I Steal Things From Little Girls (WR)

So… blog world… the long awaited closure to the Tra nsnis tria and Moldova chapters of this race has finally come.  I know you were feverishly checking your emails and my blog page, just in case you missed it.  Well, fret not, it has arrived.

There came a time in my life when I found myself in the magical, yet not-so-official, land of Tr ansnistr ia, what some people know as Moldova.  As you may recall, if you frequent this blog and have a good memory, I was handed a piece of paper and instructed not to lose it.  Seeing as how losing it could potentially lead to a fine or imprisonment, I planned to keep a tight grip on it.  However, my pocket had a different plan, and it may well be in one of Tira spol’s finest abandoned buildings or dumpsters by now.

So what ever became of me?  Whatever happened with the cliffhanger I dropped two blogs ago, only to not address last blog?  What is this? “Bones?” Nope.  This is my blog, and if you didn’t know that already I don’t know if telling you anything else will really help. But alas, here is what happened.

…Nothing.  My week 2 contact, Pastor Alexey, pulled some KGB junk out and got me a sweet little stamp.  So no worries for Bill Murray, or for me.  Which is good, because I know Bill was just “all e’t up about it.”

So once I crossed the very real, pretend-border back into real, all-the-time Moldova we were dropped off at the eMbassy errrr...  I mean McDonald’s.  One of 3, at least, that “beautify” the Chisinau landscape.  Upon arrival and a friendly greeting, us guys found ourselves ushered off by Irina and Efim to a nice little apartamento where our week one of this final leg would be spent, well the sleeping parts at least.  The girls were moved 20 minutes driving distance away to be with their wonderful hosts Cornelia and Zina.

We fellas were greeted warmly by Luda and shown our room, complete with bunk beds and stuffed animals.  A room fit for little girls, mainly because 2 beautiful little girls lived there, but not this week.   And that warm greeting was just the beginning.
 

Luda and her husband Radu, were wonderful hosts.  They  were super sweet to us, literally, honey in the tea, all the time!  Radu is an amazing man of God, the Lord of the office, and the Lord of the keys for the Boom Club (Campus Crusade for Christ/CRU in Chisinau), which of course goes to prove that Jesus is indeed Lord of Lords.

Ohhhh Boom Club…What do you want us to do?  Teach English?  Okay, I’m getting used to this whole gig.
But first you want me to do what?  You want me to go on campus and pass out flyers to random people inviting them?  You expect me to get a random stranger’s attention and invite them to something?  Well, does the word… “WHEELHOUSE” mean anything to you?  Because I thought you’d never ask.  And I get to do it with my new friend Moldovan Mike?  Deal!

After that whole charade, later in the week we went to some high schools for 2 days, guided by Jenica, Natasha, and Zina presenting some things about America (and Canada) and inviting them to walk thru the city with us and come to English club.  And you know what?  They came.  And “Kidney of the Wolf” was born.  If you wanna know what that is, then that just means you don’t know.  But you can ask.

So week two of Chishinau comes around.... And we're movin on up... to the East Side, to a Deee-lux apartment  on the 15th floor..."   Yes, we got a sweet pad for the second week too.  We of course had to trade in wonderful meals, holding babies, and stealing little girls' beds, but we did have our own place where we could go shirtless and whatnot in freedom.

(Side note, actually not to the side at all: it was here, that I experienced the only breakfast in bed in my memory.  I'd always thought/selfishly hoped it would be from my wife, or at the very least a beautiful and kindhearted young lady who was making a play to be the aforementioned wife that I experienced this from.  I definitely didn't expect it to be a 5'11 man with a beard and a hockey shirt of some team we don't even know,  but I can only assume that this situation was the next best thing if I couldn't have situation number one, because Michael brought me steak on a plate, and that's not too shabby.)

