Archive for the ‘Travels’ Category

Gorzow

Friday, March 12th, 2010

From Clear Lake, Iowa to Gorzow, Poland took 26 hours. Uneventful it was – and that’s a good thing for air travel. Our bags arrived with us, and that’s always a good thing, too. For the next six days, we’ll stay in an apartment shared by two young women we know from our evangelistic summer family camps in Poland. I feel like we’ve returned to close friends. These women and the others we know from camp have a special place in our hearts.

The first night is our best after a long trip – physical exhaustion makes it impossible to stay awake even if we try. I slept on a sponge mattress on the living room floor and Gene took the single futon. At 2:00 A.M. however, I was wide awake. My brain swirled with busy thoughts, my feet were freezing cold, and my hips ached. After only three hours of sleep, I knew that I’d never survive teaching for four hours on Thursday if I didn’t get more rest. So, I pulled a pair of socks on and swallowed two melatonin tablets. That did the trick. Didn’t hear another sound until 6:30.

Work began at 10:00 A.M. About 50 university students and one of their teachers filled the pews of a small Baptist church, and we had four hours to teach parenting workshops to them. This was the first time inside a church for some and the experience may have felt a little intimidating. If so, their fear didn’t last too long. We broke for pretzels and cookies, tea (herbata) and coffee (kava) between the second and third sessions, and they enjoyed visiting with each other and us. When the fourth session ended, two girls who’d left early suddenly returned with long-stemmed white roses for me, Gene, and our translator. And then came the traditional Polish kisses on each cheek.  

We spent the rest of the afternoon with Czarek and Ewa,

Our dear friends and coworkers, Czarek and Ewa

the Polish pastor and his wife with whom we’re partnering for this trip and with whom we host the summer family camps. They’ve become dear friends. Looks like their 11-year-old son has decided I might be an okay friend, too. He speaks only Polish; I speak only English, but we’re learning to communicate through pantomines. To top it off, he invited me into his world by asking me to watch him play Star Wars on the computer for a half hour.

We walked back to our apartment from Czarek’s suite as darkness fell. Cobblestone sidewalks all the way. It was brrrrr…..cold outside. No snow, but biting wind. Halfway home we ducked into a pizza restaurant to thaw out with a hot drink and a bite to eat. The menus were in Polish and the waitress couldn’t speak a word of English. And so…I pointed at a salad picture and nodded my head. And then I pointed at the soup items (zupy) and asked, “Good?” She smiled and nodded. I hadn’t a clue what I ordered.

We laughed about our lives as we waited for our food to come. We’re walking in a strange city, ordering unknown items in a restaurant where no one speaks our language, teaching parenting classes based on Biblical principles to secular university students and the social services department in the former Communist bloc. Never in a million years would we have imagined we’d be doing this. What a ride when God takes the wheel.

Friday morning will come early. I have a broken molar, so I’ll visit a dentist at 8:00 A.M. before we teach social workers for four hours. After supper, we get to meet with a youth group — the teens that Czarek and Ewa minister to through the year. Most are from at-risk families. We know some from the summer family camps, too. It’ll be like seeing our own kids!

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The Adventure Has Begun

Friday, March 5th, 2010

NOTE: I’ll post March’s blogs under the “Travel” category because I’m on a missions trip now. Enjoy!

Our trip to Poland and the Ukraine has begun, and so have the fun, adventures and, yes, the misadventures. On our shuttle bus between Vancouver and Seattle, the man sitting behind us talked non-stop to his seat mate. Actually, he started even before the bus arrived. Without trying to eavesdrop, I learned that he’s 66 years old, retired 10 years ago, had a small stroke, is afraid to fly, is a former high-school Latin and French teacher, and the list goes on. I also learned (four times over) that he was very nervous about missing his flight because someone told him there might be a delay going through security at the border. (I felt sorry for the guy – he wasted a lot of energy worrying for nothing).

