Dropping me off at the airport for Ukraine

¶ 9:56 PM //

     This is the message I don’t want to write.  I know many of my friends and family already know about this, but if I’m your link to what’s happening here, you might not.  On Sunday, my dad, Fritz Wolf, went to be home with Jesus.  I’m not happy about it, but I see the hand of God in the midst of it.
     I’ve been home in the States since Tuesday and I’m staying at my parents’ house.  My house is being rented out, but I probably would’ve stayed here anyway.  Isaiah’s here and my sister, and this is where everyone hangs out.  Instead of bringing home the obligatory souvenirs, I decided to do something different.  
     I hosted a “Taste of Ukraine” party for my family on Saturday.  I had brought back a bunch of foods not available in America (that I know of).  Things like mushroom flavored potato chips, banana tea, and a drink they call “the Ukrainian Coca-Cola” which is not like Coke in any way.  I made a batch of cabbage soup in the crock pot (how I’ve missed you, Friend Crockpot).  Then I invited my immediate family, and a few close friends, to come and enjoy, or at least experience.  
     My family was all together on Saturday.  Sunday morning, I would see my friends at church and I was quite excited.  We were going to take my parents out for their 40th anniversary after church.
     But on Sunday morning, I was up at 6 a.m. (not unusual for me) and I went in the family room to check my email.  There I found my dad, face down on the floor on his knees.  I ran to him, and shook him, calling his name, hoping against hope that he was asleep.  I quickly woke up my sister who called 911.  But my dad was gone.  None of us expected it.
     Apparently, he had a massive heart attack and we were told that he was gone before he hit the ground.  The medics told us that it happened at least two hours earlier, maybe four.
     But I can see the hand of God in many ways surrounding this situation.  First, I was home.  I got to spend several days with my dad before he left.  I sure would have focused more of my time specifically on him if I’d known.  But it was treasured time.  I took pleasure in every minute since I hadn’t seen my family in 5 months and expected not to be gone in two weeks.  
     Second, because of the “Taste of Ukraine” party, my dad was with his whole family on the last day of his life.  And he was eating, which he loves.  I showed him pictures of my trip, and he hounded me about bringing a nice girl home.  It was regular Fritz Wolf stuff.  
     Third, my sister has recently been working on a family history for one of her college classes.  She was the last person to speak to my dad.  They spoke late into the night about where we came from, and she even made recordings of their interview.  This is information that would’ve been lost but is now cherished.
     Coincidence?  Dismissed as lightning?  How can I not see that God is with us?   And if He was faithful in these things, He will help us work through the mess of all these future arrangements and questions about why, and what to do next.
     In all honesty, this situation stinks.  It’s a bad deal.  I don’t get it, and I’m not sure I’m willing to get it just yet.  But God is good, always, and I’m so glad that He’s in charge.

¶ 11:19 AM //

Isaiah watched me shaving one day, and wanted to shave too.  So I gave him a razor with the cover still on, and a handful of shaving cream.  Good times.

¶ 10:58 AM //

I was a crime victim last week in Kyiv. Not in any danger, but I am slightly poorer and wiser since the incident. This bad experience also happened at the Metro, but it could have been so much worse. I was going to city called Warzel with Mother’s Care. I wanted to visit my little Zhenya at his orphanage there. His first birthday is the day I leave for home.
The Metro was crowded, full of tired looking Ukrainians, going to their places of business. But alas, alack. On this morning, somebody was giving me the business. At some point during the ride, I was hornswoggled by a pickpocket.
Please understand, I had my wallet in my front right pants pocket, which was underneath my heavy winter coat. I really can’t figure out how he did it. I mean, the Metro was packed and I’m not the most streetwise. But it happened in front of me!
At some point, I felt my pocket and realized the wallet was gone and told the others. All I could do was go back home immediately to cancel my credit cards, ATM, etc with the help of my sister in the States. The downside of calling home is that it’s about 28 numbers to go through a phone card and the directions are in Russian. And it costs about two dollars a minute. But here’s the amazing part. While I was on the phone, one of the staff members, Natasha, walked in and told me, “The Metro station called and they’ve found your wallet. But I don’t know why they called me at home.”
Puzzling, that they’d call that number. I’d never called Natasha at home, never had reason. I could imagine maybe calling the YWAM office on a hunch because the wallet belonged to an American. But how would they have that particular number?
There was good news when I picked up my wallet. My cards were all still there. Praise God for dumb criminals. They didn’t even take the Russian phone card, just the cash (which in my estimation amounted to 200 grivna, or 40 dollars). Lo and behold, in the midst of my credit cards was a post-it note with Natasha’s phone number but no name. Had it not been in there, I wouldn’t have gotten it back. I’m still wondering where it came from.
Anyway, that’s the story. I did say I’m wiser, and this is the application.

