surrendering ‘my rights’

It was towards the end of my time in Bulgaria that I realised how God had been lavishing His grace on me.

Now I am a single, strong, independent, opinionated woman, used to my personal space and freedom, being able to participate as an equal and having my say in all sorts of settings. And yet, without realising what was happening, and without any effort on my part (it was ALL the grace of God), I was happily sleeping on my friends’ lounge room floor, having my days just ‘happen’, and able to willingly spend hours listening to conversations in Turkish (usually) that I had no hope of participating in. There was the occasional rise of rebellion in my spirit, but not significant or often, and I would have had difficulty coping for much longer, but I thank God for His grace, and the lesson, as well as Kathryn and David and Aydin for making space and time for me in their life.

How to deal with jet-lag

…. travel with a nasty dose of bronchitis! I promise you won’t even register any jet-lag. 

The trip was a real endurance test, particularly the 14 hour flight from Dubai. I felt absolutely awful when I landed and got worse in the few days after. Now, more than three weeks after I first got sick and FIVE courses of antibiotics (I didn’t complete them all) I’m still not 100% but getting there. Mind you, the recovery might have been a bit quicker if I didn’t have this work trip to Melbourne, but I’ve been able to rest in between appointments and I head back to Sydney tonight. 

Haven’t been this crook in a long, long time and have had more than enough of doctors and medicine for some time!! Ugh. But thanks for all those who’ve been lifting me in prayer. The trip to Bulgaria, plus being sick, has meant a delay in really getting into the work of 2009, but I’m just about ready to get stuck into things now.

raining in Istanbul

I haven’t written much in the past couple of weeks – ran out of steam, and then have been sick with bronchitis. I still have bronchitis and am now on my way back to Oz. Right now, I have just 4 hours for sightseeing in Istanbul and it’s POURING with rain!!! I figure it would be dumb to go out and get soaked in the pursuit of a few snaps and souvenirs, so I’m waiting it out, in the guest house common room overlooking the Bosphorous Sea. Not a bad view

After seven weeks of living another culture (as much as I could, without the language) it felt really weird last night wandering around in this tourist part of Istanbul. As a tourist I’m on the outside looking in, taking a few photos, buying a few trinkets and thinking that I know something of Turkey, but that’s so shallow, so incomplete. hmmm does that make sense? After living overseas for so long, I don’t know that I could ever feel like I’ve ’seen’ a country unless I’ve taken up residence and done the ‘ordinary’ things alongside the locals, for a few weeks at least. I’m not really interested in visiting the touristy places, they quickly bore more. Even in China I would much rather go and visit my friends and students in their homes. Oh dear, what does this mean for my future travel? I guess I won’t be able to go anywhere for less than a couple of months.

But for now, maybe, just maybe, the rain has eased a little, or is that just wishful thinking?

the great facial drama, chapter 2

with my time in Haskovo rapidly running out, I said to Kathryn we HAD to return to visit N, so that she would know I wasn’t permanently traumatised, and still cared very much for her. This afternoon, despite both of us feeling rather tired, and Aydin being VERY unwilling, we ventured forth. N was delighted to see us, and absolutely thrilled when I asked her to finish off what had been left undone last week. 

First there was cups of coffee, food and conversation to be had. Aydin was kept happy with a cartoon channel on the TV. When two young ladies came in for a facial, N told Kathryn that she had a ‘captive’ audience, so tell them about Jesus. I’d actually had the very same thought. Anyway, Kathryn did; actually she told them a story from Genesis, which one of the girls was able to repeat to her. It turns out the other girl had secretly gone to the believers meeting for a time but didn’t now for some reason. Made me want all the more to become adept at storytelling. It also comforted me (in a morbid kind of way) to see that this young Millet girl obviously found the facial waxing just about as difficult as I did, and in fact, in the end even said ‘enough auntie’.

Time was marching on, darkness was approaching and Kathryn said we’d need to be gone by 5:30pm. Okay. But first we had to sample a bit of the family’s dinner of beans. It wasn’t bad. I thought the waxing was going to be all forgotten, but nnnooooo!

“It will only take a minute!”

The wax was heated and this time I got to lie on the bed. With strict, last minute instructions to Kathryn about the LIMITED area that I wanted done, I lay down and steeled myself to not make any noise. I didn’t. But my resolve was severely tested when the wax started creeping further and further up my cheek and under my nose. Ahem! Kathryn tried to tell her. And six times or so in the same spot?! It was enough to test anyone’s endurance, but I managed. I couldn’t stop the teary eyes, but I had passed the test and we left with prayer together, many hugs and assurances that IF God ever brought me back to Bulgaria, I would be sure to visit. 

Kathryn managed to escape the experience, again.

the pain, tears (and failure?) of identification

One of the believers in the mehale is making herself a living as a ‘beautician’ and she wanted very much to attend to Kathryn and my faces! After about a month without a mirror, I figured I needed it, but Kathryn was a little more reluctant. Like me though, she felt it was a tangible way to encourage our sister, plus we couldn’t really wriggle out of it! 