So we have our sweet bachelor pad, and here comes English club: Chishinau style, and guess what, we get our own classes!  There are so many students they want to get the most out of us.  And I love it.  Not that teaching with others is bad, but it really allowed us each to develop our own personalities and invest in our classes.  Besides, I'd been warmed up two weeks prior with the class that Dania and I had taught in Tirasp ol.

Everyone else would say they had the “BEST” class, but they’d just be being subjective, bias, wrong, incorrect, and redundant…Wait!  That’s me being redundant, but still I get the honor of truthfully saying my class was, as the Moldovians that Tyler taught English would say, “LEGIT!”



I can’t adequately express the joy that I had from sharing, not only English with these people, but myself and ,more importantly, what Jesus has done and continues to do in my life and what He has for them.  I was able to share so much in such a short time, and I’ve made new friends for life.   Dorin, Margaretta, Ecaterina, Vera, Alina, Anatol,  Mihai, Sandra, Matei and the rest, including those not in my class, were a great, great pleasure to meet and get to know on a deeper level.

That’s what these 2 weeks were.  I made new friends, new brothers, new sisters.  Honestly, the whole race has been that, and life is that, but I do indeed feel a special connection with these people.  I’m super glad I pursued this route because of Moldova.

It just wasn’t for the reasons I’d initially anticipated.


I was so continually blessed by the kindness and appreciation that the staff of Boom Club and the students in our classes had for us.  It was very moving and will be something I can hopefully carry with me the rest of my
life.


Moldova, I can't say all the nice things I'd like to say about you, because I'm lazy, and this blog is already long.  Just know this… you used to be great.  You still are, but you used to be too.  Now it’s just time to believe it and live in it!

I wonder what a good title for this blog would be?  How bout?  “I Steal Thing From Little Girls.”  You’d click on that blog title wouldn’t you?  Don’t lie to me.

Abrupt-ish ending.

A Sea of Greatness (WR)

...(ANNOUNCER VOICE) "Previously on this blog... you read things (allegedly)... here are more things... I promise."

This, once again is a little late, but it’s a part of the journey that “needs” to be shared.  I spent a second week in “Daughter Russia.”  This time I moved a little to the south and a little less to the east to a little place I can’t spell in any language, but if I had to give it a shot I’d say Slovodzeah,  but again… I’m pretty sure I just butchered that like a madman.

In terms of “ministry,” this wasn’t some extreme mission.  We spent time with some teenagers from the church and painted in an orphanage, unless you are talking to the Narnian government, in that case the orphanage is closed, because they don’t like Christians taking care of children.  But the things we were doing weren’t “extreme” by any means, not “life-changing” things in and of themselves, but then again it’s learning to serve God and others in the simple things that is most practically sustainable across the board.



If we need some sort of extreme mission, or if we define how we are used by God as something that builds lots of emotions in us we really begin to serve ourselves and worship that “feeling” of helping more than worshiping our Savior by loving as He has called us to.

People spend their lives looking for the wow-factor, but the greatest lives of service often go unheralded.   If we want to be great in life (and who doesn’t?) we must be great in the small simple things, and okay with people not appreciating.

A great life isn’t made up solely of a small number of mountain top experiences, or one great achievement.

A great life is made up a lots of small decisions made well and in love, seeking to represent our Savior and serve others above self, and that’s often not going to “feel” or seem as noteworthy in the moment, but that’s the way to have a life full of moments to look back on with a deeper satisfaction.

True greatness is often unheralded.  That’s partly true because greatness doesn’t seek acclaim or recognition.  Greatness doesn’t need marketing, (says the guy with a marketing degree), it represents itself and those fortunate enough to notice or be a part of it are blessed indeed.  It is doing the right thing and serving out of obedience springing from thankfulness and joy, rather than just what outcome we think it might yield from others.

When you look at true unheralded greatness in the lives of others it humbles you.  The second half of my Trans ni strian fortnight  this is what happened to me.  I was, once again, humbled.  The ladies were shacked up in the orphanage, while the dudes were holding down mattresses in the floor of a small church’s office about a 20 minute walk away.

