Random Russian Remembrance

The hallways are filled with music. Children of all ages are singing as loud as they possibly can. It's about 11am and almost time for lunch. Their chapel is just after our chapel and for some reason they sing much louder than the children in our chapel. In this school there are actually two schools; one American and one Russian. I happen to lead music for the American school chapel hour, and yet I cannot get our children to sing as loud as the Russians. They are full of energy, perhaps this is due to having to sit still all morning in class, now they are able to move about and release some energy. The school I teach at is mostly made up of missionary children from Korea, there are a few Americans, a few Germans, a few Indians, a few Japanese, but mostly Korean. I pause at the chapel/gym/choir room/band room/classroom doors. I look inside and I see happy faces of about 35 Russian children. They are singing in English, or at least trying to. Their music leader for the day is Sam, he is a single man. He is tall with blonde hair and brown eyes, I think he is about 40. I think he is originally from California, but is a bit of a free spirit and moves around a lot. I'm in love with him, as is every other single female teacher in both schools.

A boy of about 12 steps out to take a phone call. He is wearing navy blue dress pants that are fraying at the hem. His brightly colored knit sweater has a few holes in it. In Russian I hear him say: "Grandma, you can't call me at this time I'm at school." I hear her voice on the other end of the line, but can't make out what she is saying. "I know, I'll come by and bring you some food and make you dinner after school." He pauses again to listen. "I love you too grandma." He hangs up his phone and puts into his pocket, he pauses and takes a deep breath. I see a little glisten of wetness in his eyes. I realize that this child is probably the only one who takes care of his grandmother. I imagine that after school he will go to the local market and pick up some tomatoes, cheese and brown bread. He may stop in at the butcher and pick up some sort of meat. I imagine him going into a dark building with no lights on in the hallway and climbing up five flights of stairs because the elevator has not worked in about 30 years. I imagine him pulling out his key and unlocking the steal door that provides some security for his grandmother's apartment. I imagine him entering a 300 sq. foot apartment with a small kitchen, a small wash room, and a room that is for both living and sleeping. I imagine him cooking a delicious meal for his grandmother and after they have eaten he finishes up his homework. Such is the life of many people in Russia, they bear one another's burdens and mostly without complaint. The boy goes back into the room and joins the other children in singing this American worship song: "Forever God is faithful, Forever God is strong, Forever God is with us, Forever, Forever..."

Yesterday Chris Tomlin's song Forever came on the radio and this lead to a Random Russian Remembrance.