Take a walk with me.

We get off the metro at Omonia station, the largest and busiest of the Athens public transport stations. Up the stairs we climb, greeted by Goody's (Greece's equivalent of McDonald's) and KFC (I doubt anyone eating there now could point out Kentucky on a map). I stop by one of the many kiosks to buy my bottle of water and pita bakes (spicy hummus, please). Less than two Euros later we make our way down the red brick sidewalks. Under more and more kiosk tents, swerving around parked motorbikes. The air is thick in this 115 degree heat with cigarette smoke and car exhaust sprinkled in. It's times like these when I wish ARC appropriate clothing didn't mean capris and t-shirts. We pass a man selling incense, his inventory smaller than it was a few weeks ago. On one corner is what appears to be a hospital; I gather this by the number of recently bandaged people loitering around the doors. Past the same man begging in his wheel chair, the same nursing mother and child asleep in a corner. The red brick changes to yellow. I clutch my bag a little more snugly. We're a bit late, so we choose to take the short route. As we turn onto Menandrou we glance for the rifle carrying police in black or blue uniforms. It's generally comforting to see a couple of police in this area, but not good if they come in their big black bus. Paper and immigration status checks are a sure sign of stampede and chaos in this already crowded intersection. We walk in the middle of the street for the sidewalks are full of immigrant and refugee men, black market transactions, prostitutes, drugs and alcohol. I move quickly in this sea of people, suddenly very aware and embarrassed with my blonde hair. We turn onto Sofokleous, cutting through traffic until we see the black 'Xippas Gallery' sign that graces the entrance of the ARC's stoa. A thick smell of Indian spices, almost nauseating, comes from a truck unloading huge potato sacks of the individual spices. We are greeted by Mohammad, You okay? he asks. We sigh and shake our heads, another safe commute.


We climb to our second floor center. Unlocking and locking doors, dropping our bags off in the office, placing our water bottles in the fridge. It's time for devotions and prayer. We gather with the team and any volunteering visitors in the main room, three pots of tea already brewing. At about 11:15 we make our final preparations for Tea House. Check the game pieces, 15 of each color for Backgammon plus two dice, there are six pawns in chess, right? Lay out the rugs in the baby room and scatter the toys. Set down all of the chairs in the kid's room, crank up the air conditioner, pick out coloring pages, we'll do the fruits page and I still can't find the lemonade picture they all ask for. Begin sharping the colored pencils and pick out the movie for today, Tom and Jerry, their favorite. The computer is set up for checking refugees in, shower tickets are cut out and ready for distribution. The time: 11:45. Doors open.



For the next two hours I color and play with children, wash the neon colored mugs, pour hot tea and give three kisses on the cheeks as I greet my women refugee friends. I hold babies in their plastic bag diapers, sharpen more colored pencils and try to guess which child is holding their hands over my eyes. We all smile, laugh and complain about the heat. It's 2:00. We kick the reluctant children out of the room so we can clean up pencil shavings and set up for English class. Ten year-old Parviz insists on sweeping, I graciously let him. Although the announcement for English and Greek class hasn't been made, the regulars appear at 2:15 and take the best seats in the house. Class begins at 2:30. We pass out pencils and paper. I review body parts and colors. Pink is the hardest to learn and waist and wrist and west all sound alike. Review takes longer than expected. More students arrive. They sit in the back rows without desks. I offer children's books as a substitute. We learn about rooms in a flat and furniture today. They have 1000 Euro to buy furniture. They all insist on a television. Some of the Sudanese men are exceptional drawers. Alimria, a woman from Romania, has better penmanship than I do. Class is over at 3:30. Thank you, Teacher, they say as they pass in their pencils. See you next time, I reply. I love English class.

I lock up the classroom and wander into the main room. I play checkers with the children. There is much excitement today as 'F' has been reading people's palms. I will have one husband and three children. The women laugh at my pained expression. We gather more cups until 4:00 arrives. Lights go out and we say good-bye to our friends.

Time to clean. First we wash the tables, then dry. We put the chairs up and begin to sweep. Someone is assigned to clean the toilets, usually one of the visiting volunteers,naturally. We clean out the huge pots of tea and wipe the kitchen down. Some days we need to bring bags of donated clothes up from the closet downstairs into the clothing room to be sorted. Mopping is the final tasks as the tile floor becomes very slippery at its conclusion. After all of the check list has been finalized and the closer gives the okay we lock all the doors and go downstairs. We say goodbye to Mohammad and brace ourselves for another walk through Sofokelous and Monandrou to the metro and then home.

It's been about two weeks since I wandered this same path in Athens. I will never forget it. I am forever changed. I am more grateful for the life I have been blessed with and more aware of the world around me. This great movement of people, these refugees, their faces and their journeys will forever be with me. I will weep and I will smile and I will pray that hope is never lost, that all people will unite and that peace will be found.