Then there was the guy sitting two rows ahead of us. Again, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was impossible to miss his monologue. He talked about everything from what happens to a helicopter if bullets hit its rotor, to thinking that he’d take a bullet himself if he tried to reclaim the property his grandfather once owned in the former Soviet Union, to riding a bus in the Czech Republic that was boarded by a gang of hoodlums who were arrested and cuffed by police when the bus reached its destination. It sounded like the stuff of which spy movies are made. But he didn’t look like a spy (duh – what does a spy look like, anyway?). He resembled an overweight Einstein with white locks gone wild.  

I must say that I’ve never heard men talk so much. I thought only women used 30,000 words per day!

In all the miles I’ve flown, I’ve never spilled a beverage on a plane.

Heading out from sunny Seattle

But today my luck ran out when I dumped tomato juice down my right leg, Gene’s left leg, and on the bags at our feet. Red splattered everywhere. We sopped up everything possible with napkins and paper towels, and then we ducked into the mini-bathroom to wet-wipe our pant legs. Thankfully we were able to get most of it out and our jeans dried before we landed in Minneapolis. But my computer keyboard didn’t fare as well.

I was in the midst of typing this blog when it happened. I immediately turned the keyboard over and dabbed it gently with paper towels…and prayed. Within minutes, however, the entire bottom row of keys wouldn’t work. Try typing the words an, and or no without an n. I could do nothing but pray more and put the computer away. We figured we’d have to take it to a repair shop for the weekend and hopefully get it fixed before our overseas flight on Tuesday.

Thankfully that won’t be necessary. A couple of hours later, Gene turned my laptop on and wonder of wonders, it worked. All I can say is, “Thank You, God!”

So, here we are in Clear Lake, Iowa. In the snow. It’s beautiful. And it’s cold.

View from my window this morning

In a few minutes we’ll head to our US headquarters – my first time to see it. And later today we’ll drive a couple of hours to a camp for our advisory council meetings.

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Urbana ‘09 — Here We Come

Saturday, December 26th, 2009

It’s Saturday, Dec. 26th – a.k.a. Boxing Day to Canucks like myself. If I were home, I’d probably go shopping for ridiculously low bargains on next year’s Christmas cards and wrap. But shopping’s out this year ‘cause I’m doing something that’s far more fun.

What? More fun than fighting the crowds at the local mall on Boxing Day? I know, I know – that’s hard to imagine. This morning finds me sitting at Sea-Tac airport, sipping a Starbucks coffee and waiting for our now-delayed flight to Chicago. I’ve bid my suitcase goodbye with a prayer that it will make the now-tight connection to St. Louis, Missouri later today.

Delayed flight!

The media hype about yesterday’s foiled terrorist attack on a Detroit-bound flight caused us to expect heightened security this morning so we gave ourselves plenty of time to get to the airport and check in. The changed schedule means we’ll sit for at least an hour longer than we’d expected. Oh well. That gives me time to work on material for upcoming speaking engagements. Flexibility is the key, right? That’s what I tell our short-term missions volunteers!

Today Gene and I are enroute to Urbana ’09 – a triennial missions conference sponsored by InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. More than 15,000 students have registered; nearly 3,000 of these are Canadians. The purpose for our trip is to represent International Messengers Canada at the IM booth and to be available for whatever divine appointments come our way. Many of these students are seeking God’s direction for their lives and considering missions as part of the picture. Perhaps one or two or a few will come our way. Time will tell.

I first attended Urbana 30 years ago. I remember boarding a chartered tour bus at midnight on December 25, 1979, and riding, along with 30 or 40 other university-aged men and women, for 2 days and nights to reach our destination. What a blast! We talked, sang, played games, and snacked across Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, and into the States before finally arriving at the University of Illinois nearly 40 hours later. A life-changing experience awaited us.  

Plenary sessions featured speakers including Luis Palau, and if I remember correctly, Elisabeth Elliot. Afternoon workshops shed light on every thinkable aspect of missions, and the exhibit hall contained myriads of mission booths. My most memorable moment was celebrating Communion on New Year’s Eve. Sharing the bread and wine with more than 20,000 other young adults, and hearing those voices blended in worship songs to our Savior tasted like heaven to me.