The church is also home to 4 men right now, 2 of which are in drug rehabilitation, and 2 of which are mentoring them.  These men served us at least as much, if not more, than we served their community… oh and they humbled me...

We’ve been served a lot this year.

Everywhere I’ve been I’ve been fortunate enough to come across giving people and wonderful contacts.  Nothing could ever be said to discount the blessings the our contact Pastor Alexey and others have been to us throughout this year, but there was something different about these guys, in particular Alex and Sergei, the two mentors there.

The difference begins in their role, they weren’t our contacts, we just happened to be staying at the same place as them.  They had no duty to serve us, no reasonable expectation.  After all, we were Pastor Alexey’s problem, and, if anything, we were in the way of their work and sleep.  Though it would have been reasonable to assume we were no concern of theirs, they made us breakfast, honey, and tea nearly every morning and then working dishes often too.   But true greatness goes beyond what’s reasonable and often seems unreasonable.

True greatness doesn’t use words like fairness and reasonable as a standard, but merely as an afterthought lost in a sea of grace, mercy, truth, love and service.  There is some overlap in the words in this “sea,” meaning some of them define or give birth to others, but they each hold such weight, they needn’t be unlisted for fear of redundancy.  Nor is this “Sea of Greatness” exhausted in these words, but they make up a substantial portion to be certain.

Heck these guys didn’t even really speak our language.   If we wanted to communicate we just worked thru random pointing and the bits of Russian/English we knew respectively, and for more complex thoughts we rocked out a little Google-Translate.

We weren’t helping them specifically, so there was no need for them to serve us out of thankfulness to us specifically. They just served out of obedience and thankfulness to their Savior.  It was so moving to see this gentle giant, Sergei, so meekly serve and invest in the lives of these other grown men, both older than him, even down to the menial tasks of dishes and cleaning.  And you could feel the thankfulness and respect they had back for him.


Then he finds the time to serve and lead them in serving us with such care as well, with it seeming neither forced or an inconvenience for him.  And did I mention this guy was a recovered drug addict himself?

God had taken this man from being so messed up on drugs that he literally cut up his arms and cut 2 of his own fingers off, to a gentle giant giving his life to other men, and then serving 3 American dudes who have far more than he has by the world’s standards.

So as much as this man impressed me, it impressed me even more with a God that could make this change, and made me even more thankful to know that same God loves me.  And that is what our lives are supposed to do…

We are great in the small things, not to develop an awesome reputation, or even to genuinely have a good life, but to point others to our Savior, and a subsequent thankfulness and joy in Him, which then pushes them to lives of greatness for the same reasons with the same outcomes.  But even when the outcomes aren’t what we envision, we don’t carry that weight, because we are great in the small things for the sake of the glory of our Lord and King, not whether others appreciate it.  And when we understand this we can begin to freely swim deeper and deeper in the Sea, and if we drown, we drown, because in life we all must exit, we may as well make it a great one.

Daughter Russia: Pretend Moldova (World Race)

So I know, this is like a month late, and I’m in Mozambique now, and we always wanna read about the new stuff, but you’re gonna have to wait on that, at least from me.  Because meaningful things have happened, so I thought I’d give you a recap of Moldova… in three parts.  Why?  Well, because we lived it in 3 parts.  Don’t ask such pushy questions!  Geez!  Here’s part one, more is pending posting.


This is more of a recounting of events than an exploration of deeper concepts.  Unveiled Pursuit(UP) had a little secret unveiled to us.  There’s a place called Tr ansni stria, or as I like to call it “Daughter Russia.”  It’s a pretend country, a political Narnia, if you will in that “monstrously” dominates the eastern landscape, of what most of those who know of Moldova, think is Moldova.  People think it’s Moldova, partly because it is, but this Soviet nook is it’s own deal, complete with Russian military, and their own currency, the rubel, which takes it’s namesake from Mother Russia’s currency, which is about 3 times weaker than it’s daughter.  But don’t mind that, no one else in the world will take the Transnistrian currency, on account of it being “fake.” 


