Pulling People Into the Story

My favorite thing about coming back is lunch the next day with mom. 

I mean, sleeping and showering and getting back on a mountain bike are up there, too. 

But we have a tradition of mom taking off work, making me wake up from my jet lagged slumber, and listening to every single Russian detail over Mexican food. She puts important things on hold to hear my heart, the pretty and the ugly, the good and the bad. She wants to hear all the little details, see all the pictures, meet all my favorite people through my words. She knows to ask about Ina. She knows to ask about Nadya and her baby. She knows to ask how my Russian was and if I was frustrated or not. She knows everything, because ever since she watched my 15 year old self walk into an airport years ago, she's been a part of this too. She's been pulled into this world with me. 

She's gotten text messages from Russian airports where I was alone with no one to pick me up. She's gotten phone calls from Karachaevsk when I didn't know what to do for Ina, when I felt really alone, when I struggled to understand the language. She's seen the faces of hundreds of children through photographs and even tried to remember some of their names. She's a fan of theirs, like I am. 

All of the women I'm close to in Karachaevsk ask about her. How is your mom? Is she worried about you? What time is it for her at home? Is she still working? Is she coming with you next year? It's my dream to meet her next year. Will you come a few weeks early with her and stay at our house?

They love her and they don't even know her yet. I think the same is true for her. I started praying last year for them to meet, and I have a feeling Jesus has something in store to that effect...

I told mom yesterday I'm building my own Russia team for next year. I was joking, but it's half true. My two very best friends want to come. The people who helped me collect orphan clothes want to come. Mom wants to come, even if she doesn't know it yet. It's light at the end of 6 years of feeling like I was the only person on the planet in love with Russia. Maybe my old prayer is coming true and my story is starting to pull people into it. Maybe by the grace and work of God my heartbeat is starting to draw others into the same rhythm.

If I can, in my life, convince even one more American of the beauty of God's work in the Caucasus, I'll jump for joy. I have no idea what God has planned for my future, but I know these summers and this work and this language are not in vain. He is on the move, my friends. He is putting his fingerprints on the hearts of some incredible men, women, and children. He is delighting to wow us every year. He is glad to use our talents and resources to change a culture, change a generation. And I hope a few more people join Him in His work there because it is big and broad and deep, and there's nothing like including ourselves in it.