Thirty years later, I get to experience it again! Better yet, this time I get to encourage other young adults who are now exploring God’s will for their lives as I did then. How fun is that? ‘Way more fun than shopping for bargains on Boxing Day.

Shucks – our flight was just delayed another half hour due to bad weather in Chicago. This could be a long day.

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A Promise Kept

Friday, August 7th, 2009

 It was Sunday, July 26 – the third morning of the evangelistic family camp at which Gene and I were ministering in Poland. We’d been awake for a half hour when our cell phone rang. The caller was our son back in Canada, and the news he delivered was sad: Gene’s 90-year-old father had suffered a massive stroke and died three hours prior.

Gene and his dad, Tim

Gene and his dad, Tim

My first thought was, Oh no – not again! Sixteen months ago, my father passed away while I was in Eastern Europe and I was unable to attend his funeral. The thought of experiencing the same thing a second time nearly knocked the wind out of me.

Gene and I hugged and cried together for a few minutes before having to head out for the morning’s staff meeting. As we shared the news with our staff – North American and Polish alike – they immediately covered us in prayer. Later that day, we were able to reach our kids by phone. They said they’d asked the people in their churches to pray for us, too.

With nine days remaining before our scheduled return to Canada, our main concern was that we’d remain focused on our responsibilities and the people to whom we’d come to minister rather than be distracted by our grief. God honored our desire through the prayers of His people, and in doing so, kept the promise He made in Psalm 29:11 – “The LORD gives his people strength. The LORD blesses them with peace.”

Our schedule at camp was rigorous. Each morning began with a staff meeting at 7:15. Following breakfast, we attended a short worship service followed by small group Bible lessons and then English classes. The afternoons were filled with preparation time for the next day’s lessons, crafts, or a trip into town or to a local tourist attraction with the Polish campers. At 5 p.m., Gene and I taught parenting workshops. Each evening hosted games, campfires, testimonies, and more workshops. We fell into bed after 11 p.m. Did we need strength, especially in light of the news we’d received? Oh yes. Did we need peace? Absolutely. Did we receive them? Without a doubt, the answer is yes.

I want to publicly say thanks to the Lord for keeping this promise. He enabled us to finish the camp well. And He blessed us with the privilege of returning in time to attend Dad’s memorial service on Sunday, August 9th

I also want to say thanks to those of you who prayed for us while we were overseas. May God’s strength and peace be yours today and always.

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Journal Entry for July 16-20

Monday, July 20th, 2009

We’ve been holed up in a university dormitory in Gdansk, Poland, for the past four days. Pretty basic facilities, but they did the job. Here are the pluses: There was a little fridge so we could store milk, cheese, and yogurt for our breakfasts. There were two big windows that allowed air movement to dry our clothes after handwashing them in the shower stall. And the building was secure – we had to show an ID card at the front door before the receptionist would electronically open it so we could enter.

Here are the challenges: A toilet that refused to flush properly and then decided to leak. It grew worse by the day, leaving the bathroom floor wet. Yesterday I mopped it four times in an effort to keep it as clean as possible. And oh yeah, there was the pub located at the end of our hallway, about four doors down. The patrons obviously like loud music…until 2 or 3 a.m. I bought sleeping pills after the first night – a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do to get her beauty sleep.

We spent the majority of our time preparing for the upcoming evangelistic family camp. Besides teaching an English class and Bible study each morning, we’ll also be teaching five parenting workshops. Bless his heart, Gene collected material for the latter before we left Canada because I was swamped with writing two more chapters under deadline for my next book proposal. Now it was my responsibility to organize and edit what he’d done.

Late Friday afternoon, we decided to take a break and head for the beach. Gdansk is located on the Baltic Sea, and its beaches are beautiful. So, we caught a tram and spent about 20 minutes traveling through the city. When we arrived, we took off our shoes and walked along the surf. Lovely! We decided to spend most of the next afternoon there. Things didn’t go as planned!

