How do you say "Yum" in Russian?

Sunflower fields in full bloom are magnificent.  In Ukraine, they're everywhere.  Graceful stalks of green crowned by yellow-fringed brown orbs wave gently in the breeze, turning their luminous faces toward the light.  I never realized Ukraine grew so many sunflowers, but, apparently, sunflower seeds are considered the national snack.  The plants are also used for producing sunflower oil. 

Ukraine is often considered the bread basket of Europe.  Rich soil readily grows all kinds of produce.  I wasn't in the country long before I knew this first-hand.  Farmer's markets were everywhere.  Fresh produce was abundant.  I tasted some of the best tomatoes, watermelons, cucumbers, potatoes, apricots, corn, plums, and melons while there.

In the last village we visited, multiple apricot trees graced the grounds near the church (which was a bright pink color :)).  The little orange fruits were fully ripe and were falling from the trees, creating a mushy carpet beneath the sprawling limbs. 

Luba, one of the translators, immediately went about collecting in-tact fruit from the ground.  Such an  activity seemed automatic for these people.  It was not the first time I had seen one of our translators reach for fruit from a random village tree.  A few days earlier, my translator, Anna, plucked a petite pair from a tree and handed it to me to enjoy.  It should be the most natural thing in the world to eat fruit right from any ol' tree, but for some reason, I felt hesitant.  It was just a bit foreign to me. 

One of the apricots that had ripened near the pink church was offered to me.  Brushing the dirt off of the fuzzy skin, I sank my teeth into its flesh and was greeted with a burst of flavor.  I had never eaten an apricot that was so tasty!  If you look closely at the photo to the right, you'll see hundreds of apricots in this tree in addition to a village boy who had climbed up high to harvest them.

A couple of the Ukrainian woman with us gathered a huge pail of fruit from the tree and paid the man who owned it.  I was so intrigued!  How fun to be on a little day trip, and, on a whim, harvest enough apricots to make a gallon of apricot jam!  These Ukrainians know how to live!

Another very common sight were grapevines.  Often, there would be a carport-like structure next to a village house.  Growing on the iron skeleton would be luscious grape vines.  Picture-perfect clumps of grapes served not only as a means of food but of decoration as well.  I never had the pleasure of trying these grapes as they were only just beginning to ripen.  That's not to say that I wasn't tempted to reach up and pull them from their shady home. 

Not suprisingly, we had no shortage of amazing food to eat while in Ukraine.  In addition to a wide variety of fresh produce, Ukraine is known for its love affair with borscht, a soup that has many varieties but usually contains beets and other vegetables.  On the three village days that we were fed by local Ukrainian women, we were fed borscht.  I loved it!



One day, our hostess served us huge bowls of the steaming soup.  After putting a dollop of homemade sour cream on top and grabbing a slice of homemade bread, I devoured the goodness.  It tasted even better as we sat outside under the shade of a huge tree and listened to the testimony of the village pastor.  Thinking that was all we would be served, I chowed down on the soup and helped myself to more homemade bread.

When I had finished my bowl, the sweet hostess pulled it from in front of me and returned with a steaming bowl of potatoes and chicken.  The bowl was filled to the top and it was a papa-bear-sized dish.  I felt a bit overwhelmed.  I was nearly full, but I didn't want to disappoint my hostess or give her the wrong impression, so I ate as much as I could.  The food was so fresh and so delicious that I wished for a second stomach.  After eating half the portion, I knew I had to stop the feasting.  Turning to my translator, I asked her to apologize profusely for my inability to finish the portion, but to tell the hostess how much I loved the food. 

I'm pretty sure I gained a few pounds over the week in Ukraine.  The food was so plentiful and mouth-watering and both our Ukrainian and American hosts and hostesses lavished it on us at each meal.  I can give personal testimony to the fact that this land really is the bread basket of Europe.  Yum!

A Day in Ukraine

Let me tell you what a typical day was like for me while I was in Ukraine.

Waking to a small alarm provided by my wonderful hostess, Holly Friesen, I would pull myself out of bed to the smell of delicious coffee.  Holly, a full-time missionary who is a trained nurse practitioner, made me feel so at home.  Our mutual love of coffee was an instant bond, I think.  Knowing a fresh cup of joe was available for me upon awaking fueled my morning routine. 

As I readied for the day, I would stop at a window to behold the breathtaking views of Odessa afforded by a tenth-floor apartment spot.  Relishing the foreign cityscape and unique sounds of the hubbub far below, I would eventually move to the kitchen where Holly would have a yummy breakfast prepared.  Fresh fruit purchased from nearby farmers' markets was a highlight as were scrumptious squares of homemade baked oatmeal.

We would linger at the table, sipping coffee and enjoying rich conversation.  Then, as the time for departing to a nearby village drew near, I would pull on my backpack full of craft supplies and grab the poster I had depicting Jesus feeding the five thousand.  Slinging my green purse over my shoulder on the way out, Holly and I would ride the elevator down the shaft, stroll past one of the old guard ladies at the apartment entrance, and sit down on a bench outside to wait for my ride. 

Shortly thereafter, a vehicle would pull up, usually driven by one of two Ukrainian men who were believers and who helped out with the ministry.  My dad, who was staying with another missionary couple (Bruce and Carol Bagley) would already be in the car as would Carol Bagley.  Carol, a seasoned missionary to Ukraine, came along to help me run Bible programs for the village children each afternoon. 

