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In front of Janek’s house, a stork’s nest rested. Here in Polska it is a sign of good luck. Let the bird reach toward heaven. When mankind did, God created babel. Within the worship songs though, our two languages merge to praise the Maker. Our Maker who created such barriers can just as easily breathe a bridge between our cultures and speech.

I called her “Cloudya.” Her name was “Claudia,” but to my ear she sounded more akin to the sky. She and Yulia giggled as they tried to teach me their language. I loved it. Cloudya was the first one God sent us. To one, perhaps the most afraid, God sent a little child, something I understood. I got to see her illuminated from the inside, a little silver cross in her hand, the light sparking in her eyes. Later, I lent her my fiddle and taught her how to draw out music from the strings.

Out there on the green grass, at the park, we held a Bible study. I wanted them to see Jesus, so we read John 13 where Jesus washed His disciples feet. Later, as we walked across town, rough bricks paving a more ancient road beneath the asphalt, two of my little ones argued over who got to carry my backpack, much too big for them. Little Cloudya had it and she didn’t want to let it go. How could I explain this? “Cloudya,” I said. I tapped my foot. “Yaesues.” Jesus. Be a servant by letting your friend be a servant too. God breathed understanding in her. Cloudya slid out of the backpack and helped her friend into it.

Perhaps, more than anything, God only needs willingness. Willingness to step out, and trust Him for the rest.