Pictures that are worth 1000 words

I have gotten a lot of pictures lately from the guys on my team, and I thought I would let you guys in on some of the finer parts of life here. I hope you enjoy!!

That, my friends, is the Central Asian hamburger. Sure it looks a little funny, and it tastes a little like grass, but covered in cheese, tomato, and bar-be-que sauce and you've got a pretty tasty little meal!

So you think you can dance? This is me showing off my killer dance moves!

This picture, even though it was taken on the train, really sums up many of my experiences. It says, " How in the world did i find myself in this situation at this time?"

Kool Aid definitely tastes better in Central Asia! Especially tropical punch Kool Aid.

And finally, Jon trying to kiss the camel. Please notice that the camel isnt really interested. Sorry Jon Jon!

No one will believe, even if they saw it with their own eyes

I love my job. Daily, if not hourly, I find myself in a situation that makes me laugh, usually because it is a situation that I NEVER thought that I would be in. Let me warn you though; some of these things might not be amazing to you, but they should be :)
Here are some examples from the last few days.
1. I'm staying with some friends for a few days in a neighboring country, and this morning, bright and early, their milk lady came to bring them some milk. I thought it was like we had in KZ, that they buy it from a lady who sells the bags. But nope, the lady milks her cow, then brings the just from the cow milk to their house. Sarah then has to pastuerize it and then they have milk. For some reason, that cracked me up! They actually get their milk straight from the cow!
2. Today, I was with some friends and one of them remarked, " Its really strange when the things that you saw in movies growing up shift and become a real part of your life." She was talking about the mafia presence in most countries around here, and how it is easy to pick them out because of their nice cars, fancy clothes, chain smoking, etc...
3. I flew on a plane yesterday that was definitely built before anyone reading this blog was alive. It was incredible. Here is my journal entry. Enjoy, and be glad you didnt have to ride on this thing.
" I want to remember every part of this ride.. it is that good! As I start to write, my pen is jarred back and forth; because the distance between me and the air is relatively small. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that I could cit a hole through the wall with a butter knife.
I'm sitting in a chair that is also remarkable. First, it leans all the way forward, so if you want a bed, you just put your feet on the back of the chair in front of you. It is covered in this intensly hideous fabric that is older in age and style than my grandparents.
The floors- yup, they are bright green; they almost resemble the fake grass that a McDonalds playland boasts. The fabric covering the "seats/beds" is also incredible. It had flowers on it, blue and green ones, but the material was definitely the same that many people use for curtains. Oh, and there are actual curtains in the windows, pretty, lacy, white ones... or at least they were pretty and white when they were hung in the mid 1950's. "
It was just funny. Life presents so many opportunities to laugh. I hope that I take them!

Days Go By...

A year ago I was stepping off the plane. I had said goodbye to people that loved me, places that were familiar to me, a language that I could speak. I stepped off into a land that I knew nothing about. It ws then a land that was dark and scary. People looked different, smelled different, ate things that didnt seem edible. They didnt seem to smile, they had no joy, they were just their work, their hardships, their struggle. And I was a bleary-eyed American girl, who had been told forever that she could do anything in the world that she wanted to do.
I was such a little girl then. I didnt have a clue about things like paying bills, handling emergency situations, even simple things like grocery shopping or knowing how to cook baffled me. But I was forced to grow up; and grow up I have, in a way that I never would have imagined.
I've learned volumes about obedience, about the expense of it; about trust, about God's faithfulness always. I've been on two different teams, in two cities, in three apartments. I've endured several floods and a small fire, plus countless cultural mistakes. I've learned to smile through the tears, to laugh at the things that would have previously crippled me, to enjoy the quiet solitude that comes from a peace that really can surpass all understanding. I've honed my cooking skills, my bargaining skills, my hospitality skills, and my people skills. No part of who I am has been untouched; I have been held in the fire past my burning point, but no longer than our precious Father wanted to keep me there.
ALl of that to say, I wouldnt change one second of it... Here's to the year of my life... and the promise of another to come.
Paca

Days Go By...

