Return

A quick update for everyone. I left Athens Tuesday morning in the wee hours, and now after almost 24 hours I am home safe and sound, back home again in Indiana. I was flying delta, which in case you haven't heard had a complete meltdown Sunday night. It made all of the airports I passed through considerably more chaotic, but I made it through without missing any planes. I had two layovers in Paris and Minneapolis, and my Paris to Minneapolis flight was heavily delayed, but it gave me some extra time to get through security and I was able to reschedule my connecting flight afterwards well in advance. Everything worked out, and now I'm home and ready for bed! Goodnight everyone!

Countdown

The countdown in my head has officially begun. I'm typing this Saturday night, and I only have 9 more days left in Greece. I don't know when I will have the Wi-Fi to post this, (our router is down), but whenever you read this I will be even closer to leaving, to flying home. The clock is ticking in the back of my brain, and it's so weird to think that I'm getting close to the end of this grand adventure.  Back in the states my family has already gone back to school, and summer is slowly preparing to draw to a close for me as well...

But not yet.
Part of the penultimate trend in my thoughts is due to how many people have already left. Of the five intern girls who were together at our maximum, Danae and Kayla have already left, and Bri is preparing to leave Monday morning.
On the other side of the scales however, we have gained one extra intern, Susie, a young elementary school teacher from northern Ireland. It's fun how much a different accent livens our apartment up. She got here Sunday, and she's here for three weeks, so she will be leaving just a few days after Betty and me. In the meantime she gets to put up with us dragging her around Athens to show her all the cool places we've found over our stay.
She also gets to discover new places with us. This week we finally got to go on our two official Kenn tours. Kenn is the short term team supervisor for helping hands. He's a retired firefighter from California with a bible college degree, who knows an incredible amount about the bible and the cultures where it was originally written and read. Since about week three he's been promising to take us to see the Roman agora and mars hill where Paul would have visited on his trip to Athens. He's also been promising us a day trip to Corinth, where 1st and 2nd Corinthians are addressed. This week, we finally worked out our schedules to do both.

Disclaimer, you may want to have acts 17 and 18 handy for some of this.
Tuesday after work was mars hill, where Paul preached in Athens. It was the four of us interns (Bri, Betty, Susie, and I), Kenn, and a group of three ladies from Nebraska that are also at helping hands for a few weeks. We started at the bottom at the Roman agora. We learned the word "stoa", a covered walkway or porch such as in an outdoor mall, which was also a feature of the Jewish temple. We saw the area where Paul probably really met the court of religious leaders since their meeting place had probably been moved downhill by the time of Paul's arrival. Then we climbed up mars hill to see the plaque where people act like Paul preached and to enjoy the view of the city and the acropolis. Finally, just for fun we hiked up the hill next door to enjoy the sunset before getting dinner. It was a lot of walking, but I enjoyed it, and most of all I enjoyed Kenn's teaching.  All the way up and down Kenn was telling us about the bible. He was talking about the old testament and how Jesus and later Paul used old testament imagery. He discussed greek and Roman culture, and what the city was like when Paul arrived, what specific thing he saw and why he said and did some of the things he did.
Today (Sarurday) proceeded we went to Corinth, and it proceeded in a similar fashion. The biggest difference was that we had all day, and instead of two hills we climbed one mountain. It was hot work, but the view was incredible.  Kenn has clearly put a lot of thought and effort into understanding scripture, and he offered such richness out of verses that never stood out before. To be able to look around at the street where the Corinthian synagogue was located, to read acts 18 again and wonder which of these houses   Paul stayed in, that was a really cool feeling and it was all the better for learning from Kenn that Corinth marked the first place where Paul started a church that was not part of the synagogue. The first time that the news were called out rather than the gentiles were called in. It is a shift that I had never noticed, and might never have noticed without Kenn's experience. The whole day was a blessing.

Greece has taught me a lot of cool things, but as it begins to wrap up, I realize anew just how much I am bringing home with me. So many new experiences and new understandings that I can't wait to share with all of you in person back at home.  The clock is ticking his countdown, but I don't care because I am still going to choose to look forwards with joy to what God has waiting around the bend for me to learn about Him.

A Dramatic Change of Heart

There are a lot of things that need done on a typical day at helping hands. Some jobs are assigned by habit. Lisa, (one of the Lisas at least), is the undisputed authority of the baby room. Other duties, such as staff devotions, are rotated among the permanent and semi-permanent staff.  Today I finally had my turn at one of these rotating jobs, planning and running the lesson for the kids room.

In some ways it's less significant than it might sound. I've helped in the kids room plenty of times, and I've even helped others plan and prep the classroom activities. Overall it's a very low pressure job. Tell a bible story (via interpreter), have a craft or activity for the kids to do that's somehow related, and then let them play games and just keep the peace until their parents are ready to go. We do a lot of coloring, cutting, and glueing in general.

I signed up a couple weeks ago, so the fact that I would be doing a story had been in the back of my mind for awhile, and as I sat down to plan my lesson, I realized that the story that was on my heart to tell was the conversion of Saul. It's not to most common of Sunday school lessons, but it's a story that I really enjoy, and that I really wanted to share with the kids at helping hands.