When you enter Tra nsnis tria they give you a sheet of paper to keep until you exit the country.  A gentleman at the border also going thru said, “Don’t lose that paper, or they’ll *expletive deleted* you.” 

I lost the paper…


Digression? Check!


We found ourselves in our first week of “Moldovian” ministry in the Transnistrian capital of Tiraspol, complete with Lenin statue and creepy Soviet music occasionally pumped through street speakers.  But we didn’t just come here to be absorbed into the ussr (conspicuous lower case inconspicuous pun alert), we came to teach.  And, if you wanna be specific our method of ministry was to teach English with CRU(Campus Crusade for Christ), that’s also what our method was if you don’t wanna be specific.  (That’s what we call “unconditional purpose in relation to whether or not you wanna be specific”, and by “we” I mean “me” and anyone else who agrees).   I think it’s time for digressing… so I will.

Mr. Tumnus was nowhere to be found, but there were awesome helps like Igor, Dima, and company who we worked with.. whom we worked with? Who we worked with… eh whatever…

By day we split up, some of us went to teach English in a high school and let the children see real life Americans (and Canadian) for the first, and potentially, only time ever in person.  The rest of us would go to campus and co-vertly invite people to English club.

Ohhh Tiraspol English Club… You were great.  You taught me to teach… English … good… errr I mean “well.”  I think.  Irregardless, it was a great time.  We split the students up into 3 levels( zero, easy, and hard), or beginner, intermediate, and advanced for those of you desire that I use my mental thesaurus for clarification.  Each class got 2 racers, Mike and Becca took the advanced class, Rebecca and Mike intermediated their way thru a class of mediumenglishspeaker-ites, and the beginner class had Dania and me-self. 


We worked through this and that… literally, and some of these and those… no… for real.  And of course we touched many more of the delightful grammatical intricacies o’ the English language, all the while getting the chance to know some new wonderful people.
English club got a few of us invited to be “guest lecturers” in a university class, which is a second or third for me, but a first in a political anomaly.  And after that we went to walk around and invite more students to good ole English club when one of our students grabs me and invites me for an impromptu appearance in a class of 3^rd or 4^th year journalism students, all who spoke English students. 
It was one of the coolest experiences I’ve had on this trip.  As I suddenly sat, they insisted I sit, and shared about my journey and how they can use their profession to better lives and the world, with what I think are potentially some of the greatest minds the world may never get a chance to know if they remain in their current political state.   None of them ever came to English club, but I hope a seed was planted.

But back to English Club… at the end of the week, we got to share the Gospel, and I mean legitimately share THE Gospel and love of Jesus in a verbal way, to a room of 50 or more people who’ve had their view of Jesus blinded and twisted by their political covering and an orthodox church which has lost its way.   Many of these people had never heard the gospel in this way, and may never hear it again, but they have heard now.  That was a humbling experience for sure, one I’m thankful to have been blessed with.  This is what it’s about, sharing Jesus, not just doing good things.  And for probably the most unadulterated time up to that point on the race I was able to do it in Trans nistr ia. 


Spoiler Alert: It wasn’t the last.

I pray it settled in with someone.

On Sunday we went to church, as is custom among many groups of Christians, and it was their Easter.  YAY! TWO EASTERS!!!  (The orthodox calendar Easter this year was a week after protestant Easter).  And I got to give my first ever Easter sermon… another humbling experience.  At the end of the service they brought us up and thanked us for coming and said (in Russian of course)… it’s a good week, none of you were arrested.  Which I think put it in perspective.  We had been in legitimate danger of being arrested for sharing the Gospel of Jesus openly.  Don’t worry mom.  I wasn’t arrested… for sharing the Gospel (this time).

Remember how I said I lost my paper that I was NOT supposed to lose…

I didn’t find it, but I had another week in Transnistria, before it became an issue.  To see how the story unfolds stay tuned to the rest of my Moldovan blogs, which will doubtedly be coming soon...

