Our new home

Working with refugees

This last week Mike and I have had the privilege to serve in refugee ministries with HM. On Monday nights we serve a “love meal” to the homeless and refugees. The number of people attending this dinner has increased significantly since we were here in 2006. The number of families, women and children is eye opening and heartbreaking. The people seem desperate for food as they reach out to receive the soup or other dish that’s been prepared for them. Looking at the faces of the littlest kids, like one year olds, breaks my heart. Their looks of desperation and despair make me think, “God, I’ve never been hungry.” How is that depending where one is born, one either has a life of abundance and freedom or of squalor and oppression? The inequities of the situations are hard to justify. And I wonder why? Why did I never have to have someone else provide food and clothes and diapers for our children? Why were we always able to live in a nice warm house with bathrooms and a kitchen? Why did I grow up experiencing the best of freedom-to work, to go to school, a home and a family etc? Why are so many people without these basic things?

On Tuesdays, the hall is now open to women and children for showers and to do their laundry (the men come on Mondays). Even though we try to make it as nice as possible, a stranger never had to tell me to hurry up my shower nor did I ever have to ask for feminine hygiene products from a stranger. I never squatted to nurse my babies, nor had to sit in a hallway for most of the afternoon and wait for my clothes to dry outside. The boredom and monotony of it were depressing for me. The children range in age from toddlers to teenagers. It’s hard to watch the face of a teen as her mom asks me if I know of any work for her husband. They have six children and no work. I am like a deer in the headlights. I am speechless. I can’t even begin to understand what this feels like, and I am ashamed that I can’t even begin to understand her situation. The teenage girl seems bright and somewhat embarrassed of the situation and I think of teens in the US with so much who are rude and just demand more from their parents. I look at the faces of the women and they look tired, hopeless. I can’t communicate well with them other than to smile. So I try to treat them with respect, share smiles with them, change their laundry, clean up after them in the showers. I know Jesus is the peace and hope they need but how do I share this with them? I cannot rescue them, I cannot give them work. I cannot financially support them or give them housing. It’s overwhelming to me and yet I just do what I can at that time.

Thank you for helping us help others in the name of Christ. Too often we Americans want to see solutions; we can usually fix things quickly and efficiently. But here we are left to just love the best we can, for the short time we have contact with these people. Please pray for the needs of these refugees and the strangers and aliens among you. They are there if we just open our eyes beyond our own needs to see those around us. Look them in the eyes, let them know you see them and that you care. The answer is not up to us, just the responsibility to help when we are shown the opportunity to do so.

Thanks for letting me share my heart with you.

A Reluctant Servant

A week ago, when most of your were enjoying your Thanksgiving holiday, eating leftovers and putting up Christmas decorations, Mike and I had the opportunity to spend the night out at HM’s seaside camp, Porto Astro. On Saturday, I spent the day cleaning a boat on shore while the rest of the team did repairs on the Morning Star (HM’s 67 ft. sailboat). The five hours or so that I spent cleaning the boat by myself gave me a lot of time to speak and to listen to God and to learn more about myself.

While I was washing the boat I kept thinking how much I didn’t enjoy doing this task. I was thinking of everyone at home shopping and celebrating and feeling somewhat sorry for myself. I was rationalizing that I was too old to be climbing up into this little dinghy and cleaning it, after all, I am a grandma! I couldn’t picture any of my friends back home doing it or even any of my kids doing it. Then I told God “I am a bible study teacher, not a boat cleaner. Did you forget that I just graduated with a degree in Biblical Studies from Moody?” And God said to me, “Do you think you are too good for boat cleaning?” And I answered, “Yes, I think I am.” And He said, “Was Jesus not too good in His perfect holiness to come to earth and take your filthy sins to the cross?” And I was silenced. He said “You say you want to be my servant, but now you are complaining about the work I have given you today. You are telling me what you are willing to do to serve Me.” And I was humbled. He said, “Peggy, in order to use you to do anything here in Greece, I need you to come before me in brokenness, not in pride.” And I was quiet.

This was a shocking, painful day of self revelation for me. How is it that we say we will serve God with all our hearts, mind, strength and soul and then we put parameters on that service? How easy it is to speak words, how much more difficult it is to surrender to God’s plan not our own. I still have so much to learn, but am trusting The Teacher! I won’t quickly forget this lesson in boat cleaning!