Mission Voyage

Christmas at the old folks' home

2011-01-12T16:10:00.000-08:00

Christmas at school

2010-12-10T08:35:00.000-08:00

I work as an English teacher in one of the respectable schools. My particular class of 11-year olds is considered to be a challenge by the principal and staff. I am their fourth teacher this year, as no one could cope with their behavioral issues.

We were approaching the closing of the school year and the final concert. The children were not manageable and didn’t seem to care about the concert, or anything else. When thinking about how to bring Christmas to them and motivate them to rehearse, a friend gave me an idea to write each one a scroll and make brownies.

A box for a brownie

I had to prepare13 scrolls and bake 13 brownies. My own children were helping me in choosing the materials, making boxes, baking brownies, and searching through pictures for the ones that would match with each scroll.

In the scrolls I wrote how happy I was to be their teacher this year and what I liked about each one of them. I also included a prayer to receive Jesus there. A home-made brownie was meant to be a reward for a good performance at the concert.

I prayed desperately that children would catch the fun of being on stage. It is incredible to see the difference in my class every time I pray. The transformation is so vivid. I didn’t have to do anything – I just mentioned to a leader of the group, that they might not be as sharp as the rest of the kids due to lack of practice.

A letter-scroll for a girl

She took it from there. She organized everyone to do their part, they modified the play, worked out the prompts, skipped the recess to practice more, arranged the stage time for rehearsals, negotiated with the principal the changes to the script, etc. etc. I just watched. After all was done, I gave out the scrolls and let each one pick their little box with the present (they didn’t know that there was a brownie inside). They were so touched, and said that I was the only teacher who did something for them, or seemed to care about them at all.

Shortly, a boy brought me flowers, one mother thanked me for writing a personal letter for her son, and another girl brought me a present, too. It was a beautiful time when we exchanged our mutual appreciation. My principal was very happy with the idea of personalized messages and brownies.

Kids were coming to me, so I could pray for them to not be nervous and just enjoy themselves. The concert was a success, everyone returned home tired and happy.

Christmas projects 2010

2010-12-10T08:15:00.000-08:00

Usually each Christmas season our children would make a variety of Christmas cards to be delivered to friends and contacts, who had faithfully helped us with their services and care during the year.

This year a coworker took this idea further. Why not take children cards to the printing shop and offer the cards for donations in bigger quantities to our sponsors and supporters, making it a marketable tool? She explained the idea to the children, and it became a project!

First, the productions team set out to buy the necessary tools – markers, paper, crayons, color pencils, glitter, etc. etc. Then, every day children were creating cards making them look very nice and giving their best. The youngest participant, Nadia, is 4 years old. Then, after the cards were made, Daria (10) and Aggie (14) took pictures of each card and uploaded them all on the computer. Then an adult laid them out on a A4 sheet of paper with the logo, our contact number and other information, making out of all cards three different flyers.

Next, we went to the friendly printer and negotiated a good price for printing out each card in color on a special paper. There would be 2 sizes: A6 and A5. Then, when our friends went to their weekly spot in one of the best restaurants downtown, they was offering their friends, clients and employees the flyers, so that those could choose the cards they wanted to purchase for a donation towards children’s collective fund for Christmas.

The very first day several people ordered 125 cards! We are planning to take children singing, and after each show they could offer to the audience the cards they made with the special message inside.

Here are some more cards that went into flyers.

What do you think about it?

2010-09-18T08:46:00.000-07:00

Self-preservation

By Peter
September 14, 2010

Download Audio (4.8MB)

I recently saw a TV show set in Great Britain during the early part of World War II. The Nazis had defeated France, and the British expected imminent invasion. For some, the uncertainty, the fear of the future, and the feeling that they needed to take care of their own led them to act in ways they wouldn’t have in their normal day-to-day lives. They showed less concern for others, many hoarded, others stole, and some even committed murder!

Other people, in contrast, reacted in a completely different manner. They weren’t heroic because they performed great deeds; they were heroic because they performed small deeds selflessly. They faced their difficulties with dignity. They helped one another. They banded together as a community, looking out for the welfare of their neighbors and sharing what they had with those in need.

