How much has Russia been through?

Yesterday was the 65th anniversary of the lifting of the German blockade against Leningrad. The blockade lasted nearly 900 day4s during WW2. On an average 42 people died every day during that time [Some estimates are much higher - Lyle]. Yesterday I went to hear a lady who lived during that time. She was 11 when it started and 14 when it ended.  

Interesting fact: they only got 125 grams of food a day. The used metal cups to put hot water inside. There was no t

ea or coffee. She said she very much respected these kinds of cups, because they would warm your hand as you drank. There was no electricity, and there were no candles, because they all ate them. She had a window overlooking the place where the city stored their sugar, butter, and flower to be distributed. But she watched it all burn up over a two-week period. There was no oil, but one amazing story she told was about her father, who collapsed on the sidewalk from hunger one day. A worker, dressed in workers clothes, came over, picked up her father, and dropped a drop of oil in his mouth. Her father was a preacher, and he said he believed it was an angel. Anything edible in the city was eaten. 

Last year, when my grandmother was here, I went to the Bread Museum,

 which explains the history of bread in Russia. One part of it was for the blockade. They had a small glass case with a piece of bread in it. It was made of dust specs, the wrong parts of wheat that you grind to make bread, and

 all sorts of yucky types of dust. Also with my grandmother, I went to the Leningrad cemetery. 

It had a small museum there, and we went inside. The most interesting thing about the museum was a little diary, made up of three or four pages, of a little girl's diary. On the first day, it said, "Mother is dead." On the second day, "Father and Uncle died." On the last day, it read, "All are dead; only I am left." No one knows what happened to the little girl, but one sad thing is that she might have died too. 

There were pictures at the Bread Museum of children looking skin and bone, barely any skin. You wonder if they ate the dead. One more thing the lady said: She was once at the train station; she was there with her mother and an older friend, when all of a sudden the Germans were firing upon them. Her older friend threw her into a ditch and covered her so that the Germans would not see her and shoot her. When it was all over, and the Germans had left, her friend got her out of the ditch and covered her eyes so that she would not see all the dead people. When her mother saw that her friend had kept her daughter safe, she knelt down and kissed her friend's feet. 

It hurts me to know that my country has been through so much. It makes me want to go back in time and help fight. But since I can't, all I can do is pray for Russia. My prayer is that Russia would grow to be a strong Christian nation, and that everybody who is depressed now would have hope. 

Tied up at the moment

Being tied up at the moment doesn't mean up in strings; it can mean other things too. In my case, I'm tied up about home issues. Right now, I want to see my friends, but also I want to stay here longer. I want to be able to be at home sometimes. But I don't have a good home. My home isn't Russia; my home isn't America. So how am I supposed to know which home is mine. I have a sinking suspicion that once I go back to America, that I'm not going to want to leave, and that once I get back to Russian I'm not going to want to go back to America either. The homiest place I feel now is when I am going to bed and when I'm with God. The tied up issue comes in when I don't know which home is mine, so I'm tied up about my home, even as odd as it sounds. You'd think that since I'd been in America longer than Russia, I'd want to be in America more. But no, that isn't the case. I might go so far as to say that I don't know which country I belong to.

At church, two families with kids around my age have come to Russia a few months ago. Now, believe me, I don't hold a grudge against them for coming, and I'm not mad at them for coming. I just feel a little awkward, because you'd expect me to want to hang out with them more than the Russians, but I tend to want to hang out more with the Russians. I sort of sometimes wish that my family was the only Americans there, because it was easier to handle things. Now that there are two new (American) girls in my class, the Russian girls see that I have someone to talk to, so it gets frustrating when the Americans try to be with me, when I want to be with the other girls.

The only problem is that the girls whom I am with at, say, art school, don't accept me as a friend, so I'm often lonely. (Russians have a problem with this, so it's typical, but that's not my point here.) My point is, I'm not recognized as who I want to be. I want to be recognized as a Russian.

