How a letter gets from here to Hotzeplotz

We've had a few questions lately about how to write letters to the kids at Soviestk so we thought that we should post a bit about how the whole process works. By the way, thanks so much for your interest in writing to the kids. We can never emphasize enough how meaningful these letters are to the kids.

Once you've written a letter and sent it off to HopeChest's headquarters in Colorado, it will get translated into Russian. If you hand write a letter, the child will receive your original version along with a translated version. Then comes the task of actually getting the letter to the child in Russia. In order to save money, letters often travel to Russia with a HopeChest group from the U.S. Fortunately, HopeChest sends groups quite often. Once the letter arrives in Russia, then it will find its way to the region where your pen pal lives through another group of Americans traveling to that region. The letter finally arrives at the orphanage through one of the in-country HopeChest staff and is then delivered to your pen pal.

The next step is for the discipler to encourage the child to write back to you. They love receiving letters, but do not necessarily write back quite as readily. There are a variety of reasons that we've found for some of the kids not writing back. Sometimes they're too shy or have poor eyesight or don't know how to write. But don't let that discourage you. We've received a number of wonderful, heartwarming, and even funny letters back from the kids at Sovietsk and elsewhere. So, once you pen pal does write back to you, the process starts all over again but in reverse. The letter is sent to Moscow, translated into English, hitches a ride to America, then finds its way through the postal service to your front door.

Another option that expedites this whole process is to send letters to the kids via e-mail. You can either write the letter in the body of an e-mail or send it as an attached Word document. This option, of course, cuts out all of the travel time that a snail mail letter goes through. This is the option that I usually go with, simply because it's faster (not to mention my deplorable handwriting).

Thank you again for your continued interest in helping the kids at Sovietsk. For more information about the particular do's and don'ts of letter writing, please look along the right side of this web page or leave a comment on this post and we'll get back to you.

Now the green blade rises

As I write this, I'm sitting at the table in my kitchen and looking outside to see what's shaping up to be a beautiful spring day. Spring is all about new life, new growth, new blades of green grass peeking up through the ground after the dormancy of a long winter. It reminds us of the kids.

This September will be our third trip to see our friends at Sovietsk. When we first visited it was for only a very brief time, just a couple of hours. We felt this was the right place for us to begin building relationships as sponsorship coordinators. But there was, as you will find at most every orphanage, a sense of heaviness and sadness there. The children didn't talk, and I don't remember a single smile. The director, Galina was very kind at our first meeting and she does a very good job with the children, but one got the sense that she would be glad for the help. Not because of us, of course, but because a burden shared is a burden divided.

On our second trip, over a year after sponsorship began, we could already feel a difference. We were glad to see Galina and she was glad to see us. And some of the kids remembered us, especially Sarah's friend and pen pal, Katya. She latched onto Sarah during the first visit. Then, she didn't smile at all and showed little emotion except when we left and she cried. The second time, she was shy at first, but soon latched onto Sarah again. She was much more gregarious this time and seemed to like having fun. She was described by Galina as "complicated," and understandably so. When you're rejected by those who are supposed to love you, things are bound to get complicated. But even though her life is tumultuous, she actually smiled and laughed genuinely during our time together. She's like a little blade of grass that's trying to grow after a long, dark winter. Our job is to make sure that she and the other kids there continue to grow and blossom.

At Easter, we sang of the green blade rising as Love lives again. We cannot wait to see what it's like at Sovietsk the third time around.

Blini for Easter

Another recipe! I will be making these next weekend, to celebrate Orthodox Easter along with our Russian friends.

Sadly, I have misplaced my journal where I detailed the tips from my blini-making clinic in the orphanage kitchen. I remember the technique pretty well, including the all-important wrist-flick when pouring the batter. This recipe comes pretty close, and it seems to have gained a bit of a following around here.

4 eggs

1 tsp salt

3 T sugar

1 1/2 c white flour

4 c milk, lukewarm

Mix eggs, salt, sugar, flour, and 2/3 c of milk until it is smooth. Add the rest of the milk, a little at a time, until it is about as thick as cream. (You can add more milk if you need to.) You can let the batter stand awhile, if you want. Just put it in the fridge for later. Or, make the blini right away!

I usually get 2 skillets going at once, about 8 inches around. In Russia they have these lovely blini pans with really short sides, which makes it easy to flip--I might pick one of those up next time! Use a pastry brush to lightly cover the HOT pans with oil every few blini or so. Use a ladle to pour less than 1/4 c of batter into the pan. Work quickly, picking up the pan to swirl the batter so that it covers the bottom of the pan evenly. You might need to use a rubber/wooden spatula to loosen up the sides of each blin. When you see the sides begin to brown and the middle is set (2-3 minutes max, depending on your pan and how thick you've poured the batter), carefully pick up the blin and flip it over. It usually takes less than a minute on the second side. Then set it aside to cool, and fold and stack them for later.