Yesterday afternoon was the big occasion. First we each had our eyebrows plucked … lying on the floor with our head on N’s knee! It was certainly painful, and she had my neck in an uncomfortable position, but otherwise things went smoothly. Then the waxing! The wax was held over a hot plate to soften, then I was ordered to lie down again, this time with the comfort of a pillow. I knew it would hurt of course, and it did, but I’d psyched myself up for it and coped with a stream verbal banter (with Aydin, who sat on the floor beside me, intrigued) interspersed with heart-felt ‘ouches’. On and on and on and on and on it went, wax on my forehead, on my cheeks, neck, jaw, lips, nose … surely she’d done every mm of my face! …. but no … wax up BOTH my nostrils AT ONCE!!! I’d reached the end of my ability to endure, sat up and said ‘enough’, not realising how much I was actually crying. Of course N was bewildered, and distraught to have me in tears, plus confused because of all the noise I’d been making. Kathryn didn’t know, but the Millet women have every mm of their face waxed (willingly) every 10 days or so, without a sound! Oh dear, what a faux pas! Of course the cultural blunder made me more upset and N still had shiny eyes, looking most concerned for me, when we had to head home as it was after dark. Although Kathryn got out of the waxing yesterday, I don’t think she’ll be able to avoid it forever

There were photos, but not for public exhibition :p

childrens’ ministry

Last Sunday, after church in the village in the morning 

it was a great delight to call in on a couple of childrens’ outreach meetings, in two different villages. In each meeting there were about 15-20 very enthusiastic kids. I especially loved their singing and they were really surprised when I knew the songs but in English (because they were translations). And hearing the kids bring their prayer and praises to God was very special too. The meetings were run most capably by an older teenage girl, but Kathryn was asked to give an impromptu talk in one meeting.

Unfortunately, it seems, many of these kids will not continue to walk as believers, especially after they marry, in their early teens. Pray for them.

God really does answer

On Saturday afternoon we headed off to visit some Millet friends in a village about 2 hours away by car. About 20 min down the road, on the outskirts of the first town, David ran over a big nail – as we discovered later – and we got a flat tyre. No roadside service in Bulgaria! We limped down the road to where some guys helpfully put on the spare, but that didn’t last long and there were more nasty sounds. By this time it was after 4pm and they said there wouldn’t be any tyre places open in town. It wasn’t looking (or sounding) good and the car limped, and rattled and groaned towards the bus station, thinking we would probably need to abandon the car and catch a bus, either back to Haskovo or on to Slaviansti. But we prayed, as did Hassan in Slaviantsi. Going down the road, David noticed a tyre sign and we made a turn down the back street. That place was shut but a bit further and guess what we found, a nice, big, VERY OPEN tyre place that we probably wouldn’t have noticed from the main road. Hallelujah!

30 min later we had two new tyres on the front and were heading down the road to see a very excited Hassan and Emine, What a miracle, praise God.

The world’s biggest …

It seems that Haskovo didn’t have anything to make it famous, so they decided to build the world’s tallest (biggest) statue of Mary, overlooking the city. I guess it’s an indication of the centrality of the Orthodox church in Bulgarian life.

Since it’s been a fine, relatively warm day, Kathryn, Aydin and I climbed the stairs to check it out this afternoon.  Quite impressive and a good opportunity to take a few moments to pray over the city, for breakthrough in the spiritual realm. It’s apparently not an easy city.

Understanding the dreams and visions

Yesterday when we visited the mehale, a lady who’s been a believer for quite a long time was telling us some of the dreams and visions she’s been having recently. To me they were lovely, encouraging and quite in line with Scripture, but this dear lady is scared that they are from the enemy, and so is unwilling to tell others about them. She loves God with all her heart and wants to try and walk in His way, helping her family and telling others about Jesus, and yet she has no real assurance of faith. According to Kathryn her faith has always been a bit rocky. 

I’ve been mulling a bit since; what does this kind of situation mean for missions, for church planting, for long or short term? I think it most definitely means that mature believers are needed who can disciple and teach in the people’s heart language, in the context of indigenous church!

The faith of a child

I met this little cutie on a visit in the mehale yesterday 

Kathryn and I were visiting her great aunt who is a believer, then her mum and dad (also believers) arrived and we spent more time sharing and praying, and later Delia came with her grandma. I was delighted when I realised I’d put two Australian souvenir pencils in my jacket pocket – there was another little girl there too – and chuffed to see her enjoy it, but what really took my breath away was when this little 3 or 4 year old went over to Kathryn and asked that she lay hands on her and pray. Of course we did that, especially since both Delia and her mum (who’s 6 months pregnant) have bronchitus. But then I had a feeling that there was an element of us being something special spiritually just because we are foreigners – Kathryn said quite possibly … ugh, ugh, ugh!