By the time we finished the day’s work, it was after 1:30 and we still hadn’t eaten lunch. So, we found a little restaurant, grabbed a bite to eat, and then caught the tram. Unfortunately, the sky turned black and a wind came up at the same time. When we arrived at the beach, we were the only people headed for the surf against a tide of about 300-400 leaving the area. Not to be deterred, we spread our towels on the sand and sat down. That lasted about 30 seconds.

Lightning flashed around us, thunder boomed and cracked, and we joined about 60 others under cover as the rain began to fall. Five minutes later, it let up enough for us to try again. That lasted maybe a minute before we once again ran for cover. A third try let us stay on the beach for about 10 minutes before the rain rolled in once more. That’s when we gave up and caught the tram back to the university. We’ll try again on Sunday, we thought. Things didn’t go as planned!

Yesterday dawned with black sky and more rain. We spent most of the day hunkering down in our room, waiting for a break in the weather. When it came, we walked to a huge mall about 30 minutes’ away where we found internet access outside a Kentucky Fried Chicken food booth – no kidding – a KFC.

This is one of the biggest malls I’ve ever seen – three stories of glass-front stores with wares of every description, many of them North American name brands. It’s been only 20 years since Communism fell – how a country could make so much progress in two decades is beyond me. Or…is it progress? Actually, the availability of goods might be a danger to these folks as a materialistic mentality takes hold. We met a Canadian couple on the street and walked with them to the mall – he’s Polish and they’d returned to visit his parents here. The wife looked around the mall and said, “This is absolute nonsense. It’s dangerous for the people – for so long, under Communist rule, they didn’t have material goods available. Now the goods are available and they buy them even though they cannot afford them.”

Well, our train leaves in 25 minutes and we still have to walk to the station lugging our bags. I’ve gotta dash!  

I might not have internet access for the next week. If so, it will be quiet on my travel blogs. If not, I’ll do my best to keep you posted about how things are going at the camp!

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Journal Entry for July 13 — Auschwitz

Wednesday, July 15th, 2009

Last night we were the house guests of a lovely Polish couple – the parents of Carol’s roommate. We arrived at their home in Auscchwitz around 8:00 pm after an 8-hour train ride, and then they treated us to a traditional evening meal.

Irene and I met for coffee early this morning. Even though her English language is very limited and my Polish is nil, we were able to communicate using simple words, pictures, and hand gestures.  What a sweet lady!

My hostess searching for a word in her Polish-English dictionary.

My hostess searching for a word in her Polish-English dictionary.

After breakfast on the patio, Carol took us to the Aushwitz Museum. This was sobering, to say the least. More than one million people died there in the 1940s. It originally held Polish political prisoners – doctors, lawyers, professors, and such. It later evolved into a killing house when the Germans’ plan to purge the region of Jews failed. Palestine and other countries around the world refused to accept Jews as immigrants, so the Germans rounded them up and sent them to the camp. There they died either by gassing, hard labor, or starvation.

A map showed how far people were transported – in cattle cars – to the camp. Considering that some came from 2000 km (approximately 1200 miles) away, it’s no wonder many died enroute. Once they arrived, life turned into hell on earth. Upon deboarding the trains, Jews were immediately sorted by their ability to work – the able-bodied were sent to the left while most children, the sick, and the aged were automatically sent to the right. That meant being gassed under the guise of having showers. One’s chances of survival were based largely on job assignment (an office job would require less physical output, therefore starvation was less likely than if doing strenuous manual labor) or outside contacts (Polish prisoners could receive care packages from family members while Jewish prisoners could not).

Various signs told the story along the tour: “Corpses of those killed trying to escape were left in this place as a warning to others.” “Roll call took place here, sometimes lasting a dozen hours or more.” “Hundreds of people died working in the quarry at this point; others were executed.” Watchtowers enabled guards to watch all movement in the lanes between the barracks, and electric fences kept people from escaping, although some prisoners committed suicide by deliberately running into them.