We usually eat these with jam or with sweetened condensed milk (Ben's favorite), but you can put just about anything in there.

The texture is different from crepes--I tried using my crepe maker for this and it was a failure. Stick with the old-school method on these! Like borscht, there are a million recipes for blini out there. We hope you like this one.

Enjoy! Happy Easter!

Good Friday

Psalm 88

O LORD, the God who saves me, day and night I cry out before you. May my prayer come before you; turn your ear to my cry. For my soul is full of trouble and my life draws near the grave. I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am like a man without strength.
I am set apart with the dead, like the slain who lie in the grave, whom you remember no more, who are cut off from your care. You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths. Your wrath lies heavily upon me; you have overwhelmed me with all your waves. Selah.

You have taken from me my closest friends and have made me repulsive to them. I am confined and cannot escape; my eyes are dim with grief. I call to you, O LORD, every day; I spread out my hands to you. Do you show your wonders to the dead? Do those who are dead rise up and praise you? Selah.

Is your love declared in the grave, your faithfulness in Destruction? Are your wonders known in the place of darkness, or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion? But I cry to you for help, O LORD; in the morning my prayer comes before you. Why, O LORD, do you reject me and hide your face from me? From my youth I have been afflicted and close to death; I have suffered your terrors and am in despair. Your wrath has swept over me; your terrors have destroyed me. All day long they surround me like a flood; they have completely engulfed me. You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend.

As the season of Lent soon draws to a close, this Psalm is a poetic reminder of the heart of an orphaned and abandoned child. We, meaning those who grew up knowing our parents and knowing their love, can emerge from Lent and all of its symbolism and resume our normal lives with deepend gratitude. But for the kids at Sovietsk and others like them throughout the world, life is like a permanent Lent with a thousand Good Fridays. They feel alone and abandoned; darkness is their closest friend. They act out because they don't know what else to do. They sniff glue to numb the pain. They run away or turn to exploitation and violence. Our kids struggle and fight for their lives, trying to emotionally survive, trying to find the light.

But despite all of this, we believe there is hope. Why? It's called Good Friday for a reason. Easter is coming.

Love One Another

Mandatum novum do vobis: ut diligatis invicem: sicut dilexi vos, ut et vos diligatis invicem.

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; even as I have loved you, that you also love one another."

The "maundy" of Maundy Thursday comes from this moment in the Gospel of John when Jesus gives a mandate, a mandatum, that the disciples love each other. I don't think it's a stretch to say that he meant by extension that we're supposed to love everyone on the planet. This should be behind everything we do. We don't really have a choice--we're supposed to love each other. It's as simple as that. After all, what is the meaning of Jesus and Holy Week and Easter? Love and life win out over hate and death. That's cause to hope, I think. And that's just the sort of thing that we're trying to share with our friends at Sovietsk. It's good to know where to look in the times when I'm running low on things like faith, hope, and love.

Ashes to Ashes

Calm and distressed

Torn and most whole

Rose of memory

Rose of forgetfulness

Exhausted and

life-giving

Worried reposeful

--"Ash Wednesday," TS Eliot

Throughout Lent and now Holy Week, we are remembering our children at Sovietsk. The walk through the darkness, the story of one Man's isolation and abandonment, the triumph of new life resonates so deeply with the life of an orphaned child. At the same time, it resonates with all of us.

At the beginning of Lent, we were reminded that we are dust, and to dust we shall return. In the past, I've felt the heaviness of that statement throughout the season, mourning the pain and struggle of human life. My perspective has since changed--I find it comforting. No matter who we are, how seemingly tiny and unimportant or grand and renowned, we are all made of the same stuff. We are all capable of feeling--and causing--extreme joy and profound sorrow. We share these qualities with the children at Sovietsk, but Holy Week reminds us that we also share with those who deny them or betray them. I will never understand why different people are dealt different circumstances, but I am responsible for the hand I am given. Being human requires me to acknowledge my brokenness and yet celebrate my part in bringing joy and life to those around me.

It becomes dangerous when we think of ourselves as too small, as if one tiny person could never make a difference, or too big, as if we are the difference the world needs. The truth is elsewhere: yes, we are tiny, but when we accept ourselves for who we are, and pour ourselves out in humility, wonderful things can happen. If we can help our children understand that they are worth every bit as much as the rest of society, they can understand this human paradox of being both small and infinitely valuable. They can rest in who they are and celebrate the gifts they've been given. It takes all of us patiently reminding them what they are worth, as they have lived and heard lies for so long.

I feel this paradox about these children and all the orphaned, abandoned, neglected, or abused people in our world. It is heart-breaking to see what cruel circumstances can do to someone's soul, but hopeful to see the change that comes when patient, unrelenting Love arrives.