Least of These
It's 3:30am in Nashville currently, but the Russia Team is in Moscow, where the local time is 12:30pm. I know they are insanely tired and ready to be here, so I've been thinking about them and praying for them a lot today. And updating everyone about which flight they are on, where they are, or how tired they must be :)
I haven't done much the past few days, but instead of feeling rested I feel drained. I think it's because I've done too little. I'm not used to being so inactive, but the people here (especially the women) sit at home a ton. Talking, eating, drinking tea, sitting...It's been great for my language progression and relationships, but horrible for my energy level and health. Another reason I'm dragging is because I need the refreshment of talking to someone in full sentences who understands me. Too much is trapped inside my head and heart. And it's no small thing for me, an introvert, to say that :)
Tonight I get to Skype with Mom (crossing my fingers the internet works!!). And even though it seems like the next 35 hours or so will be a never-ending vacuum, I know the team will be here tomorrow night with fresh energy and perspective and encouragement. And English.
Of course, if I start to feel lonely, I only have to think back to how things were last year the day before the team arrived. Sheesh. Compared to that, this year is a cakewalk.
Anyway, other than starting to fade a little, I'm doing just fine. Thankfully my stomach has been cooperating much better than last year, as well as my various allergies. I still feel the altitude and am semi-dependent on Zyrtec, but no complaints here :)
How can I complain, anyway? I'm an American. I have Nashville to go back to. I have hope and salvation. I know the Lord.
I went to a state orphanage on Thursday. You would not believe this place. It's been two whole days and I still can't form words to describe it. Usually there are 120 kids living there, but in summer only around 50. They are dirty, they barely have clothes, and the shoes on their feet are broken and two sizes too small. They don't have shampoo. They drink out of the tiniest tin cups I've ever seen. They are all stick thin and many of them have mental handicaps or are underdeveloped.
I went with Misha and Galya and some others, and they brought ice cream, new clothes, and shampoo for everyone.
One little boy said, "Why did you bring us shampoo? We already have everything we need."
Yeah.
They have no idea how the rest of the world lives. How I live.
There was a little girl who talked a lot and clung to us. When we were leaving she grabbed my arm and told me she cries every night, she misses us when we don't visit, she wants to go home with us...
She told me her birthday is July 31.
"Don't forget!"
I hugged every one of them that was near me, hugged them tight, and said goodbye. "Come again!" they all said.
When we got back in the car, the kids tried to climb in the windows and Misha had to roll them up, watching for fingers. They had smiles on their faces, but their eyes were serious. Half of them ran alongside the car as we pulled away.
Galya turned around after we were 5 minutes down the road, and tearfully asked me to help. To bring something from America. I'm not sure exactly what these people think life is like for me there, how much money they think I have, or if they know how I struggle to find the money to stay in school, much less come to Russia. It seems to me that they have a picture in their head of me being a celebrity, of me living like Paris Hilton or somebody. And the reason that bothers me so much is not because I want them to pity me, it's because I'm embarrassed of the wealth they think I have and the precious little I do with it.
I'm embarrassed that they think I'm rich, and yet give those children nothing.
The truth is, I'm not sure there's much I can do to help those orphans. Even if I were to somehow get the money to give them all new shoes, new clothes, food, toys...they would soon grow out of the clothes, they would get hungry again, they would get lonely again.
And when they turned 18, they would still leave and live on the streets somewhere, maybe as prostitutes, maybe as thieves, who knows.
The situation strikes me as completely hopeless. And yet I have to believe in hope. I have to believe God can do something. Anything. I'm just not sure what. They need the Lord, but they're not gonna care what I have to say about Him until the hunger in their bellies is gone.
So I don't know. I vacillate between wanting to not think about it at all and wanting to sell everything in my suitcase for some shoes for them.
But tomorrow there's a wedding at church, and then the team arrives, and then I need to be in camp mode. And then I'll fly back home. I don't exactly feel guilty, I just feel confused about how to live in light of what God has revealed to me here.
I haven't done much the past few days, but instead of feeling rested I feel drained. I think it's because I've done too little. I'm not used to being so inactive, but the people here (especially the women) sit at home a ton. Talking, eating, drinking tea, sitting...It's been great for my language progression and relationships, but horrible for my energy level and health. Another reason I'm dragging is because I need the refreshment of talking to someone in full sentences who understands me. Too much is trapped inside my head and heart. And it's no small thing for me, an introvert, to say that :)
Tonight I get to Skype with Mom (crossing my fingers the internet works!!). And even though it seems like the next 35 hours or so will be a never-ending vacuum, I know the team will be here tomorrow night with fresh energy and perspective and encouragement. And English.