A year ago I was stepping off the plane. I had said goodbye to people that loved me, places that were familiar to me, a language that I could speak. I stepped off into a land that I knew nothing about. It ws then a land that was dark and scary. People looked different, smelled different, ate things that didnt seem edible. They didnt seem to smile, they had no joy, they were just their work, their hardships, their struggle. And I was a bleary-eyed American girl, who had been told forever that she could do anything in the world that she wanted to do.
I was such a little girl then. I didnt have a clue about things like paying bills, handling emergency situations, even simple things like grocery shopping or knowing how to cook baffled me. But I was forced to grow up; and grow up I have, in a way that I never would have imagined.
I've learned volumes about obedience, about the expense of it; about trust, about God's faithfulness always. I've been on two different teams, in two cities, in three apartments. I've endured several floods and a small fire, plus countless cultural mistakes. I've learned to smile through the tears, to laugh at the things that would have previously crippled me, to enjoy the quiet solitude that comes from a peace that really can surpass all understanding. I've honed my cooking skills, my bargaining skills, my hospitality skills, and my people skills. No part of who I am has been untouched; I have been held in the fire past my burning point, but no longer than our precious Father wanted to keep me there.
ALl of that to say, I wouldnt change one second of it... Here's to the year of my life... and the promise of another to come.
Paca

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Skiing... Kazakh style

So off to the mountain we went... The mountain had a lot of potential. It was beautiful. We asked until we found the ski rental place, and were directed to a literal hole in the wall. Inside held skis that could have been made before I was born (ok, they werent THAT old). We got our boots and skis and then asked about the runs. They told us they were just up the hill; and I got suspicious when I saw a rope attached to a pulley. People were hanging on to this rope and being pulled up the mountain. That was the lift!
The view from the top. nice huh?

We took our place with about 5 more skiers to travel up the mountain. We couldnt quite see up to the top, but 200 meters later we were at the top of the only run that "little Switzerland" had to offer!! It was hysterical. Of course, I had trouble with my skis and bindings, but after several readjustments, and many times of chasing my ski down the mountain after it would fall off without reason, we were ready to get this ski day underway. Okay, think about when you were little and you would pretend you were riding your bike really fast, but you were really just going a little faster than slow.... Thats what skiing was like! No matter how well you started, you were going to slow down quite considerably by the bottom! We figured out pretty soon that we were going to have to make this fun! Jon found a trail down the backside of the mountain that had several "jumps" on it, and we made the most of those; jumping and laughing and just generally perpetuating the stereotype that the world has about Americans!
The guys at the top of the mountain!

Jon relaxing at the top of the mountain while Phil watches in bewilderment!

The day was really fun! We skied as much as we could down ONE RUN and then we called it a day. We spent the rest of the night until our train came drinking tea, eating shashlik (a kind of barbeque here) and listening to the loud rap and hip/hop music that magically comes on whenever we as Americans walk into a cafe! I think I drank enough tea to float away. The best part of the day by far though, was the time I got to spend with Phil and Jon. We finally made it back about midnight last night, after a loud 3 hr train ride back. I was past tired, but I would do it again in a second! Good job guys- that was fun!

"Little Switzerland"

I definitely underestimate the country that I live in most of the time. Living in the flat, Siberian cold, capital city, I often forget that the entire country doesnt look like new construction, dirt, snow and slush, and a lack of trees or anything green! Yesterday, I had the chance to break out of this place for a few hours, 18 hours to be exact, with two of my teammates. Jon, who is quite an adventuresome guy, decided that we all needed to go skiing in "Little Switzerland" for a day. He knew that they had a place to ski in this city, and he also knew that we needed to buy tickets for the train.... That was about all the information that he had! But he is a convincing guy, and soon Phil and I had agreed to join him on this little day of alpine fun.
Our train left at 6:45, so that meant a 6:00 departure time for us. Unfortunately, none of us are morning people, so my wake-up call from the guys that came at 5:55 didnt leave me much time to put myself together. Luckily I remembered my passport, something I dont always do. The taxi driver I had hired was actually on time, so by 6:10 we were on our way! The train, which is quickly becoming my favorite mode of transportation, took 3 hours. I'm not sure what I expected when I got off, but I should have been prepared for a little chaos outside the train station. See, we really didnt have any idea what we were doing, nor did we have an idea how to get where we wanted to go. After a bit of haggling, we got a Russian guy named Sasha to drive us to his favorite cafe in town. Well, guess what, cafes arent open at 10:00 in the morning, so we were stuck with this strange little Russian guy in his Volkswagen. Our communication was very poor, partly due to the fact that our Russian isnt super wonderful and partly due to the fact that he wasnt really listening to what we wanted to do, and after a bit of driving around unnecessarily, we arrive at a hotel. He has decided that we must get a room; no amount of talking can convince him that we dont want a room... So we pay him and go in the hotel... We just dont need a room though! The highlight of that car ride was that Queen's We Will Rock You came on, and he obliged us by blaring that song as Jon played the drums on the dashboard and I laughed hysterically in the back!
While at the hotel, we find out what we had started to expect- that you couldnt ski in the place we were. Luckily, the ski area was just 40 or so kilometers away. So we get another taxi and start the drive up the "mountain". Now, remember that few things here actually are beautiful. Mostly I look at old Soviet things and new, modern, weird things. This place was beautiful. Stay tuned for the rest of our trip... It really gets good when we get to the "ski lift"!!

