I went back to read some journaling I had done for the Ukraine trip I went on this summer. I couldn't finish reading it, for it hurt me too much to do so. I spoke of "shiskas" and newly made friends named "Dima." I spoke of offering all to God and He not requiring all of what I offered. I spoke of not knowing what to do when back in the States. I didn't want to stop writing, for fear that the inaction would close the trip, finally and completely. I feel all of it again, even as I read it. The camp couselor's (Meisha's) last words were "and if we do not meet again on earth, it is in Heaven I shall see you next." But no. Why does the past haunt me? Not like, haunt me as if I had grave sins for which I must do penance, nor haunt me as a mistake I made would haunt me. But, grip me. Remind me that I had forgotten. That I have, not grown numb to God, but to the piece of His greatness that was Ukraine. That I have not let my Amerikanski self upset me more. Oh, I do. I do. I have changed since Ukraine, by the very grace of God. But Achoom and Sasha? And Dima and Julia...Galia, Yasha, Meisha, the ones that bring tears to my eyes because I remember faces...but not the names that were so very ingrained in me. I remember very little of the Russian. And the trip was a catalyst for what God is now doing in my life, I believe. But I remember so little and fear. My teammates. Surely they have moved on. It seems...I wish I could speak to them, a few or one. Perhaps I will. It is strange. I feel that this cannot become what it has become--an experience experienced and laid to rest. I do not know. I do not know.
May God be glorified.