I would load my things into the car and say goodbye to Holly, whose nearly full-time task right now is to study the Russian language.  Then, we would take off, meandering through the streets of Odessa. Driving within inches of other cars and bold pedestrians who dared to cross the buzzing streets, the van would pull off here and there to pick up our remaining team: two translators and two pharmacy/lab assistants.  These women, all Ukrainians and all believers, were wonderful and helped to make the week incredibly fun.

After stopping at a church to pick up the materials for the traveling pharmacy, we would be off to the village destination of the day.  Some villages were about 40 minutes away from Odessa.  Some took over two hours to reach.  Some roads were nice and provided for a smooth ride.  Some were incredibly bumpy or were simple dirt tire tracks cut through a field.

Always eager for new experiences, I would feel excitement bubble within me as we pulled into a village at the beginning of the day.  Enchanting, colorful houses, livestock tethered by the side of the road, and man-made piles of hay dotted the sides of the street. When we reached the church or meeting center where the clinics would be held, we would unload from the van and be greeted by the sereneness of a country day.

Sometimes, when we arrived, the patients would already be lined up, ready to see Dad, the doctor for the day.  At a few of the locations, a little service would be held with these gathered patients where a pastor would give a testimony about the Lord and then pray.  At a couple of the clinics, my dad got to share some of his testimony (with his fun translator, Luba, by his side). 

After the ceremony, the pharmacy would be assembled and my dad and his translator would set up shop in whatever room was provided as the examining room.  Some rooms were better equipped for this task than others, but they all accomplished the said task: to minister to and share the love of Christ with the people of the village via medical care. 

During the morning hours, I would sit and chat with Carol and my translator Anna.  These times were precious.  I learned so much about the Ukrainian culture and the Russian language in these sessions while soaking up the scenes of the village.  A few times, I took walks in the village to explore the area and capture a few photos.

After lunch, which in of itself is a blog topic, Carol, Anna, and I would prepare to hold our Bible program for the children in the village who chose to come.  We would have anywhere from 10 to 30-some children come for these programs.  Singing, a Bible story, the Gospel message, a snack, a craft, and games were all included.  Interacting with these children was like a dream.  They were precious and sweet and funny and ornery and intuitive and creative and basically everything kids are.  In spite of the language difference, I was blessed by them each day.

Once the Bible program was over and my dad finished with all of the patients and home visits on his schedule, we would load back up, drive home, drop the pharmacy and folks off at their respective locations, and head for dinner at one of the missionary's homes.  We usually didn't eat until between 7 and 8.  By the time we finished dinner and found our way home, it was nearly time for bed. 

Now you are aquainted with a typical day for us while we were in Ukraine.  They were long days, but fun and rewarding days too.  They are days I won't soon forget.

"Ootka, Ootka, Goose!"

Early this morning, the bright green numbers of my alarm clock mockingly declared me a jet-lag victim: 4:44.  With an annoyed groan, I flipped over, pulled the covers tighter, and tried to shake the awakeness I felt.  I had gone to bed only five hours ago.  My body surely wasn't done resting. 

As I snuggled deeper under my sheets, I recalled the deep nap I had taken the afternoon before.  I had been reading when I suddenly felt an extreme exhaustion unusual for the late-afternoon hour.  As soon as I had given in and stretched out on my couch, I was ushered into a sound sleep.  Hmmm.  No wonder sleep was eluding me now.  After fifteen more minutes of feigned snoozing, I threw the covers off and marched into the living room, flipping lights on as I went.  Five hours of sleep it is.  I didn't want to waste any more time lying in my room.

Whatever jet lag I may be experiencing right now is a small price to pay for the rich opportunity I had to accompany my dad to Ukraine last week.  I feel blessed beyond measure by the people I met there, the beautiful countryside I saw, and the paradigm-shaking culture I encountered.  Enchanting, overwhelming, mystical, foreign, dark, profound, beautiful, convicting, eye-opening.  These are a few of the words that describe my view of that far-away land. 

Stories are plentiful.  Musings are varied.  Processing is needed.  Encounters are imprinted in my mind like selective loops, short and repetitive.  One such memory is an adorable village boy who attended one of our little day camps on the first day of the trip.  Unaware that I really couldn't understand the Russian he was prattling, he kept peering at me, wringing his hands, and crying, "Ootka, ootka, goose!"  Over and over.  Enchanted by his foreign tongue and amused by his enthusiasm, I smiled at him and eventually glanced at my translator.  "What's he saying?"

My translator chatted with him.  Within his explanation, he would occasionally repeat his chant, "Ootka, ootka, goose!"  Accompanying the chant was that wringing hand motion.  Turns out, he was begging me to play a form of "Duck, duck, goose" that he had recently learned at a Christian camp.  The wringing hand motion represented a wet rag that the player who was "it" would wring over the chosen "goose", dousing them in water under the warm Ukrainian sun. 

I laughed from deep within, so enthralled by the boy's excitement and further intrigued that "ootka" meant "duck" while "goose" was basically the same as our English "goose".  I wished so much I could burst from the few Russian phrases I knew to interact with the boy myself, but I could only hope that my laugh and smile communicated something of my heart to him. 

That's just one snapshot of my time in Ukraine.  Perhaps the most profound thing is how faith in Christ unites people of every culture.  Meeting those who knew the Lord there created an almost instant bond, even if our communication was limited.  That's amazing to me and speaks to the power of the Holy Spirit.

Jet lag will pass.  The impressions and experiences Ukraine afforded me will remain.  I pray that I will be faithful to learn the things God would have me to from my experience there.