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In winter, Belarus is a wide, white land. The rolling fields are brighter than the grey sky above as we come across the border and drive toward Minsk.
Most Belorussians speak Belorussian as a second language. Because of the past Russian occupation and relocation, their world revolves around Russian. Most of Minsk was destroyed in WWII bombings. A small cuddle of buildings remain from before the war, near the river. The rest of the structures in the city are set apart from each other, far back from the road. They are large.
On the old city, tall trees with flowing arms stand frozen beside the broad river walk. They do not crowd each other, though. Sanctified, each is its own monument.

There is an island to which a low, arching bridge connects. There are some beautiful trees there, and I am told many brides and grooms have photographs taken here. I want the trees to be less rare, less delicate in their numbers so I can gather them into bunches and hold them. They are too solitary, their arms dark with winter.
Snow fell the first night I was in Minsk. Loud teenagers and demure figure skaters glided through cakes of powder on a rink in front of a fierce black and grey building. Swizzy hip hop played over a set of speakers in the white rental shack. I imagined the people of Belarus like shining rubies, emeralds, topaz, sapphire, and gold. They are contained in a well-worn, wooden chest.

I cannot help but picture Minsk in its spring. Winter surrounds me and marches on. I lay on my bed, looking out the window, a fortunate group of four trees is visible- their tall arms underwater in the currents outside. I close my eyes and thank them. I think of the black trees near the river and on the island, and their arms are holding green.

I watched a special on the plane about salmon. The Great Salmon Run, narrated by David Attenborough. That British guy who was in Jurassic Park. I was freaking out over the Atlantic about the greatness of salmon.  They showed the masses of them in the north Pacific.  Pink and grey in the cold green water.  But then, when the time is right, they smell the water to know the way back to the place they’re from. They swim upstream into fresh water, their kidneys shutting down from the change in salt levels. They do not eat or drink for the remainder of their life as they return to the same patch of gravel on which they were born.  The masses of them, doing what they do.  Simply being fish.  They do not try.  They simply are.  And they amazed me.

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As a human, spectacular in existence, regardless of who knows of it, like the salmon that swims from the ocean against the current of mountain rivers, it is the being, under God’s joyful and complete awareness, in which purpose is achieved. Regardless of what it is we do, our existence is magnificent. If it is true for the salmon, then it is the exponential, waltzing basis of humanity. God, I pray this would be my daily bread. From there is the one Way and Truth. Founded Hope unentwines the barbs of reality which can be death and hell.

In the winter of 2009, I and fellow staff members traveled with a group of students to the East Coast.  We met Chief Ken there, an open, forward-minded man who works closely with the government for the good of his tribe.  He is of the Mattaponi tribe, same as Pocahontas from the stories.

This photo is taken on the powwow grounds for his and neighboring tribes.   One sunny late afternoon, we gathered in a circle with him.  He spoke of the heartbreak that his people do not know and embrace the land and who they are.  He asked us to pray that this and coming generations of the Mattaponi would seek Jesus and live out the beauty of their culture with him and each other.  As we prayed for blessing, an eagle soared overheard.  The power of the moment remains with me, and I continue to trust God for beautiful things for the Mattaponi.

We also helped in the process of restoring an old school house that educated youth from the tribe.  A nearby church and its members, which consisted of Natives and people of European descent, invited us into their homes.  We were blessed to get to know them and sing for them and with them during a Sunday service.

The great thing about life is that we are never finished living it.  We are never finished learning, no one ever Arrives.  The seasons change, different events take form, new ideas turn into projects or travel.  You spend time with friends, you meet new friends.  It is a great adventure.

Brennan Manning wrote how discipleship is sublime madness.  It is only God who reveals things to us.  People are here for loving.  During this discipleship training school (DTS) there are five students from China and the U.S. and nine staff – It’s a really good ratio- from Papua New Guinea, England, and the U.S.  We are in the sixth week of teaching and have learned from teachers about cross-cultural communication, relationships, hearing God, God’s nature and character, God’s broken heart for humanity, and a fabulous teaching on Grace & God’s father heart.  The students present personal reflections every week, and it is encouraging and exciting to see what God is showing them.  We are praying and planning an outreach to eastern Europe this January and February.

From Bird by Bird

We write to expose the unexposed. If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must. Otherwise, you’ll just be rearranging the furniture in rooms you’ve already been in. Most human beings are dedicated to keeping that one door shut. But the writer’s job is to see what’s behind it, to see the bleak unspeakable stuff, and to turn the unspeakable into words- not just into any words but if we can, into rhythm and blues.

-Anne Lamott

After two months in gorgeous, spring-filled Wisconsin and Minnesota, I returned to Texas to join up with the staff of YWAM Woodcrest.  It was a sweet time of seeing friends in Minneapolis and Eau Claire.  Betsy, Jodi & Eric, Brad & Kerri, Ronni, and Lisa.  And it was hard to say bye to family.

