­ Fourth Post July 20 , 2016

I finally did get to pee.  I don’t remember the bathroom; pretty sure I am blocking that memory for self­-preservation.  Think squatty potties and bleached crepe paper TP.

After getting settled into the office that doubled as a guest house, we began our “official” vision trip.  We were cool. Allen had traveled the world working for Halliburton, and I was too naive to be worried about anything.  I had landed, we were legal and I could endure anything for two weeks. I was pregnant twice!

The sun was shining and the sky was cloudless the next morning.  (Rats! What about the terrible weather, God?)  As we headed to our first meeting, here is the sight that greeted us:

Allen and I looked at each other.  We had hoped to retire someday to Colorado where I grew up.  God must have taken that into consideration when He called us to Almaty. These Tien Shan mountains are part of the Himalayan orogenic belt.  I have no idea what that means, but it sounds impressive.  I think they are somehow tied into the Himalayas.  These mountains would be the closest I would ever get to K2.

As we walked,  I didn’t see any dirt.  Everything was covered in pristine snow.  Again, this was a God “trick.”  Later experience proved that pristine and snow were never used in the same sentence in Almaty.  We both loved the clear air and the robust temperature.  Although we had studied Russian in the US, we really couldn’t speak Russian. (Even though we thought we had a pretty good handle on it.)  Which was no problem, since people weren’t trying to speak to us.  People seemed to plod dejectedly, intently studying the ground as they walked.   Everyone seemed to be dressed in black­ - black coats, shoes, hats.  Nothing clashes if you wear only black.

 We had a hand-drawn map to aid us in our walk to the meeting.  We arrived safely and really impressed the team.  I guess past visitors of our ilk had suffered some from culture shock.  My cultural shock occurred when we moved to Houston, TX in 1993 after living 17 years in a small Oklahoma town.  After that, Central Asia was nothing.  At least here everyone spoke the same language.

Gosh darn it!  I really wanted to reject this place.  But, something was happening. I didn’t see any yurts or sheep wandering the streets. Our apartment had running water and a flush toilet.  “God, you don’t think I am going to let some majestic scenery or semi-modern conveniences change my mind, do you?”  

We had a lot of meetings and meals, but the one that convinced me that I could live in Almaty and live there graciously as a servant of God, was a dinner we had with a precious family who now live in western Canada.  Vera, Natasha and Little Vera were Russian Kazakhstanis.  I didn’t know at the time, but it must have taken some courage to invite Americans to their home for dinner.  But such warm hospitality and generosity overcame me.  It was after this meal that I knew God had not only placed a mission call on Allen’s heart but also on mine.  And Almaty Kazakhstan was going to be our home for at least 10 years.  

However, that decision wasn’t just mine.  We had to be poked and prodded and evaluated by a lot of experts.  And, we failed.  We were much worse off than we knew.       

          I’ll tell you about that later.

Third Post

July 17, 2016

We arrived in Almaty very early in the morning, in the dark.  So, I couldn’t see much.   I am not sure I missed anything.  It was pretty cold. The airport terminal had recently  (been??) burned down, so we were escorted into a temporary facility.  Our escorts had big guns; they looked like bazookas to me.  And they locked all of  us in a room.  I was expecting poison gas to pour from the vents. This was our introduction to Kazakhstan, but that was in 1999.  It isn’t like this now.  Well, at least not so obviously.

Eventually someone must have let us out, and we went through a long process involving passport control.  I was worried the expression on my face (I had just been in a locked room with armed guards) would alarm the officer.  I don’t know how I looked, but I am think  like someone resembling an ineffective spy trainee trying to quietly enter an enemy country. The person looked at my passport photo, looked at me, looked at the photo, looked at me. I smiled.  The officer didn’t.  I was fidgety.  I had to pee.  I remember asking him how he was in Russian, but since I didn’t place the accent correctly, he didn’t understand.  And I don’t think he was interested.

Allen and I both got our passports stamped. And we were introduced to the ubiquitous official blue ink stamp. We would see that blue ink stamp constantly throughout our career.

We were legal!  We were excited, but I still had to pee.  And let me tell you, Kazaks used to be shepherds so they are pretty laid back.  Took a long time to get our luggage. And I finally got to pee.

Not a great beginning to our exploratory trip.  But that would change.  I’ll tell ya later.

July 12, 2016

Where were we?  Oh yeah, I was terrified.

Once again, talking about doing something and actually doing it are two totally different things.  And don’t we all know that? One requires bravado and the other requires courage. Going to Kazakhstan required more than courage; it required total trust in God. And believe me, there were time I was worried that God had lost it.

The closer Allen’s seminary graduation, the more stressed out I became. By this time, God had identified the place He wanted us. Kazakhstan. Never heard of it! Did research.  People ate horse, lived in yurts and utilized  the great outdoors to take care of personal business. People were COMMUNISTS!  I remember asking God if He knew who He was dealing with.  I don’t think He answered. That was a pretty presumptuous question, anyway. I like heat, hot water, and wooden houses that aren’t packed up to follow the sheep. I love capitalism and shopping and freedoms granted in our constitution.  

I couldn’t tell Allen  I was so scared that I was peeing in my panties.  I couldn’t tell him that this great calling on him from God would have to exclude me.  I couldn’t tell him that all his studying would only be an exercise is time management and self-discipline. I couldn’t tell him I wasn’t willing to walk the talk.  I just liked the talk part.

