It has been 8 years since I set foot on this beloved soil.
I was younger and spunkier in 2017, obviously. The trip was long, very long, even back then. And now that I'm older, it felt longer still.
But we made it. Wrinkled and exhausted, we arrived in Almaty in the wee hours of the morning.
And we were greeted by no less than 10 of our church family here.
At 2:30 am, 10 people got into vehicles and drove to the airport to be there to welcome us.
It's hard to explain what a blessing the Kazakh people are in this way.
They are giving and hospitable and kind and willing to sacrifice their time and energy and lives...to make us feel welcome.
They cook for us, they interpret for us, they drive us and direct us and, through it all, they act as if we are the ones blessing them.
I feel inadequate to the task most days. The faces that smile at me are ingrained upon my heart, but I don't feel I have anything to encourage them with in return.
Several women at church today came up and hugged me fiercely, and remembered me, by name, from the last time I was here. I cannot comprehend this kindness. I am humbled by it.
Maybe, once we begin our ministry activities, I will feel more useful. For now, I am soaking in the joy of seeing people again whom I haven't hugged in many years, and feeling no small amount of gladness that our hearts are still knit together.
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