Prayer... Raise the Bar

Because of a series of events that have challenged my faith beyond the point I thought I could be challenged, I have really come to understand the exhortations from Scripture about praying with confidence and according to God's will. When I first moved overseas, I understood the idea that prayer was central to the work that we were doing, but my prayers tended to focus on things that were nothing out of the ordinary for God.
For instance, I would ask for things like protection when I was in a taxi, or grace and memory during a language lesson, or a time of conversation with a neighbor. Please dont hear me saying that these are bad things to ask for, because they are not; but in the last few months I have really begun to ask HIM for things that are outside my normal "prayer box". Things that seem like I am asking for too much, for too big!
Here is the thing though; they havent been too big for the Lord. They havent been to much, or too hard to handle, or even too full of audacity for the Creator of the universe. Instead, a neat thing has happened. As I have taken things before the throne, I have noticed a confidence that has invaded my conversations with Him. He has taken my requests, and made them grand, answering them in ways that only the Lord can answer. He has begun to weave story after story after story in my life that speaks of the grandness of God; but more than that, He has ignited in me a desire to ask for those big things, to almost dare God to work in a big way! I want to see the big things happen, not only in terms of hundreds of people coming to know Him, but in terms of one person taking one step closer to knowing the truth. I think it has a lot to do with perspective.
There is something else that I have learned lately. I learned it through this story. I was recently told that I had to move out of my apartment. This was frustrating to me for several reasons: that I was having to move again, and I felt like I was having to start over with new relationships and that I had to leave behind my neighbors, who have become like family to me. I was whining about this to a teammate, who is like a mom to me here, and she said this. It was really very simple.
She said, "Emily, have you ever thought to pray that God would move someone else in behind you, a local believer, who could pick up where you left off and move your neighbors closer to the cross?" NO!!! Of course I hadnt thought to pray that. In fact, I was a little insulted that she would even ask me to pray something like that! Why shouldnt I be the one that moved these people closer to the cross? NOt someone else.. I cant trust my precious neighbors with someone I dont even know!
Ahhh, but the perspective in Teri's words to me was so good. Pray something so far removed from yourself; pray something that is bigger than your limited, fleshly perspective! Oh how the situation changed when I began to see it in terms of something God was doing for His glory! And how I want to have that perspective all the time.
So raise the bar guys... I think that God wants something so much more than we often bring to Him. Paca

Betting

So most of you that are reading know that I have the propensity for getting myself into a little bit of trouble. Or at least, putting my foot in my mouth. I like to set things up so that I win, or at least come out ahead of the other people who are involved. I know that sounds terrible, but its true. I often do things without being completely informed about the thing I am discussing, challenging, or betting on. The following is an example.

I made a bet with Phil, a teammate here, at the beginning of the winter. Here is the bet: If I didnt fall all winter, then he owed me sushi. If I fell, but managed to pull him down with me, he owed me sushi.

I thought this was a win win situation. I didnt have a full understanding of a winter in KZ, or a winter in which a scarf is more than a fashion accessory. I thought that people would fall maybe once or twice during the winter, but those of us with superior balance and coordination wouldnt fall at all. So I went into this feeling pretty confident about my chances of collecting some GOOD sushi with this bet!

I made it through Christmas with no falls. My opponent, Phil, fell 5, thats right, 5 times, up until that point. Here is where I underestimated the competition. I thought surely, I would at least collect on some sushi over the holiday break, because I hadnt fallen at all.. and he had fallen 5 Times! But he stood fast- the winter isnt over, he chided.

Fast forward a few weeks later. We are getting on the bus, which by the way, was not my idea, when a patch of ice falls from the sky and trips me. I fall right down at the door to the bus, half afraid that the thing is going to start moving and run me over. I am paralyzed with laughter; no amount of struggling is going to get me up. Phil happens to be with me and pulls me up.

I want something to be very clear here. I had an opportunity to pull him down; to drag him under the bus with me, but I didnt do it. Why is that? you might be asking. I didnt pull him down because I am merciful! Thats right... I sacrificed the bet, the chance to eat free sushi, for another man's life!

Here is the pitiful thing about all of this. He doesnt see it my way. He still contends that he is winning, because not only did I fall, but I failed in my attempts to pull him down too. Since this day, I have fallen two more times, but I am still two falls away from his record of 5.

