Friday, August 20, 2010

Maine is in the Air

Standing on the foundation with closed eyes and hair blowing in the wind, I can almost see the waves crashing against the rocks at the Thunderhole.  And as the wind blows through the trees, if I listen closely I can faintly hear the ocean.  "Feels like Maine is in the air," Eric comments.  Thinking that I might have found a fellow dreamer, I share, "I know.  The wind blowing through the trees sounds like the ocean."  He raises his eyebrows at me and I know he's thinking "She's a little crazy."  So I quickly add, "Faintly hear it."  Eyebrows raise a little more.  "With your eyes closed," I say.  "Uh, huh," he says, as he continues bringing wood to the babooshka next door.

Probably the question we've been asked the most frequently would be "Why Ukraine?"  This question didn't stop once deputation was finished, in fact, we probably get asked this more now by Ukrainians than we did by churches in America!  And it is usually followed by questions like "Which is better, America or Ukraine?" or comments like "We're all trying to go TO America and you are coming FROM America."  The first time I heard this, I was taken back a little and unsure what to say.  It just doesn't make sense to them.  Why would we leave our house, cars, families, good paying jobs, beautiful ocean, Walmart (you know your a missionay if you miss standing in line at Walmart) do you reply?  Now, I look forward to the question it seems like an open door for witnessing.  You see, Maine may be the most beautiful place in the world (I think it is...and for the record, I am not a mainiac), and maybe life would be different, but what is all that without the peace of God?  I would constantly be searching for one thing more to fill that void and give me the peace that only believing in Jesus Christ and following Him can bring.  I wouldn't trade my wind in the trees for all the crashing oceans. 

The beauty of God's will.

The sky was breathtaking today.

Taking Mama.

Onions for winter.

The neighbor's plum tree.

A thank you for wood.

My hardworking man.

Waiting while Papa delivers the last of the wood.

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