My last night, but not my last blog.

Okay. Honestly people, I don't feel enlightened at the moment. This is most likely caused by the frustration that I'm not sure I'll be able to fit everything into my suitcase, the anxiety that comes with the thought of a 20 hour day of travel tomorrow and the fact that before I knew it, my time in Athens was over.

I had my last tea house today. It was rough, but I don't think it's all going to hit me for about another week when I desire to kiss those cheeks, chase those kids and smell the smell of Athens. It is then that I will be able to wrap up my feelings and my thoughts. My exhaustion at the moment really is a good sign I believe.

At this morning's devotions I shared what my father shared with me in my encouragement journal for this trip. It was relevant for our ministry here in Athens and so I'd like to share it with you.

An Eschatological Vision by Dr. Lyle VanderWerff

A vision I have of earth’s inhabitants
The world made whole; humanity healed
Sons and daughters reconciled to God and their neighbors
Brothers and sisters gather round the Messiah’s banquet.

Broken, bleeding, fragmented though created to be related
Image of God on human face scarred, marred, disgraced
Serpent’s subtle lie bought; sin’s sickness caught
Sexuality, love, labor lost; earth’s terrible cost.

Towers mortared, nations scattered; severed, shaken, shattered
Yet Yahweh’s covenant calls to patriarch, prophet, peoples
New community generated; family with faith imbued
Prototype of true humanity; transcending ethnic boundary

Humans of the globe unite; your liberator resurrected lives
Good news breaks the dawn with rising sun earth wakes
A glorious kingdom comes; join the ranks of vision
Pilgrims moving with mission; international host of Christ

Amen. Expect a lengthy blog once I get my bearings back in the states. But until then, I want to say thank you. Thank you for reading, for encouraging and most of all for praying. I am certain that this experience would have not been so life-inspiring for me if it was not for the support I had back home. I cannot wait to share my stories and pictures with all of you.

Pray for safe travel and a joyous reunion with all my family back in Denver while also remembering all my refugee friends who will be attempting to blend in with the tourists and make it to their next stop on the highway.

Now it's bathroom cleaning time.... See you in the good ol' U S of A!

Blondes and Almira

Yesterday was my last Shower Day. At the beginning of my time I don't think I would ever say that showers were the day of the week I ever looked forward to. It gets so hot with three showers running constantly for 4 hours straight and children running around and tea being brewed, but yesterday I decided that it was showers that helped me connect on a different level to these women and children.

We decided to go to the ARC earlier yesterday, 12:30, so we could lay out pairs of shoes for the women to rummage through. When we arrived the majority of the women were already upstairs ready to shower even though showers don't technically start until 2:00. They so look forward to this time that they're waiting and ready by 11. We got started early, which was a good thing because yesterday seemed to be one of those crazy days. The kids were just incredibly hyper and everyone seemed to be in genuine good spirits which meant lots of laughter.

Much of the conversation centered around the fact that two of my friends, 'R' and 'A' had dyed their hair the night before. At tea house on Tuesday I had noticed that they were doing a lot of pointing to my own, blonde hair, but I hadn't put it together that they would be attempting the same color job I wear myself. These beautifully dark brown haired women didn't have the exact results, obviously. The story, told in Farsi of course but easily translated, was one that I've lived through many times myself. They told of the shrieks they had when they washed the peroxide out only to discover that their hair was a bright orange. They laughed and laughed, and looked at my hair and shook their heads.
R and A are two of my favorite women (I know, I have a lot of favorites). R is the woman I described on an earlier post as the woman who fainted out of exhaustion and potential concussion at a previous Shower Day. She's 24 years old and has two beautiful little girls. 'A', 28, was pregnant with her third child when I first met her. I love holding her newborn son, plastic bag diaper and all. Both are wonderful mothers and show so much love to their children. R and A plan to attempt a trip to Italy in the coming week. I can't imagine traveling with five children, but they are strong, so strong. Looking back on this experience I know that my thoughts and memories will always rest on the refugees and the global issue that remains as this mass movement of people simply cannot be ignored. However, there is one person placed into my life that I will never forget, either. My roommate, Almira.

I've written about her before, but I just want to emphasize the impact she's had on my life. Here I was, scared to death and plopped into Athens where I was told I'd be living with this random woman from Russia. Um, okay, I thought. Soon it was me and Almira, trekking around the Mall, the Olympic Stadium and back and forth from work everyday. Initially I was hesitant and wasn't sure if we'd really be able to connect. Almira's English is very good, but there is still translation issues and we couldn't really enjoy the same television shows (even though she loves Friends as much as I do), so building a relationship didn't seem like it would be very easy. With time, I realized that Almira was one of the most amazing people I will ever come in contact with. She cooks for me, teaches me how to cook, tells me when to clean and I tell her where we have to be and when. We make a pretty great team and have an amazing time whenever we're together.