I think he can be convinced; but I need your help. If you are in favor of me still winning the bet, please make a comment on here. If you arent, please dont comment, as I want this to be as one sided as possible!

If you cant make it to Mecca...

Its cold here, really cold, so on a whim, I asked my language teacher if she would take us (her students) to her husbands home town, a city in the South of KZ. I didnt think she would say yes, and I didnt think that my teammates would go for it, but only three days after I mentioned this, we were on our way to Turkistan. This is an interesting city. Ancient in lifespan, it sits in the southern part of a country where Islam has become nominal at its greatest. The city is built around an ancient mausoleum; the tradition is that for those Muslims that cannot make it to Mecca for their hajj, that they can actually make two trips to this place, and that will be sufficient. I had seen pictures of this place before, but I was not ready for the intricate beauty that this old building held. We were not allowed to take pictures inside, but I will try to paint a picture. People filing in, placing money in the alms bins, rubbing the walls of the tombs, praying at the tombs to the people in the graves; there was such a reverence and worship there. It was eerie. There was also such a spirit of evil, of bondage. What a picture the Lord gave me of a faith that is based on nothing that is eternal. Those heroes of the Islamic faith, or at least of the Kazakh tradition, are in the grave. They arent going anywhere; nor is there any work left for them to do. How different is that from the man who defeated death and the grave! If you ever get a chance to go to a mosque or a mausoleum, please take it. It will change the way that you intercede on the behalf of millions of people who hate everything you stand for.

I couldnt resist putting this picture on here. Here we are again, cramped in the backseat of a car; with our winter warmest. I think we could have fit one more person!

Thats right... an entire city built out of ice!

For a Southern girl like me, there is nothing stranger than snow and ice. Having seen it a total of three or four times while growing up in Shreveport (not counting trips to Colorado to ski), the thought of it every day is quite exciting. I still get giddy when I see fresh flakes falling, and every new snow provides the temptation of a snow angel or a snowball fight. Anyway, they have this thing here called "Ice City". It is an entire "city" built out of bricks of ice. It is pretty incredible. There are statues, houses and castles, and my favorite, slides made of ice for sledding.

We are on the way to Ice City! There are so many of us crammed into that Jeep. The winter clothes dont help.

People actually fling themlseves down this thing. I have no idea what the appeal is, as it scared me to death. Its cool to see though.

This is my sweet little team, minus Steph. Arent we a sight? From left: Jon, Jake, Em, Phil, Scott

Jenn and I, imitating the sculpture. We need a lot of work. I'm trying not to fall at this point.

Well, Christmas came and has gone! Along with 3 HUGE plastic tubs filled with more food and goodies than we will be able to eat in a year (or maybe a few months), Santa Claus also brought my family to KZ. Mom, Dad, and Jenn all made the 32 hr trip across three continents to spend about three weeks here. They got to see where I live, who I love, and experience the sickness and uneasiness that comes with eating way too much food at local people's houses! While I know my mother would love me to recount every story from their time here, I'm only going to share my favorite.

It happened is Astana, during one of our "church" times. My fam, along with my team leader, sat in with us during our time. Usually we sing, read, study and discuss the Book, and lift each other up. We had a time of singing where we could request songs. I requested Victory in Jesus, mainly because of my dad. It is his favorite hymn, and I have many memories of him singing that old hymn to me on the swing set in our back yard. Now, we have sung that song together many times in my life, but something about singing about the thing that so many here dont understand was incredible. It was so sweet. Thanks Dad; for a memory was worth more than buying swords, stuffing our faces, or rearranging my house!
Enjoy the pictures!!

Mom and Dad on their first day in country. They look pretty good for no sleep and a hot water shortage! Mom's fur coat made us laugh the entire time. It seemed like the outfit grew each time we left the house. If we wanted to leave, we told Mom to start getting ready about 20 minutes before we started to leave!

Me and Jenn when we did Christmas with the other JMEN.

The hats! They had a mind of their own. But leaving the house without one is a no no here. I'm not sure what we were doing!
Jenn and I inside the fake mosque at a tourist attraction here. Notice that my head is covered; I'm trying to be a good Muslim!
Jenn and I at the most famous attraction in Astana. It has an incredible view of the city! Check out the winter garb. So many clothes; and yes, they have to be put on EVERY TIME you leave the house!