Now that it's winter, I don't see the kids who live in my dvor as much as in the summer, except for one girl from the next dvor, Zhenya, who is being over-consistent with me. She will come over any day she doesn't have too much homework. The problem with that is that she has started to consider me her best friend, and told me so, and I don't consider her a best friend because she usually want everything in her control, and everything her way, and if I'm not able to play, then she will beg and beg and beg until my parents give us about a half an hour for play, and then when that time runs out, she will beg and beg and beg for another half an hour. I've been trying to get her to see that I can play with her all the time, but she is sort of not understanding.

Please pray for me in these situations, that I would feel at home in both places and recognized as who I want to be. And pray that I learn perseverance through the trials I have.

Present life in the family

While you've been hearing about other things, let's stop and go back. Starting in January, we'll go from youngest to oldest. Around December of last year, Simon was enjoying the snow and having a great time at Kindergarten. Kerith, however, was also enjoying his snow and his Kindergarten. Problems in the boys' adjustments, rated on a scale of 1-10: 3.

I, on the other hand, was totally hating Russia and wanted so badly to go home and couldn't stand going out to play at playgrounds, because little kids would crowd around me and saying things that I didn't completely understand. I now am doing very well with being outside and enjoy playing with the littlest children (which I will explain later). Problems back then, however, on a scale of 1-10: 10. I had also just finished an art course in January.

I don't know how well Mom was doing, because, . . . well, she never told me. I think she was both excited about being here and missed her home. Dad, however, was making friends wherever he went, including the farmer's market. I think Daddy was excited about being in Russia and didn't want to go home.

January: mixed feelings. Kerith and Simon are still having a B-A-L-L. I am not even excited about our trip to Finland to renew our visas - wanting to stay in Russia. When we get back to Russia, I sit down and wish that I could stay forever.

In July, we are in Germany again for visas, and I have made three of my best friends ever. What's amazing is that I never knew any German, and two of them only knew a few words of English. The other girl knew a lot of English, so she could translate. We came back to Russia on the very same day we arrived in Russia in 2007 for the first time.

Around September, I had my birthday, got my guinea pig, and I'm still totally, radically, wishing to stay in Russia. Updates from March to this point have stayed the same. Points on wanting to go back to America: 4.

I am different now in wanting to work with the orphans a lot more, and I am having a lot of trouble with friends, which I will now tell you about. From my entry about learning Russia, Zhenya and I have not had a good experience since she got back from her grandmother's, and, unfortunately we've settled on not being friends. Or actually, she has settled on not being friends with me. She is buddy-buddy with another Alena (not the one from my last blog about friends).

The other Alena in the dvor is a consistent friend. The only problem is that I don't see her very often. I have met another girl named Zhenya, and she claims to be my friend but is never really available to play. They are pictured here to the right.

So I have settled on the little ones to play with. They go to a Kindergarten that is next door (right). In the morning I try to go over there when they get out for break. The teachers are starting to get to know me there. The children there I think enjoy playing with me. They have started flocking to me whenever I come. All I could do was dodge the snowballs when it snowed a coupld of weeks ago.

I pray constantly for a friend my age, though.

Hushabye Baby

I had been having trouble falling asleep at night almost every night for a long time since moving here. Then dad finally came in to help me pray and fall asleep. We prayed and God gave me a picture of dad leaving and I would tell myself a story of what heaven would look like. So this I did after he left. And you know what? It really worked! The next night I prayed, and God told me to imagine hell. You wouldn't think it would make me sleepy, but it did help. In other nights I have imagined my neighborhood without the beggars and poverty, and it became so beautiful, it felt as it was really true. God has helped me to fall asleep through my prayers (sometimes humming, sometimes singing). Also lately I have been able to talk to God as I go to sleep, which has been a great blessing for me.

Daddy has written about this here.

