Christmas 2008

This picture is from the night of the Farsi Christmas party. There were riots in the streets in downtown Athens. The smell of tear gas wafting up the stairwell and we had a room full of refugees who wanted to learn more about the Christ of Christmas. Myrna and her crew had put on the puppet show. The games were over. Nader had given the message and distributed Bibles to those that asked and we sat down to dinner with this family.

The little girl, M., spoke some English, but the rest of the family did not speak any. As they told their story, they whipped out their digital camera. They wanted a picture of where they spent Christmas. The cool part, was that on this tiny camera were pictures of their entire journey from Afghanistan to Greece. The places they walked. The places they slept. The boat they hid in. I've heard lots of stories, but I had never seen pictures. I could not imagine these small children traveling that far. Picture walking your kids to from Disneyland to Las Vegas and then do it again.

The parents had created an environment where this was an adventure and not life changing trauma. It reminded me of how much of a different our attitudes can make....something like what the apostle James tells us "consider it pure joy my brothers when you face troubles of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith brings perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete not lacking anything." Its easy to have joy when your Christmas stockings are full and there are presents under the tree, but what's your joy like today? What kind of an environment are you creating for your family? Wish you were here.

Athens Ministry Team Retreat

We spent American Thanksgiving weekend tucked away at a hotel near the top of Mount Pelio in central Greece. We began our day with devotions and worship together. The first day, Kenn led us through a process where we identified and shared our personal ministry values and later developed our core ministry values as a team. The second day talked through our current activities and tried to figure out ways to make them more aligned with our values. Sprinkled through out the day we took time to play games together, and to share our stories. Service team leaders had budget meetings with the leadership team one afternoon. On Saturday afternoon we had the afternoon off and went into town. On Sunday we went down the hill to worship at the Greek Evangelical Church of Voulos. Afterwards they fixed us lunch and then we drove the 5 hours back home. Enjoy our pictures by clicking "play slideshow" below.

You are invited to view Lisa's photo album: Retreat

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Betsy's Wedding

On November 8th at 4:30 in the afternoon at the Wild Animal Park in San Diego, our daughter Elizabeth, married Luke Freiler. The following is a link to some of the unoffical wedding pictures. The guests received passes to go to the Wild Animal park, so we spent the morning in "Africa". By early afternoon the girls had their hair and make-up done and showed up at the park where we joined them. The wedding was outside at dusk by the lagoon. You could hear the baboons in the background (they were behind the trees). The wedding ceremony was brief and then we moved into a covered area nearby for the reception. The only real drama beside Luke losing the button to his coat and slightly delaying the start while they sewed another one on, was that the hotel they planned to spend the night in before they left for Mexico was overbooked. They showed up shortly before midnight in their tux and wedding gown and there was no room. The hotel made it right by hiring a limo to take them to the Hotel Del Coronado (a really nice historic hotel) and gave them a bottle of champagne. Enjoy the pictures by clicking "play slideshow".

You are invited to view Lisa's photo album: Betsy & Luke's Wedding

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A Day at the Beach and the Day After...

The day did not go exactly as planned, but then the best days never do. We had invited our team, several families from the Persian Christian Fellowship, the young men from the "nest", a brother and sister from Chechnya, 1 family from Turkmenistan, and 1 family from Afghanistan. The plan was to integrate the new families with the ones from PCF so that the Muslim families could build relationships with believer families that spoke their language--except for the part where neither new family came. After I got over being disappointed, I started to pay attention to what God had in mind for the day.

My favorite little toddler came. His father became a believer in the fall and his mother has moved from hardened to suspicious to curious over time. She didn't come to his baptism, but she did come to the last one we had. I sat with her and she listened carefully as each new believer told their story. Today she had her hair uncovered and she floated in the sea cooling off her always too warm 7 months pregnant body. She laughed with the PCF ladies and felt for the first time like she belonged. What must it be like to leave home at 17 to marry a man you love, but your family wants to kill? Now she is all of 19 and expecting another child, far from Afghanistan and far from family. She grew up in a village and now she lives in this dirty, hot city. She speaks a dialect of dari that is difficult for our farsi speakers to understand or to be understood by her.

The Chechnyian (is there such a word?) siblings are kids I met on my first trip in 2000 on their first day in Athens. Their father was killed and their mother brought them to Norway where they were deported to Athens. I met them on their first day out of prison where they had spent 3 months in a room with 17 other criminals. They are still not believers, but it was refreshing to see them playing apart and laughing. In the past (even last summer) they would never play out of eyesight of the other (which was quite a challenge at camp when we didn't let boys and girls sleep together). They normally spend their days alone in their apartment while their mother works. Their older (16 year) old sister (who did not come) watches them.

We had a pleasant day in the sea. The children didn't want to play the games we planned, although the young men from the nest (our temporary shelter) found the soccer ball and played a game. We had souflaki for dinner and then the kids went back in the water for a short time before story time (my big moment). The next thing I knew, teammate Carolyn is carrying a limp 9 year old girl and laying her by her mother with her dad running close behind. She had swum out too far and got tired and just went under. It turned out eventually she was OK, but even with her dad in the water, no one was close enough to keep it from happening. That sort of broke up our little party and we never got to story time. What a strange way to end the day. It could have been so much worse.

