Each new day continues to consist of new excursions; ones, when done at home, would hardly be classified as an adventure. Here, each new trip outside is something exhilarating and new. A few days ago, we laced up our skates and tried our skills (or lack of skills) out on the ice. It was wonderful! We teased each other and tried new tricks, and I somehow managed not to hit the ice…it wasn’t until we were walking to the hostile that I ate snow… figures. Last night a few of us went to a cinema that plays English movies with Russian subtitles. Our movie of choice (and by choice I mean the only option) was “Four Lions”, which I actually found to be a very well written movie about terrorist bombers – its sounds weird, I know. It uses humor to imply stupidity in suicide bomber’s religion, but also manages to reflect the sadness in these confused beliefs. It is a little different, but you should check it out if you have the chance.
I had a washing machine faux pas the other day. I know this seems like a silly thing to blog about, but I need the sympathy in this traumatic event :). It turns out that Russian blue jeans must have a stronger dye in them. My white socks, colored shirts, and a new pair of jeans went into the wash in their respected colors , and they all emerged blue. Blue. I feel like this is a mistake that you see on the movies, but never really happens in real life. Well, it does really happen, and now im that girl with the dyed blue socks and shirts. At least it wasn’t the stereotypical, “a red sock got into my laundry and now my shirts are pink” situation. At least it is a little outside norm. (totally kidding about needing the sympathy. Im handling the unfortunate even quite well id say ;) ).
Tonight I am warding off the cold and homesickness with some homemade, chicken and dumplings (Russian style due to lack of some ingredients). I think it may be the perfect solution for a dreary day. The hostel’s kitchen tiles are old, and the lighting is dim and flickering. The stoves seem quite experienced, and their hard labor shows in their rusted appearance. By itself, the tiny room is cold and bleak, but with the mix of aromas filling the air, the tiny Russian kitchen becomes quite inviting and almost comforting. Instead of the hostel’s kitchen, it becomes my kitchen, and I feel at home. I have been in search of some consistency here, and I think I may have found it. Hopefully, preparing dinner will become an expected event.
Among all the inconsistency lately, has been the weather. (yes, I am talking about the weather again.) Yesterday it was very warm and still in the city. The air was thick and breezeless, and the usually snow covered walkways were layered with brown slush. Today, though, the snow is steadily falling, hitchhiking its way down on gusts of wind. I watch the dizzying movement until the snowflakes finally come to rest somewhere on the ground. As the day goes on, Moscow snuggles deeper and deeper under a white blanket. Each snowflake, unique it in its own design, is tiny and beautiful and known by God. Where it falls is unknown, but it is sure to contribute to the intricate, wintery surroundings; each flake is part of something bigger.
As I am getting to know the girls here more, I am realizing how unique and beautiful each is. Like snowflakes, they too are small in the world, beautiful, and known by God. Before we knew where we would land, He did. In all his sovereignty, he placed us here together - By his grace and good works, we are intricately designed to be part of something bigger.
just living and loving every minute God gives me :)
love all my new friends. i know we aren't all here by accident.
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