Learning to love Russia

Yesterday was a day that wouldn't be enough to talk about, so I will talk about yesterday's life - you could say "last year's life." How far have I come? Last year, I was new to Russia. I didn't understand why I was in Russia. What was Russia? The last few months before leaving America were hard to realize that I was leaving and not coming back. I experienced a lot of good-byes during that time. I couldn't understand, why did I have to go? It was difficult, because in those last few weeks, I really started to understand that I wasn't coming back, never. And now here, I think, "Did I really love America, or was I just used to America?" Now here I understand that I didn't love America; I was just used to it. Here I love Russia. I feel like I can love Russia and not just be used to it. I don't hate America; it's my thoughts about America that are different. I didn't know hate in America until I came to Russia. I didn't know love until I came to Russia. In America, people have a sense of what is right and wrong, so they just do it without thinking. They don't really love when they do it. They do it because they know it is most likely the right thing. In America, people don't think about doing wrong. In Russia, most people, not all, don't have an ounce of that sense. They see wrong as right and OK. I can give many examples of things that are sad in Russia, that I see practically every day.

For example (this is reality!), there are two benches in our courtyard. They are very close to each other. Many people sit on them. But there is one guy in particular who sits there all day and goes back and forth between them, sitting on one or the other, one or the other. There is obviously something wrong with him, and my entire family knows the answer. He is drunk; never is he not drunk. He can sometimes be not as drunk, but he is still usually drunk. I shouldn't say "most of the time" but "all of the time." We cannot do anything to help him. He is so addicted, he can't even concentrate on things. During the Easter game we played outside, we all were looking for one of the clues Daddy had hidden, and we found him lying so drunk on the ground, he didn't even realize that his entire forehead was covered in blood. My dad picked him up and put him back on the bench. He looked right into the man's face and asked him, clearly, "Do you want help?" The guy was so drunk, he didn't realize he needed help, so he said no. We probably should have helped him with hydrogen peroxide and bandages. But the guy was so out of it, he didn't realize he was bleeding. But head wounds do heal quickly, but there was a lot of grime in it. So he is still alive, but there are probably thousands of germs crawling in his head.

Another time, my Mother and I were coming to a metro stop along the square and we saw a huge crowd gathered in one area. We could see through the people and saw legs and a face on the ground. This was a guy likely dead from alcohol. The legs were dark purple, and the part of the face we could see was a bright red mass. Then, near there, there was a long line of old ladies, who are there every week selling their last possessions, because the government only gives them about $120 a month. But they have to pay not only rent, food, transportation, and then pay off the mafia who control begging and selling. I could name a hundred other examples, but I have other things to say.

The pain here is undoubtedly noticed by others, but most people can't do anything to help. What frustrates me is that the government most likely notices what they are doing to these poor ladies, because they are the ones giving them the $120 a month, and they don't do anything to stop it. The government here is most likely not all influenced by somebody making them give unjust pensions. They could do otherwise, but they won't. They wouldn't for all the 120 dollars in the world. They probably only do it for 15 millionaires money, which makes me so mad, I want to be in charge of the government, but I know I can't, so I do what little my family can do.

For my birthday, my dad gave me 4 jars with the start of my allowance. One jar is for pocket money. Another is for saving. Another is for the poor. Another is for the church. I get 40 rubles every Sunday, and I put ten in each. You can bet that most of the time the one for the poor will be empty from usage.

You are probably wanting to know how I can love Russia through all this. This is a simple question. How can God love Russia through all this? I love it as God would love it. God loves it more than I do, but I love it as well because He made it. I did not make it, but I love it because it is a unique country, not because of the pain, since many countries have pain, but because it is wonderful to see love. Every day it is a joy to see love because it is not often that you do see love. Would you please pray for Russia to become a Christian country with more love than it has now?

Grandma visit

My grandma came here for a visit a few weeks ago. She came with a group on a cruise. For a few days she had to be with them before she was released. But we saw each other periodically during the last part of her cruise when they got to St. Petersburg. We were very excited to see each other and we spent a few days also with her friends, Elaine and Dennis Connally (left and right). Then after they left, Grandma came over to stay with us - in my room!!!

We went a lot of places. We went to a nearby park, to some cathedrals, a cemetery (right), and a museum (left) that we had never even been in. She explored the city with us, but we spent a lot of time at home together. I wanted to show here everything I could. I wanted to show her the secrets of our house and the secrets of our neighborhood. These included the special places we like to play at, not necessarily playgrounds like the neighboring Kindergarten where we play a lot on the swing and a soccer field - not exactly with grass and the white markings. It is more of broken glass on sand in a big area in my courtyard.