Seeing the contrast between the two types of responses brought home the challenges we face when we are in uncertain times or difficult situations—as many of us are right now. In times of disorientation, when the status quo changes, when everything seems topsy-turvy, it’s natural for people to feel concerned for themselves. While everyone won’t respond in the same way, the selfish human instinct for self-preservation takes a more prominent role for some people.

When all around us is unstable, it’s natural to become destabilized ourselves. When what felt like solid ground begins to feel like shifting sand, the fear can be gripping.—Fear of the future, fear of the changes being, or about to be, thrust upon us. If we allow fear to overpower faith, our trust in God’s care tends to diminish. Once that happens, then the feeling that we must take control of events and take matters into our own hands becomes more prominent. This isn’t necessarily bad, since the “fight or flight” instinct is built into our nature, and we automatically respond to perceived danger with self-preserving moves. We will protect ourselves and our loved ones, as we should.

The challenge we face, though, is finding the right balance between our human nature and our spiritual nature. As Christians we are “new creatures” who possess more than just human nature.^{^[1]} We have God’s Spirit dwelling within us.^{^[2]} We abide in Jesus and He abides in us.^{^[3]} So, our responses to circumstances and events should be influenced by that indwelling. While we feel naturally driven toward self-preservation, the Spirit can temper that reaction, so that we can find the balanced response—one which is compatible with Christ’s nature.^{^[4]}

This isn’t easy, because our human nature is so … well, human. It’s our default setting. Being concerned for someone else or their need, situation, or struggle isn’t naturally our first priority. Because of this, there is the danger that we will minimize or even completely ignore someone else’s needs in favor of our own. When this happens, we are in danger of damaging others, and ourselves as well.

If we plow forward with our self-serving plans without consideration for those around us, chances are we’ll make decisions that will hurt others. Promises and commitments that we’ve made will take a back seat, and we’ll gravitate toward what is best for us even at the risk of hurting others. This can result in damaged friendships, disappointment, resentment, and bitterness. Those left in the wake of our selfishness will suffer, because our human nature overrode the Spirit of God within us.

When this happens, not only do others suffer, but we suffer too. Not necessarily in ways we see, at least not right away. But nevertheless, it damages us. I’ve read that in business, if someone is displeased with your product, they will generally tell 50 other people about it within their lifetime. In our lives as Christians, we are the product. If we have damaged someone’s trust in us, because our self-preserving acts have harmed them, they may never fully trust us again. And it’s possible, even likely, that they will convey that mistrust to others.
It hurts them, it hurts you.

Taking care of your needs and the needs of your loved ones isn’t wrong. But as disciples of Jesus, filled with the Spirit of Jesus, we should step back from focusing only on our own needs and look also to the needs of others. We should find the balance.

Philippians 2:4–5 says: “Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus.” (NIV)

^{^[1]} Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new (2 Corinthians 5:17 KJV).

^{^[2]} Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? (1 Corinthians 3:16 KJV).

^{^[3]} Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in Me (John 15:4 KJV).

^{^[4]} The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance (Galatians 5:22–23 KJV).

A moment with the older folks...

2010-04-12T11:51:00.000-07:00

Adam thought of dropping by an old folks' home for Easter. Just us and kids, home-made peach jam, a song or two, Easter cards with kids writings inside, some balloons... It wasn't meant to be anything big. Simple, sincere and with lots of hugs and smiles. Well, that's all what was needed there, really.

We arranged the visit, the staff was informed and waiting. We came right on time, as the old ladies and gentlemen were about to start their afternoon snack. They had a slice of bread and milk. So, peach jam came in handy!

Kids sang a song. Poor Olenka was so shy she mixed up the words and just froze there with horror in her eyes, not knowing what to do next. I mimicked to her, "It's ok! Keep on singing! It's fine!' At the end of the song, she finally managed to smile again and get over stage fright.

As Adam was twisting balloons and kids were delivering them one by one to the older people, Hannah and I took time to listen to them, hug them, share a little bit of love. Each person - a whole life story. I felt so intimidated that it wasn't much, but I heard back, "No, please! It's all about emotions. I loved it, it moved me. I am so lonely here, and having a hug and someone to pay personal attention to me was so special'.

