I cannot describe to you the pull on my heart that Russia has. I barely understand it myself--I've never dreamed of traveling to another country (except for maybe Ireland or Eygpt in my daydreams of perfect anniversary trips with my equally perfect and imaginary husband).
But somehow, I read about Russia in Operation World, and I sense this deeply beautiful, yet deeply wounded and despairing country. The abuse of political power, the prevalence of alcoholism and addiction show my heart a picture of a people crying out in despair, searching for something, anything to make the darkness stop its invasion. It is a country in agony and frustration. It is a cry that my heart longs to give ear to, to come alongside, to comfort. I know that my own fear of leaving my safe world of chemicals and textbooks, of immersing myself in a another culture, of being found lacking prevents my whole body and mind from understanding this pull; I know I'm digging my heels into the ground, but the swelling of my heart that registers just below an ache is undeniable.
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