I didn't have everything ready the night before, but we have an hour and a half on Tuesday morning to get things ready before everyone arrives. As I was discussing the story with Bri, I mentioned how dramatic it is. Saul is the epitome of a villain, zealously hunting down Christians to arrest or kill them. And then, despite all narrative expectation, Jesus appears to him, not to curse or kill Saul, but to redeem Saul, and send him out into the world as the first and ultimate missionary of Jesus' resurrection. It's so dramatic, I wondered if we could somehow get the kids to act it out, and them Bri said that, "Hey, isn't one of the other volunteers a theater major?" Sure enough, we hunted down Mallorie, a soon-to-be theater major who is part of a short term team from New Jersey, here for two weeks, and the next thing I know, Mallorie and I are planning out how we are going to perform a skit of the conversion of Saul for twenty or so kids.
It was so fun!  I had been a bit anxious about my story choice. The conversion of Saul is rich, and dramatic, and meaningful, but it's not simple, and it's not particularly easy to explain or hear sometimes. With a skit though, I felt like we were doing the story justice, and at the same time doing something more fun and interesting to the kids than a simple story book.
Calvin, one of the guys from the New Jersy team, was our Saul, Mallorie played Ananias, the man who Jesus sends to heal Saul, and I was the narrator/disembodied voice of God. That's not a job description you get to use every day. Cavin did a great job, and was a great sport about kind of getting dragged into it without a lot of preparation. Mallorie was so helpful planing everything out, and getting excited with me about it, and I think she had a lot of fun putting on a face paint beard. As of me, this was exactly what I wanted to do for my lesson. We had head coverings for the two actors, two chairs for Saul's house in Damascus and Ananias' house, and I had a pair of flashlights to be the "bright light" and my cupped hands to be a booming voice from heaven. I think our skit was over 80% narration instead of dialogue, and the run time was probably at least 25% made up of "Saul" stomping around and grunting. It was simple. It was sloppy. It was literally thrown together in less than an hour, and the kids were enthralled. I was a little too focused on pacing my words for the translator to watch the kids closely, but for once I didn't notice anyone fidgeting or bouncing in their chair. They were watching. Our translator was a ten year old Afgahn girl, whose dad helps around helping hands and sometimes leads the kids lesson himself. She was really nervous about the whole thing, but she did a wonderful job, and I am so proud of her.
Once our skit was over I summed up the message a little bit, and then passed out supplies for our craft. We colored paper plates to make masks of Saul. One side was angry Saul, before he met Jesus, and the other side was happy Saul, afterwards. The kids finished that somewhat sooner than expected, and we played games for awhile and then wound up watching tom and jerry at the very end. Slapstick us universal.

I had a lot of fun putting everything together, but more than anything else I hope the kids understood the message I was trying to share. God can forgive anyone. He doesn't just grudgingly accept sinners, he chooses to seek out even people who hate Him, who are angry at Him, so that He can change their heart and use them to do His good work. In Athens I've heard a lot of stories about Jesus appearing to Muslims in dreams. It may seem strange to us, but in Muslim culture, that is one way that God is at work, revealing himself to His children. Saul's journey: from proud and angry and rule-focused, to overwhelmed and blinded by Jesus' decision to chase after and love him, to joyful follower of the Lord, Saul's journey reminds me a lot of what hundreds and thousands of Muslims are experiencing right now. I hope it resonates also in the hearts that heard it. God is at work here in Athens and everywhere in the refugee community, pursuing His children I order to change their hearts as only He can do. How blessed am I to get to perform however small a role in His great story.

Compare, Contrast, and Cooking

Hi everybody. I know it's been a while since I've posted. I know this because it's apparently been so long that mom felt the need to text me a ladybug emoji to "bug" me to update. When mom breaks out a ladybug, you know I must be late. It's only been, what, a week, almost two. Wait, two full weeks? Really? Oops, that's longer than I meant.  So basically, sorry it's been awhile, but I'm fine, and I'm back. So, on with the blogging!

First of all, we are all officially back at helping hands. Some of went back Faros today as a Thursday, our flexible day, but most of the time we are back in the groove, working at helping hands all week and exploring Greece over the weekends.  This weekend was actually kind of quiet for me because I wasn't feeling super well, but I also wasn't feeling super miserable, so I stayed home and did nothing but rest all afternoon on Sunday, and that helped a lot. Then Monday of course was the Fourth of July. (Speaking of which, happy belated Independence Day to everyone back in the states!) Monday is already a helping hands meeting/fellowship day, so the entire team went to Kenn and Lisa's apartment for meeting first, and the proud tradition of burgers, pitch in, and chitchat afterwards. It's actually rather funny, since at least half of the team are Finnish, Greek, or some other nationality, and many have never even set foot in the states! They were all wonderful sports, and tagged along for the fun. Some of the Finnish kids were probably the most patriotic people there, playing around with the small American flags and singing along to pandora patriotic radio.
The interns contributed by bringing desserts.  Bri, Danae, and Kayla all got up Monday morning (earlier than me, but that's not saying much!) and made one pan of brownies and a couple of containers worth of red and blue cupcakes with white icing. The cupcakes were even gluten-free, so that Bri could enjoy them.  The results were lovely, and pretty tasty too!  The brownies were darker, rather than super sweet, but they were rich, and went great with Lisa's home-made ice cream. Yay! The cupcakes on the other hand were so sweet that they were hard to finish, but good enough that you wanted to try. They tasted just like sugar cookies in cake form.
After dinner we went up to the roof to enjoy the view. We didn't have any fireworks, alas, but we did have he natural beauty of God's splendid sunset to enjoy.
It's so funny to celebrate the Fourth of July, the American holiday of all holidays, when I'm in a completely different country, but it also feels kind of appropriate. I may be far from home, but my freedoms and heritage as an American absolutely came with me. For one thing, my perspective on all the new cultures I'm experiencing, both greek and middle eastern, is intrinsically shaped and shaded by my past experiences in America. Discovery of something new by default seems to imply comparison, if only to establish that this is something new. It is not the same as anything discovered in the past. For example, I've had chicken, and pita bread, and French fries, and lettuce before, but I never had a real greek chicken gyro until I arrived here. New experience, but one that I can also compare by noticing that gyros serve the purpose of burgers or fast food in the states. They are everywhere, cheap, and portable, while McDonalds is is a relatively rare sight. Comparison. I think that it's interesting, without ruining the interest or excitement of discovery. "What is different?" seems like the most fascinating and enjoyable questions for a traveler, arriving or returning, and it is a question that bridges countries rather than separates them. This is the beautiful country I come from. This is the beautiful country that I get to visit. ISN'T IT COOL!!!

