There are some days in the mission field that are absolute dreams. At the end of the day we walk into our apartment, drop our heavy bags, plop onto our chairs and sit with smiles on our faces, "Phew"s in our minds, and love in our hearts. I can't begin to explain the incredible amount of happiness that comes from those days, and the miraculous ability it has to wipe away the hard days. If it weren't for the weeks of seemingly endless hard days, how are we supposed to soak up and enjoy the wonderful tender mercy days? This week was so great.
We found so many incredible people after a grand total of about 20 hours of tracting. I'm getting more comfortable with the language, and am able to express things that I couldn't even a week ago. I was even able to explain some really random things like the American traditions of Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Easter in Ukrainian. Try explaining the concept of an Easter Bunny who hides chicken eggs in your yard without sounding stupid even in English....but I gave some people a really good laugh while I attempted that! Side note: Yesterday was Catholic Easter. The Orthodox Easter is actually in May. I spent all week learning Easter songs, and on Saturday night I found out that it wasn't Easter in Ukraine. Oops! So it was a miracle that I could play the piano yesterday without any extra practice of regular hymns. I did, however, have to lean back on "I am a Child of God", in which a small child fell off a chair while we were singing it. The baby was shrieking through the rest of the song, and it was pretty tough to not laugh while everyone was singing "I am a child of God".
In the middle of downtown, they have perfume salesmen that walk around the street and they stop people and try to sell them perfume. When I figured out this concept, I first wanted to kiss the man who was trying to sell perfume to Ukrainians. But after I remembered that I was a missionary, I was just trying my best to avoid the salesmen because there's no getting out of their spiels if you get sucked in. There was a sneaky young man the other week that tried to stop us by starting a conversation with us about directions, and then he read my name tag, "Tserkva Esuss......You're American." That really caught me off guard. He knew we taught English and had seen missionaries around town for years. We talked for about 15 minutes about what we're doing here, and he was slightly intrigued, and then he asked if I wanted to go to the Disco with him that night. I almost died laughing. When I think of discos I think of people with afros, powder-blue suits with bell bottoms, gold chains, roller skating to "Dancing Queen". Apparently the Disco here is really code for clubbin'. Haha. I declined, and after much persistance I told him I don't go to parties, or drink alcohol, and he about had a heart attack. We left, and I didn't think about it again, until the other day the Elders told me that they ran into a young man on the street who asked them if they knew who Sister Webber was. It was the perfume salesman. Guess my non-partying, non-alcohol drinking self made an impression.
With 3 new elders in Lutsk, we got a run down of all the quirky things that the city has to offer, that I apparently am immune to since this is my birth city. The elders were talking about the funny accents that people have up here, and said that it sounds like everyone is speaking Polish (If you get on the wrong bus here, you end up in Poland, so it makes sense...we're only about an hour away from the border). One of the Elders said he couldn't understand anyone here because they talk like they have a mouth full of marbles. That made me feel a little better....sometimes we contact into someone and my face is like O.O because I can't understand anything they just said. Good to know it's not just me.
We had an investigator activity on Saturday and 18 people showed up. Let me tell you something. This is a huge deal. It was only investigators and potential investigators. We were in heaven. Success is ours in Ukraine! Ahhhhhh.
Okay: Crazy story real quick. We were tracting, and a lady answered her door. I told her we had a message about the Book of Mormon, and she told us that she's read it in the past, and she doesn't want it. We were surprised, and began talking to her even more. After a few minutes her hard countenance was beginning to change and once we mentioned there was a living prophet on earth, she was interested. Then she asked what our names were. Now first, let me tell you something. When my companion says her name, people FREAK out. It's so foreign to them and they don't know what to do with it. Some laugh, some ask her 11 more times, the reactions are endless.
However, my companion said, "Sister Van Stokkom." The woman sat there for a moment, and replied, "Ava?"
We both stopped dead. That's my companion's first name.
Sister V stared at her and said, "Have we met?" The woman said no. Then my companion said, "My tag only says Sister Van Stokkom" The woman told her that she couldn't read that far without her glasses, and then said, "But your name is Ava, isn't it?" When she admitted that it was, Sister Van Stokkom asked how she knew that, in which the woman replied, "I don't know it! The Holy Spirit told me!"
What on earth.
She told us to write down her number and come back, because she wanted to talk to us. Um. Yes, we will do that.
I love Ukraine.
We've seen a lot of little miracles this week, and I'm loving every moment of it. Missions are such a blessing! I can't express how much gratitude I have in my heart for all those who are supporting me through this journey. You are in my prayers. I love each and every one of you, and I'm so grateful to know that families truly are forever. It brings me more joy than anything else.
I love you all.
Sister Katie
ps. Thanks for all the letters and emails. Only those who serve foreign will ever know just how cherished letters are.
pps. Big shout out to my colony clan. This week I was missing you all down in Ptown. Sending my love to you.
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| A man from the mission office had to come do things in lutsk for registering new missionaries in the city, and gave us flowers for helping him! |
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