Here are some pictures:

Puppets in the Hospital Folcan, Bs.As

2010-01-31T03:35:00.000-08:00

Hot summer afternoon. +40. Our team loads in the van (moving oven) and off we go with the puppets. The children's hospital Folcan is 30 min drive away from our center. The reception hall is small, poor, full of patients. To everyone's surprise a team of crazily-dressed, loud, colorful people bursts in, swaying around huge hilarious puppets that 'talk'! Isaias, the guard, kindly lets us pass inside the hospital to entertain and pray with the children there.

You can hear all kind of stories in the hospital. This one is about a miracle. One young mother shared with me that her young girl Shamila (16 months) drowned two days ago. She stayed under water for 6 min, while the mother was busy doing something else. The pool was shallow, yet not shallow enough.... When they pulled her out, she was blue and stiff, didn't breathe and didn't show any signs of life, nor hope of survival. I look in disbelief at the healthy, active toddler trying to grab a donkey-puppet ear. Miraculously the little girl shows no signs of brain damage, or any other side effects of the accident. Well, it's a miracle to me. The mother totally agrees. I gave her a tract, explaining more about a Miracle-Worker.

Another interesting woman I found was a mother of eight healthy wonderful children. One of her little boys was brought to the hospital to stay for a couple of days as he had some intestinal blockage. The situation was promptly corrected, and both mother and son were sharing some special bonding time together. I found out, that this little two-year old was somewhat jealous that Mommy was spending all her time with a three-months old baby sister. Well, now he had Mommy all to himself for a while!

It was wonderful to offer everyone the prayer of spiritual and physical healing, and give out many coloring pages with simple Bible verses and nice drawings for the children to keep. Our clowns left each child with a balloon and lots of giggles! By the way, adults enjoyed the puppets as much as the children!

Christmas with comedor Catalina

2009-12-24T13:54:00.000-08:00

Having packed our sound equipment, guitar, puppets and other odds and ends handy in setting up a show, our team of 3 adults and 5 children arrived to local kitchen soup to sing and perform for about 40 children and their mothers.

It was good we came, as the show, a talking donkey, a 'black and while' clown, balloon presents and lively interaction brought a spark to otherwise simple celebration of a meal and the only attraction of a blown-up castle.

The children who frequent this kitchen soup were happily running after frogs, inviting us to join them, and we were offering in exchange guitar practice and balloon twisting to all those who wanted to learn the trick of the trade!

It was eye-opening to me talking to some of those young mothers, whose lives could be written as a book. Some of them passed or are still passing through very difficult experiences, and all I could do was just listen and pray for them and their situations.

However, even the sadness of life and daily struggles didn't seem to smear the jolliness of event itself - Christmas does offer hope and miracles to look forward to!

Aggie (13) was our camera-girl and Olenka (7) was offering prayer to children.

Here goes the program, in a snap-shot form!

Having fun!

The donkey is helping kids to find out whose birthday is Christmas!

Singing Christmas carols...

Teaching to twist balloons...

Listening to music....

Two young mothers L. (15) and S. (17)

during show...

In line to get a balloon...

Olenka (R) is praying with the girl to receive Jesus ...

a satisfied customer...

...with the mongoloid daughter of the founder of this kitchen soup facility. When the couple found out that the child will be born with the Down syndrome, they were offered abortion. The father said, "If your child would have been born perfectly healthy, and then later in life had gotten terribly ill, would you have killed her then?" The answer was 'no'. Then the father proceeded, ''Why should I kill her now?''

... and special dinner!

... just chatting

Happy and exhausted we came home close to midnight, glad to be able to share Christmas joy with these precious folks! We certainly hope, that you too were able to experience the joy of giving Christmas to others in the ways you could! It's totally worth it!

Christmas Moments - 2009 Event with Medicos del Alma

2009-12-16T16:05:00.000-08:00

It touched my heart....

2009-12-05T16:38:00.000-08:00

A True Christmas Story

Whether you call it Santa or something else, the spirit of love is what motivated this man to give to those in need and help to make their lives more beautiful. God bless him!