This morning I got to the ARC and the gate to the stoa would not go up. It has a motor that died. I thought we would have to close today, but eventually 7 men working together were able to push it up. We opened (late), but there were very few refugees today. After I got home, I heard that there was violence outside our door last night and that many refugees didn't feel safe coming today--maybe we should have stayed closed. However, I'm glad we didn't.

With so few families there, I had a lot of time to spend with the ones that were. I had a great day. I might have missed shaking hands with an Afghani 3 year old who greets me with a giant smile and a warm "salaam" every time I see him. I would have missed giving a toothbrush to a homeless woman who had her things stolen and missed the conversation I had with her about how Jesus is setting her free from her past and healing her negative thoughts. I think someday soon she might be able to go back to work and rebuild her life. I also would have missed seeing my favorite toddler climb on the table, pick up a mug of ice water and quickly dump it on teammate, Becky's head before his mom or I could grab it out of his hand. I had to cover my face because I was laughing so hard and she was trying to discipline him sternly. Moments like that are priceless.

We showed the Passion today and many were intentlyly watching the entire movie because it was finally quiet enough to hear the words.

I think any minute it may start raining. I can hear the thunder from the warm summer storm. It has been a strange 2 days, but I would not change a thing.

A Walk Across the Room

I'm reading a book by this name by Bill Hybels. I picked up the book off the shelf because I was profoundly impacted by the way a refugee woman introduced herself to my daughter. She said, "your mother was my first friend at Helping Hands". Friend? I sat with her and for the first 6 weeks for a hour at the end of each day without speaking because we didn't have any common language. She was a widow. Her husband killed by his brothers for being a follower of Jesus. She was not a follower of Jesus. She was angry at Christians. Alone with 3 children to provide for and unable to work, in a strange country where she didn't speak the language. I sat with her because she was the only woman sitting alone and I didn't want her to be alone. All of this to say, I've been challenged by Bill and by Benafsha to "walk across the room".

On Saturday, my first walk across the room took me into conversation with a 17 year old Afghani refugee with a 15 year old wife who was 7 months pregnant. They had just been deported from Belgium back to Greece and he needed a job and an apartment and someone to help him. I remembered them from when they had been here in the fall. The only Greek speaker we had available was Emiliano, so Emiliano helped him read the want ads. He made some calls and found him an apartment for 150 euros a month (half the rate my refugee friend Maryam is paying). This was definitely a God thing. Next he needs a job.

I met another Afghani family who had just come the night before from Turkey. Their smuggler pushed them off the boat off shore, soaking what little they owned. Now the children were wet and sick (the smallest was 18 months?) and the mom had a cough. Doctors for the World is closed on Saturday. Susie found them dry clothes and some kleenex. We also gave them some groceries. The doctor will have to wait until Tuesday.

Another Afghani family we have known for a while came in. The mom asked for food. She never asks for anything. The husband is out of work or didn't get paid for the work he did and she had nothing to feed the kids (who are too thin to begin with). We asked her to wait until we closed. In the mean time, her little boy, Mati was very cranky. Afghani children and Arabic children play together at Helping Hands, even though their parents won't sit together. This cute little egyptian girl (she is in the slide show in Jenni's arms) eventually tells her mom that Mati is hungry. Her mom opens her purse (think Mary Poppins, bottomless carpetbag) and pulls out 5 trays (4 x 6 inches, maybe 2 inches deep) of rice, vegies and chicken. She walks across the room and gives them to Mati's mom who shares them with the other 5 ladies without husbands and they feast together. Even I tried a bite. Eastern hospitality would let me be completely left out. It seemed so impossible that on this day when we didn't have enough staff to serve food, that we would have so many hungry people (which really is rare) and that the christian Egyptian lady would feed them out of her purse. We sent Mati's mom home with a bag of groceries too.

Jesus took a walk across the room and engaged the woman at the well in conversation initially about nothing more than water. He crossed all sorts of cultural barriers just speaking with her. I have to remind myself that it is OK from time to time to speak to a refugee man with a problem (like this 17 year old with a wife...I usually only speak with Muslim women, because women don't speak with men to whom they are not related) or to hang out with women with whom I have no common language. God can use it as a beginning. My friend Benafsha eventually learned a good deal of English and she became a believer and real friend who broke my heart when she left for Belgium a few weeks ago. I am praying that she will find her 15 year old daughter Jollie who went a month before her. They need to be together and God is good. I believe that with all my heart.

Take a risk. Do what the Holy Spirit prompts you to do. Walk across a room and e-mail me your story. I'd love to hear about it.

