The morning is radiant with sunshine and the fresh new green of spring tints branches and damp earth, long since barren throughout the prolonged Far Eastern frigid winter. As Tanya and I approach from the main road, a quarter mile distant, we are greatly surprised and delighted to see three small figures coming out of the gate and running full speed down the road toward us. Having spied us from afar, Pastor Yura�s three children, hands filled with freshly picked dandelions, run to greet us with open arms and love filled faces. I stop in my tracks, completely astounded at such a greeting � one unlike any I�ve ever received before. I welcome each hug and kiss offered from upturned faces, outstretched arms and tippy-toed feet. Looking down, I find my hands overflowing with the treasured dandelions and experience a brand new Sunday morning insight as each small yellow blossom of this weed transforms into priceless aromatic roses of the heart.
The children rush off to gather more flowers but are quickly replaced by Luba and Lida, 21 and 18 respectively, the pretty daughters of my close friend Natasha and the music leaders for the small congregation. They too rush out to us with hugs and kisses and great delight at our unexpected arrival. Right behind them comes Svieta, Yura�s wife with equal welcome and love. I feel like sitting down in the middle of the road and just drinking in the greeting experience that I�ve just enjoyed. If only I could bottle it up for those dreary days when my significance seems most questionable!
As we approach the little church that boasts such love, I notice there are several young soldiers hanging about. This is indeed an unusual sight. Entering the church I notice a couple more soldiers inside. "What�s going on?" I wonder. Looking out the window to the back of the church I see Yura talking with yet more young men in uniform. My interest is completely taken by this sight as Yura waves a greeting.