Prisoners' barracks surrounded by electric fences

Prisoners' barracks surrounded by electric fences

Inside the museum, we saw collections of prisoners’ shoes, clothing, eyeglasses, toothbrushes, hair brushes, and even human hair. Nothing was wasted – human hair, for instance, was stuffed into large bales and shipped away to be made into mattresses and blankets and other products. Unbelievable. Whatever personal belongings the prisoners brought with them were collected, sorted, and stored in warehouses until they could be shipped to Germany for distribution. Interestingly, these storage warehouses were nicknamed “Canada” because they were a symbol of affluence.

Perhaps the most sobering moment for me was stepping inside the gas chamber where several candles burned beside three floral bouquets. A sign at the doorway asked everyone to be silent to honor those who had died there. As often as the Germans deemed necessary, 800 men, women, and children would be told to strip and were then jammed into this small enclosure. A soldier would open a canister of poison and drop it through a hole in the roof. Everyone died within 20 minutes. Before the bodies were incinerated, other prisoners were forced to shave the heads and extract all gold teeth. I believe the horror witnessed in this room will never be fully comprehended. It is said that, if the cremations had been a faster process, the number of people gassed would have been much higher. 

Entering the gas chamber -- no indoor pictures were allowed.

Entering the gas chamber -- no indoor pictures were allowed.

One prayer ran through my mind over and over as I toured this site: “God, save us from ourselves.” The depravity of mankind, the evil of the human heart defies comprehension. Why are we offended, then, at the thought of being sinners in need of a Savior?

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Journal Entry for July 12

Monday, July 13th, 2009
Roma (gypsy) church in Lunik IX

Roma (gypsy) church in Lunik IX

We woke in Kosice, Slovakia this morning. Had breakfast with IM missionaries Brad and Karla Thiessen – enjoyed their company as always – and then Brad took us to Lunik IX. This is the name of the largest gypsy ghetto in Eastern Europe. We visited there in September 2007, when I had the privilege of interviewing the pastor for a Power for Living article.

Lunik IX is a collection of perhaps a half dozen Communist-era apartment blocks, housing approximately six or seven thousand people. Windows are smashed out, garbage is heaped anywhere anyone feels like throwing it. There isn’t a single playground toy to be seen. The ground is parched. And yet, there stands a little church. Surrounded by two chicken-wire fences to prevent vandalism, it invites those who are spiritually thirsty to come, drink, and be filled.

This morning a group of 35-40 believers met to worship. The pastor, himself a converted gypsy, is a songwriter who has recorded his music digitally. He pressed a button and the first song began. I wish you could have heard the congregation sing! And wow – do they have a sense of rhythm!

The pastor and his wife

The pastor and his wife

Each time I have an opportunity to worship with believers of other races and languages, I catch a wee glimpse of heaven. Someday people from every tongue and tribe and skin color will stand before God and worship Him in song. And for these brothers and sisters in the gypsy ghetto, and for the Romanian young adults infected with HIV/AIDS discrimination will no longer exist. They are the poor, crying out for justice on earth, questioning why God put them on earth if only to suffer. And yet someday, they will reign with Jesus in His heavenly kingdom. Surely they have a hope.

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Journal Entry for July 11

Monday, July 13th, 2009

Our Romanian team has dwindled over the past day or so. Two flew out of Timisoara, one remained at River of Life to donate his maintenance skills for three weeks. Six of us traveled by van to Budapest where three boarded a British Airways jet bound for Vancouver. And the last three – Gene, Kim, and myself – headed for Slovakia by train today.

Before doing that, however, we took a 3-hour tour of Budapest. 

Welcome to Budapest!

Welcome to Budapest!

 It was wonderful to finally see something other than the airport and train station. Then we met Mike and Nancy Elwood for dinner. They serve with Greater Europe Mission, and Nancy also helped found SHARE, a ministry to help equip missionary parents in the context of their kid’s education. I first met Nancy when she came to an IM conference to provide information and educational testing services for our staff. She later invited me to teach a couple of workshops at a SHARE conference in Hungary in 2008 – that’s where I was when I received word of my dad’s passing. It was good to touch base with them again.

