sara mcdonald

Spring is hypothetically almost here in Astana; the city has begun to put up lights and giant flower decor for the Central Asian New Year, Nauryz, which falls next weekend.  Despite this heralding, there is a буран currently in progress outside, and the snow does not seem to be relinquishing its hold easily.  

I’m really bad about blogging events that happen, and most of my thoughts in the new year have been too tumultuous for anything other than the privacy of my journal.  Never in my life has so much of my sin been revealed to me, and its ugliness matches the grey, muddy streets and dampens my spirits all too often.  He gives much grace.

I often dream about ransacking Trader Joe’s, drinking wine on a porch with friends, and attending concerts again.

“The gospel turns people into pilgrims. It comes with a culture-correcting force that creates aliens and exiles of the world.

1. Pilgrims are not diverted from their aim.
2. Pilgrims are to hold the things of this world loosely.
3. Pilgrims become like what they hope to attain.
4. Pilgrims will not be satisfied with anything less than God.
5. Pilgrims are not grieved by their arrival at the journey’s end.
6. Pilgrims ponder what they pursue.
7. Pilgrims travel together.”

-from this excellent post on Jonathan Edwards and pilgrimage

Ten steps on how to stay alive to the beauty of God’s world:

1. At least once every day I shall look steadily up at the sky and remember that I, a consciousness with a conscience, am on a planet traveling in space with wonderfully mysterious things above me and about me.
2. Instead of the accustomed idea of a mindless and endless evolutionary change to which we can neither add nor subtract, I shall suppose the universe guided by an Intelligence which, as Aristotle said of Greek drama, requires a beginning, a middle and an end. I think this will save me from the cynicism expressed by Bertrand Russell before his death, when he said: “There is darkness without and when I die there will be darkness within. There is no splendour, no vastness anywhere, only triviality for a moment, and then nothing.”
3. I shall not fall into the falsehood that this day, or any day, is merely another ambiguous and plodding twenty-four hours, but rather a unique event filled, if I so wish, with worthy potentialities. I shall not be fool enough to suppose that trouble and pain are wholly evil parentheses in my existence but just as likely ladders to be climbed toward moral and spiritual manhood.
4. I shall not turn my life into a thin straight line which prefers abstractions to reality. I shall know what I am doing when I abstract, which of course I shall often have to do.
5. I shall not demean my own uniqueness by envy of others. I shall stop boring into myself to discover what psychological or social categories I might belong to. Mostly I shall simply forget about myself and do my work.
6. I shall open my eyes and ears. Once every day I shall simply stare at a tree, a flower, a cloud, or a person. I shall not then be concerned at all to ask what they are but simply be glad that they are. I shall joyfully allow them the mystery of what Lewis calls their “divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic” existence.
7. I shall sometimes look back at the freshness of vision I had in childhood and try, at least for a little while, to be, in the words of Lewis Carroll, the “child of the pure unclouded brow, and dreaming eyes of wonder.”
8. I shall follow Darwin’s advice and turn frequently to imaginative things such as good literature and good music, preferably, as Lewis suggests, an old book and timeless music.
9. I shall not allow the devilish onrush of this century to usurp all my energies but will instead, as Charles Williams suggested, “fulfill the moment as the moment.” I shall try to live well just now because the only time that exists is just now.
10. Even if I turn out to be wrong, I shall bet my life in the assumption that this world is not idiotic, neither run by an absentee landlord, but that today, this very day, some stroke is being added to the cosmic canvas that in due course I shall understand with joy as a stroke made by the architect who calls Himself Alpha and Omega.

-Clyde Kilby

I finished out 2011 sound asleep in a bed in a hotel on the Mediterranean in Antalya, Turkey.  Why asleep, you ask?  Because I’d spent the previous night uncomfortably tossing and turning on a row of chairs in the Almaty airport, trying to block out the very loud opera music playing throughout the airport.  Three flights, some new acquaintances, and an astonishingly good buffet later, I crashed and slept for 12 glorious hours.