By Jay Frankston

There’s nothing so beautiful as a child’s dream of Santa Claus. I know, because I often had that dream. But I was Jewish and we didn’t celebrate Christmas. It was everyone else’s holiday and I felt left out … like a big party I wasn’t invited to. It wasn’t the toys I missed; it was Santa Claus and a Christmas tree.
So when I got married and had kids, I decided to make up for it. I started with a seven-foot tree, all decked out with lights and tinsel, and a Star of David on top to soothe those whose Jewish feelings were frayed by the display, and for them it was a Hanukkah bush. It warmed my heart to see the glitter, because now the party was at my house and everyone was invited.
But something was missing, something big and round and jolly, with jingle bells and a “Ho, ho, ho!” So I bought a bolt of bright red cloth and strips of white fur and my wife made me a costume. Inflatable pillows rounded out my skinny frame, but no amount of makeup could turn my face into merry old Santa.
I went around looking at department store impersonations sitting on their thrones with children on their laps and flash bulbs going off, and I wasn’t satisfied with the way they looked either.
After much effort, I located a mask maker and he had just the thing for me: a rubberized Santa mask, complete with whiskers and flowing white hair. It was not the real thing, but it looked genuine enough to live up to a child’s dream of St. Nick.
When I tried it on, something happened. I looked in the mirror, and there he was, big as life, the Santa of my childhood. There he was … and it was me. I felt like Santa, like I became Santa. My posture changed. I leaned back and pushed out my false stomach. My head tilted to the side and my voice got deeper and richer with a “MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!”
For two years I played Santa for my children to their mixed feelings of fright and delight and to my total enjoyment. And when the third year rolled around, the Santa in me had grown into a personality of his own and he needed more room than I had given him. So I sought to accommodate him by letting him do his thing for other children. I called up orphanages and children’s hospitals and offered his services for free. But, “We don’t need Santa; we have all sorts of donations from foundations and… thank you for calling.” And the Santa in me felt lonely and useless.
Then, one late November afternoon, I went to the mailbox on the corner of the street to mail a letter, and saw this pretty little girl trying to reach for the slot. She was maybe six years old. “Mommy, are you sure Santa will get my letter?” she asked. “Well, you addressed it to Santa Claus, North Pole, so he should get it,” the mother said, and lifted her little girl so she could stuff the letter into the box. My mind began to whirl. All those thousands of children who wrote to Santa Claus at Christmastime, whatever became of their letters?
One phone call to the main post office answered my question. They told me that as of the last week of November, an entire floor of the post office was needed to store those letters in huge sacks that came from different sections of the city.
The Santa in me went “Ho, ho, ho!” and we headed down to the post office. And there they were, thousands upon thousands of letters, with or without stamps, addressed to Santa Claus, or St. Nick, or Kris Kringle, scribbled on wrapping paper or neatly written on pretty stationery. I rummaged through them and laughed. Most of them were “gimme, gimme, gimme” letters, like “I want a pair of roller skates, and a Nintendo, and a GI Joe, and a personal computer, and a small portable TV, and whatever else you can think of.” Many of them had the price alongside each item … with or without sales tax.
Then there were the funny ones like: “Dear Santa, I’ve been a good boy all of last year, but if I don’t get what I want, I’ll be a bad boy all of next!”
I became a little flustered at the demands and the greed of so many spoiled children. But the Santa in me heard a voice from inside the mail sack, and I continued going through the letters, one after the other, until I came upon one which jarred and unsettled me.
It was neatly written on plain white paper and it said: “Dear Santa, I hope you get my letter. I am eleven years old and I have two little brothers and a baby sister. My father died last year and my mother is sick. I know there are many who are poorer than we are and I want nothing for myself, but could you send us a blanket, ’cause mommy’s cold at night.” It was signed “Suzy.” A chill went up my spine and the Santa in me cried, “I hear you, Suzy, I hear you.”
I dug deeper into those sacks and came up with another eight such letters, all of them calling out from the depths of poverty. I took them with me and went straight to the nearest Western Union office and sent each child a telegram: “GOT YOUR LETTER. WILL BE AT YOUR HOUSE ON CHRISTMAS DAY. WAIT FOR ME. SANTA.” I knew I could not possibly fill the need of all those children, and it wasn’t my purpose to do so. But maybe I could bring them hope and make them feel that their cries did not go unheard, and that someone out there was listening.
So I budgeted a sum of money and went out and bought toys. I wasn’t content with the five-and-ten-cent variety. I wanted something substantial, something these children could only dream of, like an electric train, or a microscope, or a huge doll of the kind they saw advertised on TV.
And on Christmas Day I took out my “sleigh” and let Santa do his thing. Well, it wasn’t exactly a sleigh; it was a car, and my wife drove me around, because with all those pillows and toys, I barely managed to get in the back seat!
It had graciously snowed the night before and the streets were thick with fresh powder. My first call took me to the outskirts of the city. The letter had been from a Peter Barsky, and all it said was: “Dear Santa, I am ten years old and I am an only child. We’ve just moved to this house a few months ago and I have no friends yet. I’m not sad because I’m poor, but because I’m lonely. I know you have many things to do and people to see and you probably have no time for me. So I don’t ask you to come to my house or bring anything. But could you send me a letter so I know you exist?” My telegram read: “DEAR PETER, NOT ONLY DO I EXIST, BUT I’LL BE THERE ON CHRISTMAS DAY. WAIT FOR ME. SANTA.”
We spotted the house and drove past it and parked around the corner. Then Santa got out with his big bag of toys slung over his shoulder and tramped through the snow.
