Denali

After a stressful semester, James completed finals and moved on to full time work at Rodney P. Kinney and Associates. I was quickly moving toward the end of the high school year and had one "wellness day" to take, a "use it or lose it" free day off for me. We decided to just take a couple of days and get away to relax and reconnect.

After reading on CNN.com (no kidding) about how Denali park (the park in central Alaska where Mt. McKinley lives) was trying to coax tourists up to visit in May and offering nice deals to do so, we decided to call up there and find a nice hotel to stay for a few days while we scouted the area. Everything was sold out or not available, but I finally found a private hotel listed as the Denali Lake View Inn in Healy, Alaska. We booked the Misty Lake room, packed our bags, dropped off Titus at the Catos to play with Snoopy, and left on Thursday afternoon after I finished work.

It had been a long time since we had driven north. I love how you can watch the tree shapes change as you drive and see the tall cottonwoods and birches gradually shrink as the ground becomes shallower due to permafrost. Driving into the Denali region, the mountains seem to grow up around graceful valleys and animal life is plentiful if you keep sharp watch among the trees. Even though I am no stranger to a continual mountain view, seeing mountains that I'm not familiar with from every angle strikes awe into my heart. We laughed as we passed the sign "Welcome to Denali Park" a snowshoe hare nearly did a suicide run underneath our wheels. We swerved in time.

After passing the big, fancy Denali hotels in a little town designated for tourists, we traveled up the road another 10 miles to a little one-horse town, drove off on a dirt track for another two, and pulled up in front of a non-descript building sitting by a lake. The strict rules: REMOVE YOUR SHOES and NO SMOKING were placidly obeyed by us as we entered a pleasant, plushly carpeted home-like hall, descended the stairs, and found "Misty Lake" room.


It was a nice surprise. Unlike many hotels, cookie-cutter rooms decorated in hunter green and brown with ducks or flowers hanging on the wall, this place went out of its way to be as comfortable and kind as possible. The large picture window facing the lake (surrounded by mountains) had an accompanying porch where you could sit at a picnic table and enjoy a peaceful evening. A little table for two had been set with cloth napkins. The fridge was equipped with milk, juice, and a fruit and pastry platter for breakfast. A coffee pot and microwave invited you to make coffee, hot chocolate, tea, or cider for a cool evening. The bed was outfitted with comfortable blankets, sheets, and pillows (including a memory foam pillow that I wanted to take home with me!). Two little moose sat on the bed. A plush recliner rocker sat in front of a television that assured us that all shows were edited to TV ratings, there were no R ratings showing on cable. A little book sat on the dresser where people before us had recorded their positive experiences at Denali while staying in our room (kind of odd to think of too much). The nice sized bathroom was outfitted with a Jacuzzi tub. All in all, it was just what we needed, a soothing place that pampered us just a little.


After a relaxed evening, we prepared to sleep in, but we got a $700 wake up call (as James likes to call it) when the mechanic called to tell me that the simple wheel problem on our Subaru, that we had left at the shop over the weekend, was actually a much more expensive brake problem, which they would fix for $700. No fun. Anyway, we had a relaxed morning in our cozy room, then set out to see Denali.

At the park we discovered that we had come the last possible day to drive 30 miles into the park in our own car. On Saturday, the park would be restricted to paying passengers on one of their shuttle or tour buses and the restrictions wouldn't be lifted until the snow came and prevented travel on the roads anyway. We enjoyed the nice museum at the new visitors center with true to life depictions of animal carcases, bear scat, and fly larvae (no kidding) along with some nicer subject matter. Then we took a leasurely drive into the park.

Although we did not catch sight of "The Tall One" or "The Tall One's Wife" as the native peoples named McKinley and Foraker. We did see 24 caribou, 16 ptarmigan, 3 bear, 2 moose, and at least 30 snowshoe hares (we were sure that we counted the same ones twice after a while). I posted pictures of the first caribou and ptarmigan we saw. The bear was the coolest because even though it was far away, it was definitely a mama bear in a thicket on the river bed. James and I caught sight of two little brown rolly-polly things moving around with her. We wished we had packed binoculars, but a nice lady shared hers with us. It was fun.





