do me a favor...

imagine me here. if i could put a little "x" right in front of the lady with the lavender pants (where is my suzanka when i need her??) that is where
i'd be.

if i had the money.

if i had the time.

if i took things into my own hands and ignored god's will and calling.



i used to live somewhere near here. i used to take it for granted. there are things you should know. i want to tell you a story, one of times i don't talk about anymore.

one night, probably around 11 or 11:30, i was walking home by myself. i was basking in some much needed alone time, following a bad bout of culture shock. people staring, whispering in russian.

i had been at our flat near pushkinskaya cleaning and preparing to move in our next group of americans. knowing full well that it was dangerous for me to be out so late alone, i had lost all track of time, enjoying the moment of preparation and nesting, getting food put away neatly and clean sheets on all the beds. i can be so domesticated at times :)

i knew the bus routes and the metro stops instinctively, so i was taking my time, looking around and falling ever more in love with this beautiful city of my heart. a babushka stopped me asking for money. she was selling daisies, a favorite of mine, so i bought some to bring back to lenuchka for letting us stay at her flat while we prepared ours. and flowers cost practically nothing. i was thinking about finding some sort of surprise gift for jeremy and amy, who had stayed behind that day to get ready for camp. gifts are my love language toward others, and it was easy to give to my heart's content because of all the little stands and peddlers along the way to things.

walking past a little cafe, i stopped to watch inside. as i was standing there, holding my daisies, i suddenly felt small and very young. a man was coming out. he wore a striped shirt and a funny hat. he had smart plastic framed glasses and a greying beard. his huge bushy eyebrows shook like little caterpillars crossing over his eyes.

as if time were standing still, frozen for just a moment, i stood in my spot and gazed up at his weathered face. he smiled warmly, reached out, and put his rough hand on my cheek (which i would never normally tolerate). "my little one" he said, in a lazy belarussian accent, and patted me on the head. "so beautiful, my little one."

i rode the rest of the way home with a strange smile glued to my face. i couldn't read, or knit. i just existed, so completely safe and cared for. i didn't notice anyone else or anything else. and i've never forgotten a stitch of that moment as much time has passed since.

god cares for me in the funniest ways. i've seen him in that man, one warm island in a city full of nightly drunks and woman abusers. in a little old chinese woman sitting with me in the sidewalk when i was lost in chicago. in a tiny baby at an orphanage in quillacollo that reminded me of god's plan for me. in a huge black man with a god stocking hat, holding me and letting me cry when my car was broken into in kcmo.

so i pray that he sees fit to continue to visit me.