From times of prayer, I know God has told me to be with Woodcrest for the next while.  Years, probably.  And it’s been amazing- seeking God with community and serving his heart.  Revelation.  Challenge.  Restoration and joy.  After visiting much extended family around Wisconsin, I had been planning to rejoin with Woodcrest at a Communication Workshop in Madison, with YWAM Madison and YWAM Woodcrest hosting.  I mean, I thought I would go.  I don’t know, maybe I would get a job and stay in Wisconsin, afterall.  I was comfortable.  I was on familiar ground and there were still people with whom I wanted to visit.  Things were nice.

I also made use of the local Goodwill during my time at home.  After greasing up my old Trek bike, I ventured out for a few rides through sunshining skies.  Pedaling through the suburbs, I assumed people would assume I was yet another person out of work and biding time and hoping for a break.   After awhile, though, I started thinking about children.  What if a small child saw me riding this bike without a helmet.  Bike safety should not be poo-poo-ed.  I grew up in a helmetless age.  I don’t think my parents would have bought them for my siblings and me, even if they had been the norm.  But times have changed, and a strong conviction of non-bike safety hit me hard.  For the children.  And in the bustling, dusty, air-conditioned Goodwill, I found my prize-  a sweet little 1991 white peanut half shell.  My brains were safe.

However, on about the third night at home, post Mother’s Day, watching TV- witnessing Danny Gokey, the beloved Milwaukee native, being voted off American Idol- I knew the gig was up.  I was rotting into the couch, watching spring sway outside as I twiddled my thumbs and pondered life and the things God whispered to me.

The next day, after a final stop at Target (I really appreciate just being in a good Target.  They’re so nicely laid out, and the closest one in Texas is an hour drive, so I had to say farewell), I headed back to Texas.

You know how it is sometimes?  That if you don’t make your next decision to do what it is you need to do, then you probably won’t ever do it?

And the day after I arrived in Texas, I loaded into a minivan with six other staff people, and we headed to Madison.  I know it was an illogical choice.  And it could not have been more wonderful.  Right Now is always a good time.

There is a school in San Salvador where God is doing incredible things.  Perhaps you’ve heard of other places where God is doing similar, Godly, awesome things.  He’s very omnipresent.

At this school, there is a group of kids who want the Holy Spirit to be with them and their classmates as much as possible.

Arriving to put on concerts and talk about the awesomeness of Jesus, we began to talk with some of the students who came to help us translate.  They are graduating this year- making plans for the rest of their lives.  El Salvador is a warm climate culture, and they do the kissing both cheeks thing.  It was unnerving at first.  All the students were kind, friendly, and open.

You know how things feel like small talk and you’re like ‘why am i talking about this with you?’  —Out of motives of Love, it’s good.  It’s worth it.  It was good to talk to the kids and start to get to know them in their lives.

We came every day, sometimes twice a day, for a week.  Each day a different grade came to hear the song and the word of encouragement to follow Jesus, to trust Him for great things for their lives.  to surrender, basically.

One day was especially great— almost the whole auditorium came forward after my teammate’s challenge to Really, Really give up one’s own plans and dreams for the even bigger plans and dreams that God has for them.  It was a challenge to really know God.  Kids gathered for prayer.  They spoke honestly of not knowing God, wanting to trust Him, the struggles they were facing.  We prayed together.  The floor was splashed with tears.

On the last day, saying goodbye, it was amazing to see what God had done.  The students who have been praying for their school saw a wave of the Spirit speak life and truth and hope to their classmates.  It will continue.  We will return this November, and it will be good to see our friends again.

The sidewalks were full of people who are totally high, sleeping it off, walking around and talking to themselves.  The days are hot, but the nights are surprisingly cool.  The sidewalks are black and the neon street lights illuminate the grime, the garbage, and the people.  Every Saturday, Teen Challenge members bring food, blankets, and prayer to downtown LA.  This is skid row.

One woman was crumpled up, leaning on a street lamp with a trolley of dirty blankets next to her.  A group of Teen Challenge people had gathered around her, and I joined them.  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” one of the Teen Challenge girls tenderly asked as she knelt by her side.  “Iris,” the woman whispered, her eyes blank and staring.  “Can we pray for you, Iris?” she continued.  Iris nodded, and this girl began to pray, and Iris began weeping, shaking.  After she had finished, the Teen Challenge girl asked me if I would like to pray for her, and I began to plead the blood of Jesus over Iris’slife.  For freedom from bondage, for Satan to have to leave her life that he has such a stronghold over.  I crouched down and put my hand on her leg, and it began to shake violently.  I was filled with what I guess would be righteous anger– anger about Iris’s life and all that had been taken from her because of her addiction.  She was created to be a beautiful daughter of God.  Jesus Christ died so she could be so alive.  I wanted to stay all night, calling out to God for her freedom, but we eventually had to go.  Iris continued to weep as I finished praying, and I crouch-walked up to her face and kissed her cheek.  She looked up to me, a little surprised, and I smiled at her, so hopeful for something Real in her life, so aware of the power of Jesus and what He can do for her–  it’s just His love, you know?  As I stood I saw a used syringe next to her arm.  It was empty.  The Teen Challenge girl also hugged her as the group and I began to walk away, and when I turned around I saw her still holding Iris under the glow of the street light.