Spectacular Spectacular

Come one, come all to this Spectacular Spectacular!!

This beautiful art work was done by the wonderful J P. An incredible person I may add. This was our flyer for our branch in beautiful Kazan for a fairytale night. Kazan has around 2.5 million people in it. At the time when we were there, there were only four volunteers and one branch in this huge city. The third capital of Russia. The capital of Tartarstan. Yes, this is where tartar sauce comes from as my brother jokingly pointed out in a Patrick Star voice, "Is that where tartar sauce comes from?"  Turns out he did his research and it indeed comes from the state of Tartarstan. 

Anyways, this isn't about tartar sauce, its about a memory of a spectacular night of coming together in different cultures to share fairytales. Now you might think, "What was this for?" Well a couple weeks prior there was a law put into effect that made it illegal for us to preach the gospel. A devastating blow. 

We were now volunteers, there to help the members of our church in anyway possible. We noticed as a district that we were lacking a bit in unity with the branch. We decided to do family home evenings once a week for the branch to bring us closer together. 

For those who know nothing of Tartarstan, it is a state, or a kind of republic in Russia that still answers to the Russian Government, but they have their own president. I've actually briefly met the president of Tartarstan, but that's a different story. Like I said earlier, Kazan is a beautiful city that celebrates two cultures: Russian Orthodox and Islam. The Tataran people have their own language. It's extremely different from Russian, though it has a lot of similar letters in their alphabet. 

In the city, and on any kind of transportation we would hear three different languages: English, Russian, and Tatarskii. I learned a little bit of Tartarskii, but not enough to have a conversation. The only thing I remember is "Careful, the doors are closing" because of it constantly being repeated on the metro. 

Anyways, this city is a big cultural celebration. Downtown Kazan there is a kremlin standing proudly on the only hill for hundreds of kilometers.  Kremlin means fortress. It is said to be over a thousand years old. The Tatarans built it to protect themselves from the Rus. In the heart of the Kremlin there is the Qolsharif Mosque. 

This Mosque is one of the most beautiful structures I have ever beheld. They let you go inside, but they require the women to cover their hair in a scarf, cover legs in a skirt, and they ask for reverence and respect upon entering. I was able to go inside and was blown away by it. Also across from this mosque there is a Russian Orthodox temple. Both of these are representations of friendship and community between these two cultures. Walking down the streets its hard to tell who is Russian and who is a Tataran because they have inter mingled so much. This city was truly special. 

We felt that with our branch we could use a celebration of cultures and of backgrounds. We needed more interaction and friendship between the volunteers and the members. As a district we decided that a great way to do that was to have a fairytale night. Everyone could participate. They could pick a folklore from their culture to tell, sing, act, or read. It was a huge success. 

As a district, our American Fairytale we shared was Little Red Riding Hood. To be honest what helped spur this was a memory I had of my childhood. My siblings reenacted this fairytale. I was Red, my brother the wolf, my sister the granny, my other brother the huntsman, and the oldest was the filmmaker. We wanted to do this same thing. This time I didn't want to be Red, so I offered to be the granny, my companion was to be Red. The elders were the huntsman and the wolf. 

We called everyone and talked to everyone and told them to prepare something and to bring friends. We were hoping and praying that people would come and have a good time. And did people come. I was astounded by how many came to support us. It was phenomenal. In the begining we acted out a spiritual thought, and then opened it up to everyone to participate. They had a ball!

Russians have very many fairytales, and all kinds of songs and ways to tell their stories. There was not one soul who didn't look like they weren't having a great time. There was laughter, singing, and crying (the good kind). It was more than what we could of asked for. Then, we surprised everyone by putting on a little spectacular for them. We had costumes and make-up and sets we had designed. We had a lot of time since the new law. 

I only had two lines. My favorite was when the huntsman killed the wolf with a music stand and I popped up from behind a piano screaming, "Я жива!" Meaning: "I'm alive!" Kind of like Mushu in Mulan. 

This little celebration of cultures was the start of life long friendship with this branch. We did something each week for family home evening. I'll probably share with you what else we did in later weeks. It became a huge success and each week more and more people came. Less actives came, new "friends of the church" came,  and even the oldest members came. It brought the old and the young, the new to the church and old to the church, and different backgrounds and cultures together as we celebrated just that. Differences in culture.  And as well as our desire to follow our Savior. I honestly wish I can go back and still be a part of their family home evenings that have continued on even a year and a half later. 

Lessons of Love

So it's Valentine's Day and it made me reflect back to my mission. I spent two years not worrying about this holiday because I was otherwise "occupied" so to say. But I realized going through my journal that around the holiday of love I learned the greatest lesson of love around this time.

I remember on Valentine's Day I was on splits with a sister, one who I had gone on nine consecutive splits with, well practically. So this sweet sister and I had become confidants and great friends and I love her heart. She surprised us. She made me and my trainee a valentine! I was so touched. It was this little heart card that opened up to a cat saying, "Ты суперь!" meaning "You're great!" She wrote on the inside, "You are doing so great this last cycle- in fact, you are making it the best yet. I think you rock. I love you! Happy Valentine's Day!"