After returning to our room for a nap (we told you this trip was about relaxing), we dressed up and went to town. Far above the valley in a hotel/restarant built by (literally, he oversaw the whole construction) one of our brothers from Fairbanks, Raymond Lynch, we shared a delictable house salad with bleu-cheese dressing and a prime rib steak all while enjoying a breathtaking view. In the middle of it all, I accidentlally reset the camera to take low quality pictures, but at least the clear ones remain in our memories. Later, back in our room, we shared a pint of Hagan Daaz ice cream while I beat James at Settlers of Catan (don't let him tell you differently!).



God blessed the next day and our trip home as well. The skies cleared enough for us to view the magnificent Mt. McKinley. We caught view after view from every angle and took our time driving back down the highway taking pictures at every stop. What a trip!

Too Much

This post was originally written 3/29/07. It's heavy material caused me to postpone publishing until I could edit it a little. It really is sharing my heart. I hope you understand.

Dear Friends,

I know if we want people to check and read our blog often, we have to update and add to our blog often. Once every six months or so does not cut it. However, some months seem to be blah months with not much happening while others are packed with way too much to tell or even completely handle. March was a too much month. But, in order to start something a little more reliable, I will try to wrap my words around it and share some of what happened.

This month has been characterized for me by an uncharacteristic amount of tears. The first batch were the best kind when on February 24, when I was home from the Anchorage Ladies' Retreat, my dad called from Virginia where he and my family were visiting his mother. "Andrea, I called to ask for your prayers," he said (causing my heart to quicken), "Your grandmother has asked to be baptized." The fresh torrent of tears after so many prayers (30 years worth) had been answered were soon replaced by happy smiles as we called friends and family for their prayers. We rejoiced with them again when she was indeed baptized the following day by her happy son. I could hardly believe it was true, but I've seen pictures and heard all the details: the cold water, Isaac leading singing, and Grandma's peaceful heart. After 88 years, Grandma obeyed the gospel. Praise God!

One week later, March 5, Dad calls again. "Andrea, Grandma has been admitted to ICU. She's stable now, but she is not doing well. I think you should come to Virginia." A new shower of tears. This time the phone calls were to travel agents and bosses. Four days later, Brady, Aspen, and I fly out of Anchorage for Minneapolis on our way to see Grandma (they had already been planning to go). James was to join me a week later. What a week! Grandma came home from the hospital the next day. She ate well and slept well. We joined her while she sat on the side of her bed with her swollen ankles crossed and sipped her coffee. We talked about memories, she offered advice, we told her of ourselves. In the evenings we watched Jeopardy or old movies on cable and enjoyed butter pecan ice cream with her. Before bed, we gathered in her room for a few songs to God and a prayer. She loved it. Each day that we were there, she was able to do a little less. We brought in a hospital bed and a walker, she fought them, then she loved their support of her independence. One awful day, the medication was particularly high and she was not herself and able to talk or reason clearly, which made us even more aware of her amazing lucidity the rest of the time. I wanted to weep and storm, someday we were going to loose Grandma, I did not want to loose her early to mind altering medications. She came through most of it by that evening.

I loved my role as one of many caring for Grandma. She had a little bell which she rang and we ran to see to her needs: ice water, ginger ale, or coffee. I enjoyed finding softer pillows to put around her, new comforts for around her bed, and preparing whatever I could to make her life a little easier. My mother and Aspen were good role models. It was hard at first to see my grandmother needing any support, but once I got started I found peace in being able to do something. My mother especially was an amazing nurse, untiring, sensitive, but matter-of-fact, gentle, and doing what needed to be done before the rest of us realized the need.

In all this time we did not hover constantly around Grandma's bed. She slept often, and we took a few days to go experience some of the special things Virginia has to offer. We visited (in various combinations over two weeks) Williamsburg, Jamestown, the Williamsburg Pottery Factory, Richmond, and Norfolk. My mother's parents from Ohio flew down (in part to pick up their car which my parents had driven down) to see us. The temperatures soared in the 70s and 80s, and although the trees were still brown, daffodils and crocuses and other signs of green sprouted everywhere. My friend Melody and her boyfriend Dustin drove up from North Carolina. Mom, Aspen, and I went to Goodwill and brought back arm fulls of "new" clothes. We laughed, joked, and smiled. Life was good and active and real, and I think that helped Grandma too, in a way.