The house was wedged in between two tall buildings. The roof was of corrugated metal and it was more of a shack than a house. I walked through the gate, up the front steps and rang the bell. A man opened the door. He was in his undershirt and his stomach bulged out of his pants. “Boje moy!” he exclaimed in astonishment. That’s Polish, by the way, and his hand went to his face. “P-p-please…” he stuttered, “p-please…de boy…de boy…at mass…church. I go get him. Please, please wait.” He threw a coat over his bare shoulders, and, assured that I would wait, he ran down the street in the snow.
So I stood in front of the house feeling good, and on the opposite side of the street was this other shack, and through the window I could see these shiny little black faces peering at me and waving. Then the door opened shyly and some voices called out to me, “Hiya, Santa!” “Hiya, Santa!”
I “ho-ho-ho’d” my way over there, and this woman asked if I would come in, and I did. There were these five young kids from one to seven years old, and I sat and spoke to them of Santa and the spirit of love, which is the spirit of Christmas.
Then, since they were not on my list—but assuming from the torn Christmas wrappings that they had gotten their presents—I asked if they liked what Santa had brought them during the night. Each in turn thanked me for the woolen socks, the sweater, and the warm new underwear.
I looked at them and asked, “Didn’t I bring you kids any toys?” And they shook their heads sadly. “Ho! ho! ho! I slipped up,” I said. “We’ll have to fix that.” I told them to wait and I’d be back in a few minutes, then trudged heavily through the snow to the corner.
When I was out of their sight, I ran as fast as I could to the car. We had extra toys in the trunk and my wife quickly filled up the bag. I trudged back to the house and gave each child a brand-new toy. There was joy and laughter and the woman asked if she could take a picture of Santa with the kids. I said, “Sure, why not?”
When Santa got ready to leave, I noticed that this five-year-old little girl was crying. She was as cute as a button. I bent down and asked her, “What’s the matter, child?” And she sobbed, “Oh, Santa! I’m so happy.” And the tears rolled from my eyes under the rubber mask.
As I stepped out on the street, “Pan, pan, proche … please come, come!” I heard this man Barsky across the way. So Santa crossed and walked into the house. The boy Peter just stood there and looked at me. “You came,” he said. “I wrote and … you came.” He turned to his parents, “I wrote … and he came.” He repeated it over and over again. “I wrote … and he came.”
When he recovered, I spoke with him about loneliness and friendship, and I gave him a chemistry set, which seemed to be what he would go for, and a basketball. He thanked me profusely. His mother, a heavyset Slavic-looking woman, asked something of her husband in Polish. My parents were Polish so I speak a little and understand a lot. “From the North Pole,” I said in Polish. She looked at me in astonishment. “You speak Polish?” she asked. “Of course,” I said. “Santa speaks all languages.” And I left them in joy and wonder.
I did this for 12 years, going through the letters to Santa at the post office, listening for the cries of children muffled in unopened envelopes.
In time I learned all that Santa has to know to handle any situation. Like the big kid who would stop Santa on the street and ask, “Hey, Santa, where’s your sleigh?” I’d say, “How old are you, son?” And he’d say, “13.” And I’d say, “Well, you’re a big fellow and you ought to know better. Santa used to come in a sleigh many years ago, but these are modern times. I come in a car now.” And I’d hop in the back seat and my wife would drive off.
Or the kid who would look at me closely and come out with, “That’s a mask,” pointing a finger. And you never lie to children, so I’d say, “Sure, son, of course. If everybody knew what Santa really looks like, they’d bother me all year long and I couldn’t get my things ready for Christmas.”
Or the mother who would whisper so her young son couldn’t hear, “Where do you come from?” I’d turn to the child and say, “Your mom wants to know where I come from, Willy.” And he’d say, “From the North Pole, Mommy,” with absolute certainty. And she’d nudge me and whisper, “You don’t understand. Who sent you? I mean, how do you come to this house?” I’d turn to the boy and say, “Hey, Willy, your mom wants to know why I came to see you.” And he’d say, “‘Cause I wrote him a letter, Mommy.” And I’d pull out the letter and she knows she mailed it, and she’s confused and bewildered, and I’d leave her like that.
As time went on, the word got out about Santa Claus and me. I insisted on anonymity, but toy manufacturers would send me huge cartons of toys as a contribution to the Christmas spirit. So I started with 18 or 20 children and wound up with 120, door to door, from one end of the city to the other, from Christmas Eve through Christmas Day.
On my last call, a number of years ago, I knew there were four children in the family and I came prepared. The house was small and sparsely furnished. The kids had been waiting all day, staring at the telegram and repeating to their skeptical mother, “He’ll come, Mommy, he’ll come.” As I rang the door bell, the house lit up with joy and laughter and, “He’s here! He’s here!” The door swings open and they all reach for my hands and hold on. “Hiya, Santa! Hiya, Santa! We just knew you’d come!”
These poor kids are all beaming with happiness. I take each one of them on my lap and speak to them of rainbows and snowflakes, and tell them stories of hope and waiting, and give them each a toy.
All the while, there’s this fifth child standing in the corner, a cute little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. When I’m through with the others, I turn to her and say, “You’re not part of this family, are you?”
And she shakes her head sadly and whispers, “No.”
“Come closer, child,” I say, and she comes a little closer. “What’s your name?” I ask.
“Lisa.”
“How old are you?”
“Seven.”
“Come, sit on my lap,” and she hesitates but she comes over and I lift her up and sit her on my lap. “Did you get any toys for Christmas?” I ask.
“No,” she says with puckered lips. So I take out this big beautiful doll and say, “Here, do you want this doll?”
“No,” she says. And she leans over to me and whispers in my ear, “I’m Jewish.”
And I nudge her and whisper in her ear, “I’m Jewish too. Do you want this doll?” She’s grinning from ear to ear and nods with wanting and desire, and takes the doll and hugs it and runs out.
It’s been a long time since I last put on my Santa suit. But I feel that Santa has lived with me and given me a great deal of happiness all those years. And now, when Christmas rolls around, he comes out of hiding long enough to say, “Ho! ho! ho! A Merry Christmas to you, my friend!”
And I say to you now, “MERRY CHRISTMAS, MY FRIENDS!”