She of course didn't know the impact of her words. Our splits were at the very beginning of the cycle, right after the news was delivered that we, my trainee and I, wouldn't be serving in the same branch that we loved and felt so loved. We would still be in the same building, the same apartment seeing the same people except we would be in another ward. All of our progressing "friends" had to be passed to the Elders. The ones we had put sweat and tears into. No blood, unless you count random bloody noses by this girl here. I'm pointing to myself in case you didn't get it. 

To make matters worse the bishop was intimidating. Very intimidating. Snake charmer going up against a snake intimidating. Not to compare him to a snake because he is nothing of the sort. He's a stellar human being.

After one meeting with him it took me an hour to stop shaking. Oh, he also told us he didn't need us. Oh and he told us he never wanted to hear us use the word "try". This is where you gulp in fear. It was off to a crazy rough start, and it was also the beginning of the end for me. I was so sad to leave the ward that was amazing at helping us in every aspect and loving us as if their own. I had only been with them for two cycles. It was worse than pulling of duct tape from hairy legs. 

Well, this new ward needed help. They hadn't had sisters in three years or so. But boy was the relief society excited to have us. Not to mention an incredible member who was a ward missionary who came to our rescue in more ways than we knew. They helped us through the rough patches, and I learned a powerful lesson on the impact of love. From their examples, and from our challenge with the bishop. 

For the next four weeks we did EVERYTHING that sweetly intimidating bishop asked, and more just to give him a smile. We prayed for him in every prayer. We also prayed to make him see that we loved him. We made him food often, even gave him an expensive volleyball, and did other acts of service.

We came to the realization that he definitely had a hard life and he was only trying to lose his life in the work, as Christ asked of us. He was only doing his best. So we did our best to love him and the people he told us to visit and the members of that ward.

Goodbyes are never easy. On that last day with that ward many tears were shed. I don't think that bishop knew, but the goodbye to him was a difficult one. It was short and sweet, but I could barely keep myself together. I think of that man often and pray for him just as often. He was a porquepine when I met him, like a lot of Russians, but really he is as mushy as a browning banana on the inside. 

Love we showed to him melted his heart, and ours. He has a good heart. It's a little rough looking and seemingly hard, but it contains loads of charity and compassion. He, like many others I have met and came to love will always be stamped on my heart, never to be erased. 

Also who could forget his killer spikes in volleyball. He's a madman when it comes volleyball. You have to make sure your on his team to not get hit. 

This goes back to that sweet sister who I love immensely. Her kind words is what helped encourage me to give my all my last cycle, and to show this man love and compassion. It paid off. Kind words will do it, and actions of christ-like love will do it too. Love is the key to all secrets of this life, both eternal and temporal. 

The Volga

One of my absolute favorite things about Russia and the Samara/ Kazan/ Saratov oblasts (Russian equivalents to counties, well sort of) is the Volga. It was the first thing I walked to, not flown to or driven to, but my own two feet took me there.

The two days of travel prior to the river walk were killer. We spent almost a full day in the Moscow Airport after a long morning at the embassy. I remember everyone passing out, forgetting about the luggage and everything going around us. It was if someone had tainted our drinks. Lucky for us it was just jet lag, and nothing was stolen.

That brings me to a fact about Russians. They are incredibly honest. Almost to the point that they are blunt. Honesty is a great lesson I learned from them. Not that I wasn't before, but it's just a commonality among them. Like a silent pact to be honest and kind. Of course there are exceptions as there are everywhere.

Anywho, once we got to Samara we were taken straight to the Aurora Sisters' apartment, well just the sisters, and there were five of us, and twelve sisters were already at that apartment for transfers. This apartment had one bedroom and a medium sized living room. Most of the sisters were sprawled all throughout the living room and kitchen. The five of us newcomers had to cram three more mats into the bedroom with the already present two beds. One of the beds was as if it was made for a family of three two.

The next day we went to the mission home for orientation. It was grand, well at least comparing it to the over crowded apartment we had all just been shoved in. When we took a break I was introduced to my favorite river in the entire world.

The Volga is famous for being the largest river in the world. Wow! This picture above doesn't do it justice. I have plenty more photos where you can't see the other bank, or when it's completely frozen over and people are casually strolling on it. But this photo is special. It captures my first moment there. Behind where we are all standing was this gorgeous monument, rich with history.

This is reason number one why I love this river. The monument shows men on the shores, dressed poorly, with gloomy expressions as they trudge along the river yoked to a boat. A boat that these workers are tasked with to carry up river.

This isn't my own picture. I selected this one to see the monument clearly. These men had this awful job to do each day. Physically straining as well as mentally. You can see that their shoes are torn, if they have any. Their faces are weary, most looking down as if giving up. But there is one looking up. It doesn't show it well here, but he has a cross. It's been rubbed so much that it has a golden shine to it.

The message of hope is engraved in his face. And the message caught on. People noticed it. They rubbed the cross he wore as if cheering him on. People think that Russians are mostly Atheist. While a lot are, there are even more who are stout believers of God. His hand is visible in Russia, even to the Russians themselves.

This river was a place of hope for me. We called the street leading to the Volga our "miracle street" we always met the kindest or most open people here. It was my favorite spot, not only because of its beauty but of the hope it brought. This place is monumental in history and in it's message.  It has claimed a wide portion of my heart to reside in.