Wednesday night, right before James flew in to be with us, Brady, Aspen, and I sat in the family room watching a movie, but our hearts weren't into it. Grandma not doing well. Instinctively, we all knew that things were not the same. She wasn't able to eat, and, for the first time, she seemed to be in pain. However, when Dad called hospice workers for help and advice, they said from their records and his descriptions that she couldn't be in any danger. I sat on the couch crying with Brady and Aspen, but softly, not wanting to disturb Grandma in the next room. As Mom and Dad worked to comfort her through instructions from the nurses on the phone, we sat in the family room and prayed.

Before going up to bed, I went into Grandma to tell her goodnight. Seeing my teary face in the dim light (and perhaps having heard my crying), she held my hand and said, "Your hands are cold." And then, "It's going to be alright." I knew she was comforting me. Knowing that she was my now sister in Christ, from the depths of my heart I said, "I know, Grandma, I just wanted to tell you that I love you. Good night." I bent down and gave her a kiss. I didn't know that was the last conversation I would have with her.

It was an awful night. No one could sleep. Mom and Dad didn't sleep because they were keeping vigil administering pain relief, calling nurses, updating family. After tossing in bed for a few hours, I gave up and sat and read Psalms in the living room. Psalm 139:16 brought comfort.

Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;
And in Your book were all written
The days that were ordained for me,
When as yet there was not one of them.

God knew how many days Grandma would live even before she was born. It was in His hands whether she stayed with us another month or another hour. A little before dawn, my parents and I sat on the family room floor reading old letters and looking at pictures of ladies wearing hats sitting in open buggies and men in ancient uniforms. It made us marvel and smile.

At ten, the hospice worker finally arrived. She was shocked that the cheerful lady full of life who had sat in the family room during her last visit was already not able to talk and having difficulty breathing. She warned my parents that Grandma probably only had another week with us.

Brady, Aspen, and I left to get James from the airport. Our nerves were frazzled. I shook with anticipation of having James with me again. It was a joyful reunion. On the way home from the airport, we decided to stop at the PX to get something to celebrate my parent's 27th anniversary (it was March 15). James got a quick haircut, Aspen called Oklahoma to learn about her brother's surgery, we browsed around for a suitable gift and card. Finally, we returned to the house.

The family came out to greet us when we pulled in the driveway. Papaw, Grandma, Dad, Mom, Isaac, and Adam. One look at my Dad's face told the whole story. "It's all over," he said. "Grandma died at 1:20." We circled up to pray, but the phone rang. I turned to the nearest arms, Brady's, and sobbed. Another hospice worker pulled into the drive to fill out the death certificate. It really was over.

* * *

At that point as at so many along this journey, we saw God's blessings and His hand in everything. I praised God for letting me be there with Grandma the week before we lost her, even though to all appearances she was perfectly healthy. I praised God for her time of suffering to be so brief and her time of health so long and blessed. I praised God for putting my husband beside me when I heard the news of her death and through the grueling days full of family and funeral arrangements afterwards. He is good.

Family came to town. James and I moved out of the house to a hotel near by. People came. More food came than we knew what to do with. I met family members I didn't know I had. The day after Grandma died, the skies wept with a torrent. The day of her funeral was the most gloriously sunny day we had seen thus far. One week later, we flew home.

It is hard. I am sad that the house in Virginia where I spent so many vacations and holidays is being dismantled and sold. I am sad that cards and letters will never fly back and forth from our house to 1845 Pender Ave. I am sad that the matriarch, the hub, the heart of our family is not there anymore, leaving the rest of us to fly off into our own separate orbits. I am sad that my father no longer has a mother, I no longer have a Grandma Kuenning, and I will never give my grandmother great-grandchildren. I will miss hearing her voice on the telephone and receiving her spidery handwriting on my birthday cards. Sometimes memories come to me so clearly of seeing her face screw up in playful concentration over a Skip-Bo game, or hearing her genuine surprised laughter, or smelling her feminine scent, or feeling the soft skin of her hand on my arm, that I gasp and momentarily choke with loss and sadness.

But God is good. Even in the last, Grandma was teaching me about dignity and grace in dying. As much as my young mind cannot grasp it, we do not live forever here on earth, and I was so blessed to know and be with my wonderful grandmother for 25 beautiful years. Sweetest of all, I know she is with our heavenly Father now and will be there to greet me when I too go home.

God bless you.

Love,
Andrea

Yay, it's May!

Whew. James' finals week is over, and his grades have come back one by one to show that he passed them all (and did very well in them too)! I have only three more weeks of work at school until they let all the students (and teachers) out for the summer. Outside it is lighter and warmer everyday, and we're getting together with teens, young adults, and families nearly everyday of the week. Whoo-hoo. I love Alaska.