Almira was raised in a Muslim family in Moscow and her parents don't really understand what the heck she's doing here in Athens. She loves her family dearly however, and is the best aunt to her nieces. She lives and moves with the spirit. She's genuine in everything she does. She laughs when things are funny (and sometimes when they're not) and she loves and hugs with such ease. I will look back on our memories with sincere fondness and am so grateful for Skype and Facebook so we will easily stay in contact with each other. Continue to pray for Almira. With the extension of her visa (a serious miracle) she will stay in Athens for another 3 months. I cannot imagine this experience without her. She has taught me so much, how to love and serve and never give up.

She and I stay up late watching YouTube videos. Our favorites are music videos...our favorite song, Be Thou My Vision. Almira sings it in the shower and while washing dishes and if my trip had a soundtrack, this would be the first track. Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYVnd0HaLSc

I'm on my way to debriefing with Carolyn and climbing Lykavitos Hill. Tomorrow is my last tea house and my last day in Athens. Expect a long blog. [Again.] :)

It's the little things that make quite a difference.

We walked into the stoa of our building yesterday without the usual "Ya-sas!" greeting from our security guard, Mohammad. I realized that that small act of Mohammad greeting us and then walking us to our stairs was something I'd simply come to expect when in reality it's something that I should be simply grateful for. I was also a little disappointed because I've been meaning to get a picture of Mohammad for a post just like this one, but with him not there at 10:00 on a Tuesday morning that meant he wouldn't be in for the day.

Mohammad is one of the many people employed as security guards in Greece. Athens has security guards for every store, every building, every metro station...but these people are more than a physical image of security and order and Mohammad has made me realize that.

Mohammad is of North African descent (Egyptian or Moroccan maybe?) and speaks no English, just Greek and Arabic. He's the new security guard for the building that the ARC occupies and he has really become an unofficial and integral member of our team. When the lines get to long, he handles crowd control in the stoa into the street, when we're moving bags of clothing from our downstairs closet upstairs he hops in line and takes a bag, when I'm carrying a very heavy bag from the Nest (a house for new Christian men just down the street) he happily carries up the stairs for me, he knows that Thursdays are women's showers day and so he brings sodas for all the children, when a drunk man urinates all down the stairs he disciplines and then grabs a mop, when we've had a long day and look very hot he insists we sit in his air-conditioned office for a while before we walk to the metro, and even when he's on vacation (like yesterday) he comes up to tea house and greets the refugees and the staff simply because he wants to.

Mohammad represents the type of person that we wish we could be each and everyday. It's those simple acts of kindness, not asked for, not required, but done out of a genuine desire in one's heart. Mohammad is an immediate image of Christ. There's a reason he's the first person seen when anyone comes to the ARC.

My last Sunday. Yikes.

Today was the first of the lasts.

Lee and I attended Second Greek Evangelical Church for the last time this morning. While I will enjoy hearing a sermon in English and not through headphones, there is something about recognizing people and being recognized in a place of worship (especially in a foreign country) that I will miss. Churches are very important for things like that.

After church we hoped to check out the sales at The Mall (you can't blame us for wanting to take a look!). Only Greece closes the mall on Sundays, so we got some pizza and chilled for the rest of the afternoon.

Tonight was Persian Christian Fellowship. Keeping about 25 kids quiet in a room no bigger than my own bedroom would never be on my wish list, but I caught up with some kids I hadn't seen in a few weeks. One girl even had pictures from one of my very first tea houses on her phone. It seemed like forever ago, but that made the feeling of us going way back very real. I had the chance to learn some more Farsi words and phrases. I'm trying to soak up as much as I can in these last days. We went back and forth, them telling me colors in Farsi and Greek and me telling them the names in English and Spanish. It was quite fun. The girls got a real laugh at my attempt to say Would you like to color? in Farsi. Turns out the word for to color and to kill are very similar. Ah, the joy of children's laughter.

I didn't have much to share, but I thought I'd get in even my smallest of thoughts as I finish out my time here. Getting up early to go to Corinth tomorrow...we really don't have a direct route or know much, but wandering around Greece sounds like enough fun to me! :) Don't worry, Dad. I'll be careful. We're just taking the train... :)

Ladies, ladies, ladies

I realized today that while I very much desire to spend time with my friends back at home, it's going to be very difficult to say good-bye to my friends here. I will miss looking at these beautiful faces.

Thursday was a very special Shower Day because we got to pass out some very special underwear in a package that came from Commerce City, CO (thanks, Aunt Jolene!!). The women were giddy and had no problem trying the bras on for size (there is no shame at showers, and that's something we're proud that we can provide).

