It's Your Face

 

      March 7th, 2018, I must have looked lost as I made my way into the Kiev Airport as two ladies stopped, asked if I needed help and directed me to a counter in which another woman was waiting to stamp my passport.   My very first EVER stamp in my very first EVER passport, and against the wishes of many it was stamped with UKRAINE!   God makes no mistakes on where He takes you, I can guarantee that!

       Meanwhile after getting my passport stamped the next order of business was find my way to baggage claim.  Thankfully English is a universal language, and although I was in another country, one in which Russian or Ukrainian is the primary language, there were still signs with English on them that directed me to my luggage.  I grabbed my luggage, Camo covered, borrowed from a friend just earlier that morning in Texas and was now about to walk out of a couple of doors across the world hoping someone I knew would be there.

    There he was, Kostya.  Oh, Kostya let me tell you a little bit about Kostya.  Constantine is his name, and being there for you is his game.  We met Kostya the Summer of 2017.  We knew nothing about him.  Zilch, Nada, ZERO!  We knew he was a man, and that was it.   Adding a little explanation here might help as to how we met him for those of you who don't follow our hosting journey.  Chaperones fly over from Ukraine with the children and remain in the states just as the children do.  These chaperones stay with host families as well.  Not always will you have a chaperone stay with you as there are only about 6-ish, who fly over with the children.  We are not guaranteed to have a chaperone in our home (or our area), but we are required to  be ready in the event housing is needed for them.  Up until this particular Summer, we had never housed a chaperone.  So this season of hosting would be our first chaperone hosting and our first time meeting Kostya. This fella ya'll is something special.  He loves with his whole heart and longs for the orphan to find hope.   Keeping it real we were very unsure of what hosting a chaperone would be like, and as I look back over this trip I praise God for easing our hearts and minds and bringing him into our lives that winter.  God is in the details.

     So I walk out the doors and this fella that less than one year prior had just met us and now had dropped everything he had to make sure I was able to get to our boy.  I might add that just weeks prior to this he was with a friend of ours who was there during her adoption process and he was getting them to and from making sure all was taken care of.  I'm telling you he is a TREASURE!

      So the first thing I did once I got to him was use the restroom.  Let me take a brief moment here to tell you about their toilet paper.  It's not toilet paper.  It's paper towel, and it's not bounty, the quicker picker upper.  It is a cross between sandpaper and school restroom paper towels, the brown kind.  You get me?  I hope so because there will be some more to this toilet/toilet paper fiasco to come, guaranteed.

         The second thing was change shoes.  I came in my Nike Tennis shoes, and Ukraine in March was no place for Tennis shoes.  So I changed those suckers to some new boots I had found on clearance at target MONTHS before this trip, but I knew God would get me over there one day so I had bought them and they sat in my closet until this moment.   The moment I would remove my tennis shoes and put on for the very first time the clearance boots that would take their first steps ever on Ukrainian soil and would help me to fit right in.

      The kicker, I didn't fit in.  Like didn't stand a chance, and Kostya reminded me of this each time I'd ask.  I was all bundled up in these new boots, my giant sweater with TEXAS across the front that I had seriously bought at Target a few hours before I had left DFW just one day prior.  I had my hat and gloves and I felt like I fit right in.  I would ask "Do I look like a Foreigner"?  Each time he would say YES and just laugh that I would even ask. Sure there are parts of the world where a red headed white girl would be an obvious foreigner, but here wasn't that place.  I "looked" just like the others, although the red hair isn't that common, the skin color was.  Yet, even when I upped my Ukrainian look alike game as we prepared to go to the grocery store with my hats, gloves, scarves, jacket, and rain boots and asked, "So what about now, do I look like I'm from here"  Kostya replied, "No, it's your face".

    Ladies, Kostya is single and ready to mingle and don't let this momentary use of verbiage deter you from pursuing him.  Let me explain his "It's your face" response before you jump on the "who does he think he is" train.  "It's your face" would be the greatest compliment I could receive but would also break my heart into pieces.  It took the majority of the trip to truly understand what he meant, but as each person I passed walked swiftly to their destination, head down or so far forward that they would not notice the smile on my face, and when they did I would later find out that they received it as mocking their current situation, I would realize what set me apart from most was my face.  It radiated a joy that didn't exist here, or to the majority of those here.  I KNOW there are people in that Country who do have that joy, and are living their lives allowing God to shine through them so that others can enjoy that light and joy as well, but for most it's not the case.  The best way Kostya could explain it to me was this - and I'll paraphrase as I don't remember his exact words, but it went something like this.

                     When you smile at them it is as if you are mocking them.  

                    As to say, my life is great and I can smile about it, but yours is 

                      not and I will flaunt my happiness despite your troubles.  

He went on to say...

                     We survive here, there is very little to be happy about.

Those words "It's your face" began the breaking process of my heart.

You know, we pray for God to give us eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart that would respond to the needs he has allowed us, even in the slightest way, to bear witness to.  However, what we, or I, was so very unprepared for was the breaking process that would need to take place in order to make room for the things I would see and the words I would here.

So ladies, next time a friend, your spouse or even a stranger tells you that "your face" is what set's you apart, hold back the urge to respond with wrath and allow God to remind you that He is the reason "your face" shines.

To be continued...