Gone

Dear Levi,

12.18.13

The week passed so slowly, so painfully. By Wednesday, I knew the church would be empty. Everyone was abandoning Oklahoma for prettier scenes for the holiday. I couldn't believe Christmas was just a week away. The balcony was empty at church. I sat with Kate Walley in the teen section and even Anna and Tim were absent. It felt so strange, so sad. Like summer all over again. I spoke with Bro. Seth about working in the teen Sunday School classes. He gave him his number but advised he probably wouldn't be able to work me in until after the holidays. "I won't be thinking about church," he laughed. But I frowned. It was trivial, maybe, but it rubbed me wrong. What kind of minister focused on his own life for Christmas rather than his ministry? I wanted to scream that if it weren't for my parents teaching the Bible, Kharkovites wouldn't even know there was a person named Jesus to celebrate the season over. Southwest is so overpopulated that an extra pair of hands is something to shrug off until after the season. I want to go home. To go home, where they need help. Where there is no one. I could hear Levi's soft voice from the past in my ears as I drove home that night, "Baby girl, they need help." Tears pooled in my eyes but I gritted my teeth. Why did he have to leave me and Ukraine, too? Who was going to help them now?

Your star,
Rigel