Once Upon a Summer: The Journey’s End (Part 10)

It has taken me a long time to post my conclusion to this series and I apologize. But here it is … finally …

If you’ve missed any of the previous installments, you can find a comprehensive table of contents here.

My trip to Europe was over, but the impressions it left on my heart were permanent. I had experienced new things and learned lessons that I will never forget. I had met many beautiful people, shared the love of Jesus, and watched as lives were changed.

I, too, was changed.

Going half-way across the world to spread the gospel was incredible. I don’t have to stray far from home to be a missionary, however. This is something that the Holy Spirit is speaking to my heart lately. There are hurting people everywhere who need Jesus.

There’s the girl that I met at the mall last week. The refugee who now owns a coffee shop downtown. The immigrant children that my small group has been reaching out to. The dear friend with a heavy heart. Family members. Acquaintances. Strangers on the street.

The truth is, I need to be more intentional. To open my heart more freely. To search for ways to share hope. To make sure that I don’t let one single opportunity slip away.

God can use me right here, right now.

He can use you too.

We just have to make ourselves available.

(Yes, it really is that simple.)

Here am I, Lord. Send me.

 

Once Upon a Summer Link List

Part 1 – “Once Upon a Summer: Chasing Dreams”
Part 2 – “Once Upon a Summer: The Long Journey”
Part 3 – “Once Upon a Summer: Unplanned Lessons”
Part 4 – “Once Upon a Summer: Welcome to Slovakia”
Part 5 – “Once Upon a Summer: Gypsy Children”
Part 6 – “Once Upon a Summer: Small Miracles”
Part 7– “Once Upon a Summer: The Mountain Top”
Part 8 – “Once Upon a Summer: Bottles of Water and a Message of Hope”
Part 9 – “Once Upon a Summer: Refugees”
Part 10 – “Once Upon a Summer: The Journey’s End”

Once Upon a Summer: Refugees (Part 9)

Erd, Hungary

My time in Slovakia was over. All of the other short-term team members had already gone home. I had some extra time before my flight left, so one of the long-term missionaries accompanied me to Budapest, where I spent several glorious days exploring one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

I stayed at a mission just outside of Budapest, in a small town called Erd. It was there that I met a young woman, a refugee.

She was from Kosovo.

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August 2, 1999
10:05 p.m. CET
Erd, Hungary

“Every soldier is someone’s son.” A beautiful young Albanian woman had spoken these words to me earlier that night.

We sat at the kitchen table in the mission house. Her six-year old daughter was there too. The resemblance between mother and daughter was strong, despite the fact that the mother’s hair was a rich brown and the daughter’s was golden blonde. The mother’s eyes were different too. They no longer reflected the innocence of childhood. This was a woman who knew sorrow.

“My brother, who is 20-years old, did not want to fight in the army,” the woman told me. “He ran away and escaped across the border. He was caught and beaten by the police and then put in a refugee camp. In the refugee camp, there is not enough food or clothes or shampoo. The conditions are horrible.”

The young woman went on to share her own story.

“I am a single mother. My daughter and I were forced to leave Kosovo because of racism. People could tell by the way that I spoke that I am Albanian and it made things difficult. Two weeks after my daughter and I left our home, a mass grave containing thirteen children was found near my daughter’s school. The children were my daughter’s age.”

Understandably, this woman should have been angry and bitter. The war had torn her family apart, and she and her daughter no longer had a place to call home. This was a tale of tragedy. And yet, for this young mother, it was more than that. There was sorrow, yes. But this was also a tale of forgiveness.

Love your enemies…

This young refugee depended on the Holy Spirit daily to help her live out this verse.

“Mistakes were made on both sides,” the woman concluded sadly. “And every soldier is someone’s son.”

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I never wrote down this woman’s name. The things that she experienced seemed more important to me at the time. As I sit here holding a photograph of her and her daughter, I am struck once again at the sadness of war.

I learned that day, however, that there is something greater than the sadness in our lives.

What could be greater than the sadness? you ask.

Only one thing. The God who heals and gives us the grace to forgive.

Once Upon a Summer: Bottles of Water and a Message of Hope (Part 8)

“. . . whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:14)

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July 28, 1999
Mulcha, Slovakia

They say that water is life. But in Mulcha, the only source of water was a small, muddy, stream that flowed through the centre of the village. This stream was all that the townspeople had for drinking, bathing, cooking, and cleaning. And it was full of toxins.

No one on the outside seemed to care that the water was unsafe. Government officials refused to help the villagers; they would not set foot in a gypsy settlement. So the people—especially the children—were getting sick from ingesting the contaminants.

As we unloaded cases of clean, bottled water, I found it difficult to control my emotions. There was a pervasive air of hopelessness in Mulcha that was evident everywhere that I looked.