Ok, past the philosophy and on to a completely different topic, I did try something new this week at helping hands. I finally worked in the kitchen. I've popped into the kitchen to help on different days, but this past Tuesday was the first day that I specifically volunteered for the kitchen to be there all day. Usually I've been with the kids, the babies, or just a floater, so kitchen was change. First observation: it's a lot less social. Kind of a nice break. Second observation: it's a lot of work.
Tuesday is a meal day, so I was helping regular cook Donna and her regular helpers Kristi (Finnish, staff person) and Ella (Greek, volunteers weekly) dish up a full meal. The oven is out, so we were serving "sandwiches", fries, feta, and two hard boiled eggs with the normal non bread and greek salad (aka, veggies). Not what I would call a typical sandwich, but tasty all the same. That meant boiling something like 300 eggs, frying a huge mountain of fries, and once things were cooked, dishing three different components onto 130 plates and topping them with the equivalent of a soft taco shell. My assistance with the hot cooking part was limited with so many experts around, but dishing up was a little hectic. In a lot of ways I just asked for a job and then did it, weather that was dishing out bread, sweeping the floor, or chasing Ella away so that I could carry the heavy rack of plates from dishwasher to table to dry, because she apparently has a bad back and those plates are heavy! It was exactly the sort of meaningful grunt work that I enjoy doing, and it was fun, but it was definitely strange to be so secluded. I saw the whole group of refugees at a glance maybe twice when I stepped out of the kitchen for something. By the end of the day when we were finished cleaning, there were only a few families and maybe half an hour left. The biggest interaction I had was picking a 2-year old girl up so that she could look over the balcony railing at the cats down in the alley with me. It was cute. It was also maybe five minutes of complete seclusion with the two of us and a lot of cat noises. Fun times.
Overall, different is the word I keep applying to my day in the kitchen. I enjoyed it a lot, and will probably do it again, but I also probably won't do it every day for the rest of the trip. After all, I came to both help, and learn, and I also like being out and about where I can meet new people and learn their lives a little bit better every day.

A Change of Venue - Faros

It's been a long week for me, but also a good one. This week most of the staff at helping hands is busy at family camp, a sort of summer camp experience for believing or partially believing refugee families. It's a multi-organization event, and it's much more focused and intensive than normal. Kayla, our guide intern who was here last year, left for camp Tuesday, but there wasn't room or work for all of us, so the rest of us interns stayed in Athens and have been working for a different refugee support organization called Faros instead.
Here's the background info on Faros. It' was started a couple of years ago by a couple of people from Denmark to help unaccompanied minors in Greece. There are a lot of kids, almost all boys, under the age of 16 living in Greece alone without parents or guardians. Some of them have lost their families to war, while others have families still living in the Middle East who sent their oldest boy east, in the hope that he would be able to find a better future in Europe and perhaps help his family gain admittance later on. A lot of these boys congregate in groups in Victoria park, and Faros owns a building a few blocks away where they offer kids a safe place to stay and play during the day. They also offer a variety of services to help kids figure out what to do next, where to find services or seek asylum, how to reunite with families they may have been separated from, and what steps they can take to build a brighter future for themselves. It's a really cool ministry that reaches out to a very vulnerable demographic.

It also has almost nothing to do with what we the interns have been doing.

