Monday, July 26, 2010

Last day (the Sparrow Falls blog post)

It's my last day in Russia.

I really don't want to leave.

Yesterday i sang 2 songs in the worship service and then lead the kids stuff for the rest of the service. sang some Your Love is Strong, some Vicky Beeching (in Russian!) and some Bluetree. I think Bluetree was a hit. I then told them the parable of the farmer sowing seeds (mark 4) with their "help". We acted it out. My favorite was the seed who fell on the rock, and the birds who ate the rock. Each one of these objects was a kid, so use your imagination:)

Then we played American games and the kids taught me Russian ones. I taught them duck duck goose and ultimate frisbee. classic.

Then, we went to the lake with the church group and played epic uno battles. Russian uno has about 12 more rules than American uno and it's way more fun. I can't wait to play it with my friends when I get back. Also, Veronica and her dad gave me Russian Fairytales that i promise one day, i will be able to read.

Every day in Russia ends with the people i love so very much crammed in the kitchen drinking tea and talking. My room has a balcony, and i can see the whole city from here. I think maybe in this whole city, there is no place more wonderful than right here. I feel the gift of freedom here, the freedom to love and be loved. I know now that only God gives that kind of freedom.

There are about a million sparrows that fly by my balcony around sunset every night. I watch them and recite the "hope is a thing with feathers, that perches in the soul" poem by emily dickenson. It reminds me of the Madeline L'engle book The Arm of the Starfish. At the very end of the book one of my favorite characters remarks that "If you're going to care about the fall of the sparrow, you can't pick and chose who the sparrow is going to be. It's everybody and you're stuck with it."

Here, in Russia, in America. God cares about the fall of the sparrow. Like Him, we cannot pick and chose who is the sparrow. It is every heart, every cry, every lost and wandering body. Across nations, across time. How then, shall we live in blind safety while the sparrow falls?

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