Wedding Pictures

I don't know why I didn't do this sooner, maybe because the nearly 1000 pictures that people kindly took of our wedding day and reception is slightly overwhelming! But I'm not complaining. How else could we tell that Jesse Munsell was blowing bubbles while I was walking down the aisle? Or that Tanya Scott was crying harder than my mother? How else could we catch James' dad crack a smile during the ceremony or see Brady, the best man, check surreptitiously to see if he did indeed have the ring. Well, maybe I'll post those pictures later.



All I can say is it makes scrapbooking a very daunting job. I have to admit though, being able to choose one shot from five different angles does have huge advantages. If only I wasn't making that goofy face in every one of them!

-Andrea

April Fools

Just so you know that I know it's not Christmas anymore!


Okay, so this is an engagement photo.


This one goes back even further to just after James came home from Ukraine. Aww!

Have a good day.

Happy Merry Christmas!

Dear Friends and Family,

What a wonderful year God has blessed us with! We are just one week away from celebrating the day when the two of us became our own family. Looking back over the adventures of the last year, it is awesome to see how God took care of us every step of the way.

Our first six months of marriage, we lived in six different homes as house-sitters. We cared for 3 cats, 2 dogs, 11 fish, 72 plants, and unknown water pipes as we lived in different locations around Anchorage and the valley. From the time we packed our suitcases for our honeymoon until July 18th, we never officially unpacked them. We stayed in a duplex, a ranch-style home, a three-story house, a cabin, a split-level house, and a log house. We learned about what we like and don't like and what's frustrating and what's nice (no cuckoo clocks, yes jets in the tub). However, when we finally found a cute little apartment in Peterscreek, we felt so appreciative for the means to settle down. We fit just fine in a one bedroom apartment with room left over for Titus (our pug).



In the past year James had two more semesters of Engineering classes (he's set to graduate May '08). He did great, although there were moments ... Andrea officially graduated from UAA with her bachelor's in Russian. James worked for a second year at TNH Engineering as an intern and draftsman. Andrea started work at Chugiak and Eagle River High Schools as a bilingual tutor. Both of us have learned lots this year and enjoy working in our specialty areas. Just this week (much to the chagrin of TNH), James accepted a position at another engineering firm in Eagle River. We are hoping that the smaller, more personal company and shorter commute will be easier for us in the coming year.

Since the beginning of the year, flying to the Mall of America on our honeymoon, we have traveled quite a bit as newlyweds. We helped chaperone the teens from our church on a trip to Lubbock, Texas to visit AIM over spring break. It was so encouraging for us to spend time with our teammates and their wives and other people our age who take their faith seriously and want to serve God in any capacity. Two of our teens then decided to join the AIM program this year, and we are excited for them and their coming adventure. Then, this summer we started this blog to record our amazing trip around Ukraine and Russia. We visited our former mission fields, saw old friends, made new friends, and took a lovely detour through St. Petersburg. We were so blessed to have the funds to take that trip! Thank you for your mission support in the past and your wedding gifts that made it possible for us.

Finally, we have been blessed to actively be a part of the work of the Valley church of Christ this year. James taught junior and high school classes. Andrea taught junior high girls (they're a terrific bunch) and some women's classes. Both of us have worked with the teens and young adults this year and have taken distance Sunset Bible classes offered in the evenings. God is definitely leading us into different areas of growth and challenge. We are thrilled to be able to work with such an alive and spirit-led congregation, and we find that every time we think about moving to Anchorage, Fairbanks, or the lower 48, it becomes even more obvious that God wants us right here for the time being.

We wish you a very merry Christmas (or as Andrea's students would say, a Happy Merry Christmas) and a blessed New Year. Who knows, maybe the next year we will be traveling in your neck of the woods. God bless you!

With love,

James & Andrea

Birds again

Our travels have once more become more intense. No more long weekend stays after our flights and bus rides. We are now running from plane to plane makeing all our connecting flights on our way back home.

Home has become an abstract idea over the past couple of weeks. We have been so focused on absorbing every moment of our trip that we have hardly thought about life back in the states. It's hard to imageing driving home from the airport and starting life again. I know it won't be that difficult though.

