God of the Details
As most of you know, I'm doing an internship/study abroad this summer in Moscow, Russia. Which means that for three months, I'll be living in one of the greatest cities in the world, studying Russian under a native professor, teaching English at an orphanage, and working at the Dostoevsky museum here. Basically it's going to be incredible.
But this site you're reading isn't going to turn into an ordinary travel blog. You're not going to get daily or weekly updates on what I'm seeing or doing in Russia. (But Facebook might, so you can check there if you want more pictures.) No, here is still going to be my thoughts and reflections and ponderings on life, inspired by the seemingly mundane things that always happen, discussed in an attempt to capture the essence of life.
And we're beginning with details. Details carefully planned by God to give His children to know that they are known. That they are loved. That they are cared about. Someone I'm a big fan of once referred to these details as "tender mercies." And as I've begun my summer adventures, I've been in awe at how completely my God has planned the details of my life.
I looked from my ticket back up to the numbers on the rows of airplane seats. Yep, there was definitely someone sitting in my seat. I made eye contact with the woman and she smiled up at me. I knew that smile. I knew it because I'd given it to countless people while living in Ukraine. Countless people had given it to me as they struggled to understand my English. It is a smile of complete oblivion, but a desire to love and be a friend. It is the smile of one who doesn't speak your language. After a few more smiles and hand motions, I sat down in the seat next to this middle-aged woman, deciding to let the seat mix-up slide. Using the meager store of Spanish words I'd accumulated over my 23 years of life, I began conversing with my new friend. She was from Columbia and was off for a European vacation for a few weeks. After a few minutes, someone approached us down the aisle, looking from ticket to seat numbers.
"I think you're in my seat," she informed me, showing me her ticket. We figured out that our Spanish-speaking friend (we'll call her Maria) had moved to the window seat, even though she was supposed to be on the other side of the aisle, but we resolved the problem by just switching seats and letting our friend have her window seat. And then it dawned on me that I hadn't originally been supposed to sit by this person, so there must be some reason for the switching to happen.
As our conversation/motioning continued, Maria suddenly noticed my set of scriptures. She became excited and pulled out her Bible. I smiled and expressed excitement that she was also a Christian. And I thought about how I wished I had sufficient Spanish to tell her that mine was a different book, one called the Book of Mormon. And immediately I remembered a day a couple months ago. On a whim, I had asked my sister-in-law to teach me how to say the name of the church in Spanish, never thinking I would need to actually know or use it. But as I sat on that plane with Maria, I was filled with warmth, realizing and feeling that God loved me and Maria enough to prepare me for that exact moment to be able to explain to her what religion was mine. I told Maria the name of my church, and her excitement increased. She asked me when it was and I told her Sunday, but that my friends could call her to tell her what time and where. Our conversation continued after that, and I showed her how to open plastic packages, explained what Ranch dressing was, and helped her use her headphones and personal TV. And I was filled with love--love for her and love from God for both of us. There was no doubt in my mind that God knew me and her. I was only in London for a few days, so I don't know if Maria made it to church or if the missionaries were able to follow-up with her. But I know that God loves her. And He carefully plans where people sit on airplanes. And He prompts His children to learn things that will be useful to them later.
But this site you're reading isn't going to turn into an ordinary travel blog. You're not going to get daily or weekly updates on what I'm seeing or doing in Russia. (But Facebook might, so you can check there if you want more pictures.) No, here is still going to be my thoughts and reflections and ponderings on life, inspired by the seemingly mundane things that always happen, discussed in an attempt to capture the essence of life.
And we're beginning with details. Details carefully planned by God to give His children to know that they are known. That they are loved. That they are cared about. Someone I'm a big fan of once referred to these details as "tender mercies." And as I've begun my summer adventures, I've been in awe at how completely my God has planned the details of my life.
***
"I think you're in my seat," she informed me, showing me her ticket. We figured out that our Spanish-speaking friend (we'll call her Maria) had moved to the window seat, even though she was supposed to be on the other side of the aisle, but we resolved the problem by just switching seats and letting our friend have her window seat. And then it dawned on me that I hadn't originally been supposed to sit by this person, so there must be some reason for the switching to happen.
As our conversation/motioning continued, Maria suddenly noticed my set of scriptures. She became excited and pulled out her Bible. I smiled and expressed excitement that she was also a Christian. And I thought about how I wished I had sufficient Spanish to tell her that mine was a different book, one called the Book of Mormon. And immediately I remembered a day a couple months ago. On a whim, I had asked my sister-in-law to teach me how to say the name of the church in Spanish, never thinking I would need to actually know or use it. But as I sat on that plane with Maria, I was filled with warmth, realizing and feeling that God loved me and Maria enough to prepare me for that exact moment to be able to explain to her what religion was mine. I told Maria the name of my church, and her excitement increased. She asked me when it was and I told her Sunday, but that my friends could call her to tell her what time and where. Our conversation continued after that, and I showed her how to open plastic packages, explained what Ranch dressing was, and helped her use her headphones and personal TV. And I was filled with love--love for her and love from God for both of us. There was no doubt in my mind that God knew me and her. I was only in London for a few days, so I don't know if Maria made it to church or if the missionaries were able to follow-up with her. But I know that God loves her. And He carefully plans where people sit on airplanes. And He prompts His children to learn things that will be useful to them later.