TO BE CONTINUED... (Lord Willin')

Maputo Mother's Day (World Race)

So what is a guy to do when it’s Mother’s Day and he’s on the World Race in Mozambique, with no internet, and hasn’t spoken to his mom on Skype in a few days?  Well first he asks his friend who’s going back to America to call her and tell her Happy Mother’s Day from him, but then his friend would think that’s too much trouble. 


So then when he sent his mandatory text message into the home office with his monthly SIM card information he’d include for the mystery person on the receiving end of his message a request with his mom’s phone number to call her and tell her he said Happy Mother’s Day.  But, of course, he’d have to assume that this mystery person behind the veil would quite possibly not oblige his, according to his presumption, uniquely original request. (ß repetitive redundancy alert)

So based on that assumption he’d decide to give her the only gift he could other than, “staying safe” and “having fun.”  He’d write a Mother’s day blog, in her honor of course… to be posted at a future date. 

He might say things like “I have the best mom in the world!” or “Thank you for being the best mom ever!”  But those things would be cliché, not to mention that they aren’t quantifiable, or able to be substantiated in objective terms.  So instead, if he valued a “different” approach to things, as he probably would seeing as how he’s on the World Race, he might say other things of a more specific and meaningful nature. 


He would probably say stuff like…

 “I know you’ve given up a lot of time with me this year and that you will be willing to when necessary in the future, because you know it’s giving my life to others and God that makes me happy, and you value my happiness and joy over yours, which is the mark of requirement for anyone in the running for the ‘World’s Best Mom Award.’”

“Not only have you been and continue to be a wonderful mom, but you’ve been an amazing wife to my dad, and for that I’m very thankful, because I love him very much and am so thankful that he has such an amazingly patient, loving and supportive wife that’s stood with him thru thick and thin.  It has provided a wonderful example of what I might someday be able to experience … Lord willin’.”

“You worked your butt off for me for so many years, more than I earned, although you’d beg to differ based on your intense love and esteem for me, you should take the compliment.  And you continue to work your butt off for me even at great stress, effort, and physical pain to you at times, all so I can keep doing what I love to do, even though that means you can’t see me right now.  That selflessness is the mark of an amazing mother, and more importantly as a follower of Christ.”


“The thing I’m the most proud of you for is your growth in the Lord.  The fact that you are seeking Him more now is one of the things I’m the most proud of in my life to be able to experience, and I pray that only grows deeper and deeper for you and dad.  And I pray that as you grow closer and closer that He proves Himself of far greater worth each day than the giver of my life and my joy, but the giver of your life and your joy and of all life and joy.  And in so doing, becomes the lens through which you view life and make decisions.  When this comes into completion it will bring me more joy than I could express in any number of blogs.”


He also might go on about how he’s come to grips with people saying that he looks just like her, even though he’s glad that he didn’t take his height from her.  Partly because it would be true, but partly to break up her tears with some laughter.  And he’d know that reading a paragraph like this would have give her a chance to wipe her eyes and shake her head and say to his dad something like, “Do you know what ‘your son’ just said?”


He’d know he couldn’t say everything he wanted to say, mainly because he wouldn’t be able to come up with all the words to describe what a wonderful mom she had been.  Which would be quite the compliment to her, considering she’d invested so much in her boy and his education that over time he’d come to acquire quite the impressive arsenal of words that would be more than sufficient for what it would take to describe the attributes and investment of any mom NOT in the running for the aforementioned, “World’s Best Mom Award!” 


He’d also know that it would probably all be overkill, because his mom loved him so much, that all she’d need to hear or read to be happy was something as simple as…

“I love you and I’m proud that you’re my mom!” 

Even though he would know that she was far too great for something so simple, he’d say it anyway because it was true.

Lastly he would probably say he wished he could have talked to her and was sorry that he couldn’t, but that he tried. 

And he’d say something like “Are you Matt Blair’s mom?”

And she’d say, “Yes I am.”