I have a story to tell, and I will tell it in 4 acts. Draw the curtain. Act I Sometime last year, while Denyce and the boys were walking and playing at the large park near our apartment, they became acquainted with a Ukrainian mother and her child who were also there walking and playing. Her name was Sveta, and her little boy was around our boys' ages. Sveta spoke pretty decent English and so she and Denyce were able to get to know each other and build a little bit of a friendship. Sveta told Denyce how going to the park was an important part of her and her son's routine, and that they were there consistently every day around 10 to 11 in the morning except Thursdays and weekends. Armed with this knowledge, when Denyce had opportunity, she took the boys to the park at those times occasionally and, like clockwork, there were Sveta and her little boy. Although I was never with them when they saw Sveta, I enjoyed hearing about their times together. Denyce told me about how, although Sveta is Ukrainian, her husband is from Africa and so their little boy is visibly a blend of the two of them. They exchanged cell phone numbers and as winter started to approach, Denyce went to the park less but she and Sveta continued to be in touch, sending each other SMS messages from time to time. Then in January, when we were returning from Kiev after getting some medical care there for Denyce's miscarriage, we somehow lost Denyce's phone. Best we can tell, we must have accidentally left it on the train. The phone was replaceable, and most of the numbers in her phone we also had other places. Except Sveta's. Denyce's phone was the only place we had her number recorded. We had lost touch. Act II Parallel to the events of Act I, there was also one occasion sometime last spring when Denyce and the boys went outside to play in the courtyard of our apartment building, which we periodically do. On that particular day there was a lady and a little boy out there playing. The little boy was close to Malachi's age, and as the boys started playing, Denyce and the lady started talking. It turned out that this lady was the boy's nanny, and that this boy knew a little bit of English even at his young age. Malachi had a great time playing with the boy, whose name was Sasha. Sometime in the weeks following that afternoon, Denyce and the boys were at the park and just happened upon Sasha and his nanny once more, and the boys played some more there at the park. By this time Malachi was constantly talking about his friend Sasha, even though they'd only played together a couple of times. They just really clicked. However, after that, weeks passed without seeing them. The weeks turned into months. And then it was winter, when people (us included) just generally spend a bit less time outside. Denyce and the nanny had never exchanged phone numbers, so we had no way to try to get in touch with them. We just never saw them, and wondered if and when we ever would happen upon them again. Act III Fast-forward to yesterday. As we looked ahead to our day yesterday, we knew that we had an unusually open schedule. With none of our teammates in town (McDougles and Nelsons are vacationing in Prague, and the Prices are not here yet), a meeting that usually occupies the whole morning (and sometimes early afternoon) was not taking place. Denyce and I decided we'd use the morning instead to take the boys to the park at sometime around -- you guessed it -- 10 or 11 AM, and try to look for Sveta and her boy. We had actually tried this once before, a couple of months ago, but had no luck. We figured it was worth a shot again, but knew it might be a long shot after all this time. Then as we were about to start getting ready to go, Denyce remembered -- it was Thursday. One of the days Sveta doesn't go to the park. We changed our plans and decided to just stay home and that I would use the time to pray. I had been praying for a while when Denyce walked into the room and said, "Sasha and his nanny are out there in the courtyard." I'm sure my face lit up just a bit. We quickly rallied up some excitement with the boys and got them dressed to go outside. It took some reminding for Malachi to clear the cobwebs and remember this Sasha that we were hoping to go out and see. The boys and I got outside a couple of minutes before Denyce, and as we were going I prayed that they wouldn't be gone by the time we got out there. Thankfully, there they still were, and I introduced myself to the nanny and told her who we were, although she already knew because she recognized our boys right away. Malachi and Sasha seemed to pick up pretty quickly where they left off. When Denyce came out, she and the nanny greeted each other too. It turns out that the Nanny's name is Stasya. After a little while, another nanny and little boy emerged from the building -- our neighbors whose door is directly across the stairwell from ours, and who we see fairly regularly. Their little boy, Zhenya (age 3), has recently become a playmate of Malachi's, so they were a welcome addition to our little club. In total we were all out there for close to an hour and a half, during which time the four boys played with balls, attempted to toss the frisbee, took turns riding Sasha's little scooter, and perhaps most importantly, very enthusiastically played with bugs together. There were, in one area of the courtyard, an abundance of these little red and black beetle-like bugs which, at a glance, might be mistaken for funny-looking ladybugs, but they are something different. I have no idea what they are in English, but learned that in Russian they are colloquially called солдатики, which means "little soldiers" or "toy soldiers." They're harmless. The photo at the top of this post is the boys seeking and playing with these bugs. That's Malachi in the middle, Sasha to his left, Zhenya to his right (with Zhenya's nanny). Before we parted ways, we exchanged phone numbers with Stasya, Sasha's nanny. Act IV It was now later yesterday, about 5 or 6 hours after what I just described. We were getting ready to host a small group prayer/study time at our apartment, and Denyce sent me out to buy some apples to cut up and share with everyone. As I was briskly walking down our street toward a little produce shop around the corner, I passed a dairy kiosk and something unusual caught my attention just as I was passing by it. There, in front of the kiosk, was a small family -- husband, wife, and a little boy whom they were pushing on a tricycle. The wife looked ordinary enough, but the husband was obviously African, and the little boy was creamy dark-skinned with delightfully bushy, curly black hair. Not surprisingly, since it was just earlier the same day that we had been planning to try to find Sveta at the park, my mind went straight to Sveta and her family. Again, I had never met her or her son, but from what Denyce had told me ... could this be them? I kept walking and went ahead and bought my apples around the corner, but the whole time I kept processing this. What were the chances of me happening on them right across the street from our apartment building? But then again, how many families could there be in Kharkov that match that description of ethnicities and ages? I decided I had to ask. But by now several minutes had passed, and who knows where they might have made their way off to by now? I made a beeline back toward our building and when I rounded the corner, there was that tricycle on the sidewalk, now parked and riderless. And there was the young mom and the boy. I'm not sure where the dad went, but he wasn't there anymore. I approached the young woman and, trying desperately to make this as un-awkward as possible, started speaking to her in Russsian. I asked if her name is Sveta, and after a short pause she answered, "Да..." ("Yes..."), but was looking at me a little bit like, "I'm not sure why you're asking, but it's weirding me out." I went on to quickly explain that I think my wife and her might have gotten acquainted quite some time ago in the park, and that we are Americans. She immediately remembered, and before I could say anything more, she blurted out, "Denyce!" I explained how Denyce had lost her phone and that we didn't have her number anywhere else, and (paraphrasing here) how we had been pretty bummed to have lost contact with her. She said that she too had wanted to and tried to get in touch with Denyce but couldn't. There was much relief all around! I got her phone number and told her that Denyce would be getting in touch. Curtain call. And thus, by God's grace, we were blessed to renew two special but mostly-long-lost friendships/contacts in one day.
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