***
There were several of us who all went to London together. We spent an incredible few days in that beautiful city, cramming our souls full of knowledge and culture and our mouths full of fish and chips. One day we'd planned to watch the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. One kid had left earlier that morning than the rest of us and planned to meet us by the palace after the changing of the guard. But something these American tourists did not realize was exactly how many other people would be in that exact location. And after the better part of an hour was spent searching the square for each other, we gave up and moved on with our plans for the day. Having no phones, if someone got separated, they were basically lost from the group until the end of the night when we all returned to our accommodations. So we left our friend to roam London by himself all day. But there was nothing to do for it. Nothing, that is, except pray and watch miracles. Less than an hour after we'd left the palace, we found ourselves between parliament and Westminster Abbey. And who should be crossing that street at the exact time that we were but our friend we'd lost. And he wasn't just in the middle of the crowd, either, where we could have missed him entirely. No, he was right on the edge, visible on the traffic island. After having searched for so long in one specific location, running into him in the middle of the city was brought into stark relief. God knew these little American tourists.
I stepped from the Jetway into the cabin of the aircraft, and was overwhelmed by the sensations of my mission. Russian words filled the air. That ubiquitous smell of Eastern Europe filled my lungs. And I was overcome with a wave of nostalgia. I was going back to the place I loved so dearly. Except not really going back. Different circumstances. Different city. Different purpose. But all the surroundings were the same, giving me to miss even more the place I'd left nine months ago. I sat down in my seat--in my aisle seat that I had no idea why I'd requested an hour ago, because I much prefer window seats. And I just felt. I watched the little Russian children pass me, chattering away in the language I love so much. I watched the adults stow away their plastic bags in the overhead compartment. And I wondered what I was doing. I eventually drifted off, exhausted from jet-lag, a week of running around London, and getting up early to make it to the airport. But when I awoke, I began talking to the girl next to me. And she was surprised that this little foreigner knew Russian. For the rest of the flight (sans another lapse into sleep on my part) she spoke with me in Russian, which made me incredibly grateful, since she speaks near-perfect English. We talked about Russia, England, life, school, work, families, religion, Ukraine, and everything under the sun. And as we spoke, my nostalgia slipped away. Yes, I was heading to a different city than the ones where I already have friends, but I was going to build new relationships. To create a new experience. I was going where I needed to be going. And I took comfort knowing that, before we even touched down, I had a friend in the city I'd be living in for three months. Sometimes asking for an aisle seat puts you where you need to be.
Considering this post has already ended up longer than I anticipated, I'll probably stop there. But there have been countless moments on this trip already that have taken my breath away in gratitude to a God who cares about and plans the details of my life. For a God who goes with me to London and to Moscow.
***
I stepped from the Jetway into the cabin of the aircraft, and was overwhelmed by the sensations of my mission. Russian words filled the air. That ubiquitous smell of Eastern Europe filled my lungs. And I was overcome with a wave of nostalgia. I was going back to the place I loved so dearly. Except not really going back. Different circumstances. Different city. Different purpose. But all the surroundings were the same, giving me to miss even more the place I'd left nine months ago. I sat down in my seat--in my aisle seat that I had no idea why I'd requested an hour ago, because I much prefer window seats. And I just felt. I watched the little Russian children pass me, chattering away in the language I love so much. I watched the adults stow away their plastic bags in the overhead compartment. And I wondered what I was doing. I eventually drifted off, exhausted from jet-lag, a week of running around London, and getting up early to make it to the airport. But when I awoke, I began talking to the girl next to me. And she was surprised that this little foreigner knew Russian. For the rest of the flight (sans another lapse into sleep on my part) she spoke with me in Russian, which made me incredibly grateful, since she speaks near-perfect English. We talked about Russia, England, life, school, work, families, religion, Ukraine, and everything under the sun. And as we spoke, my nostalgia slipped away. Yes, I was heading to a different city than the ones where I already have friends, but I was going to build new relationships. To create a new experience. I was going where I needed to be going. And I took comfort knowing that, before we even touched down, I had a friend in the city I'd be living in for three months. Sometimes asking for an aisle seat puts you where you need to be.
***
Comments
Post a Comment