Wedding!

2009-11-26T12:59:00.000-08:00

Long-time friends of mine got married, and we had the most delightful wedding ceremony last weekend! It wasn't very traditional, but it showed the real us, as the visitors and friends were able to come and see our center, children and volunteer workers.

Children sang and performed, even adults got carried away in impromptu skit for 'older' audience (called "The Ride of Your Life"). Our young people melted everyone's hearts with beautiful blend of voices and live music, and even the bride's parents were able to 'attend' via sending their greetings on video through the e-net from the USA (thank God for technology!)

A friend baked excellent wedding cakes, another friend gave a picture of a bride as a wedding gift, the whole event was kind of unusually set and that made is special!

It was amazing to connect with so many people on a different level and explain to them the way our faith is lived.

A respected lawyer wrote us next day: "We all have a lot to learn from you".

Oh yes, a minor detail: it rained the whole day. Only on the outside, though!

Personal outreach

2009-11-17T19:48:00.000-08:00

These are some recent pictures from children outreach activity we did last Sunday at one of the largest fairs in Buenos Aires. The reactions from the public were warm and welcoming!

Smile therapy

2009-10-27T10:51:00.001-07:00

For several years Medicos del Alma are visiting various hospitals and wards to offer prayer, encouragement and entertainment for patients, visitors and staff. Dressed as clowns with a puppet, balloons and appropriate tracts or magazines, our team goes from ward to ward, room to room, leaving behind smiling faces and thankful hearts. Sometimes friendships start and carry on when the patient is getting out of the hospital. We get to know their families and personal situations, and offer more help and counsel as the need arises.

