First Night in Poltava

That first night in Poltava was one of the most memorable nights of my life. I looked around my drab, sad little apartment and wanted to cry. I didn't feel like crying because it was so ugly but because I was so alone. The building was so dark. My eighth-floor apartment was full of dark-colored (ugly) wallpaper and mismatching, (ugly), Soviet-era furniture that was moldy and uncomfortable. The Rays had spent several hours with me, trying to hide rags, broken bits and pieces of odds and ends, and garish sets of curtains that darkened the room considerably.

Mrs. Linda was hyper-aware of the drabbiness and depressing aura of the apartment and had spent the evening bustling around, trying to surreptitiously cheer things up. I think she could sense the loneliness creeping in, even as I was holding it together and assuring myself that the hideous décor could be changed. As most every room in the apartment contained at least one ludicrous piece of decor, she suggested that we travel through the apartment, taking pictures and documenting the absurdity of it all. In my overwrought, overly-tired state of mind, this activity truly brightened my perspective. I was able to release a lot of tension by striking crazy poses and contorted faces in the pictures- my favorites being in the misshapen tub and underneath one of the two sets of mounted antlers in the entryway. As entertaining as that was, though, once the Rays left for the night and it was just me and the apartment, the loneliness settled in in earnest. I was totally consumed with feelings of insignificance and abandonment. I felt the loneliness in an almost physical way.

I occupied myself with unpacking for a while, but I had a hard time storing things because all the drawers and closets were full of the landlord’s possessions…and mothballs. After getting ready for bed in my head-spinningly turquoise bathroom with the rusty appliances and tepid water, I went to clean off my bed.

I’d hastily piled things into my room- mostly onto my bed- in an effort to create walking space. Unfortunately, in order to get into my bed, I had to clean it off. I found the envelope full of the notes that Amiee had gotten people to write me and pulled out the next one. It was in Amiee’s handwriting, and it wasn’t just a note. I fingered the Gilmore Girls dvd in my hands while I read Amiee’s note. She explained that she was including one of her dvd’s in my package because she thought that one particular episode on that disc my bring me some comfort. What a sister!

I put the episode of Gilmore Girls on my laptop and started sorting through one of the suitcases on my bed. Amiee was right- the episode brought me a sense of familiarity and comfort. It kept me from succumbing to the tears that I’d carefully been blocking all night. As I sorted through the suitcases, I found, tucked into a corner of the suitcase, a thick envelope. I didn’t remember packing it, so I was really curious as to what it could be. When I opened it, a stack of cards fell out; each one was covered in my mom’s elegant calligraphy. My eyes watered up as I realized that my mom had carefully cut, calligraphied, and decorated (with fall-related stickers, knowing how much I love fall) dozens of Bible verses. I sat in the middle of the room and cried as I flipped through them all. My loneliness and sense of loss slowly melted away as I read the words of encouragement she had sent me:

Psalm 34:7
“The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him, and He delivers them.”

Psalm 37:5
“Commit your way to the Lord, trust in him and He shall bring it to pass.”

Psalm 54:4

“Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me.”

That night, I prayed like I’d never prayed before; I was so overwhelmed with realization that this new phase of my life would be full of a struggle with loneliness and that the only way to beat it was to remember Who could sustain me. My entire life to that point had been my training ground- surrounded my family, friends, and a church that taught me truth. Ukraine, though, was going to be my practical.

As I finished praying and dried up my tears, I had a whole new take on life. Things were going to be great. I was going to be fine. I was going to be a conqueror!

…and that’s when I first heard the noises coming from the refrigerator.