reign to roam the halls), when a gaggle of boys gathered their courage to ask me if I was French. LOL. That was new to me. When I explained that I was American, they just stared. "Is that okay?, " I asked them. "Oh, yes, it's fine," they answered. Then they wanted to know about Lydia who shadows me. :)

Not only do the other residents know me, but the vaspitateli -- resident counselors or "moms" -- for each group now readily greet me. Okay, sometimes they are pretty gruff, but they accept my roaming the halls and do what they can to track down wayward students. So, where are my reluctant students? Off smoking somewhere usually.

Updates on 3 of my students -- Andrei, Masha, and Natasha:

Once Lydia and I settle into room 202, the kids start filtering through in 30-minute increments. Once I separated the girls into one-on-one sessions (they were beating each other up when together), the learning atmosphere improved greatly. The boys, Dima and Andrei, have always behaved well together, but 16-year-old Andrei tugs on my heartstrings the most. Dima is often ill, so Andrei and I play games and work on vocabulary associated with that game. His favorite activity was simply drawing cards on which I had written questions, such as "What is your favorite kind of music?" I was surprised how much he gravitated to this considering his language is very weak, and he's a hoodlum of sorts around the orphanage.

Masha, 14, has been with me for two years now. She has her mood swings from desparately seeking attention to snarling at me. I just smile and laugh to get her to crack a smile. Just when I think she's ready to bolt out the door when her lesson is over, she hangs on and on, so I know she appreciates the attention. Masha has taught me to press into a relationship to find the nuggets worth savoring. I have the tendency to "move on" when somebody is not immediately receptive to me, but I had to work at my relationship with Masha to build that trust. The reward is Masha actually attempting some English. Two years ago she refused to try.

Natasha, 15, is very unpredictable. Most days she growls at me until about half-way through the lesson when she decides to get to work and look me in the eyes. Like with Masha, I have know her for two years and must show her my tenacity by hunting her down for lessons and showing her that I'm not going anywhere. Trust me. At Easter I asked if she went to church service, she spat, "oh, lord, no!". And the "lord" was not used reverently. I fear for her future. She has little capacity to consider life outside her childish adolescence and has never understood that she has worth. I could describe most kids at the orphanage this way, but Natasha seems to carry a heavier burden than most.

These are 3 of my 6 regulars. They occupy a lot of my brain space and have taught me much about reaching across cultural, language, and relational barriers.

What about sharing the gospel with them? I don't yet have permission to go that far with the kids. But on the other hand, they haven't forbid anything either. After Easter, I asked 15-year-old Vika about the meaning of Easter when I learned that she had been to an Orthodox church, and she told me an interesting combination of truth and myth. I corrected her on the myths, but it didn't go much further. I don't have a lot of time with the kids, but I'm slowly building relationships and trust -- and in Russian orphan culture, that is foundational. Once, we invited Natasha and Masha over to our apartment during a break, and we hope to do more of that next school year, maybe in a group setting. Then we'll have more time and opportunity. I also know that the stress of life right now has me in a place to be cautious about new ventures, though. This is an item for prayer.

I hope to continue with them in the fall in any event. The assistant director, with whom I have the most contact, understands that the kids and I have found common ground. And what better to do with ground, but build on it.

Kicking in the Gates

The madness leading up to our being able to turn in the paperwork for our application for temporary residence was stressful and taxing. As I reported here in detail, the whole three month ordeal took 60 hours of my time. I considered our first year of life a learning curve equivalent to a masters degree. This was a second one.

If they grant TR to us, however, it will all be worth it - three years of relative peace, without having to worry about visas, registrations, or leaving periodically. Beyond the practical lessons, however, was one God moment worth highlighting. Although it was only on the third visit to the Federal Immigration Service that they accepted our applications, the breakthrough came on the second visit:

Between the 1st and 2nd visits we had to have a miracle of speed - produce, among other things, authenticated birth certificates from Virginia in 15 days. What our $128 speedy delivery service said would take 15-19 days (plus international delivery)came down to the wire. I picked up the FedEx pakage the morning of our appointment, rushed it to the translation office, and then over to Immigration in time to meet Diana for our appointment at 2pm.