They call me a wanderer

I have spent a lot of time in the past month travelling. I have been to several cities, and on many VERY LONG train rides. The best thing that has come from these trips, besides getting to see some parts of KZ that I have never seen before, was the time that I got to spend listening to music. I have always loved music, thanks to people in my life while I was growing up that thought it important, but lately, the lyrics to hymns, praise songs, and just songs written for the purpose of personal worship have spoken deeply and strongly to my heart. Here are a few of my favorites lately. I'm including only snipets. As you read these, let them really sink in. Its good stuff.

" Great is thy faithfulness! All I have needed THY hand HAS provided! ... A peace that endureth; thine own sweet presence to cheer and to guide"

Great is Thy Faithfulness

"A life you cannot define, a purpose thats benign. They need to see and believe, be led to the rugged tree. An unfair deal on the part of Christ: He got my sin, I got eternal life. Make me the breath of God."

Breath of God- Shane and Shane

"In Christ Alone, my hope is found. He is my life, my strength, my song. This cornerstone, this solid ground; firm through the fiercest drought and storm. In Christ alone, who took on flesh, fullness of God in helpless babe; this gift of love and righteousness, scorned by the ones He came of save. There in the ground his body lay, light of the world by darkness slain; then bursting forth in glorious day; UP FROM THE GRAVE HE ROSE AGAIN! And as He stands in VICTORY, sins curse has lost its grip on me. For I am His and He is mine- Bought with the precious blood of Christ. No power of hell nor scheme of man can ever pluck me from His hand. Til He returns or calls me home. Here in the palm of Christ I stand."

In Christ Alone- Avalon

"My chains are gone; I've been set free. My God My Savior has ransomed me. And like a flood, His mercy reigns, Unending love, amazing grace! The Lord has promised good to me, His Word, my hope, secures. He will my share and portion be as long as life endures"

My Chains are Gone (sung with Amazing Grace)- Chris Tomlim

And finally, this has become my favorite song of the hour. I have no idea why this one wins the award today, but something about the way this man sings Hallelujah makes me wants to stand with the angels up there and belt it out with him. Here are the words. I encourage you to find it for yourself though, and at least give it a listen. It is GOOD! Please find this song. The mere words on this page dont do it justice.

"There's a man in on corner and his clothes are worn And he's holding out his hand You could see in his eyes as the people walk by He knows they don't understand Ya see they just think he's gonna take their money And go and spend it all on dope Then a man stopped by and I saw a smile inside As he gently whispered hope Well the tramp started to cry, just kept saying, "Why? why? why? Could you see I'm a dying tonight Well I'm 32 and I've got this one pair of shoes And a bad taste in my mouth I think it's clear to see that even God don't love me Or else why would He leave me this way." Then Gabriel just smiled and said be peaced my child Salvation is here today He got up to his feet and he sang Hallelujah People were turning around in the street He looked them in the eyes and he sang, "Hallelujah There's someone here that you gotta meet Someone you just gotta meet." When the vagabond turned around well without a sign Gabriel just smiled and disappeared Then he looked to the crowd and they were laughing out loud But he could not see them fore tears When his vision came round There was a young girl on the ground I knew she was fine and hard to cope She never was a fighter until he laid beside her And gently whispered hope They got up to their feet and they sang Hallelujah People in the street were turning around They looked them in the eyes and they sang, "Hallelujah There's someone here we have found" They sang, "Hallelujah, Hallelujah We are the voices crying in the wilderness Hallelujah, Hallelujah." The people in the street started their sins to confess And a chorus of, "Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Every knee will bow and every tongue confess and the voice of one crying in the wilderness crying Hallelujah, Hallelujah"

Gabriel and the Vagabond- Foy Vance

Happy listening to all of you! Much love. I promise soon I will actually put updated pictures and stories on the blog. Its one of my goals this year: to make keeping in touch and keeping those of you who are interested up to date on life!

Tropicana... thank God in America it is only an oragne juice!

The girls... and really good food!
Dont worry; no liquor in those glasses. If you look hard you can see the feathers in the background!
For Christmas my team went to the Big City. We all arrived at different times, and after everyone got in, we decided to meet for a fun "night out". We tried to be as Kazak as possible; so we decided that we would not go until after 8:00 that night. We tried to decide where to go, and two of us named a place called Tropicana, which both of us had heard was fun. Now, I had been there once; for an early evening dinner, and knew that there was a show that came with the meal, but I was not prepared for the "entertainment" that we got.

