Ukranians

So, moved we here to Saskatchewan. Of our own volition, but not of our own choosing. We had become accustomed to the lush beauty of Vancouver Island. The mild climate. The close proximity to my family members (D's being in the States. . .). The dear. like-minded friends we had stumbled across. But He, the one whom we have entrusted our lives to caused us to move East. To the fierce summer weather and the brutal winter snow. Being that we are somewhat adventurous (possibly I moreso) it wasn't a huge deal. The reason why? Not so clear. Other than what our Father imformed D of: 'I am going to bless you and protect you.'

Okay

So, neat things have happened. An amazing job with a wonderful person (whose family we have become close to) who also just moved out from the West Coast to this little prairie town. Very ukranian prairie town. But my heart hasn't been particularly attached to this town or people. Nice people, nice town, but I could easily move on.

However, a few nights ago i had a dream. As usual an odd convoluted dream full of all sorts of stuff I can't remember other than the feel of it. The one part I remember is this: I am looking through a magazine with D, pointing out these different dancers (can't remember why). We get to this page with a full page picture of a girl in complete Ukrananian traditional garb. For some reason D is slow to turn the page. I tell him that it is a Ukranian dancer. As I am staring at her page waiting for Dan to turn the page my heart begins to melt with nothing other than the heart of God and I begin to weep copiously. My heart was being broken for Ukranians. I was so tasting His heart and it was so beyond my understanding. I woke up about then. I have experienced this for particular very wounded individuals and when I have looked through the IRIS min website pic of people in Mozambique. It also happened when I was first married and was a cook at a Christian camp. Ended up at a nightime devotional thing where the a fellow we had just met and been part of seeing him come to Jesus was sharing his testimony (he is also the fellow who is a head pastor and going through brutal stuff which I referred to a couple of posts ago). My husband went up to share (totally out of the blue) and I fell on the floor just bawling (at the back in the hallway). People might call it interceeding. Whatever it is, I know that I am experiencing the heart of love of God for those people at that time. So, my husband shares with these mostly 12 and 13 year olds. They are just being blown away by the Spirit of God. I come up and just let them know what I am feeling God saying. That their pain they have been through is not in vain. That He loves them so much. D prays for them, asks God to have his way. Presence of God so powerful. Kids scatter. Some bawling. One girl weeping.'I am so sorry! I didn't know. I didn't know. . .' Some praying quietly. Some bent prostrate. And some angry camp team members, such as the camps priest (did I mention it was an Anglican camp). Neat time.

So yeah. just thought I would share that. . . Just came out. Mysterious ways. I so love it when He gives me a taste of His heart for others! The other night, for Ukranians. . . Hmm