We stood there with the crowd outside the high sheet metal fence and gates around the compound, waiting for them to let us in. Right at 2pm, the guard started to open the gate, but it was stuck for some reason. He climbed up and stuck his head over the top and called out, asking if someone would kick it open. I was the nearest man, so I gave it a kick. (How I wish we had had a camera!) "Harder," some encouraged me. Again. "Even harder." I gave it a mighty blow, and it blew open. Immediately I thought of Jesus' words: "and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." I knew it was a sign that God was giving us access to Russia, probably at a more profound level than we know.

What I didn't think about was the fact that it took three blows. After our third and final appointment, I saw the connection. This caused me to reflect as well on my heart when I was actually trying to kick the gate in. The first time, I expected it to be easy. That was naive. The second time, I thought that extra energy would do the trick. That was foolish. The third time, I got an attitude towards the gate. That was God.

You see, I had felt that God had already given me an inner conviction that He was making the way for us, so I really should have taken this opportunity to make a bold declaration of God's intent to overrun the gates of the enemy's stronghold in Russia. How often do you have a government official asking you to "kick their gates in"? But God knew where my faith was, and yet He is still faithful.

Transformational Questions

A former client sent me in the middle of letter a very kind testimony to how she was impacted by our time together several years ago:

A marked difference for me since we last met [5 years ago] ... it's totally normal for me to feel in constant prayer. Is this normal? I feel it is. And since [Paul] tells us to "pray without ceasing" I assume this is what it might look like? It's as though there's a running commentary with God going on all the time in this brain of mine. Because of this, it seems as though I'm able to ask quicker of God, think more, and look for clarity on an ongoing basis rather than at just specific times.

I asked this her to elaborate more on how questions were formative for her in that process.
Although her answer is more testimony, my point is not to point to my work with this client and how it impacted her. Rather, I want you to be encouraged to see the value of asking loving but penetrating questions in relationships with others is a critical component of discipleship. Ask yourself as you read this person's testimony, "to what extent do my conversations with others around me carry elements of these kinds of questions?"

1- of course questions were a significant part of the process for me. I feel as though questions were the process. Since you were willing to ask the tough questions and go past surface answers, I was able to do so as well. If questions of what God was doing, were/are we going in God's direction, etc. are not asked by trusted confidants, then how do we grow?

2- Because questions remain pivotal in my life today, I can ask them of myself and God. I'm willing and able, fully able to trust that when I ask a question like "God, I'm not sure what the next step is regarding needing to move out of our house. Do we try to stay? Do we sell everything? Do we just wait and sit on our hands?" And when God answers with something like, "You don't need this 'stuff'" I can't get upset with Him, I did ask after all. So learning how to ask questions, any question, and then taking the answer and acting-I've learned that's part of this whole life process, acting. You can be shown how to ask a question (that it's ok to do so) and I think that's something you modeled for me...asking specific questions about specific topics and not shying away from the toughness that is life. But I also learned that we'll get answers. And your guidance showed me that we are required to be obedient to those answers, whatever they are. We did ask after all.

3- Passing it onto others? Here we go, the first thing that pops into my head is a girl at a former church who I gave a ride home after every Girls' Night. (I used to lead this on Monday nights for youth aged girls-bible study, relating, figuring out scripture alongside them, living life etc.) She had a major distrust of many people and we often got in deeper discussions on the car ride home than we had miles to her house. So we'd sit and talk in her driveway. She'd ask questions of me "is it normal to feel _____" and so we'd chat. Or "H-, I hate that this happened and now..." But because I was willing to listen to her and the leading of the Holy Spirit at the same time, I feel it was easier to then ask questions of her. It took gaining her trust, the same way others have had to do of me, in order for her to be open to even questioning in the first place. But recalling how you were patient and yet firm at asking questions when perhaps I didn't want to play, helped me help her. By questioning with others and dialoging that way with God, I think we're able to better see what it is He's wanting us to do...usually to move in a closer relationship with Him.

