Here I am at the hospital with Nastia (though I prefer her full name, Anastasia)  For some reason, she'll come to me when she's scared of the other workers.  I think she just wants a Papa Bear.

¶ 4:00 AM //

“I will not smile… I will not be friendly… I will not smile…” I muttered to myself as I left the apartment building. Smiling is a problem for me. In America, I smile at every single person in the grocery store when they walk by, sometimes I even greet them aloud. Here, this is culturally unacceptable. If you smile at a stranger, you’re up to something. And definitely do not smile at a woman you don’t know.
So on this particular day I began the quick walk to my team meeting. Despite my anti-pep talk, the very first person I passed, I smiled and nodded my head at them. Friends, supporters, prayer warriors… I can't "not smile." I’ve tried. I still say “thank you” when I pay for my groceries, and “excuse me” when I bump into people. I’m a terrible missionary, culturally insensitive and out of touch. I even sing out loud when I’m just walking around
It’s not just the smiling. I’m also physically affectionate, even for an American (whatever that means). I touch people, not all people, but the people I’m comfortable with. In fact, I’m pretty sure that the more comfortable I am with someone, the more I hug on them, squeeze their arms, and pinch them. And most of the time, I get comfortable with people faster than they do with me. Bad Markus.
I've struggled with these cultural boo-boos on and off for a while. Still do sometimes, I’m really not intent on horrifying grown men and making women think I’m flirting just by having my face turned in the wrong direction. I’m really just living my life.
Pastor Sunday two weeks ago said that Ukrainian men are taught at a very young age to not show emotions. Don’t laugh, don’t cry. Emotions are a sign of weakness. So here I walk into the orphanage and laugh and sing songs. I tickle kids and get tackled by kids. I nod and smile at every employee in that place. No wonder they think I’m a lunatic.
Well, I don’t know. The Bible says that Jesus wept.1 It says that the Lord in heaven laughs.2 And what about this verse…

“The Lord your God in your midst, The Mighty One, will save; He will
rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will
rejoice over you with singing." 3

This is our God. Is that not the best verse for how to spend the day ministering to abandoned babies? Go ahead, read it again. So I feel like I have some pretty solid role models when it comes to being openly affectionate or just plain happy.
By the way, lest you think that Ukraine is full of meanies, this coldness disappears as your friendships start developing. And if you do need directions, people (even strangers) will often go the extra mile and walk you to where you're trying to get to. And I haven't been to an unfriendly church yet. There they do smile and shake your hands and are glad to see you. They even tell you to hug each other at my church.
I cannot help but suspect that part of the “distance” among people is the result of communism. Communism taught people to distrust one another. You didn’t know who your real friends were under that sort of regime. If this theory is true, than the coldness in the culture is in fact artificial snow. It’s not really supposed to be there, and with the power of the Holy Spirit, can be removed quite nicely. Kids and youth seem to be less inhibited than the older folks.
And so I’ll try to behave a little, but I can’t disregard the personality that God gave me. Meanwhile, I’ll just keep smiling.

1) John 11:35
2) Psalm 37:13
3) Zephaniah 3:17

¶ 3:32 AM //

Exciting News! I’ll be leaving for home on March 14th for about two weeks. It’s not really intentional, but I’m trying to kill several birds with one stone. There’s a funny little Ukrainian law that requires expatriates (someone who lives here from another country) to either register every six months, or leave the country temporary (which accomplishes the same thing as far as a paper trail).
It’s an interesting situation, because no source I’ve gone through, embassies, airports, or anyone, mentioned this to me when I got my visa. My visa is good for much longer than six months (expires some time in 2007). The consequence for not registering or taking a step out of the country for one American family was a $400 fine.
Anyway, I have five reasons to go back to the states…

1) I have to leave the country or register (as expressed above)
2) I have to prepare some unusual taxes this year
3) Favorite Nephew Isaiah has a 3rd birthday, and
4) I haven’t yet seen my fresh out of the oven favorite niece Audrey yet.
5) My parent’s 40th year anniversary
6) I really miss my family…

Okay, that’s six things, but the sixth will never be entirely solved.

In other news, I just completed a two day seminar on Life Skills training for orphans. As I may have mentioned before, CBN and LAMb international ministries is piloting a curriculum specifically for Ukraine for equipping orphans for life beyond the children's home. These particular training days were for teaching kids about sex and abstinence, and marriage and family.
My vision is to equip local churches to reach the orphanages in their communities. I believe that the key to reaching the one hundred thousand plus orphans is found in churches that will embrace the fatherless of their communities and give them a spiritual home. We know that hope isn’t found in governments, and individuals can only do so much. But a local church potentially has grandmothers and teachers and pastors and working people. They can bring love, hope, training, discipleship to kids that don’t have anyplace else to call home.
Please pray for me as I travel back and forth this next month. I’m so looking forward to seeing my family and friends again.