I liked feeding her food like tvorog (a rough dry cottage cheese). She liked the different pickled salads, jams, and soups like borsch. And then one time she cooked breakfast the Southern way for us, because she is Southern. It was a trip down memory lane. She also cooked a wonderful dinner that was also Southern. It was a trip up memory lane. We took her to our hugongous grocery store called O'Kay. She was very surprised at the variety and how large it was.

It felt weird to be in a place where I knew and she didn't, becasue in America she knew at least the language and the food. There is nothing much to show her there. Now it felt strange. It was odd to show what I knew as home and have someone whom you knew in a place they didn't know but that she was excited about and exploring. We had discovered it all, and it was like trying to be excited when your little sister is going into first grade where you have already been. It was different to see her excited about stuff we knew.

Sometimes it felt like we were in America where she lived because with her there, it changed some things. It made me feel priviledged to be here, but at the same time wishing to go home. When she left it was very sad, but we all knew that soon comes the other grandparents (at the end of September).

Making friends and losing friends is very hard.

My family had to go to Germany for three weeks because we needed to get new visas in order to stay in Russia. We stayed with some friends in the southern area of Germany in the Black Forest; actually we were 29 steps to the forest. The town was called Oberwaldachtel, and it was quaint. I liked how the houses were big and clean with a cheerful, flowery spirit.

One day our host's wife took her little girl to the playground. I accompanied her, and I learned the path to that playground. The next day, I wanted to take my family there. On our way there, we saw three little girls in front of a yard. Little did I know that those three girls would change my next three weeks.

When we arrived at the playground, we were soon playing happily on the slide and swings. (Dad had brought newspapers so we could slide on them down the slide to go faster.) Those three girls came to the playground and started to play on the see-saw that was empty. I walked up and helped them on the see-saw since they were totally different weights, and it was unbalanced. Soon I started making funny faces and making bunny ears on the girls' heads. They laughed and laughed, and though I could not speak German, my father helped me find out their names and ages.

Jill (right) has black hair and tanned skin. She was seven years old, but during our time there, I helped her celebrate her eighth birthday. The other girl, named Madalyn (left), had just turned eight and had brown hair and light skin. Finally, Tchosey, was around four and had very short hair. Jill and Tchosey are sisters, and their older sister, who I had not met yet, Angie, became my best friend.

After the playground we went together into the forest and ate blueberries, making them into eyeshadow and lipstick. Then they had to go eat and said that we would meet together after lunch. At the appointed time, I got ready and walked out the door. Upon arriving at Jill's house, I found Jill and Madalyn on the porch by the small pool that they had. We soon were laughing so hard that Jill's older sister, Angie, peeked out of the window. She noticed me and came outside. Angie realized that I could speak English and started using the English she learned in school. She was really quite fluent. Angie (below, center) is 11, but I am taller. The girls were soon feeling very comfortable together. Over the three weeks, even though Angie was still in school, we would meet together almost every afternoon. We would ride her scooter, play at the playground, and do all sorts of fun things with the other girls. Seeing all the girls together was very normal. Neither Jill nor Madalyn spoke any English, but we could communicate better than two English speakers.

The last day was hard for us girls to say good-bye. Most of us were tearing up. We felt like we had lost one of our limbs. I had a desire that I expressed to Jill and Madalyn that every time they met, they would sing our "theme song" called "Nein, nein, bitte, bitte" (no, no, please, please) which we made up together and sing with different styles of music. I have learned to make friends no matter what the circumstances, no matter the languages.

Now that we are back, all of my friends are gone. Zhenya is at her babushka's (grandma's), and Alena I have not seen for weeks. Only boys are left, and all I can do with them is play football (which I know how to do, by the way). But I don't like to play football with a bunch of boys who can't even speak my own language and who tease me about my language. I do miss all my friends. I feel lonely now that I have no one nearby. Zhenya is coming back on the 14th. I don't even know if Alena moved. I hope that in October when we have to leave again for our visas that we go to Germany to see my friends again.