i've been thinking a lot about ukraine lately. about my ukraine, to be specific. (whendoinot?) but in actuality, it's because i've been home now longer than i served. one more time:
and the three year anniversary from the day i entered the mtc recently passed. and there's something about things like this that force you to think--reflection and pondering and a whole lot of thinking.
the hardest thing i ever loved: never enough while being too much.
not by any means an all-inclusive selection of my ukraine.
just a random collection taken mostly, though not completely, from two summers ago.
because there are so many things about that summer that were pivotal for me.
because in that summer, i found peace.
in the active verb kind of way.
because i chose to. because i almost had no choice but to do so.
because. i needed to find it.
how did i? i found it in chaos.
it was lack of control that allowed for clarity of vision.
because i was completely outside myself while being more aware than ever of my own heart.
and that's when i learned best: peace is a choice.
when so much may be spinning out of control, there can still be peace.
peace in doing what you know to be right anyway.
peace in following your heart--a heart seeking to become a heart like His.
a new heart also will i give you, and a new spirit will i put within you:
and i will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and i will give you an heart of flesh.
and i will put my spirit within you.
it may not have always been pretty, but it was always beautiful.
or being there with my two obi daughters on a pleasant summer evening.
speaking of megs, how about our sasha? сашка наш.
meeting a formerKGBlooking man on our street corner, and finding our long lost uncle instead.
lessons and streets and history and laughs and protective concern.
a man who really listened, but sometimes couldn't listen.
who saw.
who knew. because he's a
good man. a very good soul.
speaking of sashka and goodness, we can't talk about him without mentioning
this woman i love.
novels and novels i could write about tomara and our short piece of merged eternity.
this woman i love, i leave to god to order and provide.
because her heart is one of gold. she there for me and i there for her.
i met her at the beginning of my mission, and i told heavenly father that it would be okay--
were i to not have any other real loves the rest of my time in ukraine-- that tomara was enough.
toma is always enough.
speaking of having enough, what about вера who survived the
holodomor?
(ukrainian famine in the 1930's also known as the "terror famine." a genocide.)
более того, what about the beautiful legacy in her descendants--
in both ukraine and russia, among the strongest in faith?
the stories she'd tell us, or her son-in-law who said, моя семья - это моя радость.
speaking of joy, what about the thrill of entering a lesson with вера,
and having all three of us know that we were changing it on the spot without ever communicating in words?
or that summer of being with sister hassard and sister andrade in general.
because together we learned and i came to know what it means to love and to serve in balance.
(and they taught me and i taught them how to take a chill pill.)
and to laugh. oh, how we laughed.
speaking of laughter, what about the lessons and dinners and gatherings and joy we shared with
this family?
they were so good to megs and me. to everyone, they are so good.
so willingly giving of themselves. so patient with me and my newness.
speaking of patience, understanding, and love. how about хозяйка люба?
if that isn't patience, i don't know what is.
to say nothing of how she cared for us, the family home evenings we had in her home,
and the way she so freely gave of herself.
and while we're talking about freely giving of oneself, we must remember these women.
these sisters. the laughter and tears and love we shared.
what a place we were in back then. what a place, indeed.
speaking of those places, how about the day that megs finished her mission?
the blessing of getting to be her companions for some of her last hours in ukraine,
or the pouring rain that drenched us minutes before our first meeting with our new mission president.
great first impression, obviously.
speaking of firsts, there's the first time i met this other tamara.
(i'm telling you. there's something about that name.)
on a split with two new sisters, and having one of the most beautiful lessons of my mission.
going back to an area i adored despite being there only a short time,
and meeting a woman who so earnestly sought understanding.
and so we made metaphors and talked of trees and libraries. there we talked of real growth.
and while we're talking about real growth, what about my sister fin fin?
my youngest daughter as i finished my mission who trained the moment she finished being trained.
all the good conversations and all the grit we threw into reviving an area.
an area new to both of us on a street i knew too well.
with the mention of my last companion and the youngest daughter, how about my firstborn?
while all of my daughters were so different, it could say the same thing that means something different:
to all the good conversations and all the grit we threw into an area new to both of us.
learning to be human, learning love, and learning to learn.
she wrote a poem that she shared with us about three kinds of prayers that was strikingly beautiful.
in the vein of striking beauty, our лариса. who sold us perfume, has beautiful children,
and gave some of the most enlightening lessons to both me and my daughters.
in the lessons themselves, and because of the lessons themselves.
lessons, lessons, lessons. not only the official kind that get a tally in your key indicators.
singing with babushki on cold evenings in late autumn, or listening to them tell their stories.
learning the value of every story, the importance of love, and also of working like you've never worked.
all things in their proper order.
because while missionaries must have heart, they must also have mind.
because too much heart and not enough mind is just as dangerous as too much mind and not enough heart.
anyway. i've been thinking a lot about my ukraine lately.
about my people. about everything god gave me and taught me.
about having a place and purpose, and always belonging.
don't cry for me ukraina. i've been thinking of you.
украина, я тебя люблю.
[ukraine, i love you.]