We were greeted at the door by a man who looked strangely like Lionel Richie. This is strange for two reasons; first, there are only about 4 black people in this entire country; and two, that one of the four would look like Lionel... Anyway, as soon as we checked our coats we knew we were in for WAY more than we bargained for. Everyone else in the restaurant was dressed to the nines, suits for the men and cocktail dresses for the women. There was one guy in a sweater...Thats about it! Of course, we were seated at the table in the front, so we had to parade through the restaurant in our jeans and tennis shoes and oversized sweaters. We sat down and our personal waiter seemed quite anxious for us to order. We tried to order several different things; but of course, as a reminder that we were still in KZ, they were out of chicken and beef. We were quite confused as to why there was such a rush for us to order, but as the band took the stage we understood that we had arrived right at the start of the show, and they were ready to start.

I'm not sure that there was anyone among us who was prepared for what happened next. From women who were wearing scarcely more than feathers, that kept falling off, to the queen of Sheba who perched on stage with her shirtless "bodyguards" (who couldnt have weighed more than 100 lbs); each act provided more laughter, embarassment and frankly, jsut sheer confusion. The crowning glory of the night came in the middle of the show, when Santa Claus showed up.

Several things were remarkable about him. First, he was black, which is rare because we dont see black people here (that makes two for the night if you are counting), and second, after about 5 minutes of playing Santa Claus, he stripped off his clothes to reveal traditional African dancing costumes. He and the woman who had previously been an elf, began dancing around the room in what they called, "the Dances of Africa". Their goal was simple; people in the room were supposed to get up and dance with them... and guess what? It worked. Old people, in very expensive clothes, who had been enjoying their "dining and drinking experience" for the past 5 hours, began to parade themselves around the room.

I've got to be honest here- it was hysterical. We ate our food and left early, something no good Kazak would do. But man oh man, it was a night that I, or anyone else who went, will EVER forget!

Normalcy... what is that really?

I was in my kitchen last week, cooking fried pickles, onion rings, and red beans and rice with two of my teammates when it hit me, this feels normal. It felt like I was at home in the States, either in Mobile or in Shreveport, hanging out with old friends. We were having the best time; Scott was entertaining us with Russian pop songs and dance moves, and Phil and I were laughing hysterically. It was really fun. I made that comment, just that in that moment it felt like I was at home, and both agreed, it was just normal. Since that day, I have had several moments of things feeling strangely normal. Here are some of my thoughts on the subject:
1. I tried to fight the initial feelings of normalcy. I told myself that there was no way this could be normal, as admitting comfort would somehow betray my life in the States. I told myself there was no way this could feel normal.
2. Then I realized, normalcy for me is not about a place. Its not even about the people. Its about being where I know that I am supposed to be, about being in the place that God has designed for me. So many people think that life can only be normal in one place, or with certain people or things surrounding them, but that is just not the truth.
3. I guess normal is what you make it. I have wanted this dirty, small, broken apartment to be my home. I didnt want it to merely be a place where I slept; instead, I wanted it to be a place where people would come, a place where locals felt at home. I worked really hard, not at making the walls less cracked, or the plumbing work better, but at making it warm and inviting. I have learned valuable lessons about hospitality, and appearances, and about how the pretty places arent necessarily the inviting ones.
4. All is normal, yet nothing is normal. Every night, when I lay down to sleep, I spend about 5-10 minutes listening to the sounds around me. I hear people yelling, singing; I hear people walking up stairs, smoking cigarettes on the front step, doing remodeling work on their apartments. This has become so normal to me; but in the same breath, it is the opposite of the normal that I am used to. I would love one night of absolute quiet; but here it is just not going to happen.

Bottom line, there are so many random, not normal things that are part of every day. Things that make me laugh, furrow my brow, sometimes cry, or just stand in utter amazement that places in the world still operate in this manner. Its not always my first instinct, but I am choosing to make those things my new normal. Sure, it will never be the way that I like it, or the way that I am most comfortable with, but it is way it is. Thats good enough for me.

Just Call Me Betty...

Crocker that is... The past few weeks have been a huge challenge in domesticity; everything from cooking turkeys and chickens, to making pumpkin bread and apple cobbler from scratch, to serving tea and coffee until the cows come home. I thought that I could at least win an honorable mention at the Martha Stewart domestic goddess competition, and then I had the experience catalogued in the pictures. Thats right... washing dishes in the bathtub! Now, I dont know if you at home have tried it, but if you havent, I suggest trying it. It is amazing how much quicker it goes when you can line them all up and spray them with the shower hose! I mean, who even needs a dishwasher? I recommend those of you who are reading this to try it... I think it might jsut change your life

The Money Pit

You remember that movie where Tom Hanks buys that house that is a disaster and spends a ton of money fixing it up? Well, fact is stranger than fiction... and I live in the money pit!