It's been a wonderful trip. We could not have asked for a better experience. Thank you all for your prayers on our behalf. We look forward to seeing our family when we get back. We have tons of pictures and will post a bunch when we get home. God bless you all.

Leningrad

We are in St. Petersburg! We had a wonderful last day in Moscow. It was sunny and beautiful. We left first thing in the morning from our apartment and stood in line for an hour to see Lenin. James said to tell you that we did see him, but he was asleep so we had to be really quiet and couldn't take any pictures. What I didn't know is that behind Lenin's tomb, there are the graves of all the other founders of the Communist party in Russia. It was a somber and thoughtful tour for us, made richer by my Russian history classes at UAA. Red square itself was closed, we could only walk around the periphery. Anyway, I'll have to be less detailed or I'll never get to St. Petersburg. Next we ate delicious meat wraps called "Shaurma," walked down Arbat street, visited an overwhelmingly massive CD and DVD market, called all our Muscovite friends to say goodbye, took our suitcases to the train station, walked across the river to Red square (where James captured some gorgeous photos), heard the clock tower strike midnight, and made it to the train station just in time take the 1 am train to St. Petersburg.

I felt so blessed. God allowed us to have a special time in the city I called home; He gave James a good picture of my life and work here; and He blessed us with new shared memories to keep forever.

Our train trip to St. Petersburg was nearly uneventful. We slept on the top bunks of a four person coupe. The couple beneath us allowed us to stow our (now much heavier) bags underneath their beds. They seemed terrified of speaking with us there and soon went to sleep. I love sleeping on a train. 1. The train movement is soothing and 2. the ride is not boring and 3. you don't have to pay for a hotel and transportation, they are both in one. However, for some reason, maybe the heat, maybe sleeping in my clothes, I kept waking up and the sore muscles I had accumulated from the day before didn't heal completely.

We were greeted at the train station by a friendly representative of our Bed and Breakfast. We were tired, smelly, and rumpled and happy to be heading to a place we could relax in. On the way to the car, James started trying to find his passport. He searched he bag and his pockets, but couldn't see it. Our foggy brains started clearing immediately. This was a problem. Our driver took me and the baggage to the car, where I repeatedly searched our hand luggage, while James went back to the traincar to search and solicit help from the conductress. They came back a half hour later with nothing. We drove to the hotel, somberly realizing that we would have to have a new passport, new visa, and new registration issued in a weekend. It couldn't possibly happen. We arrived at the hotel, James pulled out his carry-on, opened the flap, and realized that he had put his passport in the same hidden compartment he always had (while I had searched his bag three times). We thanked God, laughed sheepishly, and put both our passports into the perfect hiding space.


Our bed and breakfast is an ancient building with ceilings even higher than Stalin era ones, pastel painted walls, and quaint antique artifacts sprinkled liberally throughout our room and the reception area. Our room is yellow and green. After showering and changing, we walked our aching bodies over to the Hermitage, practically next door. We spend a beautiful afternoon inside one of the largest and most extensive museums in the world. We were by turns overwhelmed and amazed at the incredible numbers of rooms filled with incredible numbers of gorgeous pieces of art. Many were extremely famous. We saw works by Da Vinci, Renoir, Michelangelo, Rodin, Picasso, Rembrant, and on and on. After four and a half hours, we reluctantly left the beautiful palace and went back to our Bed and Breakfast for an obligatory nap. We woke three hours later and headed out to see the beautiful city of White nights.

After dinner at an extremely authentic Greek restaurant, we enjoyed a stroll down various canals, turning corners to find lovely palaces, elegant memorials, or historic churchs. We walked until 11:30 and the light never faded, nor did the clusters of tourists walking in noisy little groups down the sidewalk. We stopped to listen to a man playing Moonlight Sonata and Bach on his accordion. St. Petersburg is classic.

-Andrea

Mama had a baby and his legs fell off

It is 11 o'clock Wednesday evening, July 5th, and all is well in Moscow, Russia.