Instead, the four of us are working with Faros' brand new hope center facility. Their hope center works with families, particularly women and children, and they just (mostly) completed work next door on a shower facility where they can offer showers and serve tea and cookies while the women wait their turn. It's like women's shower day at helping hands, except newer, and it happens every day instead of once a week. That is where our group has been helping out all week.
This is actually the first week of showers for the hope center too. The facility is brand new, and they only opened last Friday. Monday was a greek national holiday, so on Tuesday when we came to work, we got to jump into the group's second full day of figuring out how this is all going to work. It's really cool to get to be a part of starting this ministry off, especially since we've seen how showers work at helping hands, and what a great environment can be produced. It can also be a little stressful figuring out what we can offer and what we can't, but I certainly enjoy the fresh perspective of a new ministry and a different group of people.
There are usually at least 3 Faros people working at any given time. We have exactly one guy who speaks Farsi, Arash, and he sits at the door and greets people. He takes the name of each woman who comes and the number of kids she has who are showering with her, and then he gives her a number. First come, first served.  Another Faros lady sits near the front with him at the information desk. She is available to help refugees find other services and organizations that they need, and she can explain the process of petitioning for asylum. The third lady is in charge of the kids. There is also someone different in charge every day, but so far the supervisors often drift back to the building around the corner during the day, so we are mostly on our own. We also had two other volunteers our first two days, but then they had to move on to their next destination.
Two volunteers will be in charge of the showers, one or two run the tea and cookie department, and everybody else hangs out with the kids and/or chats with the ladies that come.  I have drifted into a role as snack lady/child are assistant.
I really like having the clearly defined refreshments job. Every time someone new comes in, I make sure that there is a plate of cookies on their table, and I swing by to ask if they want some tea or water, "chai" or "ab." Then, I come through periodically and check if anyone want a refill. I say the word "chai" a lot of times over the course of the day, nod have a lot of conversations that are made up of one or two words repeated with excessive gesturing until the other person understands. Someone does want tea. Someone else doesn't want tea, but would like more cookies. Someone would like sugar to put in their tea. Someone wishes I would stop offering them tea already because they are fasting for Ramadan. Whoops. Got it.
It is pretty basic, but it feels pretty helpful. I know what I have to offer, and I give it. I smile a lot. I don't do a ton of chatting, or hear a lot of women's stories beginning to end, but I serve a lot of warm drinks, and I do my best to make them feel welcome. These women have On my way! A long way, and a lot of them work hard to take care of their families in very difficult circumstances, with very few resources. But when they walk into our center, for a couple of hours I get to serve them. It makes me happy, and I hope it gives them a chance to rest.
The other role that I've drifted into at Faros is helping with the kids. In particular, I feel like I've gotten a reputation if only in my own head as a wrangler for overly energetic boys. There is one family who has come I every day so far, a woman with five kids, one older teenage girl, one younger teenage girl, and three rambunctious boys ranging from maybe 12 down to 3 years old. They are sweet, but boy are they a handful. I couldn't enjoy playing with them more. Yesterday they hung around until the end, and once everything wound down, and almost no one was left in the center, I started chasing them. Tearing after all three boys all around the room, catching each one to tickle him, and then releasing him to go after another one. I even managed to pull another little boy into it too. He was just standing and watching our antics, until I started poking his belly every time I ran by. After a couple of times of that, he was running too, but with a great big grin plastered all over his face.
Working at Faros is a lot less structured, or organized, than helping hands, but that also means that it's a lot more flexible, and that I get to create structure and organization as I see fit. I get to come up with simple and active games that will keep these boys' attention, and figure out how often to put out cookies and play around with where to put my supplies in the cabinet. It's fun.
The roles that I've taken on myself are not big and they aren't flashy. I don't think for a minute that I'm irreplaceable, or that I'm changing the entire course of anybody's life, but I hope that I'm contributing a little bit of joy to everyone I meet. I came to Greece so that God could use me. I don't think that He's been speaking through my voice or through my words very much this week, because I haven't used the very much, but I hope and believe that He is working through my smile. That He is working through my patience with a dozen requests even as he teaches me to be patient. That He is working through my hands as I pour drinks and arrange cookies, and through my fingers as I tickle kids or toss an inflatable beach ball back and forth with a girl who looked left out. To me my actions seems so small, but I am trying to trust God that He is mighty and merciful and that He is big enough to work through my insignificant actions. Some days that is easier to remember than others, and some days I also need to trust God enough to push past my discomfort and go ahead and have some long possibly awkward conversations, but first and for most I need to put my actions into His hands.

Ps. Faros' website can be found at http://www.faros.org.gr if you are interested. It doesn't have a ton of information about the new shower facility, but it gives you at least a little bit of an idea what their organization is.

Greek Dramas

Ok, so, it's been a week since I posted. It's been a very busy and full week, and I couldn't possibly fit all the stories I want to share into one post, but I thought I'd set down a few of the highlights to share while they are still fresh in my mind.

First of all, Naxos. Last Saturday we all got up at painful o'clock to catch our ferry out to the island of Naxos. It was the four of us interns, Kayla, Bri, Danae, and myself, and Lidia, the 18-year-old daughter of two helping hands staff people who we had met the week before. The biggest drama of the trip undoubtably arrived later that afternoon. We had arranged with Callie, a very kind greek lady from helping hands, to stay at her summer house on Naxos for the weekend, so after lunch in the port town, we set out. The lady at the bus office looked at our hand drawn map from Callie and told us that we could absolutely get to that location by bus, just take that bus to the last stop and it will only be about a 20 minute walk down the beach. Yes, that bus, the one that's leaving in 10 minutes, so you'd better decide quickly. With such confidently delivered advice, we felt no qualms promptly paying and hopping on the bus. Lidia even remarked that "Greeks walk slowly, so we could probably do it in 10 minutes instead of 20."  With great enthusiasm we hopped off the vehicle at the last stop, picked up our bags, and set off , making plans about what we would do when we reached the house.

We did not reach the house after 10 minutes of walking.

We did not reach the house after 20 minutes of walking either.

We did not even reach the house after an entire hour of walking along first the sandy beach, and the dusty and winding road that followed. Instead, we reached a supermarket, that appeared to be the first landmark between us, and the house.
All in all in took us two and a half hours of hiking, five or six different individuals or groups of people stopped and asked directions of, including a very helpful potato farmer, and one final slog up the steepest hill I've ever seen a road on before we reached our fabled destination. Poor Lidia was the only one to pack a suitcase instead of a backpack, and she forgot her water bottle at our apartment in Athens to boot.