A few pics:

Before I tell you all about today I would like to note that we saw the new Batman movie here last night (that was Thursday night, a good 24 hours before any of you in the states, booyah!).

But today, Friday, may have been one of my favorite days yet here in Athens.

Today was set aside for a Women's Retreat Day. For men's retreats they are able to go away, out of Athens, but because with women comes children, our plans have to be adjusted. We invited specific women (those whom we have built relationships with recently and who seem curious about who we are as women, but more specifically Christian women). There were 8 women and 14 children total. We all gathered at Donna's house and then sent the children off to the park (not alone, with our short-term team from CA).

You could tell these women were just delighted to be there. They were all wearing make-up and many had on shoes I'd never seen before. They drank their tea and ate their muffins with the most joy I'd ever seen. We had a translator there for the day, so we all made introductions, you know, name, where you're from, how long you've been in Greece. It was at the moment that I said I have a week left that I got that crazy, this really sucks that I have to leave you all, feeling and I don't imagine it going away (ever, if I can help it).

We all fellowshipped with one another, complete with the delayed laughs while words went through translation. We then had time to open up the Bible and talk about God. The theme for the day was HOPE. I was incredibly excited for this because if I were asked to take only one word to describe my life or to live by, it would be hope. So here I was, sitting in Greece, surrounded by these Afghan/courageous/beautiful/intelligent women/mothers/widows and I discovered hope. As 'H' (one of my favorite ladies) openly described how God has shown her hope even in the most desperate of situations I was reminded that even though she (a Muslim) and I (a Christian) have grown up calling God two different names, this one God provides all the same. The sovereign God I believe in is at work in all people. Her words, her wisdom were so encouraging for me...these women get it.

After our bible study we got out beads to make a variety of bracelets, necklaces, you name it. I swear these women have a better eye for colors and patterns than we Americans. With ease they can make necklaces we pay ridiculous amounts of money for in the mall. It's quite impressive. Two of the women who had worked from 8 the night before until 7 in the morning before meeting right away to come to the Women's Day (proof of their excitement) took naps, and I couldn't blame them.

We then left Donna's and met up with the kids to have lunch...a delicious Iranian meal of rice, vegetables and a curry-like (but not curry) chicken. Delicious! More time to fellowship with the women, and I was especially happy to get some time with the kids. It was a wonderful day with friends and fellowship, something everyone can use a little more of.

Also, praises for my roommate Almira who got an extension on her visa! After many days of paperwork, police stations and bank accounts, it's official that she will stay for another 3 months. God is good (and really, a miracle worker).

With a bright hope for tomorrow, I will post again soon.

Journey and Community

An update: 'B' got out of Greece successfully and is currently in France. It appears as though her journey to Belgium is well on its way, but please continue praying, for it is certainly not over yet.

It really is unbelievable the lengths these refugees have to go through in order to escape the violence and poverty that has tormented their home countries. After teaching English on Tuesday I was able to chat with a man from Sudan. College-educated and very good with his conversational English (he learned it all from American movies), this man has dreams of making it to Norway. He made it to Turkey and lived there for 8 months before coming to Greece. He's been here 2 months, but after a failed attempt to get to Italy (by hiding in the storage of a cargo ship) he was fingerprinted and thus has little to no options left. He has decided to look for work and save up the 2000 Euros necessary to get the proper paperwork to leave the country (aka a fake passport).

This is a man who has a degree in communications, can speak two languages and likely had quite the life going for him until all was disrupted and he was forced to uproot. Had he (or any of these refugees) been born in another place and another time, their life would be completely different. Recognizing this, it's hard not to empathize completely and then get totally overwhelmed. I mean, we all have it so good. Life in the US is easy really.

We had lunch with Kallie today, a Greek woman who works at our ministry. Her own father was a refugee from Turkey in the 1920s. His sister died along the way from hunger and then also his father (a Christian minister, he decided to bury a Muslim man who died from cholera because no one else would and died from the same disease just 24 hours later). His mother, once a wealthy woman in her home country, was forced to work as a servant for a Greek family to earn a meal for herself and her son. She talked about how her father came out of something so devastating to realize real success all because his mother decided to make a place for them and they were warmly welcomed into the community.

Kallie reminded us that there must be a reason for this mass movement of people to Greece (estimates say there are now 3 million refugees in Greece, making them a third of the population). Of course, we are not going to grasp why this is all happening, but we must trust that God has a hand in this moment of history. We also have to recognize that while our ministry is here to provide, it is also the responsibility of the community to embrace these strangers and help them to make a their "place". I can't help but think about how I will continue to address these issues when I get home. Who are the refugees, the placeless, those in transition in our own community?