In which Perry announces his return

We had the pleasure this morning to receive a visit from our wonderful facilitator, Luda, who helped us navigate the deep waters of our adoption process.  She brought Aaron some gifts.  It touched us deeply.  He was most pleased with the Matryoshka doll she gave him.

Yesterday was a day of firsts for Aaron: he saw his first live soccer game, he ate his first ice cream cone, he got to pet a sweet kitty and a puppy in a baby carriage, he watched a street dancer and he had dinner at TGIF with a whole host of Reece's Rainbow families. Of course our camera battery died, so we were unable to capture any of those sweet moments!

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For those eager readers who have been awaiting the return of Perry Mason, that celebrated and heroic defense attorney and rescuer of foreign orphans, we have good news! While we’re traveling over the next few days, we will be re-introducing the four-part Perry series, one episode at a time. This will give us a few days to rest and recuperate without disappointing Perry’s numerous news-starved fans.

We’ll roll Perry out just as soon as our plane takes to the air and we’re sure the goons can’t drag us back here. Until then, our readers will have to be satisfied with the drivel that follows, a rather rambling and preachy post from Rob.

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(Rob writing)

The Church of Ananiev


Our little village of Ananiev doesn’t have much, but one thing it does have is a two-domed church with a shiny golden roof. This church boasts the village’s finest architecture, its highest and smoothest walls, and its most elegant interior. Nothing else comes close. We visited a school, a museum, a courthouse and several administrative offices, but in none of these did the level of craftsmanship even approach that of the church. Like most of the churches we’ve seen here, this church is undergoing extensive and expensive renovations after decades of neglect under communism.


Our hostess Miss Valla took us inside the church one Sunday morning. We weren’t sure if we were welcome there, but Valla calmly issued Julia a head covering and led us down the wide, smooth walkway and up the stairs. We walked through an entry hall and into the front room, which is roofed by one of the domes. We were completely unprepared for what we saw there: Every single surface of its large interior was lavishly and impeccably decorated with icons, dozens of icons. Painted portraits and scenes of every size lined the walls and the arched ceilings. There were icons on stands, enclosed in glass cases for worshippers to kiss. There were icons surrounded by burning candles lit by worshippers. There were no chairs or benches, no liturgy and no sermon during the time we were there; there were only silent prayers, candles and incense before the icons. We knew that the Eastern Orthodox Church loves its icons, but we had never witnessed just how central to their worship the icons had become.


This church is not a museum, and its icons are not labeled. Some are Biblical figures, but many more are famous missionaries and saints of the early church. A curious worshipper could spend years learning the lore behind each icon: what figure it represents, what story it tells. I suppose that the collected stories of so many icons might fill a book as long as the Bible, if they were all collected. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the icons, but I can think of worse ways to learn church history.


All of those icons made me think about the many missionaries and church founders who’ve spread the gospel around the world over the twenty centuries since Jesus came. Based on the icons, I would guess that the average Orthodox believer knows more about his historical missionaries than the average Protestant does. I am not suggesting that we Protestants should hang our missionaries’ pictures in our sanctuaries and homes and reverence them, but I do think that we could be edified and inspired by their stories.


This trip has given me a small insight into just how difficult a foreign missionary’s life could be, especially before the telecommunication age. The welcome one receives in a foreign land is sometimes far from warm. The differences in language and culture, which are linked in confusing ways, can seem insurmountable. It can be hard to feed, shelter and support oneself comfortably in unfamiliar surroundings. Against all of this, the missionary can set only his or her faith and reliance on the Holy Spirit. How easy it would be to simply give up, to find a reason why the mission had become impossible and pack everything in. I’m sure plenty of them did. The ones who never gave up have great stories to tell about the work and ways of the Lord, and I know that I could learn from them.


Fortunately, modern missionaries aren’t quite as cut off from the people they know and love. Our own small mission has been much easier because of our ability to communicate with home. It’s made a tremendous difference. For our first few days here back in July, we were without telephone and internet. When we finally got a chance to complain to our facilitation team about it, they accused us of being too worried about the “social” end of things. They didn’t understand how cut off we felt-- from our children, from our home, from anyone who could understand a single word we uttered. In the weeks since then, we’ve spent more hours trying to communicate effectively than in any other thing, except maybe visiting Aaron. I can honor those foreign missionaries of old better now, because I know how quickly we would have dried up over here without the many encouraging words from home.