Posts Tagged ‘Polish’

The Cheese Seller

Friday, March 19th, 2010

Wednesday afternoon was a break for us, so we took Neal and June and a couple other friends into the nearby town of Zakopane, a destination much like a mini Whistler. In the summer, this place bustles with horse-drawn carriages pulling tourists on cobblestone streets. Open market vendors sell local wares such as smoked sheep cheese, amber jewelry, and carved wooden toys. One might even see a whole pig roasting on a spit. Today, however, the streets were much quieter. The touristy shops were open, but they don’t carry the same appeal for me as the open markets.

I did, however, experience a special treat. One of our friends had stopped to buy something from a sidewalk booth, and as I waited, a cute Polish granny approached me. She said something to me in Polish, so I answered, “I’m sorry – I speak only English.” A big smile spread across her face and she responded with, “Would you like to buy some cheese?”

cheese-selling Polish granny

She was holding a large plastic mixing bowl in one arm and pulled a small tote bag on wheels behind her. “Sweet cheese,” she said, tipping the bowl my direction. “It’s very good. Try some.” She whipped out a sharp knife and cut a slice from the ball of white cheese that filled the entire bowl. She was right. The delicacy was mild and smooth with a hint of sweetness.

Next, she opened her tote and pulled out a plastic bag containing other cheeses – some smoked, some plain. These local cheeses are formed into shapes such as sheep or flowers or little carved barrels. I remember enjoying these smoked, salty cheeses here last year so I made my choice and paid her about $3 for the treat. She beamed. I couldn’t resist giving her the traditional Polish kiss on each cheek. And she beamed again.

The most amazing thing about this incident was that Granny spoke English beautifully. Finding a senior who speaks English at all is unusual especially in rural regions. “Where did you learn to speak English?” I asked her. “I used to live in Chicago,” she said. That makes perfect sense. Chicago has a huge Polish community. She probably has a son or daughter who moved to the States and took her along.

I wish we’d had more time to visit with her. It would have been fun to have tea with her and hear her stories, but we had to catch a bus back to our conference venue because the marriage conference was scheduled to start in a couple of hours.

As I write this, we’ve now completed three of the marriage sessions and have two left. Gene and I taught two sessions today – Communication and Companionship, and it was a ton of fun to share from our lives with our IM staff. What a precious group of men and women. What a joy to mentor and encourage them! Ministry doesn’t get much more fulfilling than this.

My Dentist Visit

Monday, March 15th, 2010

My back aches, my feet throb, and my brain’s on overload from standing and teaching parenting workshops for 20 hours since Thursday. But hey – the effort’s been worth it! As a result of doing this, our Polish missionary partner says new doors of ministry opportunities have opened to him and his wife. Ties have been strengthened with people in strategic positions in various secular organizations, and several individuals have expressed an interest in attending our July evangelistic English-learning family camp. Wouldn’t it be great if they came? This month’s visit is all about planting seeds. Maybe July will promote growth towards an eventual harvest.

Since my last post, I experienced my first cross-cultural dental visit. The dentist was a jolly gray-bearded fellow who spoke English fairly well so he set to work without an interpreter. He took one look at my broken molar, said he could fill it, and gave me a painless injection to numb the area. While waiting for the anesthetic to take effect, he sat beside me and chatted about the weather, his recent visit to New York, and the English song playing on his radio. Suddenly he grabbed his drill and said, “Now I work.”

When I have dental work done in Canada, various gadgets anchor my mouth open. A thin rubber thingy is stretched across it. A suction tube sucks it dry. I’m given a glass of water when it’s time to swish and spit, and I’m handed a tissue to wipe dribbles from my chin. Not so here.   

As the dentist drilled, miniscule bits of tooth and old filling flew from my mouth, passed his head and into the atmosphere. He paused for a moment. “Spit,” he said, pointing at the chipped porcelain bowl on my left. I waited for a glass of water but none came, so I obeyed orders. Thankfully the tissue bib around my neck doubled as a wipe rag. “You hurt?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine,” I slurred.

“Thanks God,” he said, and then he drilled some more. We repeated the process four or five times before he stuffed a wad of cotton on either side of my molar and proceeded to fill my tooth. “Can you bite?” he asked when he’d finished his job.

Bite? I wondered. With my mouth filled with cotton? I waited for a split second, thinking he’d remove the stuffing and slip a piece of fancy colored paper between my upper and lower molar. No such luck. So I followed orders again, and gently tapped my molars together. The master craftsman seemed happy with the finished product. “Spit again,” he said, and then he bid me goodbye.

The entire process took less than 20 minutes and cost about $35 CDN. Only one uneasy thought crossed my mind during the procedure: Are the dental instruments properly sterilized to prevent transmission of disease? I chose not to dwell on the what-ifs.

Ewa scrambled eggs for my breakfast, after which we dashed to our meeting with the city’s social workers. Get a visual of this: I’m standing before 40 key people trying to look composed and intelligent, but the left side of my face is completely numb and I’m afraid my smile is lopsided. Sheesh – I might even be drooling! And so, when my turn comes to introduce myself, I explain my predicament. And whaddya know? Everyone smiles. A few even laugh. And the atmosphere relaxes. Amazing how things work together, eh?

Three Promises

Monday, September 14th, 2009

God’s Word is filled with amazing promises He’s made to those who follow Him. Psalm 57 contains three of them:

* God will fulfill His purpose for us (v. 2). Whatever His specific purpose for our lives is, He takes responsibility for ensuring that it happens. We only need to say yes to whatever He asks, and He looks after the rest.

 I’ve seen this happen over and over again, especially when my husband and I sensed Him asking us to launch International Messengers. For us, that meant moving to a new location, finding suitable housing within our price range, building our support team to help cover additional living and ministry costs, and starting a new ministry in Canada from the ground level. We saw Him keep His promise to fulfill His purpose for us as each detail fell into place. We only needed to say yes.

 * He will send help from heaven to save us (v. 3). When we call on His name, He answers. It’s fun to recall various ways in which He does that. On one occasion for me, it came in the form of a little man in a Polish train station who appeared out of nowhere not once but twice, and helped me with heavy suitcases. And a train conductor who appeared suddenly and motioned for us to follow him to a different train car. He was politely persistent, so we did as he said even though we couldn’t understand a word he said. Seconds after we’d resettled in a different car, the train stopped, disconnected, and then headed in two different directions. If we’d stayed on the first car, we would have ended up in who-knows-where.

* He will send forth His unfailing love and faithfulness (v. 3). Without God’s love and faithfulness, we’d be unforgiven sinners without a shred of hope for now or eternity. How’s that for bleak? Thankfully that’s not our situation. We have every reason for hope, joy, and peace because of this promise.

These promises are true for you today, if you’re walking in right relationship with God through Jesus Christ. How have you seen them fulfilled in your own life?

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?