We had a divine appointment on the train to Slovakia. We sat with a college-age fellow who, we learned, could speak English. John told us that he was traveling home to visit his mom, a widow. “She always worries too much about me,” he said. “That’s not good for her. She gets headaches and stomach aches and she can’t sleep at night.” Then he added, “Fear must run in the family, for I do the same thing.”

His speaking the word fear was like throwing a bone to a dog. “I happened to write a book about overcoming fear,” I said. “Did you know the Bible addresses it 366 times?” I mentioned that God’s presence in our lives is the secret to overcoming it. That’s when he said he plans to study theology in Romania after he completes his law studies. The conversation went on to other things, but minutes later he said something completely random: “I read a novel recently. It was about two brothers. The one with a family committed a crime and was sentenced to death. The other, without a family, took his death penalty. He sacrificed himself for the sake of his brother.”

 

I looked at Gene and he looked at me. We read each other’s minds. Without a doubt, God is seeking John. His words provided an easy and automatic lead into a brief chat about what Jesus did for us, how He sacrificed Himself when He paid our death penalty for sin. John listened and nodded. He said, “Many people don’t understand what Jesus did.” I agreed. Then I offered him my NT in the New Living Translation and explained that it told the entire story. He said, “Thank you for your offer. I will consider it and let you know before our journey ends.”

 

Sure enough. Minutes before we reached his destination, he said, “I will accept your offer for the Bible.” Yahoo!! I jumped from my seat and dug through my suitcase until I found it. With sheer joy I handed it to him. Now I’m praying for God to continue drawing John to His heart.

 

“Thank You, God, for divine appointments and for Your great love for mankind.”

 

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Journal Entry for July 9

Thursday, July 9th, 2009

How many Canadian women get to spend their 51st birthday in Romania? I do, I do!

And what a day it was!

Gene and I left the hotel for an early morning walk and decided to visit the Orthodox cathedral a block away – the one where a dozen or so children were executed in 1989. We noticed that people walking or driving past the structure will “cross” themselves. When we stepped inside, we heard a man’s voice singing. Actually, it sounded more like liturgical chanting. His voice echoed through the cathedral, drawing people in and leading them through formal motions of worship. One priest stood in the front; 10 people knelt before him. Another priest entered a room swinging an incense holder before a table covered with burning candles. Nearby was a wooden box nearly the size of a casket, with its lid off. People took turns kneeling beside it and gazing into it – likely it contained the bones of a supposed saint. And there were people lining up to kiss golden images of saints. Other than the man who sung, no one even whispered. The atmosphere was one of reverence.

It’s fascinating to travel and see that wherever we go, people are seeking God. In India, they sought the Hindu gods through rituals and sacrifices. Here, they seek Him through tradition. But Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but by me.” My heart breaks when I see people steeped in religious rules and regulations but having no understanding of Jesus, the one whom we’re to worship in spirit and in truth.

After taking the team souvenir shopping, we ate lunch at McDonald’s. You read it correctly. It’s the fanciest McDonald’s I’ve ever seen, and it has a European-style outdoor eating area right on the main square in Timisoara. Plus, it has salads. My system is craving fresh veggies and fruit as the diet here doesn’t include much of those.

As we ate, a beggar boy about 9 years old came to us with a fist full of slightly wilted red roses, likely stolen from someone’s garden. Gene gave him the equivalent of $4 and then gave them to me for my birthday! Now that’s a dozen roses I’ll never forget! You should have seen the kid’s face when he realized he’d actually made a sale!

Lunch at McDonald's. See my roses?

Lunch at McDonald's. See my roses?

Moments later, another beggar, this one about 14 years old, approached. He stood directly behind me whining in Romanian. At one point, his voice sounded like a high soprano, and then he meowed like a cat. We tried hard to ignore him but he wouldn’t leave us alone. A McDonald’s employee asked him to leave several times, but he’d return seconds later and repeat his whining. Suddenly two police officers appeared from a side street. That’s all it took for the boy to run away before stopping to light a cigarette.