By the way, at #3 where I said the first thing that popped to my mind...that's something else you showed me. That if we're in tune with God's leading, and if we're constantly seeking Him, and praying continually, the thoughts of your brain really aren't just "your" thoughts. I knew that even as I doubted whether that story was the one to use, it was the one to use. Remember those times we'd pray in your office and ask God to show us where to move next, what to talk about next, to show me what needed to be brought up? We asked these questions. And He never failed. We always had a clear direction to follow, even if I didn't always want to participate...yet through obedience I would. I knew that He wanted it and because you were willing to continue asking of me and continue pushing (in a good way of course) I'd become that willing participant. Some days were not easy, as the questions were tough and the answers even tougher. But because we would ask of Him where to go, what to say, what I needed to see, etc. we were able to move forward and keep working.

My first short-term team

Nothing gets a person's mission juices flowing like actually doing a mission project. In my correspondence with our supporting churches, I constantly remind them that we are ready to help them organize a short-term project that suits their desires and parameters. Meanwhile, I got to help with a team of high-school kids who came here recently from the most famous mission school in the world: the Black Forest Academy.

The purpose of the week was to expose these kids to orphan ministry and to partner them with the local mission school - the International Academy of St. Petersburg. Leadership from the I.A. initially contacted me for ideas about where they could serve, and I turned them on to the real experts here locally for short-term work with orphans: MIR. But then I also offered my services to do what I love to do: help people dig deeper and listen to what God is doing in a situation. And they were more than happy for my help.

My roles boiled down to two: help them get ready for their ministry, and then help them gleen meaning and purpose in and after ministry. Twelve high school students from each school spent a week here in one of the best orphanages the city has to offer: #9. The orphanage Diana and I work in is pretty nice by Russia standards, but this one is even better. The facility is clean and somewhat modern; the kids are well-attended to, and they offer lots of good programing. Of course, earthly and heavenly parents are missing, but these are incidentals, right?

I had two hours to get the two teams to bond, learn about orphan life, and gain some spiritual underpinnings for the week on the first night the kids from Germany arrived. Here is how I used the time:

1. To break the ice and start forming teams (Diana gets the credit for this idea) I brought in all kinds of dessert-potential ingredients. The kids were put into 6 teams and given the task of creating a dessert out of what was on the table. They had to negotiate with other teams for ingredients, and they had to create something that was both tasty and attractive. It was a hit.
   
2. Before the start of the week I had sent them all a document on orphans and orphanages that the director of a local ministry wrote. With this background knowledge in mind, I organized an orphanage simulation experience for them. I felt like this idea was divinely inspired, though almost no one I told about it in advance understood what I had in mind. It took a lot of time to think up all the roles and write them out, including interviewing people like a psychologist to make them somewhat realistic. The idea was to simulate a day in the life of an orphanage, giving roles to the kids from the director down to residents. Almost everyone had a specific task to complete so that they would have to interact with others, creating somewhat controlled chaos. Of course the whole thing hinged on the willingness of the kids to actually get into their roles and make something of them. It was a glorious success. In fact, some later told me they were nervous about going into the orphanage afterwards, and were pleasantly surprised to see that it was not so bad as they had feared. Afterwards we processed it, including the deaths of two people, the work of the mysterious "Spirit of Death" that I had planted in the mix, and how it felt to actually play an orphan. I'll definitely be using that one again.
3. Then I helped guide them through a series of small-group prayer time for the week ahead.
   

On two other evenings, half-way through the week, and then at the end of the ministry time, I led the processing of what they had experienced. These were questions like: what are you learning about how God has built and called you? What is happening in your heart? What could you do to be bolder? How is the Kingdom being impacted this week?

The kids seemed to respond, but I honestly expect that most of the "aha" moments will come after they get home, and even years from now. This is the ministry of seed planting.