Okay, here is the story: Two of my teammates, one who worked construction one summer, decide that they can fix it! They show up at my house with three plungers, that look like Grammy awards, and an idea that if we plunge each drain in my house at the same time, my drainage problem will be fixed! I dont know how to plunge things, so Phil gave me a lesson in plunging. He filled the sink with water and lightly pressed down on the sink. As soon as that happened, the sink fell out of the wall! The water came with it, and began to pour onto the floor. Here are some pictures of the mess! Read below for the rest of the story!

Ahh... this was my face when I saw the sink fall off the wall! Nice huh??
This was my pathetic attempt at mopping up the mess. It didnt work so well.
Okay, turn your head sideways, and imagine the mess down the hall. All the way into the bedroom... oh yeah! It was funny!

Okay, so after I picked myself off the floor, I composed myself and the guys began to remodel my kitchen sink! It now drains perfectly! Who would have thought?

More thoughts on the Compleat Gent

Okay... so even though it wasnt posted on my blog, I received quite a bit of feedback about my post on the disappearance of the gentleman. Most of this came in the form of conversations, and I have to admit, I didnt even consider their very vaild complaints while writing my previous post. But, because I like to be fair, and their arguments held quite a lot of weight, I write the other side to the gentleman.

This was the complaint that all of the guys that I talked to had. Its to all of the ladies that read this post. LET THE MEN BE GENTLEMEN!!!. I can honestly say that I had no clue that this was a problem; because, for any of you who know me at all, I have no problem letting a guy exercise and practice the art of being a gentleman! But apartently, there are many girls out there who feel that they are too independent, too much of a bother, too unworthy to have a guy treat them like that.

But here is the truth- You are not too independent. Just by proxy of being created as a woman, you have a God given need and desire to be taken care of and protected by men. For my friends who are reading this and scoffing, it has nothing to do with your intellectual capabilities or your ability to handle yourself in tough situations. Instead, it has everything to do with the being that you are. AND, when you act within the confines of who you are, you allow the guy to act the way that they were created to act as well!

More truth: You are not being a bother. Contrary to what most of the popular media says, you are not being a bother. Instead, you are appearing more charming, more alluring, more beautiful. And beleive it or not, guys actually want to do this for you. Now this isnt the case across the board, but more often than not, guys want to act right. Its only after many women chastise them for trying to be nice do they stop.

Final nugget of truth: You are not too unworthy either. You are worth this. The things that are included in being gentlmanly arent huge things, but they make a huge difference. And you, as a woman, as a person, are worth these things.

Okay. The last thing the guys that I talked to pointed out, was that I wasnt really quick to point out many gentlemen that I have been blessed to know. So here goes a quick list. I'm pretty lucky, so mine is pretty long. My dad, my grandfathers (both of them), my uncle Sid, many men from my home church, several guys that I went to college with, the men that I work with over here... Each of them, and I didnt name the people within the larger categories, have left an indelible mark on who I am, and also have set the standard very high for the man that will be my husband. So thanks for being gentleman- at a time when its not really cool. And girls, I'll say it again- Let the men that want to be this way be!

Your thoughts on this one would be appreciated... and not only just to me. Please post them for everyone to read.

no bread, banned books, good life

I love history. I've always enjoyed it. One of my favorite things about it has always been imagining the people that were a part of each historical event. While each book of history always includes a retelling from a certain perspective of the events, there is something about that firsthand retelling that sticks with me. I will remember forever the stories from the Holocaust; not only because they were chillingly evil, but also because they have been recounted to me in person by people who were actually there. I was never in Vietnam either, but some war heroes' dramatic stories about the delicate balance between self preservation and murder can transport me there instantly. And I've never walked the deserted and arid streets of Darfur, but sitting for hours with people who have been a part of that struggle from the beginning gives me a piece of ownership in that tragedy.

Today I spent time with two of my favorite women here; one, in her early 40's has become like a mother to me. She is very well educated and has spent the majority of her life working very hard for everything that she has gotten. The second woman is in her early 60's. She, like the first lady, is quite educated and has a huge bank of book knowledge from which she pulls often. She also works hard, but she has not had quite as many opportunities as the first lady. Today, as I met with each of them separately, we discussed life in the USSR, during the Perestroika, and after the USSR fell. Here are some of the highlights.

With regard to Books: Both women talked about the value of books. While most of them were banned during the 80's, these women went to great lengths to find illegal books, just for the purpose of strengthening the mind. They, to this day, have a love for books that is unlike many that I have known. They had to work hard for their jaunts into fiction. There's was not an easy stroll to the local Barnes and Noble or to the city library. Instead, it was a long trail of dark alleys and friends of friends. Each one distributing not just words on a page, but the chance to continue learning, the chance maybe to escape, the chance for just a moment to be famous, or great, or just content with life. I thought that in our day of tv, and everything being made into a film, that this was very interesting.

