A Sinister Plot

Things have slowed down a bit, but that does not mean life is dull. Even simple everyday activities turn into an outright adventure when you are a foreigner living in a Hungarian village. For example, last week we took our dogs to the vet, realizing that having a male and a female dog could only lead to trouble. We wanted them both fixed, but the doc convinced us that a simple birth control shot would due for Blackie (the female) and he could "fix" Extra (the male) right then -- no appointment necessary! Extra had no idea what hit him, unfortunately Russ knew all too well as he assisted in the operation. Keep in mind, the vet speaks no English and while Russ' Hungarian is improving, his vocabulary is largely limited to baseball words.
I cannot testify as to what exactly transpired in that basement room of the vet's home, but when I stuck my head in to see how things were going, I saw Russell grimacing as he held two canine testicles up and the doggy doc did the clip job.
After completing the operation, the vet took us to his garden in the back and sent us home with bag full of home-grown Hungarian peaches -- which I promptly used to make Texas peach cobbler with little concern or regard for the trauma that both Extra and Russell had sustained.
Now, a week later, I can assure you that Extra seems to have suffered no long-term emotional damage. Russell, on the other hand, may never be the same after participating in such a sinister plot to evade canine multiplication.

Moving Forward

The summer has now largely wound down to a close after we hosted seven orphanage boys and David and Csilla hosted three orphanage girls for our first retreat last week. It was a time of comfort and spiritual support for kids who now struggle to figure out how to live out the Christian life in very trying situations.
For example, one boy, who fled his home several years ago after his father tried to murder him, suffered the loss of both his mother and brother the week previous to the retreat. He who was an orphan of situation, became a true orphan that week. Yet there he was with us for the retreat – trying to sort out how to live out his new found faith in the face of such a horrible loss.
A girl – the oldest of ten – struggled with the heavy responsibility she feels for her siblings, as her parents’ failing health make family reconciliation seem like a pipe dream. That’s more than any 16-17 year old should have to handle.
And so they came with all their heavy burdens – each with a different tragic story. And they picnicked by the lake and did the paddle boats and go karts, but the fun was punctuated by disciple-building bible studies designed to put them on the right track. The Calvary Chapel Debrecen Youth Group played an integral part in the event and many desire to serve a role in the discipleship of these kids. The church’s youth leader took out time to spend one night with the boys at our house.
Russ continues his weekly pilgrimage to Miskolc in an effort to disciple and support these kids and youth group college students have volunteered to help translate. We pray that local churches will rise up and begin the mentorship process with these kids, but until then Russ is determined to answer the call, despite distance, language, and cultural barriers.

A Kutya Fajat!

“A Kutya Fajat!” That’s Hungarian slang which roughly translates “bummer!” Literally, however, it translates “the dog’s tree,” which clearly offers more colorful imagery for that sentiment – a sentiment we recently experienced when a local stray dog decided to call us his own.
We call him “Extra,” and he is ugly. Of course, so is our other dog, which we got at five weeks old by choice – at that time she was cute. Puppies are truly false advertising, but that is a different story.
With Blackie, we may have been deceived, but with Extra, we knew he was ugly from the outset. He was the thorn in the side of the entire neighborhood. Everyone (including us) threw rocks at him to get him out of their yard and garden. He killed a neighbor’s pigeon and generally made the kid of trouble a stray dog makes when he is trying to survive in the cruel world. One day, he simple decided we were his family – even though we continually chased him out of the yard. He would greet us when we arrived home. If I walked to the village center he would be right at my side.
“You are NOT my dog!” Russ would yell at him and spray him with some water as he watered the lawn. Extra just happily played in the water’s spray and wagged his oldly formed tail.
One day during English camp I came home to find that someone had tried to steal a giant flower pot from our front porch. As they tried to climb through the fence, something had made them drop it and it broke in half. I could not help but wonder if Extra had something to do with foiling the theft.
The next night the car alarm went off, but just before it did, Extra who had perched himself on our front doorstep broke out in a barking frenzy. And that was when Extra became our “extra” dog. We did not need or want another dog, so he is the extra dog, rightfully named “Extra.”
But an extra dog is not the only thing we can say, “A kutya fajat!” about. The Degus I wrote of in a previous blog – the gift that keeps on giving – has done just that. Three baby Degus were spotted in the cage last week. Lately, we have only seen one up and running around, but whatever has happenedto them, we now have more Degu than we started with. And we started with more Degu than we ever wanted.