My reaction:
The journey from bus to beds was long, it was grueling, and it might have been prevented if we had found the right bus/stop/mode of transportation in the first place, but we made it. Nobody fainted from heatstroke.  Nobody got mad and shouted and ruined the rest of the trip with sulking or hurt feelings, Nd we never even turned the wrong way, the distance between points A and B just turned out to be a lot longer than expected, but again, we made it. And hey, now it makes for a pretty great story, doesn't it?

Highlights from Naxos, because it wouldn't be fair to only include the speed bumps, number one was renting four wheelers! Clearly after our earlier misadventure, our feet were not sufficient transportation for Naxos, and nobody wanted to get on board another bus, so instead the five of us rented 3 four wheelers, or quads, whatever you weird people want to call them, and took off for a Saturday filled with adventures! The positive kind! We went swimming, we toured a castle, and we found some really great places to eat, and just as the icing on the cake, on Monday we had all day before our return ferry left at 6, so I got to climb a mountain (really big hill, but who's measuring) pretty much just because it was there. Rick, if you're reading this I hope you're proud. It was glorious, and we all pretty much passed out from exhaustion when we got back to our Athens beds at midnight that night.

Back in our normal stomping grounds on Tuesday we found plenty more to roll with. Intern number 5, our last, long awaited sister arrived at helping hands on Tuesday around 2 or 3pm. She has been a great sport about jumping aboard our metaphorical moving train, and didn't even get out of sorts over the fact that the first thing we did after she got there was pack up all our stuff, clean our Neos Kosmos apartment that she never slept in, and move back to our original apartment building one floor up. Not exactly the exciting greek life, nor particularly peaceful for the jet lagged and vacation weary, but she kept up like a champ.

Since then it's been a full week of ever busy work at helping hands, settling into a new apartment for good this time, and introducing Betty to the city. Today for example, after work we went to Monastaraki for gelato and shopping/exploration. Monastaraki (correct spelling pending) kind of reminds me of Times Square in New York. It's cliche and loud, a little bit overpriced, and totally centered around tourists, but that also means it's fun. There are a million shops with every kind of souvenir you've ever imagined and many more that you haven't. There are people everywhere from all sorts of countries speaking all sorts of languages to watch and listen to. There are street performers and hustlers and really genuine greek food, the stuff that every visitor has to try sitting at a crowded little sidewalk table with no elbow room. You can't stay there forever, it will make your head spin if you let it, but it also is one of the most colorful and alive destinations you can find, where tourists and locals jostle one another in the street to watch a pair of fire eaters or get to the best gelato place they've found. I love it.
Just this afternoon Monastaraki handed us a very... Iconic adventure that reminds me of the place it's self.  Kayla and I were perusing a display from the street, when a Greek man recognized Kayla's t-shirt referencing her college. He asked her about it, and said something about having family in the at area, and where did she come from, and how about me, where am I from. Indiana? Oh, my nephew studies at Purdue. You too? Small world! Huzzah for America! And with that he went on his way. Kayla and I kind of smiled about it, and kept shopping, but the best part was yet to come.
Later, Bri and I were trailing the rest of the group a bit when we passed this man's little t-shirt store. The man recognized me and shouted at me. "Hey Indiana girl! Come in. Let me show you a little piece of Purdue. Inside I discovered that he had an entire curtain made of faded business cards. They were all shaped and sizes, stapled together in strands and each one labeled with a state abbreviation. He showed me two marked "IN" including one bona fide Purdue staff business card. "These are all my family. I have family all over the United States."
Then he called Bri in, mistaking her for Kayla. "Hey, California girl! You come in to. Let me show you too." Bri corrected him that she was from Colorado, but by now the rest of the girls had circled back and they all came in together. The man was so happy, and such a fast talker! Where are you all from, he asked, and then he asked Betty, whose parents are Mexican, if she was greek. No, Mexican, she told him. Ah, I should have guessed, but you look like a Greek goddess, and then he actually pinched her checks! Then of course he had to make the full rounds with complements on all of of our appearances how beautiful we all were with face squashing or cheek kisses or something of that nature. It was kind of weird, but it was also completely and utterly hilarious. Maybe I'm biased. By the time we left he had called me his favorite and said that next time I came he would let me pick out one of his sons so I could be his daughter in law.
He whole thing was ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous  but in an over the top welcoming way. He saw we were Americans. He loves Americans. He loved the fact that he got to talk to Americans and share his love of America with us, in a very very greek manner. It could have been creepy. Maybe some of the other girls thought it was at least more than I did, but as we all walked away, we all started laughing. Loud, ridiculous laughter at the loud and ridiculous thing that had just happened to us.
What can I say? Welcome to Greece.

Check In from Naxos

We made it safely to the island of Naxos, and are having a good time. We are having lots of adventures, and will have many stories to share when we get back. Have a good weekend everybody!

Snapshot Joys

I never have time to type up all the stories I want to share, but i will keep on putting up what pieces I can manage to squeeze in between serving and exploring and as of today, moving.
Yeah, news flash, the apartment in Ilioupoli where I've been staying in with the other interns is closed down for a week for the land lady's wedding, so we checked out this morning, and are staying in a helping hands owned apartment in Neos Kosmos for a week, then moving back to the same building, different (nicer) apartment next Tuesday. You can look up the sites on the metro map here, they are both on the red line. It's a hassle, but on the bright side, it gives us an excuse to visit an island this weekend while we aren't paying rent! Woohoo! That adventure is yet to come. Meanwhile we sent our suitcases over last night, and carried our overnight stuff to helping hands this morning and then to the new apartment on the metro. Everyone has warned us about how small this new apartment is, but funnily enough, it turns out that now that we are here it's obvious that this apartment is larger than our last one! Also, now we have an actual stove and oven rather than the weirdest combo mini stove/oven/microwave thing I've ever seen. Looks like we are moving up in the world!

