I'm thinking of the gift of long-term friendship. There have been many wonderful experiences during this step-away time. We have seen beautiful sites, shared delicious meals and enjoyed so many days together. I've told you about some great hospitality shown us in Ukraine and The Republic of Georgia. But there are new memories of old friends which keep coming to my mind in waves of appreciation. I want to share them.
When I was a child in Sunday School, we used to sing the song:
Make new friends, and keep the old.
One is silver and the other gold.
There were so very many people in Kiev that came to a reception for us. It was wonderful to spend time with them and remember what those days were like together. Two doctors (Marianna and Alexander) and their three children who are now doctors (or almost so) gave us gifts and amazingly encouraging words and renewed our relationship in their same warm way. How dear they are. Our missionaries there, Colleen and Bob Skinner, had us to dinner along with our old work mates. Bob returned us to the airport and had so many kind and encouraging words about our work.
I hope its OK to focus attention, however, on some dear friends with whom we lived and worked while serving in Ukraine some eighteen years ago.
We spent most of our time with Natasha (a faithful friend who has called me "Papa" for all eighteen years), Zena (an amazing young woman who has grown up from the delightfully spunky child we knew so long ago), her mother Svyetlana (who was our first translator and friend in Kiev and is now a pastor of our Obolone church there), Kolya, the young guy who took our children to school each day and Shelly shopping for food most days), and Vova (who also translated for us, and who pastors the first church we began in Kiev). This was most of our "A-Team" back then, and the accumulated time we spent together has forever endeared them to our hearts.
During our visit, each of these took time out of their lives--Natasha coming all the way from Germany--just to be with us. As alway when in Ukraine, we went with the idea of giving gifts, but they gave us so much more. Natasha, Zena and Svyetlana took us out to dinners. Yes plural. They showed us the new Kiev. They stayed out late and laughed and reminisced and filled us with joy. They even hired our taxis.
Kolya drove to the airport to pick us up. Vova joined him and spent days taking us through the city, and driving us (along with Natasha and Svyetlana) to a distant village to visit important new developments in the work. Vova and I had opportunity to share, not as we did in the past, but heart to heart--each of us now pastors.
I love this core group of early leaders. They gave and gave and gave to us last month, as they did "back in the day." And as I reflect upon our times together there last month, I'm feeling particularly grateful. I hope they understand how much.
Showing posts with label Kyiv. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kyiv. Show all posts
Monday, October 25, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Around the globe, and re-entering hearts.
As pastors, we sometimes find ourselves passing into a previous place of ministry. Perhaps we receive a wedding or graduation invitation from young people whom we dedicated as infants, or a phone call telling us of a tragic death or a first child born against all odds. Our worlds shift from time to time, and often, it comes as a complete surprise.
Much of my sabbatical is planned away from things that will remind me of ministry. I'm trying to rest from its rigors and emotional ups and downs. However, our first international experience of this time away comes in a place where, sixteen years ago, I left behind much of my heart.
In my first two weeks away, I have experienced the silent prayer-soaked environs of a monastery, the quiet horse-drawn-buggy-countryside of an Amish community, the hustling skyscraper-packed streets of Chicago, as well as an inner city neighborhood riddled by high crime and low expectations. But in one twenty-four hour period ending last evening, it seems like I saw all of the world in one mind numbing blur.
We drove out of the hills and forests of home, and flew from the small-town feel of Indianapolis International back into the heart of Chicago's bustle. After a shuttle ride and three hour wait, we flew through the night to Rome. Here we sat in a United Nations like terminal hearing beautiful people speaking in unknown languages; then flying off for destinations as disparate as Oslo and Sri Lanka, Frankfort and Tirana, Split and Athens, St. Petersburg and Paris. Finally, we boarded the flight to Kiev, a place we once called home.
Sometimes we travel great distances to experience cultures, visit famous places or see monuments. But this first journey of my "What would make your heart sing?" sabbatical is not that sort of pilgrimage. While Kiev (Kyiv is the more accurate--Ukrainian name) has much to see and admire, and is the birthplace of "the Rus," these are not the reason for our coming here. The reasons live in flesh, and await on this end with memories, not unlike our own.
In our first hour here, we embraced these treasures. We began what will be a week of enjoying a long-overdue reuniting with people as dear as family. These hearts and lives are as rich and deep as the sea we just flew across. Oh, how long overdue is passage into this place of past ministry?
What about the sadness I hold from our untimely departure more than sixteen years ago, the regrets of what we simply could not accomplish, and the cutting pains of stories of those who have passed-on since our days here? Well, the sweet joys and smiles that welcome us back have already cushioned the blow, and they draw our hearts deeply into the home we all share in Christ.
Much of my sabbatical is planned away from things that will remind me of ministry. I'm trying to rest from its rigors and emotional ups and downs. However, our first international experience of this time away comes in a place where, sixteen years ago, I left behind much of my heart.
In my first two weeks away, I have experienced the silent prayer-soaked environs of a monastery, the quiet horse-drawn-buggy-countryside of an Amish community, the hustling skyscraper-packed streets of Chicago, as well as an inner city neighborhood riddled by high crime and low expectations. But in one twenty-four hour period ending last evening, it seems like I saw all of the world in one mind numbing blur.
We drove out of the hills and forests of home, and flew from the small-town feel of Indianapolis International back into the heart of Chicago's bustle. After a shuttle ride and three hour wait, we flew through the night to Rome. Here we sat in a United Nations like terminal hearing beautiful people speaking in unknown languages; then flying off for destinations as disparate as Oslo and Sri Lanka, Frankfort and Tirana, Split and Athens, St. Petersburg and Paris. Finally, we boarded the flight to Kiev, a place we once called home.
Sometimes we travel great distances to experience cultures, visit famous places or see monuments. But this first journey of my "What would make your heart sing?" sabbatical is not that sort of pilgrimage. While Kiev (Kyiv is the more accurate--Ukrainian name) has much to see and admire, and is the birthplace of "the Rus," these are not the reason for our coming here. The reasons live in flesh, and await on this end with memories, not unlike our own.
In our first hour here, we embraced these treasures. We began what will be a week of enjoying a long-overdue reuniting with people as dear as family. These hearts and lives are as rich and deep as the sea we just flew across. Oh, how long overdue is passage into this place of past ministry?
What about the sadness I hold from our untimely departure more than sixteen years ago, the regrets of what we simply could not accomplish, and the cutting pains of stories of those who have passed-on since our days here? Well, the sweet joys and smiles that welcome us back have already cushioned the blow, and they draw our hearts deeply into the home we all share in Christ.
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