1. Wear a money bag around my neck instead of carrying a wallet. Clearly there’s no safe place to keep a wallet.
2. Don’t even bring credit cards along. They’re “emergency only” and I’ve never used them yet. I even ordered my plane tickets by ATM card.
3. Travel with as little money as possible always. (which I do anyway)
4. Whatever you carry your stuff in, have a phone number in it, in case somebody does find it.
5. Memorize emergency phone numbers just in case you do lose your ID and money. This way you can get home. (This one’s from Rachel)

This is probably good travel advice for anyone. In fact, I’ll be traveling home in about 24 hours. Thanks for your prayers, but don’t worry about me. I got me some angels.

¶ 2:14 AM //

Oh, it looks like we're getting along charmingly, but Amy has quite had it with my sense of humor.  You see how her hands are nearly formed into a fist?  MMhmmm, you get the picture.

¶ 2:13 PM //

Sorry for the bad quality of this picture.  You shoulda seen it before.  Anyway, for lack of a puppet stage, we have a bed sheet held by two guys who I like to nickname, Curt n' Rod.

¶ 2:09 PM //

This is Steven.  He sings, acts, puppeteers, and can sheer a sheep in 72 seconds.  Okay, I made that last part up.

¶ 2:07 PM //

Star Trek had the Next Generation. The Pink Panther returned. Even “Saved by the Bell” had a new class, pathetic as it was. It was only a matter of time before the Armed and Dangerous Puppet Task Force would resurface. Years ago at LMCC we started a puppet team (help me with the date, Nathan). This week we’ve unveiled, Armed and Dangerous: NIV (New International Version, of course) There’s only two of us but we’ve already had an opening tour.
I hate to waste a good teenager, and Steven was coming with us to the orphanage every week, eager to help. He’s a born performer, 13 years old. There’s sawdust in his blood, as they say in the circus world. So I asked, “Have you ever done puppets before?” He hadn’t. So we had a little introduction to puppets course one Saturday afternoon at my apartment. Probably half of my old puppet team is on my email list, so you know the routine. The “treat puppets like babies” speech. Gooseneck and proper movement. Entrances and exits. Unfortunately I didn’t have the puppet aerobics tape here. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
I have a cast of six puppets to work with. Schmutz is the most well-traveled puppet, having already been to six foreign nations. But the stars of the show are Judah the Lion and Fergy the cat. The puppet series right now is called, “A Tale of Two Kitties.”
Most of the kids I work have no parents, or under-involved parents, and Fergy represents “the every kid” in these skits. Judah is the Big Cat who helps steer him through the challenges of life.
In the latest script, I’ve changed Fergy’s name to Myakiznak. It seems that Ukrainian kids don’t “understand what a Fergy is.” Sergey began translating him as “Fluffy,” and frankly that’ll never do for me. The word, “Myakiznak” is sort of a “letter” from the Russian alphabet. It means “soft sign.”
I can get plenty of mileage out of one puppet show. We did the skit for the orphanage on Tuesday and for the Street Kid Rehab Center on Wednesday. We showed the skit one more time for the missionary kids on Friday at Family Night. That’s a potential three performances per production. That could help us develop our skills fast.
The most amazing audience was the street kids. Understand that these are the toughest kids we work with. They’re street wise, restless survivors. The reason they’re at the center is because the police have picked them off the streets where they had been living. These guys loved the puppets. They were amazingly responsive and laughed out loud at the skits. At the end, I told Sergey it was the best ministry time I’ve had at the Rehab center. He said it was his best ministry time there too, which really surprised me. He’s been doing this a lot longer than I.
So it’s fun, pulling on some of these gifts I haven’t used for a while. You never know what’s going to come up next.

¶ 1:53 PM //