On to more serious matters. I think my new favorite game is catch.  Today is a Wednesday, which means women's shower day at helping hands.  It means a smaller than normal crowd, about 12-15 women with their kids who come to take turns in the shower and just relax and let their hair down, literally! On Wednesdays no men are aloud in the building, so the women can take off their headscarves and wraps.  It's a much quieter and more relaxed atmosphere that I really enjoy. We don't have a structured kids program usually, just a bunch of toys in the middle of the big room floor, and there will be a meal and then a bible lesson at some point during the day that are the only events.
Today we had an even smaller group than normal, either because metro strikes make it a little harder to get around, or because this is the first week of Ramadan, so people may be less interested in traveling downtown while they are fasting.  We also had a short term team with us from California, 5 extra girls, which meant that we could pretty much have two volunteers to every kid if we wanted to. There were plenty of other things to do of course, but it meant that I got to hang out with one kid at a time instead of worrying about crowd control.

Two of he girls were sisters, maybe something like 3 and 6 respectively, and they had the hardest time getting along.  Telling a two or three year old that she has to share is hard. Telling a two or three year old who doesn't speak English feels almost impossible, but we made it work.  At one point early in the day however I got the little girl on her own, and I offered to play catch with her. She loved it so much! We mostly sat on he floor and rolled it back and forth, and anytime the ball got away, she would laugh so loud while she was running to fetch it. She even taught me a new word, bishi: sit, for when I tried to stand up.  We must have played for half an hour, the same thing, back and forth.  I don't know if it was having my undivided attention, or she just really loved the game that much, but I got to make a little girl happy today. It was so wonderful to get to see her joy.
Even if I did also have to later watch her cry because her sister wouldn't give her the toy scooter, no who cares about that identical scooter you're handing to me, my sister is sitting on that scooter right there and I WANT IT! Her sister pulled the same stunt 20 minutes later. I'm so sorry your heart is broken little miss drama queens. It really helped to know that, despite the tantrums, something about today was joyful for those little girls.

My other highlight came later in the day, not with little girls, but with two boys that were probably about 8 years old.  I looked up, and saw the two of them were playing soccer in the hallway using an old volleyball that was flat enough not to hurt.  One of the girls from California, Hannah, and I had the same idea, and rather than stop them we turned it into two on two! I won't deny for one minute that it was disruptive, and a little bit risky, but it was also, once again, fun. So many games are hard to explain without a common language, but all of us knew how to play soccer already, and no one was going to throw a fit over rules anyway. The goal was get it past the other team, shout for victory, and then start over again, playing as hard and as fast as we could go. Frequent timeouts were called to allow other people through the only passageway between the showers/front door/office and the main room and kitchen, but I don't think I saw a single scowl, not even from the people who didn't insist on a pause loudly enough and had to dodge both ball and players! We were laughing and sweating and pushing and crowing and all four of us is, refugee and volunteer, were happy about it.

I can't have meaningful conversations with mothers about Jesus in Farsi or Arabic, but I am lucky enough to give some of these kids a little attention and a lot of joy, and lucky enough to get to receive some of that joy as well. A phrase that has really been standing out to me this week has been, "being the hands and feet of Jesus," that idea that when I work and when I serve, my efforts and my gifts are not from myself, but from God who concedes to work through me. Honestly, that just strikes me as amazing, that God can somehow work through my unskilled and careless hands to do his miraculous  and perfect work. Someone commented to me today that this is very practical work I am doing through helping hands, as compared to my more theoretical physics degree, and it is, but it also seems like a very impractical way for God to accomplish a His will. He just chooses to work in such a way as allows me to participate. Not for His sake, but for mine, and I am blessed beyond belief to be a part of His plan.

Starting Out

I've made it through my first week here.
I've learned how to navigate between Helping Hands and our apartment, gotten to know all of my roommates so far, and most importantly gotten to know Helping Hands. 

I got thrown into work first thing Tuesday morning, utterly jet-lagged after getting to the apartment at 1:30am the night before. I had one roommate that night, Kayla who is amazing and has been a wonderful tour guide for myself and the other interns that have trickled in at one day intervals this week. We are up to four girls now. Kayla, me, Bri (short for Brianna), and Danae. One more girl, Betty, will be joining us in two weeks, and hen we will have the complete set!
Anyway, on Tuesday Kayla showed me how to take the metro to the Helping Hands building downtown, and helped show me the ropes once there.
Helping Hands is a full time, year round ministry that serves mainly refugees from Afghanistan and Iran.  As it was explained to me, although Syrians are in the news the most, large international organizations are focusing a lot of effort on working with them, and helping them move into different parts of Europe. Most Syrian refugees don't stay in Greece for very many weeks, but the borders that are open for Syrians are less permeable for Afghans and Persians.  They are likely to stay in Greek refugee camps for many weeks, and it is this group that Helping Hands focuses on reaching. Their goal is to build relationships with refugees by meeting physical needs, in order to offer them the more important satisfaction that is the hope of Christ Jesus.
Most of the refugees that helping hands serves pretty much only speak Farsi or Dari, which are mutually understandable. I now know two words in Farsi: Salam,which is a greeting, and Tasha kor, which is thank you. Nothing else so far has really stuck with me, but it's a work in progress. The language barrier has been a larger challenge than I had expected. On some level I knew that I would be interacting with people who did not understand my language and whose language I also wouldn't understand, but that didn't really sink in until Paris, where instructions and explanations would be offered in French, and then usually in English, if I was lucky. At Helping Hands there are very few translators to go around, which means that I am often on my own to communicate.  Luckily, I've found that some things don't need words, like playing with children.