One neat thing about it is that many young people here are attracted to this form of collaborating with us. It brings immediate fruit (smiles and thanks!) and leaves with this youth unforgettable experience of making someone's day!

Missionary outreach

2009-10-26T11:54:00.001-07:00

There is no greater joy then to be able to help someone find the answers. We have heard so often, "God sent you today to me", or "I really needed to hear this!", or "God spoke through you to me", etc. Personal counseling, mentoring, praying is a great calling! When others look at us and say, "There is something different about you", or "Your eyes are shining! What is it?", or "You look so young and full of life!" to us it is so obvious -- it's Jesus. So simple!

Children love it, too! And the response to kids' reaching out and offering someone a prayer of salvation is never dry - people cry, give hugs, feel obliged to express their thankfulness in some form. How sweet!

Puppet shows

2009-10-26T11:37:00.000-07:00

2007 Coming to Argentina

2009-10-26T11:01:00.000-07:00

It took a string of miracles for us to come to Argentina. Our paperwork, finances, finding the team and actual traveling. A bus company granted our request for half-price discount - another miracle. We arrived here on March 2007 with our seven children and big expectations.

How does one describe Buenos Aires? Tango, asado, wine, theaters, night life, mate (national herbal drink), Maradona, passion for life, growing slum areas, many immigrants, acceptance, hospitality, rough exterior, salsa and Latin dancing, enjoying work and life, pleasant climate, gorgeous nature - just a few phrases that capture the spirit of Bs. As. for me. And its people - intelligent, laughter-loving, aggressive in reaching their goals, impulsive, expressive with their hands, family-oriented, self-efficient, inclusive.

There is a certain void in the spirit for true values that seem to be fading out. Maybe not a void for religion, but for spiritual truths. We found out that many are hurting inside, hence "Medicos del Alma" - a program designed to reach five objectives:

- personal counseling, support and encouragement;

- distribution and promotion of "Activated" magazine and educational materials from Aurora production for children and adults;

- gigantic puppet shows in schools, colleges, comedores;

- risoterapia or smile therapy in hospitals for patients and nurses;

- teaching young volunteers in all the above.

Lixao Mage, RJ

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Brazil Photo Album

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MAGIC PARADISE - a beautiful water park with several pools connected with each others. Perfect place to meet people!
Katya, Bia and Aggie enjoying the day!

Christmas shows and studio shots!

Niteroi TV program recording: interview with our show group

Singing to a friend from the ice-cream shop!

More pictures....

2004 Bon Voyage! We are going to Brazil...

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It may sound crazy, but we started having dreams and visions of traveling. By then we had 5 children ages 6 to 1. We felt the Lord was calling us someplace else from our missionary center in Kiev. We just were desperate to find out where He wanted us.

He promised that we would find Him on the other side as we step out on the waters. The vision of us being surrounded by water kept following us. We just didn’t see Jesus on the other side. Until one day, somebody left a brochure in our home. As Adam picked it up and looked at it, he saw it, he saw Him on the other side. Without saying a word, he turned that brochure to me and asked, “Do you see what I see?” As I looked at the brochure, it had the same effect on me – it couldn’t have been clearer even if someone had screamed in my ear "That’s it! You are looking at it!"

There was our Jesus with His arms outstretched, welcoming us from the other side of the ocean – the famous statue of Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Seven ways to know God’s Will is a handy manual for anyone who reached crossroads in life. It is tried and proven and is a great help to me personally when I am making big decisions regarding traveling, jobs, relationships - anything big and significant to me. Here goes the magical divine formula in order of priorities.

0. Have no will of your own. You have to go into this with an open heart. That’s the prerequisite to get it right!

1. The Word. Look up the Bible and other devotional sources to find your general bearings.

2. The Voice of the Word. Be prepared for supernatural! You might experience a nudge in the spirit, or a particular verse might come to focus to you the way it never did before.

3. Direct revelations. If you are an active dreamer, that’s a good time to put your dreams to good use! Ask Jesus to speak to you through your dreams!

4. Godly counsel. God will surely speak to you about it through others. Seek the counsel of someone you trust and who is strong in faith and discernment.

