The "F" Word Part 1

Many people don't know this part of my story. Some do, in part. It's not easy to share. In truth, I usually gloss over most of the details in my retelling.

In my bunk with my notes and cards from home on the wall behind me

When I was 13, I started reading biographies of people we called the heroes of the faith: George Mueller, John Wesley, Susanna Wesley, Amy Carmichael, Fanny Crosby, and Hudson Taylor. My favorites were the missionary biographies, especially Amy Carmichael. I felt called to missions and decided that was what I would do with my life. Around that time, ATI, the "homeschool organization" we were part of, had been promoting an "apprenticeship opportunity" in Russia. Students would have the opportunity to live in an orphanage in Moscow. We were told we would teach the children living in the orphanage (and other orphanages) English and Character First! (ATI’s school mentoring program in the US) I knew I wanted to go to Russia and work with the orphans. I started working on learning Russian. I had already been learning ancient Greek as part of our home school curriculum, so the Russian alphabet was fairly easy. After a few years, my parents bought me Rosetta Stone and I started learning how to say such crucial words as "dance, horse, and car" Just kidding. It did help, even though I felt like I knew nothing once I actually arrived. 

I had been impacted by the story of George Mueller and decided to follow his example of living by faith. Never mentioning what I needed only sharing my vision. I worked and saved my own money. When I graduated, any financial gifts went toward my goal. Several people gave me money without knowing what I needed. They just knew that I was crazy following my dream. I mean, I needed $200 a week to pay the training center to live there, plus flights, visa, passport, and "pocket money." All told, it was about $20,000. My grandma and aunt weren't sure how they felt about this mission trip, but in spite of their feelings, they took me shopping to buy clothing that was warm, and would fit within the "modest" dress code. Even though I lived with a pretty strict dress code, Russia's was stricter. We were only allowed to wear ankle length skirts in navy or khaki, and white blouses without any decoration. There were a few other basic guidelines, but honestly I don't remember. They also bought me my first suitcase. Getting ready for my trip was exhilarating. I had dreamed about this for 6 years and it was finally happening! 

Finally, it was time to go! First, I traveled to Chicago to have a briefing with the director of the "ministry." I also would meet up there with another girl that would travel with me to Russia, since neither one of us had traveled internationally. In that meeting, the director told me that because I had several years experience working with Character First! I would be heading up the program in Russia. It never crossed my mind that it was strange for a man I had never met to offer me such an important position, in a place I had never been, at the young age of 19.

Upon arrival in Moscow, I had a meeting with the "Interim Director." The actual director was gone for most of the year for personal reasons, so my main interactions were with the Interim Director. I'll call him "Mr. C." Mr. C. asked me what I was doing in Russia. In my attempt to be humble, I said, "I want to work with the orphans. But I'm just here to serve." Mr. C. didn't like that answer. He later told me, my answer indicated I had a "rebellious spirit," and I had been sent to Russia by my parents to be fixed. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

The front gate to the Moscow Training Center

My assignments ended up being not at all what I had expected. I worked 4 days a week in the kitchen peeling potatoes, cleaning canned goods, making fruit salads etc. I was allotted one day a week to go to an orphanage outside of Moscow, a 3 hour trip. Our teaching team spent approximately 6 hours in travel by bus, train, combi (a sort of mini van/bus public transit), and walking, so we could spend one hour working with the sweetest little kids ever. In the end, my only interaction with orphans was limited to those children and playtime at the orphanage where I lived, when it coincided with my break.

Dishes detail with my accountability family

Aside from being given a work assignment, I was assigned to an "accountability family."  I'll call them "Mr. and Mrs. P ". We had rotating work details, like washing dishes on a Sunday night when the staff was off, and Bible studies that ATI called "wisdom searches." Mr. and Mrs. P were an older couple with no kids, who had been called to missions after they retired. I don't know how they connected to ATI, but they were nice at first. Mr. P. liked to do extended fasts. Heaven help me if he was on one of those. 

I had to submit a request form to Mr. P anytime I needed to step outside the gates of the training center. For our protection we were never to go out alone. Different distances had different requirements. Within the neighborhood of the MTC, there could be any 2 people of the same gender. If we needed to take public transit a team leader was required. If we would be out past dark, a man had to go with us, and there needed to be more of one gender than the other. It was all a very delicate balance. Since I only ever left for work once a week, I often requested to go out on Saturdays, or after work. Mr. P did not understand why I wanted to leave, so he would yell at and berate me when I asked permission to do something frivolous like "shopping."  So I stopped asking. If I needed to buy anything, one of my friends would ask me to accompany them so my request would be to help them. They would take turns, so he wouldn't catch on. Half the time, he still denied my request.

Sewing with my room mate Lindy

At some point, various people in leadership started telling me I couldn't wear the clothing I brought with me. Even though I was covered from head to toe, almost every day, someone pulled me aside and told me to go to my room to change. Also, I couldn't wear that item for the rest of my time at the training center. It wasn't long before my wardrobe consisted of only 2 skirts and 3 shirts that were acceptable. My friend Sara was in charge of the sewing room. She and my other friend Katherine had the idea to take me to the fabric store so I could buy some fabric and make some more skirts. Sara taught me how to make a pattern and together we made 3 extra skirts in the approved style (read baggy). I also scavenged some cast off tops from the donation box and  expanded my wardrobe enough so that I didn't have to do laundry every day. One day, I was told by the dean of women, "Mrs. B," that my hair was "too long" and "distracting," and as long as it was that length, I had to wear it up. This was an especially confusing message to me, because ATI taught that a woman's hair is her glory, and we should all aspire to have "soft flowing curls." My hair was about halfway down my back, so honestly, at that point it was relatively short for me. I began to wear my hair pulled back at all times.

After a few weeks in Moscow, my main kitchen chore was working in the basement alone. My only duties were rotating expired foods to the hidden cellar so the health inspector wouldn't make us throw them out. Or cleaning the tops of canned goods. Nobody told me I had done anything wrong at this point​, other than my clothing infractions. But,​ slowly more and more of my freedom was stripped away. It was an extremely difficult time and the pressure of the way I was being treated made me feel like I was going to break. I had always been a good girl. Everyone knew that. Working all day alone in a basement was ok until it wasn't. I started to feel claustrophobic. Just walking down that staircase gave me a minor panic attack. Thank God I knew how to sew. Sara used it as a way to get me out of the kitchen by requesting help in the sewing room, patching the orphan's clothes twice a week. She specifically requested the days that no other person that knew how to sew was in the building, so that I would be the only person available. Tuesday and Thursday became my freedom days! The sewing room was in the building where the orphans had their lessons,​ so we ​could play with them between their classes. Often there was nothing to do, so we talked or she would take me exploring. Sara was a team leader, so she would request I go with her to buy thread, or some other made up thing. But the purpose was to get us out and see the city. Since she was my supervisor, her request for me to leave was never seen as frivolous. I was still out of sight, but I was no longer alone in the dark.

Part 2
Part 3