I’ve just been reviewing photos from 2011 and remembering some of the Father’s blessings in my life this past year.  I began the year having newly moved in to Harrison House.  Living with Tiffany, Lindsey, and Kassandra was so much fun.  I miss those girls, and their hospitality, thoughtfulness, and daily grace and care for each other and all the roommates.

In January, KC got pounded with snow, I got snow days, and some fun with friends ensued. Found out I’d be interviewing in February.

In February, I turned 24 and celebrated with dear friends by drinking Christopher Elbow Chocolate Ale [thanks Chris!] and playing laser tag for the first time ever. Interview conference in Virginia.

In March, I found out I’d gotten a job offer and that I’d be moving to Central Asia for the next couple years.

Through the early spring, I taught an 3 month English class for Bhutanese refugees in Kansas City.  Aradhna came and played a show just for them and we danced.

In May, I flew to Pittsburgh to visit my best friend from college, Val.  I was challenged by the way she sacrifices for her family daily.

In June, I traveled to Seattle and Bellingham to meet and visit with friends whom I’d only ever known through the internet until then.  Meeting and hanging out with Luz, Cole, Jana, and Jessi was pretty awesome.  Also unexpectedly met another person in the Northwest who has become quite important to me.

In July, I headed to Virginia for two months of training and preparation.  Made some lifetime friends.  Rock-climbed, hammocked, prayed, read, listened, knitted.

In August, more of the same.

In September, I headed back to Kansas City for two weeks.  September 27th was a very nice day.

In October, I moved to the opposite side of the world, started Russian classes, got to know a new city, made new friends.

November passed in a flash as life in Astana began to settle into a rhythm.  I drank my weight in tea several times over.

In December, we said goodbye to Madison and Allison as they headed back to the States.  I celebrated my first Christmas away from my family, but in the company of dear friends.

I’ll recount the events of last night because not only are they quite humorous, but the evening, as it unfolded, provided such a perfect window into Kazakh culture and the flexibility needed to just go with it.

For the past couple weeks, the professors in our small department [Russian and Kazakh Language for Foreigners] have been trying to drum up some enthusiasm amongst their reluctant students for the approaching University-wide New Year’s Program/Party/Event.  As is traditional, our department would be singing Jingle Bells, wearing tinsel and Santa hats, accompanied by a background karaoke track ripped from Youtube.  Clearly, this performance was going to be the show-stopper.  We all agree under some duress and even contributed money to the Santa-hat-purchasing fund.  A few practice run throughs resulted in Kirsty and myself dissolving into uncontrollable giggles, tears running down our faces, as our non-English-speaker Chinese and Iranian classmates wrestled with the lyrics.

Cut to last night’s events; all of the students show up at 6 pm, don our santa hats and tinsel scarves, and run through the song a couple more times as our professors look on and urge us in Kazakh and Russian to sing “Strongly! Loudly!”  We then settled in to await our turn in the program.  The performances [from students and faculty alike] were taking place in a large, decorated atrium, surrounded by three levels of balconies from which the audience could look down.  There was no printed program and nobody seemed to have an idea of the order of things, save for a couple emcees.  As we watched the performances progress through belly-dancing, techno numbers that got the crowd onto the dance floor, and giant dragon costumes; our small band of comrades began to feel less and less awesome about our contribution to the night.

After two hours of the show, the crowd suddenly moved into a banquet hall off to one side for hors d’oeuvres and champagne.  We followed, as our professors assured us that  performances would recommence and we’d be on soon after the refreshments.  They then commandeered some platters of manti [traditional Kazakh dumplings] and began to all but force feed us, as Cindy, a fellow student, informed me that this culture believes being well-fed will cause you to sing better.  After eating and observing the surprisingly short time in which most of the faculty managed to become drunk on champagne, a portion of the crowd drifted back into the atrium, and we followed, hopefully.  A few songs played, and I got Cindy to hop down onto the dance floor with me for Waka Waka — nothing like dancing to the World Cup anthem around a giant Christmas tree with a crowd of tipsy students.

