It pays to be a volunteer

International Women’s Day is celebrated around the world on March 8^th every year.  I first became familiar with this day and its’ celebration in Ngaoundere, Cameroon, when my missionary colleague and friend Karen Benson and I were returning to our home and passed the local church which was packed and vibrant with singing and dancing.  I have celebrated International Women’s Day literally around the world, and was happy this year to join in the celebration here in Belgium.

I love the contrast that is communicated in the title to this blog post:  it pays to be a volunteer.   But it’s not a concept that I can probably teach to my 9-12 year olds at church!  As a volunteer, you do something because you want to do it.  You don’t expect to be paid for your service or time.  You do it for fun.  So we, the volunteers celebrated International Women’s Day with a group of women who were perhaps celebrating this important event for the first time in their lives, and for many the first time to celebrate in Europe.  Even the sun cooperated on that day, and the almost 60 degree weather beckoned each of us to get outside and soak up some vitamin D as we drank our juice and sparkling water in beautiful champagne glasses.

The tables that welcomed us all ~

A splash of color provided by flowers and Coke and Fanta!

The tables were bedecked with beautiful flowers, bright spring colors all around.  It was a real privilege to serve the ladies our luncheon of the day:  quiche and pizza.  Many were the smiles going around the room, as well as at least a bazillion languages (okay, that’s perhaps an exaggeration but there were so many!).  Laughter, sunshine, good food, beautiful women, the spirit of friendship and phone cameras taking oodles of pictures made for what was an absolutely “gezellig” afternoon (it’s my favorite word in this local Flemish language; and it means cozy, pleasant).

Joining in on the conversation with another volunteer

What do you like on your pizza??

Sometimes it takes whatever it takes ~ to bring a bit of joy, color and laughter into the faces and lives and hearts of those that we are trying to reach with the love of Jesus.

  It just pays!

Where to put the accent

Having studied a few languages in life (it's often the first question that people like to ask a missionary....how many languages do you speak?), I've learned a few things about accents.  Having recently revisited the French language in writing emails and correspondence with Central African friends and colleagues, I find myself having to switch to the French keyboard on the computer regularly.  Knowing that accents are important in this particular language (we have no accents in English, and there are only a couple of rare instances where you need to add an accent or the two little dots over a vowel in the local Flemish language), I'm always in search of where to put the accent.  And in French, you have to know which accent to put on, because they go in both directions over an "e" and depending on how you place the accent, it totally changes the pronunciation of your "e".

Our women's group at church is gathering around a Bible study and teaching about the Holy Spirit.  In our last session together, rather than end our gathering in group prayer (which is our normal routine), we were encouraged to go off in separate corners of the meeting place (my home) and sit in a posture that put us quietly and in reverence before God.  The lesson had been about being filled with the Spirit, and though we struggled with the teaching material, we all went away from the lesson feeling the need to pray quietly.  Since the sun was shining, I invited some of the ladies to go out onto the back terrace or even braver still, outdoors into the garden (there was a slight nip in the air).  But I also warned them that they needed to look beyond the cobwebs on the back porch (haven't quite done the spring cleaning yet), and to look beyond the weeds (with my knee still needing physical therapy, I don't find myself quite jumping down on my knees yet to pull out the weeds!)  And one of the women was quick to say "Barb, how can you even think about the cobwebs or the weeds when this beautiful sun is out and you have such beautiful daffodils in the garden?!"

Tis quite true, in fact.  Whether in a language lesson on looking out at life, it all depends on where you put  your accent.  I was quick to point out the things that were standing in my way of enjoying the opportunity to share the sunny terrace and garden with friends, when, in fact, they were all too eager to be outdoors, soaking up the Vitamin D and the beauty of the spring flowers.

But perhaps the bigger lesson learned that morning was this:  in a time in life when so much threatens to overlook the true beauty and the good, and bring into view the things that need to be corrected or updated or cleaned, we risk placing the accent where it doesn't belong.

Point well taken.

Not even a language lesson.

Just another life lesson.

Now, sit back and enjoy a view of my spring flowers~

Fun primroses in the flower box

These babies greet me on my way to PT appointments

Planted these baby daffodils years ago....I love it when they keep showing up every year!

Can you see beyond the weeds and leaves and see the purple?

These lovely ones will soon be out in the garden, adding their own splash of color

Immigration journeys

"Recently on our day off, Steve and I visited the Red Star Line Museum in Antwerp.  This new museum opened in September 2013 and focuses on the immigration journeys of thousands of immigrants who left Europe for America in the late 1800's and early 1900’s.  The Red Star Line was the shipping line that sailed  from Antwerp, Belgium directly to New York City. Check out their website: http://www.redstarline.be/en

A last view of Antwerp as the boat departs for the "New World"

Steve's checking out the southern view from the tower

Our village of Ekeren is just beyond the 3 buildings in the distance
 on the right side of this photo ~ and do you get the impression that it was cold that day?!

From the website:  “The Red Star Line Museum is a journey to the past and an encounter with the present.  With their whole life packed in a few suitcases, millions of people sailed from Europe to America after 1800. The United States and Canada were the promised land for fortune seekers and everyone looking for a better life. For many people, the trip to the New World began in a warehouse in Antwerp. Red Star Line ocean steamers paved the way to a new life for about two million men, women and children between 1873 and 1934.”

I found myself getting rather emotional as we walked through the museum and read the stories of some of the passengers:  their dreams, their hopes, what they were leaving behind.  My emotions run high because my own father emigrated from Europe (the former Yugoslavia, what is present day Croatia) to come to America, arriving first in New York and then coming to Chicago where he settled and married and raised his family.  In a weird sort of way, not knowing many of the details of my dad’s immigration journey, I kept expecting to maybe somehow see some detail of his own journey.  And then I read that the Red Star Line closed in 1934….too late to be a part of my dad’s story, because he came to America in 1950.

6654 kilometers (that's 4,134 miles) from Antwerp to Chicago......
even longer from the little village in Yugoslavia where dad left

Again from the Red Star Line website: "Migration might have a different face these days, but the human side of migration is timeless and universal.”

Reflections that were spinning around in my head as we climbed the museum tower to catch that last glimpse of Antwerp harbor: migration, refugees, people who have fled their homelands for any of a hundred or so reasons, setting up home and family in a new land in a new language with new traditions.  Since the beginning of time, people have been in flight.  I’m so thankful for the opportunities that we have in our current ministry setting to react to the human side of migration; to hear the stories of those who have fled from home and family and life as they knew it, to pursue peace and refuge in a safer corner of the world.  I continue to be amazed at how my own personal history with immigration, which formed me as one who grew up in a home on the south side of Chicago where cuisine, language and religion were different from many in our neighborhood, continues to affect my story and life here in Belgium today.

How about you?  What is your migration story?  Perhaps it doesn’t include a boat trip in recent years to America, but there is always a story.  My prayer is that your migration story will always include a glimpse of seeing God at work; in bringing you to a safe place, in helping you to be more human in welcoming the strangers in your midst.

And now for a bit of fun…..check out who took a boat ride with the Red Star Line to New York….(I especially love the playing cards scene!)

Bummer ~ the video won't download onto the blog.  Here's the link ~ and I'll be sure to send you a postcard!!  http://www.redstarline.be/uwfilmpje/LYT9784e8df