¶ 4:21 PM //

Judah and Luther the Penguin aren't so sure they want to try this new Ukrainian Cuisine. Note the whimsical communist era table cloth that adorns our kitchen.

¶ 6:01 PM //

¶ 5:56 PM //

Wanna hear a weird breakfast story? I like to try new things… cultural things, things that I wouldn’t get in the good old U.S. of A. Even if people tell me “this food is terrible,” I want to at least see just how bad it is.
Now first off, my favorite cultural food here in Ukraine is called Cirok (pronounced “seeROHK” but with a rolled “R”). I was introduced to Cirok by my friend and co-conspirator Rachel. It’s a cheese, like cream cheese but it’s softer, and kind of soggy. The taste is a bit reminiscent of cheesecake, but not quite. It’s really delicious (VKOOS-nuh in Russian).
Rachel’s serving suggestions include spreading it on pancakes or mixing it with bananas and yogurt. I’ve tried it on pancakes and it’s excellent. It makes a great creamy sweetener for lots of things. When I get a sweet tooth, I like a butter knife of Cirok right out of the package.
And that leads to the weird breakfast story. In Ukraine they sell many varieties of kasha, or as the fairytales say, porridge. Here they make hot cereal with wheat, oats, cornmeal, rice, buckwheat (just awful), and the list goes on.
One day, I came across a kasha I couldn’t place. It was a light brown grain, kind of round. Scientist that I am, I bought a pack. When I cooked it and mixed in some cirok and sugar, it was really quite good. Then I needed to know. What was this stuff? The writing was in Ukrainian, so I couldn’t look it up in my Russian dictionary. My Ukrainian friends didn’t know what it was by my description, so I finally brought the package to the boat and had someone read it.
You know what the mystery substance was? Flattened, dried peas. How’s that for the breakfast of champions? Yeah, it’s sold right there with other hot cereals. It didn’t taste like peas to me even when I knew what it was. Funny, that I actually liked it. Hmm, weirdo.
If I can over-spiritualize about dried peas, sometimes I think God leads us blindly on purpose. We cry that He’s not directing us, but He really is. He’s silent because if we knew the details, we might just decide not to follow. There’s a fun word for the experience of finding a treasure you weren’t looking for. The word is “Serendipity.” I think God may have all kinds of serendipity for us if we’ll just trust and let him lead, even if the path ahead is foggy.

¶ 5:43 PM //

¶ 4:14 PM //

It’s pretty dangerous to publish things online. You never know who will read it. I found out this out first hand this week when I enrolled in a Writer’s Workshop here at YWAM Kyiv.
The workshop was taught by Janice Rogers, the sister of Loren Cunningham (the guy who started YWAM). There were about fifty people taking the course all together from many different Missions organizations and churches. When we introduced ourselves at the beginning of class, and I said my name, Janice stopped and said something like, “Markus… and you work with at-risk kids? I read your story about the Masks.” I was a bit weirded out by that. Apparently that particular email update had been forwarded and taken a life of its own. People I never heard of sent it to her.
I’ve learned, from this workshop, that I make my email updates too long. I set “one page on Microsoft Word” as my standard. But people don’t like to read any email longer than one screen, unless they’re really big fans. If they see they have to scroll, they’ll skip it. So, like the people who make those fund raising candy bars, I’m gradually reducing the size of my emails.
I also received help on a special project. I have this idea for a kids devotional that I’ve been working on for quite some time. It has a target audience of boys around 8 to 10 years old who are fans of Star Wars and stuff like that. When I write, I imagine Jonathan or Austin from back home reading it. (won’t say their last names because this is the ‘net)
Problem is, I’ve been frustrated with it, and I wasn’t sure why. Now I have three specific areas that I can fix. Among other things, I had too many characters and too many anchor points. And I’ve got some format issues I won’t bore you with.
The problem with writing is finding the discipline to finish a project in a timely manner. I’m writing it for Jonathan, not his kids. To help me, I’ve offered to lead a monthly writer’s critique group for other wannabe writers. (Markus, the chronic volunteer) About 10 people signed up. The hope is that we can give each other accountability and feedback to become better writers.
So it was a good week. I feel like God has given me creative ideas and books to change my world. I’ve taken steps to move it forward, and I even got a college credit out of the deal. I think I’m at the right place at the right time.

¶ 1:57 PM //

Here's a picture of the Metro on an outdoor platform.

¶ 1:30 PM //