I’m actually not in Kyiv anymore, but I was yesterday. And I thought “From Kyiv” might give you more of a picture of where I am than if I said where I really am. (Kyiv is not in North America or Asia.)
Today is my 15th day in Ukraine. My 23rd day since leaving my home for the last time. Ever. (Please blame my parents for moving while I am gone.)
This blog may or may not continue for those of you who have asked how you will know if I am still breathing and writing while not “home.” Others who are bored are welcome to read it as well. Also, you can comment and you will make me happy and I will have warm feelings of assurance that I am not simply posting for the amusement of the phantoms wandering the world wide web.
If you have not seen the Carpathian mountains, you ought to before you die. I can’t help you because I didn’t get any pictures. In fact, the instant I hit the ground in the Ukraine I became too busy crowing at the skies, smelling the dirt, and skipping and falling on my face into gravel with children’s hands in both of mine.
(If you take my counsel and find yourself on an adventure to the Carpathian mountains and you are remotely tender of head or hoof, bring a padded suit and/or a hover aircraft. The roads are just a tiny bit bumpy. *insert understanding wink/shot of vodka* <– Whatever your convictions allow.)
After the family camp in the mountains we came back to this city in which I now live and Ye Olde Mother Hubbard (the esteemed matriarch of my kin) and others had a mini-conference on home education. It’s still sketchy and mostly unknown here in Ukraine, but, I think, a possible and important step towards stronger, solid options for Christians here.
Then we went back on the road and visited a friend and his family and church in a town. It was generally magical, but you can’t explain these things in this way. (Also I may not know you well enough to share such unexplaineable and beautiful vibes that, although you are no doubt worthy, are not meant for strangers. Also, I am lazy.)
Then…a Catholic church incident and the tables of ever reproducing food and the food in the teeth and the food on the face and food…everywhere.
Then I was back in Kyiv for the first time since the first time.
I sat in churches and looked at ceilings and thought about when I first looked at these ceilings on my very first day in Ukraine and how I sat on steps from the 11th century and talked to my best friend about our lives and what we wanted to do and where we wanted to be. And then I had my 2nd day in Ukraine and then my 3rd and then… (You get the idea).
And all those plans were ruined because…Ukraine.
That’s all I have to say for now, I guess.
*not pictured: a wonderful, beautiful week in Hungary with the saints and many, many giving, loving, welcoming Hungarians, Ukrainians, and Polish people. And tables laden with food and alcohol. More than you can imagine. Also, brown toilet paper and stray dogs and so, so, so much sweat.