The afternoon was spent driving to the River of Life project – a home for abused women and children. We’ve stayed there on two occasions in the past year, so it was sheer delight to visit again. The women all gave me huge hugs and kisses. Even their kids came running to us. Emma, about 3 years old, came directly to me and cuddled with her head on my shoulder for several minutes. 

Meet my friend, Emma.

Meet my friend, Emma.

The day ended with dinner at an outdoor restaurant with the team and our four IM missionaries. We debriefed by discussing how the ministry time went with the young adults, and then we prayed for Andy and Tresha, and Tony and Claudia. An unexpected treat was when a waiter and waitress brought a tiramisu birthday cake to our table for everyone to enjoy.  

My life is so rich with family, friends, and ministry. I’m so very, very blessed.

 

Tomorrow we’re headed back to Budapest. That will take six hours by van. Our team will fly home on Saturday, and Gene and Kim and I will do a 3-hour tour of Budapest before catching a train to Slovakia. I likely won’t update my travel blog again until Sunday because of the full schedules.

 

I've always wanted to feed the pigeons! In the background, you can see the Orthodox cathedral.

I've always wanted to feed the pigeons! In the background, you can see the Orthodox cathedral.

BTW, thank you to all who wished me a happy birthday via email or Facebook. I haven’t had a chance to check Facebook on this trip…hopefully that time will come soon.

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Journal Entry for July 8

Wednesday, July 8th, 2009
Sorting clothing donations

Sorting clothing donations

This morning began with breakfast in our hotel. The menus were written only in Romanian – we managed to figure out a few words such as omelette and coffee. Thankfully Tony and Claudia came to our rescue and placed our complete order for us. We had a hearty laugh over our meal when we discovered a major cultural difference.

In Europe, it’s okay to reach across someone’s plate if you want a particular food item. It’s also okay to get up from your chair and walk to a place at the table where you can reach that item. It’s not okay to ask someone to “Please pass the …..” That’s considered rude because doing so causes that person to stop eating or to interrupt their conversation to give you what you want. Our team explained to Claudia and Tony that in our country, it’s considered rude to reach across a plate or leave your chair to walk around the table to help yourself to what you want. They laughed and said, “We wondered why you always asked us to pass certain food items, such as the salt. We thought you were perfectly capable of getting it yourself. Why should you always ask us for help?” Gotta love the differences!

After breakfast we drove to the day center. Tresha put us to work sorting clothing and craft donations for an hour or so. She said our efforts saved her about six day’s work. I’m so thankful we could serve her in that way. Then the kids began to arrive.

All the campers showed up, plus four or five more…and three of their mothers! How exciting is that? We taught them a fun camp song called “Dum Dum Ditty” – they laughed and thought it was great fun. And then I gave a devotional about overcoming the giants in our lives by remembering that God is always with us and He will be faithful. Claudia translated for me. When I finished speaking, she shared some thoughts…and that led to a rousing and passionate discussion about attending discos, drinking, drug abuse, reading the Bible for answers, and more. The discussion grew so lively, with several people speaking at once, that Tresha had to give up translating. It’s so exciting to see how the kids feel free to ask questions, and how Claudia and Tresha constantly send them back to the Word.

Then came the tough part – saying goodbye to these precious kids. One gal – the one who read the poem about her mother’s death – wrapped her arms around me, buried her face in my neck, and cried hot tears. I held her close for a long time. She would look into my eyes and say, “I love you,” and cry some more. Her older sister stood a few inches away, so I hugged her, too. Then I felt nudged to say, “In my heart, I feel like a mother to you both.” Tresha walked by at that time, so she translated these words. The girls replied that they felt the same way. Then one said, “I don’t suppose you’d like to live in Romania. I’ll take you home with me.”

There were lots of tears, lots of hugs and kisses as our team bid the kids goodbye. They all expressed a desire for us to return next summer. I can’t help but wonder if they’ll all be alive next summer. My prayer is that, whatever the future holds, God will draw them to Himself so they will know His presence and peace now, and eternity with Him someday.

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