As I recall, on one side of the village stream, there rose a grassy knoll with nothing much to boast of except one lonely, scraggly sheep tied to a stake. On the other side of the stream, a couple of rundown houses and a row of dilapidated shacks sagged listlessly.

The shacks had been built out of whatever materials were available—scraps of wood, tin, anything that the gypsies could find. One person had made a roof for their shelter out of old pieces of carpet and some dirty blankets. Wash was strung up everywhere and chickens ran freely.

As we gathered the children on the hillside, adults meandered out of their houses and stood in groups on the other side of the stream, eying us suspiciously. We sang songs about Jesus and told the children about salvation, but I’m not sure whether anyone got saved that day.

The organization with whom we were working had been involved in the village long before we came. And, armed with bottles of water and the message of God’s love, they continued to be involved in the village long after we left.

I may never know whether anything we did on that particular day made an impact on the people of Mulcha. One thing I do know, however. The people of Mulcha made a deep impact on me.

You see, there are some basic necessities of life that no one should be without. These are food, shelter, water…

…and hope.

Once Upon a Summer: The Mountain Top (Part 7)

“After leaving them, Jesus went up on a mountainside to pray.” (Mark 6:46)

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July 23, 1999
11:00 p.m. CET
Banska Bystrica, Slovakia

It was Sunday morning. The missions team filed up the narrow mountain path just outside of town. We reached an alpine meadow and sank down into the grass to catch our breath.

It was the view, not the climb, that left us breathless. The city was spread out in the distance, miles and miles away. All around us, wildflowers bobbed their brightly coloured heads. Crickets chirped softly and a lazy bumble bee moved from flower to flower. The sun shone, the clouds were puffy and white, and a gentle breeze carried the sweet smell of wild lavender mingled with the slightly more acrid scent of ashes from a shepherd’s fire. It was nothing short of glorious.

One of the team members strummed his guitar and we began to sing. Then one of the missionaries led us in a Bible study. This was church.

We just finished communion. There is something very magnificent about having communion on a mountain with fellow believers who you have grown very close to.

In Slovakia, shepherds and cowherds still roam the mountains with their flocks and herds. They are tough, wild-looking men with dark leather faces. I’m sure they must get lonely as they wander the high pastures with only their animals for company. But as I broke bread with the missions team in that beautiful alpine meadow, I decided that those weather-beaten mountain men were, quite possibly, the luckiest people in the world.

(To be continued…)

Once Upon a Summer: Small Miracles (Part 6)

Click here to read Part 1 – “Once Upon a Summer: Chasing Dreams”
Click here to read Part 2 – “Once Upon a Summer: The Long Journey”
Click here to read Part 3 – “Once Upon a Summer: Unplanned Lessons”
Click here to read Part 4 – “Once Upon a Summer: Welcome to Slovakia”
Click here to read Part 5 – “Once Upon a Summer: Gypsy Children”

 __________________________

“If you look closely, you could see the word “hope” written by the finger of God on the forehead of all.”
~Victor Hugo

One of my journals from that summer in Slovakia contains an impassioned commitment to God. As I sat on an apartment balcony overlooking the mountains, I wrote a promise that I would fervently live each day for Christ.

Somehow, as the years passed, complacency crept in.

As I sit and read those words today, something stirs deep inside. What if, right here in my hometown, I were to once again live every single day with that kind of intense passion and purpose?

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July 22, 1999
1:40 p.m. CET
Kostiviarski, Slovakia

There were two older men at Kids’ Club today—a father of one of the children and a young man in his twenties. The father brought clothes and shoes for us to give to people in need.

The Roma that we worked with were not known to give away their possessions. It was partly because they had nothing to give and partly because it wasn’t their way. What we had witnessed was a miracle, a clear sign that the Holy Spirit was moving on the people of Kostiviarski.

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July 23, 1999
5:00 p.m. CET
Ulanka, Slovakia

It was a beautiful summer evening in the small gypsy village of Ulanka. It had rained earlier that day, and the air was filled with the clean, sweet scent of freshly-washed mountains. I was prayer walking with Eveline, a girl from Switzerland. Inside the village community centre, other team members were showing the Jesus video to some of the gypsies who lived in the town.

When we drank our fill – both of the beauty around us and of prayer – Eveline and I returned to the community centre to watch the last bit of the video. Inside, a woman turned to us with tears in her eyes. “I am amazed,” she said. “I have never heard about Jesus like I did tonight.”

Two people gave their hearts to the Lord.