With regard to life then: It was hard. I dont think I realized how recently the people that I spend the majority of my time with had to fight with neighbors for slices of bread- an amount that was supposed to last for the entire month, for the entire family. I dont think I fully understood the idea of suffering and struggling for EVERYTHING that a family had. There were no new clothes, no surprise trips to the candy story, no asking mom or dad to buy something extra at the market. There was nothing; there was no money; there was no way to get money because it hadnt been printed yet. There was no system in place to stabilize anything. People did what they had to do to survive. When I asked each lady what that meant, they both got very quite. I'm sure it didnt mean life or death situations, but for two women, both of whom feel very comfortable with me, to go silent, it couldnt have been pretty.

With regard to life now: They have an incredible amount of faith and hope in the future. It cant get any worse than not being able to eat for days.

I walked away from those two conversations extremely tired. These two women are beautiful; the lines on their faces that before our conversations today just indicated older age now are markers of a life of struggle, and a triumph over oppression and looming defeat. These women have worked hard for everything- the right to proudly embrace their ethnicity, the right to live in a country that is controlled by them, even the right to work. But more than that, they have worked oh so hard to maintain the beauty that is intrinsic in a true woman.

What is my point? I know that my last few posts have been ramblings... I think my point is this: I'm starting to understand struggle, not in terms of my own reality, because in that realm I really have little of my own struggle to offer, but in terms of the sufferings of others. I spent the rest of the day in quiet humility. What a blessing it has been to have been sheltered from a life of overt pain and hardship. So what that my apartment is broken: So what that the heat doesnt work and the whole place floods... I have food on the table (and in the refrigerator, and in the cabinets, and on top of every surface...), I can buy bread. So no complaints from this Southern girl who is living in Central Asia... I have no right

more musings on the COMPLEAT GENT!

I took four retired Americans to the bazaar today. It was quite an experience. Me, being the respectful, lover of older people that I am, I gave them every opportunity to back out of this trip. It wasnt that I wasnt looking forward to the bazaar, its my favorite place in the city; its just that I wasnt sure how they would do. A typical bazaar day is bad enough, but Sundays provide an entire new set of challenges. It is the only day that local people dont work, so they ALL go shopping there on Sundays. It is also the day when the local vendors there restock; so the aisles (think more paths between looming metal racks) are crowded with carts and merchandise, with men behind them pushing their way through.
But these four troopers didnt back down. They had decided they were going to the bazaar, so we were going to go to the bazaar, even if it killed us. Well, the first few aisles we went down were fairly tame, my teammate was with me, so he took a younger guy and one of the older women, and I took two of the older people and another guy. We had a good system. Yell, loudly, if you wanted to stop at a stand; otherwise we were pressing on... just trying to make it to the other side. We had some success; I bought a hat and another lady bought one as well. I was maneuvering our way to the main road so that we could leave when the trouble came.
We turned down the main aisle, and all looked okay. It was crowded, but no more so than the other ones we had been down. So my teammate led the charge down the aisle. He was halfway through and we were just starting when the trouble began. This was a main aisle, so it was wider than the others. It was the one that they use for transporting carts full of merchandise from one place to another. It was made to hold maybe two carts plus foot traffic, but in a country where everything that is made is used in a way different than the original intention, it usually holds one extra cart.
Somewhere between our first steps down that aisle and the light at the end of the tunnel, we encountered pure chaos. I now understand the mob mentality. When one person panics, an entire crowd panics. Literally, in less than two minutes, we went from a crowded but manageable place to a place of shear panic and confusion. They were trying to force four carts down the aisle, plus the impatient crowd that had formed was also trying to force its way around the cards. There was just no room. So there I was, with three older people, two of which are women, trying to protect them from thieves, from incoming carts with sharp objects on them, from losing feet or toes to the wheels, and from getting trampled and hurt during this madness. It was crazy; and I'm not sure that I have ever been in a situation that was that out of control. The crowd was completely out of control, fights were breaking out, people were screaming, crying, yelling, pushing, falling... it was stinkin crazy. The entire thing probably lasted about 10 minutes, us finally pushing our way through the madness to finally get to the street. We all made it physically unscathed.
It was incredible though. I was certain that the day was over after this disaster, that there was no way we were going to be able to go anywhere. But was that the case, not at all. They were less affected by the whole thing than I was. So onward we went. Needless to say, we left the main bazaar, but none of their plans were going to be thwarted by our near death experience. It was cool... Paca