Yesterday was the fourth of July here in Moscow. To celebrate the ocassion we did the one thing any clear thinking American patriot would do. We, took a stroll through the Kremlin, of course. It was not planned in anyway. We had merely planned to meet with Andrea's old friend Sylvia, but as a surprise she meet us and took us straight to the Kremlin gate, and started giving us tons of tour guide information almost instantly, as we passed over the old draw bridge and under the great red walls of the center of Russian power. We were dazzled by all the history that surrounded us inside, walking under the window where Lenin had his private office, passing down walkways once occupied by Stalin, the Romanovs, Ivan the Terrible, Rasputin. Just being an American allowed into the Kremlin is a huge privilage, and a great repesentation of the peace and trust between our countries. We even were allowed into "guided tour only" Armory Palace, where all the oldest and grandest historical items are stored and displayed. There were amazing robes and crowns and carriages and magifacent vases and dishes. Also there was a lot of orthodox history in the Kremlin walls, cathedrals and the temple were the czars were coranated, and then later burried. It was a lot of fun. Andrea really enjoyed visiting with her old friend again and was happy to find that she was very well and energetic. It was a very good day.

The rest of the day was spent getting lost looking for a restraunt that no longer existed, and walking about eight more miles before the sun set. This was a big deal for us because our legs already hurt so much from walking that we nearly didn't make it through the Kremlin without collapsing. When we got home at around midnight we felt like toast. We slept till about 9:30 when we woke up feeling like more toast, this time covered in marmalade, and dipped in cocoa.

Regardless of how we felt today went great. First on our adgenda was to go make sure that Lenin was still dead. I just don't think I could sleep at night if I wasn't sure. I guess it's important for a lot of people because Russia has conveniently placed his body on display in the main town center and large lines of people wait daily for a chance to go see him everyday. But for some reason Red Square (named after it's distinctive color and shape) was closed off this morning, and they were not letting anyone go visit his masoleum anymore. Maybe Lenin had decided to take the day off and go to McDonalds with his family or something. We plan to go tomorrow morning if everthing goes well. I don't think I will be able to take a picture, but I'll be sure to tell you how he is doing.

After being denied entry into Red Square we went up to the university of Moscow were we could look over the city and attempt some pictures. Sadly there were a lot of trees and olympic ski jumps blocking most of the good views, but we had a good time experiencing a different part of the city.

We meet with Yuri this afternoon. Yuri is a good friend of Andrea's and is a very devoted evangelist here in the city. He is now living in a suburb of Moscow and took us to see his wonderful family, and see the house that he is building for them. He has a wonderful attitude and his wife Katya was pregnant with their third child, full of smiles and joy, and made us a very tasty meal, in that order. Their two children Mila and David were adorable. Mila is about five and became a good friend after she got over her intial shyness, which had her climbing behind her dad's back when we first arrived. I think the Piglet pezz dispenser helped break the ice. It's always fun listening to little Russian kids, who are that age, talk in Russian. However, it's frustrating to not understand them and know that we have been studying Russian for a lot longer than they have.

Mainly the only highlight of the trip home from Yuri and Katya's was went I nearly got arrested, or shot, or fined, or deported, or launched into space, I didn't completely understand. I was taking a rather lame picture of the above ground metro line when a man in a blue uniform came up and starting telling me something about how I was his least favorite person on the planet and he wanted to beat me up. At least that's what his tone of voice said, I have no idea what he was really saying because I was too startled to pay attention. We showed him my passport and explained to him that we were tourists (making sure to say the word correctly, as it can sometime sound a lot like terrorists) . He didn't trust me a whole lot, and I don't blame him. Who takes pictures of dumb trains? I just have a bad habit of taking lots of really bad random pictures I guess. I then had to take out my camera and show him all the pictures I had taken that day, and rather embarrassingly explain them. "Here I am with a little girl in goggles." "This is me with some flowers in my pocket." "Here's a picture I took of some wire I thought looked cool on the ground." I think he got the point and wasn't too impressed with my vacation photos, because he quickly waved us away a short while into my slideshow. I'm glad he didn't let me keep going though because the picture of the metro rail was the last picture I needed to completely fill my 1 gig camera card.

Tomorrow night we leave for St. Petersburg. It will be an exciting couple of days to finalize our trip. We are staying at a bed and breakfast in the center of town and plan to visit with the church in Lomonosov on Sunday. This being the congregation that I would have been living and working with for two years had God not had other plans and sent me to Ukraine. It should be interesting.

-James

Shag za Shagum - Step by Step

Happy 4th of July! It is at least here, although it isn't any sort of holiday. We did see an advertisement in the metro with a picture of Uncle Sam and a notice for meeting on July 4th discussing a "Day of Independence from American Money." It sounded slightly sinister.