Tuesday, my first day on the job, Kayla and I (but mostly Kayla unsurprisingly) were asked to run the kids program after the family lunch. It was unusually short notice, but we had a couple hours to pick a story, come up with an activity, and get everything set up. We had a translator, Marta, but she was losing her voice, so she mostly translated the story and left the rest up to us. We decided to do the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000, so we used the prep time to print out lots of baskets, bread, and fish for the kids to color and glue together.
Then it was time for the refugees to arrive.  I stood at the door with four other volunteers to welcome people, and to play with the kids that were finally arriving! Patty-cake and hand games apparently transcend any one culture! The kids were energetic and excited. They were so happy to see us and reminded me so much of every other kid I've babysat, a little bit hyper at the excitement of someone or something new, but so filled with joy and imagination.  After lunch Kayla and I got to herd them all into the kids room.  We sang a few very familiar songs, such as "if you're happy and you know it clap your hands" with new Farsi words that I had to learn, and sat them all down for the story. It was funny. I had expected them to be squirrelly for the story, but they were generally quiet and focused. It was as if they'd never heard the story before, which I realized was probably true. The story that to me feels amost trite, a repetitive callback to my childhood, to these kids that story was brand new and original. It was strange and foreign with a twist ending. That was quite the reminder that these kids aren't growing up in Sunday school. They have a completely different journey than I did at their age, and I only get to be one page  or less in their story, but I am lucky enough to be a part of it.
After story time we handed out the coloring pages and crayons first. The kids took their time getting the right colors. When kids finished coloring and we offered them scissors, some kids were confused at first. I guess we hadn't explained well, but when I would show them my example, and bend the bread and fish to show how I had glued them onto the paper,vtheir faces would get so huge! It was like watching a firework go of in each kids expression, that eureka moment when they understoodnwhat I wanted to show them. When each kid was finished,  they would bring me or Kayla their paper. We would oo and ah and then tape it up on the board with my example in a place of honor for all to see.  That, that was cool. Each picture that I displayed felt like a gift, however small. I cannot solve your problems. I cannot give you a stable home or make sure you have something to eat every single meal, but this, this I can give you. I can love what you make. I can smile at your efforts. And I can tell you that you are special enough to put your artwork on display.
It really isn't much, and it feels really inadequate in comparison to the real meaningful conversations other members of the Helping Hands team can have with these kids' parents about their stories or about God, but this is what I have to offer, and this is something that God can work with. I was thinking about it last night, how little I have to offer, and I was reminded that God's power is made perfect in our weakness. He is the one who is at work in the hearts and minds of these refugees. He is the one at work in this city, and he is the one who chooses to reveal himself sometimes through our weak hands and feeble efforts. What I cannot do, he is able to do in infinite measure, and he is not limited by my flaws or my stumbling blocks, but rejoices in the chance to make his power known.  It is a humbling reminder, but one that I think I need to be able to walk this journey, because if I try to do anything on this trip on my own power, I know that I am going to fall flat on my face, but I can do anything through him who gives me strength.

Speed Bumps and Touchdown - the journey of a thousand steps

Ok, I know everyone is dying to hear the epic tale of my flight delay in Paris, but first, I made it! Right now I am sitting in an apartment in Athens at 7 o'clock in the afternoon, just kind of marveling at it all. I made it. Safe and sound. And now I'm in Greece. Because apparently this is something that Mara does.
I may be living in a funny combination of giddy joy and jetlag. Don't judge.