(To be continued…)

Once Upon a Summer: Gypsy Children (Part 5)

Click here to read Part 1 – “Once Upon a Summer: Chasing Dreams”
Click here to read Part 2 – “Once Upon a Summer: The Long Journey”
Click here to read Part 3 – “Once Upon a Summer: Unplanned Lessons”
Click here to read Part 4 – “Once Upon a Summer: Welcome to Slovakia

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“The fragrance always lingers on the hand that gives the rose.” ~Hada Bejar

The short-term missions team was comprised of people from Finland, Switzerland, Germany, Hong Kong, the Czech Republic, and, of course, Canada. The three resident missionaries were from the United States, England, and Slovakia respectively.

During the day, we ran Kids’ Clubs in the gypsy villages. During the evenings, we evangelized in the town square. We were ten very different people from very different backgrounds who spoke very different languages. But we had one single purpose – to reach people for Christ.

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July 19, 1999
Banska Bystricá, Slovakia

I sat on the balcony of our flat in Sasova, a suburb of Banska Bystricá, and signed a letter with love. In front of me, the mountains stood tall, enfolded in regal robes of rich green forests and flowery alpine meadows.

I will lift up mine eyes to the hills …

The scenery never failed to move me. I folded the letter and put it into the envelope, to be mailed in town later that day.

Dear Mom and Dad,

“The mountains in Slovakia are beautiful. But I have encountered something even more beautiful—the presence of God . . .”

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July 20, 1999
2:00 p.m. CET
Kostiviarski, Slovakia

“The gypsies got their social money yesterday . . .”

Being in Kostiviarski was like being transported to the Third World. The buildings were dilapidated and some of the homes were missing window panes and doors. How these people fared during the winter months was beyond me.

The children gathered around us eagerly. Olive skin, brown hair, and brown eyes hinted at their East Indian origin. They were beautiful.

We played games with them and told them about Jesus through drama, pictures, and song.

“Can you tell me more about sin?” Sdenko, one of the gypsy boys, was full of questions.

Despite the fact that the social cheques arrived the day before and we were warned that there could be trouble, everything ran smoothly. And by the end of the day, Sdenko and a sweet young girl named Evanka had given their lives to Christ.

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July 21, 1999
11:30 a.m. CET
Kostiviarski, Slovakia

A young gypsy woman came over to the little field where we were holding the Kids’ Club. She offered each of us a bottle of sparkling lemonade and some cookies.

“I’m happy that the children come here,” she said in Romany. “They are better the rest of the day because they are thinking.”

She asked if she could come back the next day so that she could learn more about what was making such a difference in the Roma children.

That day, five more children accepted Christ.

(To be continued…)

Once Upon a Summer: Welcome to Slovakia (Part 4)

Click here to read Part 1 – “Once Upon a Summer: Chasing Dreams”
Click here to read Part 2 – “Once Upon a Summer: The Long Journey”
Click here to read Part 3 – “Once Upon a Summer: Unplanned Lessons”

 __________________________

When I visited Slovakia in 1999, it had been ten years since the Communist rule had ended. Under the Communist regime, work was compulsory. But the collapse of Communism brought financial hardship for everyone, especially the Roma. Open discrimination meant that the gypsies were, for the most part, unable to find jobs. Many lived in small, rundown settlements on the outskirts of towns and cities.  Racism was rampant and extreme.

This was the political and social climate that we would be entering.

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July 17, 1999
En route to Slovakia

I sat on the train and watched as the dull colours of the city were replaced with bright yellow fields of sunflowers. The fields grew into hills and the hills grew into mountains. We were in Slovakia.

I turned my attention to a package of materials that the long-term missionaries had given us.

Some amazing things happen as a result of our faithfulness to our Lord. A regular kids’ club has continued in the village where the OM team and ‘Nádej Det’om’ had their five-day club last year.

A Gypsy, called Peter, went to this village to steal potatoes from a field. He found there were no potatoes, but he did find OM and the Nather family (who run ‘Nádej Det’om’) singing and praising God with the children.

Two months later, after a spiritual tug of war in his soul, he went to the ‘Nádej Det’om’ center and asked a previously converted Gypsy, Ivan, about the Bible club. Ivan shared the Gospel with him. Two weeks later, Peter gave his life to the Lord.

These were the people we would be serving with this summer. I would be working with older children in the small Roma town of Kostiviarski, and I couldn’t wait.

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Click here to read Part 5 – “Once Upon a Summer: Gypsy Children”

Once Upon a Summer: Unplanned Lessons (Part 3)

Click here to read Part 1 – “Once Upon a Summer: Chasing Dreams”
Click here to read Part 2 – “Once Upon a Summer: The Long Journey”

 __________________________

I learned many things during the week I spent in training before heading into Slovakia to work with the Roma (gypsy) people. Our days were filled with sessions, workshops, and both group and individual Bible studies. But the unintentional, unscheduled lessons impacted me the most.