We have had a very full and blessed time in Moscow, although I can't help feeling that the time is slipping through our fingers. Every day I'm here I remember some place else I want to see, someone else I want to track down and visit. But we do so much in one day that we ache from exhaustion every night, and we promise ourselves not to push ourselves the next time, but we do anyway.

Monday, we tramped down to the center with Dougal and Lucy, Rob and Denyce, and Mike Soto to register our visas. The four men commandeered the map, and the women trailed behind discussing babies, husbands, and memories. I like being with Lucy and Denyce. They are both relaxed and fun and share so many interests with me that conversation are never boring. It was one of my favorite kinds of days in Moscow. The sun was bright but not smothering, the lovely old buildings painted pastel pinks, greens, and yellows with their faded white trim reflected the optimism of a lovely summer morning. The trees shaded our walk, and each new corner revealed new vistas and some surprises. We found the visa agency and climbed to the third story. The four ladies in the tiny room seemed overwhelmed by the 8 1/2 of us and shooed us away to the street bellow to wait for them to stamp and verify our time spent in Moscow as tourists. Then we walked down to Tverskaya, a wide boulevard of city activity where we said good-bye to the other six 1/2 and walked back to Arbat.

Old Arbat is a cobblestone walking street filled with sellers of souvenirs, artists painting portraits, and musicians performing for kopecks. We ambled down the street as we collected things to take home to loved ones, admired pictures, and enjoyed classical guitar music. Arbat was always one of my favorite places to go.

We met Nelly at 6: 30 in a Massive mall next to the Kurskaya train and metro stations. We ate blini with berries and sweet cream and sipped tea in the food court while we caught up on life since we've been apart. It was so nice to be able to reignite our friendship and bring James into the memories we had of old times and old conversations. I'm so thankful that God allowed our meeting to remind me more poignantly of people that I was able to touch here. She is not a Christian yet, but I believe this visit might have encouraged her to continue seeking for what is missing in her life.

We decided to go home after that, feeling like we were heading in early, but a glance at our watches showed that we would be getting home at 10. It's funny how the late evening sun is throwing even us Alaskans off! James bought me a lovely rose on the way home, and we created an impromptu vase out of a Fanta bottle. It's interesting how I feel like I belong here and then I don't at the same time. At least I always feel like I belong with James, and I know we'll be fine anywhere God takes us.

-Andrea

The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse

I want to write something quick while I have a chance, but I'm afraid there is no way I will be able to even hint at all the adventures we have been on since last we posted.

I will begin by saying that we have arrived safely in Moscow, no thanks to Ukrainian customs that tried to keep us prisoners in their border, a Yak-42 passenger plane which I felt positive was going to fall apart in the sky (Especially since it started smoking on take-off...), and a lack of contact information for our friends in Moscow which left us wandering the metro dragging green and purple "Look I'm a stupid American" suitcases for the better part of our first day. However, our safe arrival is due entirely to Great friends in Mariupol that saw us off with wonderful hugs and good wishes, Alan Burow, my long time companion and friend, who rode with us all the way to Donetsk and then waited for us to get through security even though we were so focused we forgot to wave goodbye (sorry Alan, we love you!), and a team of American friends that waited an hour and a half at the metro waiting to receive us like a fragile delicate baton, lifting our bags and taking us to the apartment we sleep in tonight. In all of this we can not go with out mentioning how obviousit is that God is at work in our trip. Our safety and strength is directly from Him and there is no doubt of that fact. We thank you all for your continued prayers.

Today was Sunday. We made contact with the congregation Andrea used to work among. There were many smiling faces and hugs, and seriously our afternoon with them (12:00-4:00) really deserves it's own post. There were a lot of mixed emotions involved, but it was a wonderful time overall.

After this we were pulled into going to the apartment of one of Andrea's old acquaintances named Vika. We sat and talked with her for maybe two hours about her "illness" and how the government keeps trying to force her to stay in a "hospital" and how she doesn't want to take her medication because she's trying to write a novel and her "illness" helps her to write, and how she has a really cool friend who hears voices telling her to kill people. It was pleasant. I didn't take any pictures for fear that the flash might startle her.

Our feet are tired. If we had been walking in place this whole time we would be nearly buried by now. Our legs ache. Our backs are sore. Our poor brains are fried in every language. At this time Andrea and I communicate mostly by grunts and whistles. Our pockets are emptying quickly, and time is running out. But we are absolutely having the time of our lives, and loving every single second. It's beautiful.

-James