1 Year in Athens

We arrived in Athens 1 year ago on July 5th, 2007. I recently changed the picture of me on my blog, because the work picture from ECCU no longer seems to fit who I am [as aptly pointed out by my visiting daughter who took the new picture]. I thought I'd miss my career of 29 years more than I do. I miss the people, but find the challenge of working cross culturally very rewarding. I think I am more patient than I was a year ago. "Slowly-Slowly" [siga-siga] is some sort of national motto here, nothing happens quickly and I mean nothing at all. I've learned to be content without air-conditioning, my own bed, my microwave, garbage disposal, dishwasher, television and my driver's license. [I guess technically, I still have one in America, but I haven't registered for an international license, so I can't drive here.] Someday soon, I will have all of that back, but I won't need it. It will be the blessing of a loving God on my life. His gift.

Culture shock is different than I thought it might be. I guess, like everyone, I thought maybe I'd skip it, because I really do like Greece, the culture, the food, the weather and I can communicate enough to get by. I didn't expect to be continually sick (I was really healthy living in America) or prone to depression when not feeling well enough to work. I probably could have been healthier, if I'd chosen to spend more time working in the kitchen washing refugee tea cups in bleach water and less time snuggling sick children in my arms and letting them breathe in my face, but God has placed a love for the children in my heart. I've also discovered, I'm very dependent on internet access with my own kids. If I have access, I can live away from them. Without it, I am miserable. I don't think I am tough enough to have been a missionary even 20 years ago.

I'm thinner (more walking and lots of fresh fruits, vegetables). I'm more tan (mostly a "bus stop" tan, but I certainly see more sun than I ever did working inside an office). I've become more people oriented. I can hardly sit at the computer for more than an hour without itching to get up and go talk with someone I just processed tickets for. When I do the computer it is usually with a small child in my lap, helping me by touching all the wrong keys and making the whole thing take twice as long, which is why I am not the first choice to work the computer, even though I'm fast. I ride public transportation and like it. I'm a missionary. That still seems sort of un-real, something that other people do and I just admire.

I wonder what year 2 will be like?

Monday, Monday....

Because Saturday is a working day, Monday is a "day off". This is the day you are supposed to get everything done so that the rest of your week you can focus on what you are really supposed to be doing.

Today did not get off to a very ambitious start. We got in from seeing the new Indiana Jones movie at 11:30 pm the night before, so we slept in a bit (so much for having time to mop all the floors this week). I put clothes in the washer which even if you wash with cold water takes 1-1/2 hours to wash. [If you want hot water it takes 3 hours because the machine heats the water. The good news is that I think european washers get your clothes cleaner than american washing machines.] With 1-1/2 hours to stick close to the house, I washed my hair, ate breakfast, washed dishes (by hand), watered my flower boxes and baked banana bread from the bananas that were probably on their last day of life. I checked my e-mail and about then the washer finished. I hung my laundry on a drying rack on the balcony in the warm 85 degree spring sunshine, blessing God that my laundry would be dry today and not day after tomorrow like it is in the rainy season.

We haven't owned a car for almost a year now, and we haven't borrowed one for a month. It is time to do the "big" shopping that takes up too much space and weight to carry on the bus, so we borrowed our neighbor's car. We walked around the block to Sam and Fran's house bringing our plastic bags from the last month with us to pick up the car. The refugee that lives with them weaves the bags into placemats and doormats. We also have with us our permanent nylon grocery bags which are much easier to pack than the plastic stuff they give you and in Greece you always pack your own groceries and in some stores, you buy your own bags.

We stopped at the pharmacy to pick up a perscription. We arrive at the grocery store and put our 1 euro coin into the gizmo on the basket to release it (sort of a deposit to make people return the baskets). Today our store is Carrfoure. It is a big chain French grocery store, similar to anything you might see in America except for the part where you have to have your produce weighed and labeled with a price sticker by someone in the produce section before you check out and in the fact that you can't ever really buy everything you want in one store if you are american and cook american. While I shop, Kenn hikes up the hill to the electronic store to buy a cord to connect our DVD player to the TV a teammate has loaned us while they are on furlough. TV is another luxury we haven't owned for almost a year. This is kind of our experiment with Greek TV to see if we really want to buy one and be more connected particularly to the local news.

On the way home, we stop at the plant store and look at pots for the rose bush our recent guests bought me, but I didn't find one I liked. Too bad, it will be heavy to carry the pot and potting soil on the bus from another store another day. Kenn drops me down the hill at the bakery to buy bread while he drives the groceries home. Grocery stores don't sell the good bread and what they sell is expensive. By the time I get home at 2 pm with warm bread, he has put the groceries away.

Grocery stores also don't sell lunch meat and it has been a month since I have been to the German specialty store (Lydl) that does. After lunch I take the bus to Lydl (because we returned the car). This is a 30 minute bus ride each way, but we now own lunch meat enough for a month if I freeze some, good cheese (parmesean and gouda) and the good jelly and a new toothbrush that was on special. By now it is 5:30 and Kenn has taken the train into the city to meet teammates who need a photo taken of their family and I have time to "blog".

Everything takes a long time here. Life just moves at a slower pace and eventually you learn to be OK with getting something done even if it isn't everything. All of this shopping and I still didn't buy fruits or vegetables--that is a Tuesday errand. That stuff you buy at the open market in our neighborhood called the "liaiki". I also forgot to buy milk.....somethings never change....