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July 12, 1999
Missions Training
Szeged, Hungary

The missions training conference was being held at Deák Ferenc Gimnázium, a bilingual high school in Szeged. Across the road from the school was a forest.

I followed a tiny dirt path through the trees, swatting at spider webs and pushing branches out of the way. All around were graves. Most of the markers were broken, the dense undergrowth creeping through the cracks and crevices. The names and dates on the tombstones were, for the most part, obliterated.

Who were all these people? I wondered.

Although I didn’t see any, I read later that, in some places, human bones lay exposed on the forest floor.

This was Gyevi Cemetery.

“What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” (James 4:14)

I paused for a moment in front of row of crosses that were partially hidden by the undergrowth. I want to leave behind so much more than a crumbling, ivy-covered gravestone, I thought.

As I made my way back to the school, I realized something: Only the things that we do for Jesus will last.

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July 15, 1999
Missions Training
Szeged, Hungary

“After this I saw a vast crowd, too great to count, from every nation and tribe and people and language, standing in front of the throne and before the Lamb.” (Revelation 7:9)

Several hundred young adults were crowded into the hot auditorium. Among them were people from Australia, Britain, France, Sweden, Switzerland, Hungary, Romania, the United States, Hong Kong, Korea, and Finland …

…as well as a couple of Canadian guys …

… and one Canadian girl.

The training sessions were done in English and there were many interpreters.

But what struck me the most was worship.

Who His love will not remember?
Who can cease to sing His praise?

Each person sang the words in his or her own language. Every nation, every tongue, joined together in perfect harmony.

It was a taste of heaven.

 __________________________

On July 17, 1999, I finally entered Slovakia.

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Click here to read Part 4 – “Once Upon a Summer: Welcome to Slovakia”

Once Upon a Summer: The Long Journey (Part 2)

Click here to read Part 1 – “Once Upon a Summer: Chasing Dreams”

I sat on the floor in the attic, surrounded by boxes and memories, and cradled the tattered journal in my hands. I had forgotten how difficult traveling had been. I had been lost in Heathrow Airport for hours that day, trying to find my connecting flight. And then there were other incidents as well.

But God always comes through . . .

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July 10, 1999
3:00 p.m. CET
Nyugati Train Station
Budapest, Hungary

The payphone was not working.

Again and again, my money tumbled back into the coin return slot. If I couldn’t get through to the mission, there would be no one to meet my train when it reached Szeged and I would be stranded.

“Lord, help me!”

I will never leave you nor forsake you.

An old man shuffled over and began jabbering at me in Hungarian. He was dirty, his clothes were ragged, and he desperately needed a shower. A tramp. It was obvious that the train station was his home.

I hugged my bright yellow traveler’s backpack tightly to my chest and watched dumbly as he took my money, inserted it into the slot, and showed me how to find the correct city code to dial. When I lifted the receiver to my ear, I could hear the glorious sound of a telephone ringing on the other end. I was saved!

How does that song go again? There are saints on every corner…

Sometimes God uses the most unlikely people.

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July 10, 1999
3:30 p.m. CET
Nyugati Train Station
Budapest, Hungary

“I’d like a one-way ticket to Szeged, please.”

The woman at the ticket window stared at me blankly.

“Szeged. I need a ticket. But just one way,” I said again.

The woman furrowed her brow said something in Hungarian.

I turned around. There was a long line of people behind me. “Can someone translate? Does anyone speak English?” I called. No response.

I took a deep breath and tried again, this time in broken French: “Est-ce que c’est un personne qui parle francais?”

A young woman stepped forward. “Oui?” she said.

The foreign words felt awkward in my mouth as I attempted explain what I needed. The woman turned to the ticket agent and spoke rapidly in Hungarian. Within seconds, I held my ticket in my hand.

“Merci beaucoup!” I said to the woman with a smile of blatant relief.

But when I finally boarded my train, frustration and exhaustion caught up with me and the tears began to flow.

What am I doing here? I wondered. I’ve only been away from home for two days and I’m so discouraged! Are You here with me, Lord? The language barriers are too great. Am I really doing Your will?

My heart begged for a sign. Please. Send me someone who speaks English.

I averted my head as a large group of people boarded my train car. They were chattering and laughing noisily together. And then it dawned on me. I can understand them.

“Where are you going?” I asked a young man, my face still wet with tears.

“To a school in Szeged for missions training,” he answered in the most beautiful and proper British accent I have ever heard.

God had not sent me one person who spoke English. He had sent me 19. And they were going to the exact same place that I was.

We were about to embark on the biggest adventure of our lives.

(To be continued…)

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Click here to read Part 3 – “Once Upon a Summer: Unplanned Lessons”