Of Beauty, Bears, and Roosters

I blog to you for the first time in Moldova! I have spent seven days in the village of Durlesti, just outside the capital city of Chisinau. So far, I have experienced many firsts: my first time being frisked by German airport security. My first time accidentally locking myself in a closet. My first time smelling moonshine. My first time running through grape vineyards. My first time being one of around 35 people in a church-van-sized city bus. 

As I left Montana last Friday, all I could think about was God and you. Numerous times I told God this summer, "If I get to Moldova on time, it will be a sheer miracle." I knew my journey was a living miracle: humanly impossible. As I buckled my seat belt and looked out the window, I thanked God for person after person who is partnering with me on this journey. More than once I hoped that I wasn't dreaming, but I knew that my steps and surroundings were vibrantly real. As the plane lifted off American soil, all I could do to hold back tears was whisper, "Grace, grace! Grace, grace!"

Grace, grace. "This is the LORD'S doing; it is marvelous in our eyes" (Psalm 118:23). 

At this point in my journey, I have a tripartite view of Moldova: beauty, bears, and roosters.

OF BEAUTY. Moldova is beautiful. It has a different kind of beauty. It's not crammed full of pristine buildings and manicured yards; it's full of ornate, paint-peeling gates and weathered trees, rolling hills and roughly hewn rocks spilling over from abandoned houses. It's spattered with packs of wild dogs. Flower markets spray the sidewalks with blotches of color. Roads out-rut the best work of a jackhammer, and fences are concrete walls framing houses. Eye-blinding sunrises alight on miles of grape vineyards to where they meet the horizon. Raw beauty makes you stare. And stay.

But more beautiful than the landscape are the people. Faces telling stories. Wrap-headed babushkas leaning on stone walls while their turkeys feed. Old men walking their goats on hillsides' dirt paths. Stylish young women briskly walking through the city center. Young men stopping to smoke on park steps. Mothers holding their children's hands on a walk to school.

The video below is one I took in an old Russian Orthodox church. I walked in during what I think may have been an infant baptism. All ages were present in the church, from newborns to the elderly. The chanting of the priest was beautiful, the devotion of the parishioners, striking. In a country in which people have little, some cling to tradition in order to bring a sense of stability.

OF BEARS.  Much bear-imagery surrounded the beginning of my trip. Call me a literary person if you want--it's true. I accept the designation. But when I see iterations of symbols, in literature or elsewhere, I take notice and evaluate for significance. Walking into the Bozeman airport, I noticed bear-themed adornments in keeping with Montana-style decorations. On the plane from Chicago to Munich, the movie I began watching was all about bears. Partly because I was intrigued by the number of bears I encountered, so to speak, and partly because the ill child behind me was coughing violently every twenty seconds, I took the time I could have been sleeping to reflect on bear-imagery. Bears are often a symbol of bravery. I smiled inwardly. I could use some bravery right about now, I mused. Later, walking through the Munich airport, the girls and I stopped to congregate around some postcards of bears catching Atlantic salmon. By that time, bears had even come up in conversation several times.Waiting there to board the plane to Chisinau, I reflected again on the sudden influx of bear-imagery in my life. And then probably the most obvious connection hit me: my middle name means brave. And not just brave: it means, literally, brave as a bear. Why had I not thought about this before? Jesus, I prayed, make me brave. For days--weeks, even--leading up to those flights, my excitement had overshadowed any anxiety I could have experienced, and when I uttered that prayer, I still felt a thrill of adventurous excitement and a sense of purpose, knowing that I am walking in what God has for me. But even though I couldn't currently feel it, I knew that I needed bravery--at that moment and in the future. Because all the enthusiasm in the world is no substitute for solid confidence in Christ.

I have needed bravery on several counts so far. I began my first Russian lessons this past week. I keep mixing up the words for "city bus service" and "Russian nesting doll." I have met so many people that I can't keep their names straight--and they have difficulty keeping mine; if I say my name without a rolled r, they think my name begins with an a. I have begun supervising the education of the Raatz daughters, and in the coming weeks I will begin bringing some type of English lessons to the women at Freedom Home. Being in the presence of the Raatzes and the Freedom Home women is to me a privilege and an honor. I have so much to learn from all of them. I frequently pray, God, I love these people, and I love this place. Please keep me brave.  

I'm not the only one who's feeling the need to be brave. The people here are, too. And those with the light of Christ aren't just feeling the need; they're embracing the challenge.

These people are brave. The brothers and sisters in Christ who were baptized yesterday at the Romanian church shared stories of how God rescued them from a hopeless past and revived them into a richly hope-filled future. In the same land in which they wallowed in despair, they are brave enough to now thrive in His life. The women at Freedom Home are glowing with the radiance that results only from a changed life in Christ, and their exuberant smiles and willingness to engage in life are testaments that the power of Christ is stronger than the power of death. Their God-imputed bravery gives them the courage to face each day with Him. The missionary family with whom I live demonstrates incredible daily bravery, living cross-culturally and embracing people with the knowledge that God's gospel re-creates life in the darkest of souls. When I hear 2 Corinthians 10:4-5, I think of the Raatz family and other missionaries: "We use God’s mighty weapons, not worldly weapons, to knock down the strongholds of human reasoning and to destroy false arguments. We destroy every proud obstacle that keeps people from knowing God. We capture their rebellious thoughts and teach them to obey Christ."

OF ROOSTERS. Let me dispel a myth: those who believe that roosters crow only or especially when the sun rises are mistaken. Sadly mistaken. Or rather, I was sadly mistaken. Roosters are a neighborhood garnish around here, crowing at all hours of the day and night. I do not have a picture because I have only seen some once--when I tried to climb up the back wall of the Raatzes' yard. And I fell right off. 

Oh, and I forgot: I experienced my first time falling off a wall.