After another 45 minutes of waiting, still no performance slot.  At last, one of our professors came up and said, “Okay we are just going home now.  Maybe you will perform in March.”  Well, okay then.

“…I would tell myself every morning, well, here I am; a very poor creature, but by God’s grace I have heard something. I will need forgiveness of my sins everyday. And I will pray, God, that you will give me the light, this light shining in the Bible and this light shining into the world in which humanity is living today. And then do my duty.”

-karl barth

I finally caved and purchased my own private proxy network, so a mere government will no longer stand in the way of my blogging.  I’ve missed writing in this space; it’s so much easier to share pictures of everyday life as they occur then to store them up for a monthly email.

I never want to forget tonight — new friends that already feel like brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles.  singing together and acting out Isaiah 53.  gingerbread house demolition.  mulled cider and tea and conversation.  little Joel staring at my nose ring and then tweaking my nose, hard.  feeling love and belonging and home.

Christmas Eve is now a few minutes gone, and I just finished this.  The last few months have stretched me in painful ways as I ask and seek to be a vessel for Him to come down and dwell in.  I especially liked Ann’s words, “And this Christmas, I’ll be stretched thin and I will feel myself asked to love to the furthest edges of myself, asked to extend grace to the outermost reaches — because how else can I grow full and large and round with God?”

May it be so.  Love to the furthest reaches.

I walk through darkened streets and slush, wondering if I am the only one in this entire country listening to the new Florence + the Machine album at this particular moment.

I take baths, not showers.

I plan English lessons and laugh with new friends at our language barriers.

I go to ‘coffee shops’ and receive a tiny amount of very sweet coffee in a champagne glass, with a straw.

I read, usually five or seven books at a time, and always with a book of poetry in progress.

I meet fascinating people doing amazing, called-out, passionate things.

I eat bread, so much bread.

I look up at the sunset, and give thanks anew each day to the Father of lights, in whom there is no variation, nor shadow of turning.

I’m writhing a bit tonight under the weight of conviction and duty and the necessity of obedience in a particular situation, not knowing what may result.  I was reading through my feed reader this evening, since my disquietened mind had exhausted itself for the time being in calling out to and yelling at God by turns.  And He replied, but in the words of an author over at one of my favorite blogs.  Her article is excerpted here:

“Yet often we imply that the Jesus we worship would never allow us a season of uncertainty, or vulnerability, or war. We think he wants us to be fat, full of ourselves, and sure. We know belief tumbling in summergreen strength through valleys and heights, simple and monotone, making promises of happily ever earthly after.

It is a breed of faith easy enough to manage among wealthy people expecting pleasant things. That is why the anomalies are so horrifying: sicknesses, disasters, misunderstandings, prisons of all sorts, Novembers in June. The story shouldn’t go this way, we think. Dyings are such a shock, for the Jesus we have loved is pleasant and easy, and we shop for him until we find him sold our way.

A thousand times I have read the words, but who ever believes them without October skies grown low and grey? You have died. The old has gone. The new has come. The old shell must be sucked of its green juices and tumble down, resigned to the contrast. For there is another world, and it is often winter here when spring there rises.

The veins of fallen leaves read like hymns, yellow-running, red, and holy. They are prophets of a new dimension.

My life is gone.

Behold what is left:

Brilliance.”

“Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ ⁹ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— ¹⁰ that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, ¹¹ that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.”

phil 3:8-11

Unworthy as I am to claim to have taken on any suffering, I meditate on these verses and beg the Father that the loss of much I held dear will yield clarity, and reliance on Him, and the surpassing beauty of a deep knowing.

We have been in the city 36 hours now.