Nothing compounded my fear more than the one class I attended about world missions at Allen’s seminary.  The whole semester was about world missions.  The class I chose to attend was all about Christian martyrs.  All the many men and women of God who made the ultimate sacrifice to further the Kingdom of God. Those who carried their caskets to the field.  Those who were destroyed by illnesses.  Those who literally “lost it,” unable to deal with the tremendous stress of living in another culture. Three hours of an oral death knell squashed whatever iota of courage I had. I didn’t want to die.  I didn’t want to suffer for the Kingdom.  I didn’t want to really be a missionary.  I didn’t want Allen to be a missionary. I loved the life we had. But, how was I going to tell Allen?

Finally in desperation, I met with a dear friend and former pastor who, after calmly listening to all my fears, made a brilliant suggestion,   “Why don’t you visit Kazakhstan?”  What?  That is so practical.  That is so logical.  That is so perfect. In fact almost all potential field workers make an “exploratory” visit.  No one told us about that.  We thought we had to just jump in without testing the waters. So, we made arrangements to visit Kazakhstan.   I actually scheduled our two week visit for what I thought would be the worst time of the year - January.  (Boy was I wrong!  Spring melt in the worst time.)

So we boarded a plane for an very long (26 hour total travel time, including layovers) trip. Allen was overwhelmed with excitement. Me?  I was hoping this would be  the worst experience in both our lives and that we would go home grateful that we hadn’t made a terrible mistake!

What happened when we arrived in Almaty?  I tell ya later.

July 12, 2016

Where were we?  Oh yeah, I was terrified.

Once again, talking about doing something and actually doing it are two totally different things.  And don’t we all know that? One requires bravado and the other requires courage. Going to Kazakhstan required more than courage; it required total trust in God. And believe me, there were time I was worried that God had lost it.

The closer Allen’s seminary graduation, the more stressed out I became. By this time, God had identified the place He wanted us. Kazakhstan. Never heard of it! Did research.  People ate horse, lived in yurts and utilized  the great outdoors to take care of personal business. People were COMMUNISTS!  I remember asking God if He knew who He was dealing with.  I don’t think He answered. That was a pretty presumptuous question, anyway. I like heat, hot water, and wooden houses that aren’t packed up to follow the sheep. I love capitalism and shopping and freedoms granted in our constitution.  

I couldn’t tell Allen  I was so scared that I was peeing in my panties.  I couldn’t tell him that this great calling on him from God would have to exclude me.  I couldn’t tell him that all his studying would only be an exercise is time management and self-discipline. I couldn’t tell him I wasn’t willing to walk the talk.  I just liked the talk part.

Nothing compounded my fear more than the one class I attended about world missions at Allen’s seminary.  The whole semester was about world missions.  The class I chose to attend was all about Christian martyrs.  All the many men and women of God who made the ultimate sacrifice to further the Kingdom of God. Those who carried their caskets to the field.  Those who were destroyed by illnesses.  Those who literally “lost it,” unable to deal with the tremendous stress of living in another culture. Three hours of an oral death knell squashed whatever iota of courage I had. I didn’t want to die.  I didn’t want to suffer for the Kingdom.  I didn’t want to really be a missionary.  I didn’t want Allen to be a missionary. I loved the life we had. But, how was I going to tell Allen?

Finally in desperation, I met with a dear friend and former pastor who, after calmly listening to all my fears, made a brilliant suggestion,   “Why don’t you visit Kazakhstan?”  What?  That is so practical.  That is so logical.  That is so perfect. In fact almost all potential field workers make an “exploratory” visit.  No one told us about that.  We thought we had to just jump in without testing the waters. So, we made arrangements to visit Kazakhstan.   I actually scheduled our two week visit for what I thought would be the worst time of the year - January.  (Boy was I wrong!  Spring melt in the worst time.)

So we boarded a plane for an very long (26 hour total travel time, including layovers) trip. Allen was overwhelmed with excitement. Me?  I was hoping this would be  the worst experience in both our lives and that we would go home grateful that we hadn’t made a terrible mistake!

What happened when we arrived in Almaty?  I tell ya later.

July 11 -  Introduction

SEND AARON . . .

Christ called me to Himself when I was 23.  He worked really hard for 5 years to get my attention and help me accept the truth.  I had many reasons for denying the truth or postponing any commitment.  Mainly, I was afraid of what might happen in my life if I repented and turned to Him.  At the time, I was terrified that God might send me to Africa (Sorry to all my precious African students, but that was my fear.) to be a missionary.  Well, God did send me (along with my husband) to a far place to be His spokesmen.  But He used the  next  23 years to refine me so I could be a useful vessel.  And I guess it took all of those years to do that!  Refinement did not easily come.  

So, where did we end up?  In Central Asia in a former Soviet country called Kazakhstan.  The accent is on the first syllable.  KAZ-akh-stan.  

For years we had talked about doing something radically different after our children were grown.  Allen had no desire to stay within the corporate environment.  Through a series of miracles (Perhaps only from our point of view; many  saw some  events as disasters.) Allen enrolled in seminary while still working 40 hours a week. All of that time, I was so proud of him.  I told everyone, “We are going on the mission field.”  About three semesters before he finished, my pride turned to terror. I loved the idea of being a missionary.  But the reality was something else.

How did terror become eagerness?  Tell ya later.