"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.