It's 1:01 am in Moldova. here are some silly rambles:

I finally can say I'm a missionary, carrying the word of God halfway across the world from home. It's a beautiful thing. Beauty, though, is more complicated than anticipated. What God's enabling me to do here isn't surface deep. In fact, He's doing more in me than I could ever do for the people here. Honoring God by professing your faith paints a picture of beauty with humility. I did not get myself here. I did not grant myself provision, I did not answer my own prayers, and I did not decide to love God without God allowing it first.

That being said, I am honored that He has entrusted me with a testimony to Him. There are days I think my testimony will not affect a single soul. Then there are the waves of truth that crash into me showing me how even my story is not my own, and His will for me is for the greater good of His people. He chooses who I will encounter and how our time will honor Him.

The Lord is at work. According to the Scriptures, "[..] we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose" Romans 8:28. In this time of rest in Moldova [major camp projects have not begun], I begin to wonder why God put me here. In all honesty, before the Lord opened my eyes to what He intends, I began to think I landed here on accident, by luck or mistake. Funny thing is that with God, there are no accidents, there is no luck, and no mistakes. There is only favor and grace. That is what the Lord continues to bless each day with, favor and grace.

In the time I spent worrying about wasting time, The Lord was using to develop relationships with teammates, counselors, and friends. He was using the decisions me and my roommates were making to minister without words, and grant Him honor in that way. The people I'm surrounded by at this time know that I love the Lord. There has been no need to verbalize that. It has been through action that our ministry has begun. I can note several times we've visited the elderly to distribute food. The people we visit know that we're Christians. They don't want to know that. What they need is to feel that, whether that be through a hug, a smile, even letting them kiss you on the cheek (yes, babushka's really do kiss you on the cheek!). We don't even need to speak the same language. As long as we're there and we're honest and have Christ at the forefront of our minds, the Lord has been quick to show His love through us.

I've been blessed to be able to connect with some of the children that are apart of the church. There's one girl in particular. She teaches me Russian,as we talk about animal cookies and I butcher the names of the funny shaped owls and turtles. I get to amuse her with silly faces and hugs. The other day, she brought us to see her sister on another part of he district in Moldova. We walked a ways away from the church (I was able to see how eager this ten year old girl was to go to church on her own). Then we hopped on a bus. And then we walked a little more. We didn't understand each other the entire way there. It was such a wonderful experience. And once we saw her sister, who I had met but did not speak much with the last time I was in Moldova, she ran up to me and spun me around (being little has its benefits). She knew less English than her little sister, but she loved just as much. It was a time I never want to forget. It's just another way God showed me how he uses his children in unexpected ways.

thank you for reading. maybe deeper insight next time. til then, paka (goodbye in Russian).