My first flight went smoothly. In Minneapolis I was a little worried at first that I was running late to my long haul plane, but then I realized that I had gained an hour. Thank you time change.
Boarding went smoothly, and on the plane I made a new best friend, Tim, who is a French education major going to college in Fargo Minnesota. We chatted the entire flight, but I didn't swap names until the very end of the flight. We jumped straight into destinations, etc. and chatted on and off the whole way there about travel and the flight.  The flight itself was smooth and pretty nice. Each person had a screen in the back of the seat in front of them and delta offered a bunch of movies, tv, and music for free, so I watched a couple of TED talks and a movie, the Good Dinosaur. The one thing I didn't do much was sleep, because I was trapped in the center seat of the center aisle and it was neither roomy not comfortable. I managed less than two hours of sleep on the 8 hour flight before they turned the lights back on and started handing out breakfast.
Finally, we got to France.
I would have loved to get a look at France from the air, but between my distance from the nearest window and the clouds and fog that were everywhere I pretty much only got to experience the French airport. Oh well. Not the point of this trip. Our plane arrived almost on time, but it took forever for them to taxi to the terminal and let us off. On paper I had a one hour layover in Paris. By the time I was off the plane I had less than 40 minutes to takeoff and the clock was ticking.
Spoiler alert. I didn't make it.
I cut it close. I made it to security with more than 20 minutes to spare despite having to take an actual subway to get there, but as soon as I hit security everything ground to a screetching halt. The problem didn't seem to be the process. Like in Indianapolis, the actual shoes off, bags through the xray, please step through here part of things was incredibly short. I just had to stand in line 15 minutes to get to do that.  Then, on the other side of the metal detectors the line froze up once again. Security apparently ran every passport through their database, which seems reasonable enough to me, but they clearly did not have enough staff to do it effectively.  The lady in front of me kept trying to complain to personal that she was missing her flight, but one security lady finally just told her more or less, "We can't drag you to the front. Everyone in line in front of you is late and will miss flights." That made me feel a bit better as time slipped by. After finally getting through security, I managed to be only about 20 minutes late. Unfourtunately that was still 20 minutes too late.
Missed airplane. No fun, but I expected some bumps along the way, and mom and dad had prophetically wondered if an hour was long enough to get through customs, so I was not shocked, or panicked. I just wanted to problem solve, reschedule. Unfourtunately, about a hundred other people had the same idea. It I stood in line two hours before I got to talk to someone. After standing in the customer service line for a minute or two, I discovered that the long unmoving line over there, yes the painful looking one without any indication of label in was for flight rescheduling. So I got in line behi,d at least 50 people. Then, about an hour in a man came over and asked a whole section of our line to come with him. There were more service people elsewhere, so we followed like ducklings through the airport, our past the security checkpoint to another desk. Where I waited for another hour.
Thank goodness the actual rescheduling was simple. Next flight leaves Paris at 7pm. Your luggage will be on board. You now have 7 hours to get back through security for apparently no reason whatsoever, and twiddle your thumbs. On the plus side, security will take pretty much no time whatsover again, (I guess only international flight connections pose a significant threat to anyone), and you now have 7 hours to eat, rest, and relax between flights. But not sleep, because it turns out that you are kind of paranoid about getting your stuff stolen. Also there is Wi-Fi.
My verict: Paris was a mixed bag, and air France's customer service needs work.

The 7pm flight didn't actually takeoff until about 8, but finally around midnight, Athens time I woke up from my nap to the news that the plane was over Greece. Looking out the window, the sight took my breath away. All I could see were lights. Roads that looked like golden, glowing strings of pearls, mixed with the spidery glowing spiderwebs of towns and cities. The ocean was an utterly black shape, outlined with lights running along the coasts. I don't know how much of the magic was the look, and how much was the joy inherent in arriving in Greece at long last, but it was absolutely enchanting.
Touchdown, disembarkment, and baggage pickup all went smoothly enough, and Ken, the volunteer coordinator picked me up. As we left the airport, I couldn't help trying to look everwhere at once, despite the lark and the fact that I had only slept for 3 of the law 33 hours. I was tired, but excited. So glad to be done with one adventure and at the starting line of the next. Several more hours of sleep and one full day later, I still find myself marveling.
I made. Welcome to Greece!

Take-off!

It's official. My journey has begun.  I'm typing this on the airplane on the way to Minneapolis from Indy.  As the plane was taxiing into take-off position, all I could think about was the sensation of butterflies in my stomach. I starting thinking about this trip last December which means that I have been thinking about and preparing for this trip for so long that it has seemed almost imaginary. An event that would happen someday.  As the plane pulled into e air however, it finally felt 110% real. Someday, is today.
I am just going to admit it, there is a big part of me that is intimidated by this. I am flying in an airplane on my own for the first time, in order to go halfway around the world to live for an extended period of time in a country and a culture that I have never been to. It's kind of a scary prospect. But it's also incredibly amazing, because I GET to fly halfway around the world to live for an extended period of time in a country and a culture that I have never been to, a country and a culture that I'm going to get to discover one day at a time, all in order to show God's love to people who need it.
I love a good adventure, even if it is only a trip to the grocery store.  This is a bit farther than Walmart, but that just makes it all the bigger an adventure, and best of all, I'm not really alone. No matter how messy or complicated or dramatic my journey may be, I know that God will be walking with me every step of they way. Sending me off from every stop, and waiting to meet me in a thousand faces everywhere I go.
The plane has already taken off, and I'm ready for wherever it takes me. To Minneapolis, and beyond!

Note: this was typed on the plane from Indy and posted from the Paris airport, due to other travel drama that will be comming soon!

Plane Tickets!

Ok, so if you are on this blog then you probably already know, but I am going to Athens, Greece this summer for two months to work with a missions team helping Muslim refugees.  It's a big adventure, and I've set up this blog so that I can share the ups, downs, and crazy turns that God takes me on through this journey.

Speaking of journeys, after months of being asked when I leave for Greece, I finally have my plane tickets that tell me when this journey officially starts! I'm going to be flying out of the Indianapolis airport at 3:30pm on Sunday, May 29th.  I will have about an hour's layover each in Minneapolis and Paris, and then arrive in Athens at 2pm Monday, May 30th.  Almost 24 hours of travel time! I'm kind of looking forward to it though.  It's definitely going to be an adventure, and I feel like it will be an exhilarating start.
On my return trip I stop at the same places, leaving Athens at 6:30am (ugh) Tuesday, August 9th , and getting back to Indy at 5:30pm.

I'm only 10 days away from flying halfway around the world for two months.  Wow! Every time I talk about this trip, or someone else mentions it the word "excited" gets used, and I think that that is a pretty good label.  I've been thinking about and preparing for this trip for months, and now it is almost here.  It's going to be big, but it's also going to to be amazing and difficult and strange and wonderful in so many ways that I can't even imagine yet.  Whatever happens though, I know that I'm going to grow through it, and that is the most exciting thing of all!