5. Open/closed doors. Where God guides He provides, and where God leads He opens the door. Fair enough! Just like driving to McDonald's you should be able to see signs and props if you are on the right way.

6. Burdens and feelings. You should have a gut feeling about it. You won’t be able to shake it off easily.

7. A special sign. Ask for one, ‘If such-and-such is the way to go, then, God, do such-and-such’. Just don’t bet too much on this card. It’s the last one and of the least importance.

May I recommend an excellent magazine “Activated” with the full article “Seven Ways to Know God’s Will”? Actually, these magazines are chalk-full of amazing helpful info! Nowadays with information overload you have to be selective about what you read. “Activated” is a worthy investment of your time and money. Here is where to find the magazine www.activated.org

Subscribe to it, and see your life change for the better!

1992 - 2004 Europe and ex-USSR

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At first as singles and then as a couple, Adam and I share many happy and fulfilling moments living a missionary life.

View Full Album

This is a brief overview of what we have done during this time in dozens of cities in several countries across Europe and through Russia from Moscow to Novosibirsk:

- cooperative living in missionary training centers; set-up of housing facilities for missionary families;

- ongoing experience in volunteer service; helping underprivileged and elderly; community outreach and charity work;

- editing and publishing, proofreading, lay-out, translations; graphics and design;

- home economics, management, home decor, human resource management;

- chef, culinary arts, raising support, supply agent;

- inter-cultural exchange, international experience;

- missionary outreach, personal evangelism, urban ministry, organizational communication, field evangelism, youth lab outreach;

- Christian and professional enrichment courses;

- child rearing, early and primary childhood education, classroom management, childcare lab.

How did it start?

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For me, being born into the family of communist/Orthodox tradition, religion was boring. A little reserved by nature, I liked studying and reading, music practicing and enjoyed the company of a couple of friends.

How does one find God in their life? I found him in moments of inner search, when something seemed amiss in my life. My parents were doting and loving, my relatives and acquaintances understanding and supportive of my successes. How can something seem amiss in a seemingly happy life? I couldn’t quite explain it myself, and it was puzzling for me. I felt there was something else that I should know, something more that I should do. My career seemed predictable enough – university studies, a job of a teacher or a translator, personal life, social life… Yet, as I was growing up and reached my late teen years, I felt more and more out of place.

That was a time when the Iron Wall fell, and the Cold War was over. The borders were opening up and more western influence was allowed to flood the former USSR. With first Pepsi and Cola, bananas and frozen pineapples (exotic!), porn and pirate videos also came many missionaries and church representatives from about any denomination there was under the sun. The land opened up in a vortex of voracious consumption of anything and everything different, non-Soviet, formerly forbidden.

My University buddy happened to come back from Poland with a stack of colorful posters she picked up from somebody on the train station. Being a Christian, she felt it was her duty to immediately dispatch her possessions with the rest of us, heathen. Mine was called “The Signs of the End’ with some ominous drawings and a picture of smiling Jesus (odd to the Orthodox/communist mentality).

The poster belonged to the missionary group and was in need of serious proofreading and correcting. Having read half of it and getting somewhat captivated with the message, yet lost in statistics, the idea came to me to write on the address and offer my help as a translator. It was accepted, and thus began communications between me and a couple of sweet people who were handling productions back then. Later on I was invited to one of the Christmas events hosted by the group in my city, and suddenly, bingo! The chemistry! I found what I was looking for. I felt it inside, I got peace and the feeling of belonging to something even greater then the little team of dozen sincere, kind, principled people that I got to see on December 1990 Christmas show.

Little did I know that among them and their colleagues I would find my friends and mentors, brothers and sisters, God-mothers and God-fathers, and soul mates. I had no idea that one day I will become one of them, singing from stages, holding seminars and events, reaching out to the lowliest of all, and speaking in the halls with authorities and more! My fate was sealed! My life was bought with a price, and the meaning of it didn’t even begin to dawn on me. Sweet mystery called ‘future’! I felt that I would be able to peek into it and know where my life was heading! It was great!

Welcome

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Join us on our voyage through life! We are Adam and Natalia – professional volunteers with The Family International. We live to serve and share simple message of love and encouragement, hope and faith found in Jesus. Seventeen years of adventure, great happiness, rugged paths, challenges and achievements, discoveries and personal lessons, – we share the log of our mission with you, dear viewers!