Merrily We Roll Along . . . First published on June 12, 2005

I just had the interesting experience of bringing home some groceries on one of the little marshutkas (this one was van-sized with seating for 15 plus the driver).  I went to the Evrazia (Eurasian) Shopping Center and bought 1 kilogram of chicken quarters (dark meat), one kilogram of tomatoes, one kilogram of cucumbers, a half a kilogram of kiwi fruit and 10 medium-sized brown eggs.  Now that doesn't sound like a lot, but I was on the way home from church so I had my purse and my Bible in my red wool shoulder bag, too.  And of course an umbrella since it was looking iffy as I left the apartment this morning -- some drops fell as I headed to the bus stop, but they were not joined others.  In the wool bag also were the ever-ready thick plastic shopping bags with handles. 

You can buy them in the stores, but if you go to one of the little fruit and vegetable stands, they usually only have very thin bags and it is hard to be sure you will get everything home safely without the big bags.  And that was the challenge today for me because of the eggs as well.  I have seen eggs at my little store in my apartment region, but only from time to time and have only bought them there once.  And the last few days I have had a taste for both eggs and chicken.

At the biggest stores you can buy eggs in cartons, but those are the most expensive stores and I am trying hard to be frugal.  And last week I noticed a woman on the marshutka I was riding.  She was carrying a little bag of eggs, expertly suspending them into the aisle away from anything or anyone who could bump into them.  Unknowingly, she gave me courage to try that, too.  And I decided today was the day.  I praise God that I got them all home safely despite standing up most of the way as the driver careened our vehicle around corners and through traffic.  But you should have seen me!  I think I prayed more all the way home than I had in church.  *smile*

So now the chicken is in the process of becoming the central Asian version of Chicken Spaghetti.  (Although I have rigatoni to eat with it -- not spaghetti . . . and I don't have parmesan or Romano cheese -- though they do have mozzarella and pizza is all the rage, as I've mentioned previously, I think).  So, it's the central Asian version because that's where the chicken comes from and the tomato based sauce does not have the usual spices in it that I would use if I was making it at home.  It was always one of Krista's favorite dishes when she was growing up -- though we all enjoyed it.  Italian food means home to me, anyway . . . my soul food, I guess.  (But I am happy eating almost anything.  *grin*) 

My mom has always been a wonderful cook and spaghetti was the dish she welcomed us home with when we came home from college or visited with the kids when they were little.  We also would make pizza together as a family.  Nowadays my kids think that making ravioli together is a must when we are together, and as I may have told you already I made it for friends and family all across the country when I was traveling last year.  Special food is extra special when you share it with those you love.  Growing up in the Methodist Church meant lots of potlucks and I have lots of memories of fellowship and food.

Those kinds of memories were added to on Friday evening when my friends here got together as usual.  We don't always have a potluck, but Friday evening was special since we welcomed some new friends.  It was a joyful fellowship with singing, food and a Bible study.  Several of the dishes were made with chicken, so that is how I got a taste for it.  Haven't bought fresh meat for a while, relying on my old stand by frozen pilmeni and the occasional kielbasa.  It's lovely how on Fridays and Sundays we get a chance to get fed spiritually as well as physically.

Today I went back to a church where I worshiped several weeks ago.  It was a Spirit-filled time again and the Lord fed my soul and quenched my thirst for time with Him in community.  The pastor and some others had gone to a nearby city for a conference, and came home with joyful reports of the time there worshipping with over a thousand people.  I was blessed during the sermon which was focused on the passage in John when Jesus asks the disciples who people say that He is.  The pastor was lifting up some ideas he heard at the conference, so it was lovely to receive the Word passed on like that.  The speaker at the conference they went to was from Africa and I sat there in worship thinking how amazing the Lord is in this day to bring people who love Him together from all over the world. 

The pastor said that when Jesus changed Simon's name to Peter it was a change from an earthly name to a Kingdom of Heaven name.  Soon after when Jesus started to tell the disciples that He would go to Jerusalem, die and be raised again, Peter reacted out of his earthly concerns and told Jesus he shouldn't talk like that.  And Jesus rebuked Peter saying that his mind was on earthly things, not on heavenly things.  So we were reminded as believers that we are servants of God -- and His children, so we have been called new names by God, too, and should think of ourselves that way and act out of our lives in Him.  God is so good and so faithful!

I was blessed to talk with my folks yesterday, which was my Mom's 76th birthday.  How good it was to hear the voices of loved ones when I am so far away.  We take that kind of technology for granted, among other things.  Part of getting used to things here has been to let go of expectations of the way things "should" be -- but every once in a while the clash of cultures still comes to my attention in strange ways.  As I have said before, there are many products here from the US, from Europe, and from China as well as indigenous products.  Lots of clothes have English writing on them -- and not even necessarily trademarks.  

On my journey to the bus stop the other day I saw a young boy with the Yankees logo on his shirt and on the way back a man had a Yankees baseball cap on.  Now they only love soccer here (although they call it "football").  And if you ask them if they know what baseball is and they do know, they usually say that it is boring.  So I don't think the people with the NY logo are baseball fans, necessarily.  But the things that come from our culture are important to them as status symbols.  There was even a baby I saw with the stars and stripes on her head scarf.

It all reminds me a lot of home and at the same time jogs my memory concerning how far away I am.  So it’s bittersweet.  But something else happened that reminded me of home when I was at my little store the other day.  As I told you, I have met a few people who work there.  That's been really interesting, but the other day I remembered the feeling of being noticed not for myself but for something about my identity.  When I was in ministry in WV sometimes someone in the grocery store would start to talk to me because he or she had seen me at a wedding or a funeral.  So I was known by the role I played in the community, not personally.  And the other day I was in the store looking for where they had moved the bread when the man who was clerking asked me what I wanted.  They keep adding more and more things to buy and moving shelves around, so although it is not a very big place, I was wandering around looking lost, I guess.

I remembered seeing him before with the other clerk, so I told him I was looking for the bread and he pointed out the new location for the baked goods.  I picked out one of the local loaves which is kind of in the shape of a sunflower with a flower-shape pressed down center.  When you break off a piece you can spilt it open like a fluffier version of pita bread.  I like to buy some in the evening when it's freshest, but I had run out and this was first thing in the morning on the holiday of the 10th anniversary of the new capital.

People were dressed up and moving around to go downtown or to be with family, and the store was not too busy.  But as the clerk started to check my purchases he asked me if I was English.  And a woman in the store stopped to look at me and listen as I answered him.  When I saw she was staring at me, she asked me to excuse her, and seemed to be amazed and delighted that I was from America -- there teaching English as I had said to the clerk.  He said something in English and so did the woman.  It had been a long time since they had studied it, they said, but looked shiny eyed and happy to talk to me.

All of a sudden in an environment which is usually impersonal and no one smiles, there the three of us were -- smiling and happy to be talking together.  Unless we get to know each other better, though, it will be just like the chance encounters with people who think of me in a role.  Here I am one of those foreigners . . . though I have been new to many, many places, so I am used to it.  I felt blessed that the woman and I had a chance to talk a bit more on the way out of the store.  Her name is Zoya and I hope we bump into each other again.

So . . . that's the news from this neck of the woods.  *smile*  The chicken spaghettis sauce turned out to be delicious --I wish you could come visit me and try it!  I hope you are doing well and enjoying all the things you take for granted -- and thanking God for providing all that for you -- and for all the love of everyone in your life that ultimately comes from Him, too.  May the Lord continue to bless and keep you and yours wherever you are.