Of course, if I start to feel lonely, I only have to think back to how things were last year the day before the team arrived. Sheesh. Compared to that, this year is a cakewalk.
Anyway, other than starting to fade a little, I'm doing just fine. Thankfully my stomach has been cooperating much better than last year, as well as my various allergies. I still feel the altitude and am semi-dependent on Zyrtec, but no complaints here :)
How can I complain, anyway? I'm an American. I have Nashville to go back to. I have hope and salvation. I know the Lord.
I went to a state orphanage on Thursday. You would not believe this place. It's been two whole days and I still can't form words to describe it. Usually there are 120 kids living there, but in summer only around 50. They are dirty, they barely have clothes, and the shoes on their feet are broken and two sizes too small. They don't have shampoo. They drink out of the tiniest tin cups I've ever seen. They are all stick thin and many of them have mental handicaps or are underdeveloped.
I went with Misha and Galya and some others, and they brought ice cream, new clothes, and shampoo for everyone.
One little boy said, "Why did you bring us shampoo? We already have everything we need."
Yeah.
They have no idea how the rest of the world lives. How I live.
There was a little girl who talked a lot and clung to us. When we were leaving she grabbed my arm and told me she cries every night, she misses us when we don't visit, she wants to go home with us...
She told me her birthday is July 31.
"Don't forget!"
I hugged every one of them that was near me, hugged them tight, and said goodbye. "Come again!" they all said.
When we got back in the car, the kids tried to climb in the windows and Misha had to roll them up, watching for fingers. They had smiles on their faces, but their eyes were serious. Half of them ran alongside the car as we pulled away.
Galya turned around after we were 5 minutes down the road, and tearfully asked me to help. To bring something from America. I'm not sure exactly what these people think life is like for me there, how much money they think I have, or if they know how I struggle to find the money to stay in school, much less come to Russia. It seems to me that they have a picture in their head of me being a celebrity, of me living like Paris Hilton or somebody. And the reason that bothers me so much is not because I want them to pity me, it's because I'm embarrassed of the wealth they think I have and the precious little I do with it.
I'm embarrassed that they think I'm rich, and yet give those children nothing.
The truth is, I'm not sure there's much I can do to help those orphans. Even if I were to somehow get the money to give them all new shoes, new clothes, food, toys...they would soon grow out of the clothes, they would get hungry again, they would get lonely again.
And when they turned 18, they would still leave and live on the streets somewhere, maybe as prostitutes, maybe as thieves, who knows.
The situation strikes me as completely hopeless. And yet I have to believe in hope. I have to believe God can do something. Anything. I'm just not sure what. They need the Lord, but they're not gonna care what I have to say about Him until the hunger in their bellies is gone.
So I don't know. I vacillate between wanting to not think about it at all and wanting to sell everything in my suitcase for some shoes for them.
But tomorrow there's a wedding at church, and then the team arrives, and then I need to be in camp mode. And then I'll fly back home. I don't exactly feel guilty, I just feel confused about how to live in light of what God has revealed to me here.
Oh, Jordan, this is heart-wrenching. I can't hardly read it for the tears in my eyes. How your heart must hurt for them as you actually see them and touch them. I do thank the Lord that you were his arms to give them hugs this week. They need that so badly so they can grow. I too struggle with how this is allowed to be. The mother heart in me wants to take them all home and love on them for a long time. But it's frustrating to know you can't do that. You are rich, Jordan. You are rich with love, the Father's love, that they all crave. You have been given much love so that you can turn around and give much out. You gave that to them, albeit for a short time. You gave. They soaked it up. I'm so glad for that. Just keep listening to Him. He'll guide you. I love you so much and can't wait to talk to you. Gotta figure out this crazy Mac world! Mom
ReplyDeleteTo them, you are rich. Think of all the money you raised to go see them... probably more than they make in a year. If you raised that money instead for food, clothing, etc., imagine how much it would provide for them. What's more important, being there or knowing they are safe and healthy?
ReplyDeletewow....its amazing reading some of these.
ReplyDeleteI truly wish that i will be able to do something like this in the future.
Aaron