Family of Eight

Here is an example of a family that lives in Belarus:

There are six children, twoboys and four girls, ranging from ages 12 to 20. The father travels over and hour by foot to get to work each morning. The oldest girl, Natalia, was hit by a car while walking across the street, but the man who did it refuses to help pay for her leg surgery and the family has little chance of winning their court case against him, because the unwritten rule about the judiciary system is, "Whoever has the most money, wins." And on top of this, the mother has dreamed for years and years of taking her family to Vilnius, a city in the neighboring country of Lithuania, so that her children might actually meet their grandparents. It is only a two-hour car ride there, but the high price of visas and their lack of a car make it a nearly impossible dream. Yet despite this situation, the 4 kilometer walk to school and the local train station that family members make every day, they are cheerful and giving. When visiting this family with an American couple, the mother immediately brought out her best cookies and preserves and their much-treasured Folgers Instant Coffee, which to them is priceless. They happily work in their garden, and the family obviously is very close. In many ways, they have a love for each other that many American families lack, yet there is not always a guarantee of enough food for the entire family at dinner.

THE TINY HOUSE

Here it is! The doors are about 6.75 feet high.
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Weather Report

The weather in Belarus nevers lasts for more than an hour. Upon waking up, sunshine will be streaming in your window. When you finish showering, rain is pouring down on your roof. After breakfast, you step outside and the clouds are breaking up. On the walk to work, a light, warm breeze is blowing. To walk hom for lunch you bundle up in a parka and brace yourself against the icy wind, and then for the walk back to work, you peel down to shorts and a tank top and shades.

Today, however, was an exception. For nearly twelve hours straight, it was overcast and cold. A very dreary day. But not inside the church! A dozen or so church members were working together to fix parts of the church. Due to various unfair circumstances and ridiculous reasons, the church was closed down this spring by the fire department, and cannot be opened until certain requirements are met. So, at least one day a week this summer I will be doing what I did today--construction. My main job was smoothing spackle onto the drywall seams, and then watching as one of the more experienced workers came along after and fixed all my mistakes, trying to do so without me noticing. It's somewhat mindless work, but will be a nice break from the mentally/emotionally/spiritually draining work of the rest of the week, which consists mainly of driving to houses in the Minsk area (which, by the way, is pronounced like MEENSK, not MINSK) to visit families where the children are starving or neglected or sick, and bring food or get them to a doctor or do whatever we can.

Hello, New Country

Well, it happened. I arrived. After a lovely Lufthansa flight across the Atlantic and a connection from Frankfurt to Minsk, I was slowly shuffled through customs by Mr. Nosmilingbelarrusian, and then met a smiling threesome in the airport--a shaved-headed man with a blonde goatee, a sweet mexican woman, and a third bearded man with glasses. They tirned out to be Mr. and Mrs. Nebel, and Mr. Christian. Friday I was introduced to THE tiny house and its guard dog (more on that later), and the rest of the Nebel family, and got a nickel tour of the church. After a fitful night of sleep on Friday, Saturday began with a 4:00 sunrise (I think), and included visiting four impoverished Belarussian families to deliver food, a meeting that was all in Belarussian, a youth church service, and a wonderful "Welcoem to Belarus!" party with all four American families in Ratomka, the suburd of Minsk where I am staying.

The good news is, the people and the place and the work are already amazing. The bad news is, I am badly sick. Last night my throat was hurting, but during the night a high fever developed, and my throat swelled up so badly that it hurt to swallow even a sip of water. One of the missionary wives is a nurse, and she checked it out and said ti was not strep. She got me some meds, and now it's bearable. Although about 3:30am this morning, when I woke up and my throat was inflamed, I seriously thought I was dying. So let's thank the Lord that at least now I have a somewhat good chance of pulling through.

It's still light outside (at 9:45 at night), but I really need some rest before getting up at 7:00am. I promise more news to come later, as well as pictures. Until then, I miss you!

p.s. there are so many railroad tracks here that my legs are killing me