not the same after that

as i sit & absorb a backyard scene in midwest america, greece seems a world away. and it is – bustling airports & flight agendas & ocean & time zones away. it was a long return trip, and in many ways i feel like i am still on it.

it is midnight in athens, on a thursday night. i can only imagine what is happening on the street where i stood one week ago. i visualize the loud & beautiful nigerian girls; despite their short skirts & high heels, they run. they run for their lives – to chase cars stuffed with potential customers, or to flee the police who chase them into corners of the empty market. but that chase does not last long. we watch each girl return, because the first car offers an escape from life as she knows it. she only sees what is directly before her – this need to pay off the trafficker who has her life on hold.

last thursday i had to say goodbye to sara, whose arrest we had witnessed one week ago. i had the most difficulty telling her that i would probably not talk to her again. she asked about a phone call or future visits. i wanted to lie to her & to myself … to say “see you later.” it’s just simpler – that after finding her every week, writing out verses for her, waiting for hours at the court for her trial, praying for her – to think that we can continue our friendship.

i don’t know what will happen to sara. i don’t have any great ideas to follow through with her. i can just pray for her, even when i don’t feel like that’s enough. will you do the same?

thank you for your loving support during my time with nea zoi. i couldn’t have gone without my friends & fam.

fruit that will last.

she laughed in my face. the first time i met lisa, she twirled around & ran away, hysterical with laughter. she pulled the girls standing around her into the fun game as well. the idea that we could help her find a new job was a good joke. the hardened reality around lisa told her “you were brought here illegally from nigeria. this is a limited place. you know how to do one thing for money, and that is all you can do.” unfortunately, i find a piece of myself initially understanding – the side of me that sees only that dark street & the work they feel forced to do.

even if it is ever so slow, hope starts to creep in & faith reminds that there is much more than this. they can choose something different, but they must choose to accept our help. this requires a trust that we must build as nea zoi street volunteers. we have noticed a complete difference in how open & accepting the nigerian girls have been as we become more consistent in our late night outreaches. this month we are trying a more intense program, where we visit them 3 times a week & have a central location from which to share food, literature & conversation. a more constant presence has changed everything, even lisa. i look for her every time & she’s now willing to talk & laugh with me.

although the chaos of the street where the girls work never slows down, we have become a more comfortable part of the scenery this month. while we usually walk through their area, now we are planted in a central location, asking the girls to meet us halfway. it’s interesting how much a small table can change things. we have made several friends in the last weeks, and the girls are beginning to recognize us more as well. i’m excited for this time, but know it will come to a close as summer vacation begins. it will also come to a close for me as i pack up to head home 1 august.

please pray for these girls. pray that nea zoi can continue to be a regular presence on this street, with people who know these girls by name – who befriend & pray for them. it is difficult to leave, but i think it’s even more difficult to be left. pray fiercely for them.

i appointed you to go & bear fruit – fruit that will last. (jesus, in john 15:16)

TU grads serving at Nea Zoi! (me, stacie, nicole)

just one.

music played in the background & a table was piled with delicious food. laughter & playing children bounced around the room. balloons popped & cameras flashed.

it sounds like a typical party, but its purpose was exciting & unique. two weeks ago, nea zoi’s office filled with people who were there to celebrate the accomplishments of our three nigerian students. they just completed our eisodos (greek for “entrance”) program for vocational training. we were proud of their persistance in greek, computer, and life skills classes. we took an even greater delight in the relationships we’d build with these sweet girls over the past months, over meals shared & fun outings. after handing out certificates, congratulations, and hugs, it was difficult to say goodbye for the summer. but it was also a fun way to end our time together. i left feeling uplifted, and went straight into our late night outreach.

we originally met these three girls on a street in central athens, where the majority of trafficked nigerian girls work here in the city. it is a chaotic street on our late night outreaches, and we see the girls we meet in many stages. our three graduates have come a long way. as our small team worked its way down the street that night, we were reminded of the long struggle ahead of many of these girls if they decide to take the risks required to leave this street & this life.

my view of the evening slowly shifted from one of optimism to discouragement, as we moved down the street & realized that there were more girls than we’d expected. we should know by now that nothing about our work is predictable. we hadn’t foreseen the numbers because lately the athens police have been performing a city “sweep” & our girls have disappeared or, in the case of several brothels, been arrested & deported. so when as we saw & met about 50 girls that night, many whom we did not know, it was overwhelming. i personally felt defeated – back at square one – for a few days following.

i spent a lot of time reflecting on the contrast of the night’s two events, and what it reveals about our ministry here. the conclusion i came to is not something i always accept easily, but i believe it is truth. truth of which i must constantly remind myself: we are not here for numbers.

let’s face it, numbers look good. they say something about success. they represent something i can hold, or take a picture of, or count on my fingers. numbers are comforting in their tangibility & they do help in many ways. but they are not why i’m here. the hidden ones are why i’m here. that one girl who IS looking for a way out. the one who DOES call the next day, asking about a church or for medical help. the three who DO decide to show up for class. the one who finally wants to talk, when we show up week after week, still calling her by name.

who is going to be available for her, if we’re all looking for numbers?

is it not worth the effort, simply because i have to look twice to find them? i think it’s worth it, because Jesus did as well. he tells us about a shepherd who leaves 99 sheep to look for one, a woman who drops her to do list for one little coin, an infinitely patient father who runs to runs to his dirty & disheveled son. even Jesus somehow decides who to heal in an entire crowd of people.

just one.

so while no one in nea zoi is here to do the least possible, we are determined to also be faithful in the small – praying God will make it tall.

“just? what a terrible, candle-snuffing word …”
- jm barrie in finding neverland

2 graduates + some nz staff

c – r – a – z – y

“you are either crazy, or paid a lot of money, to come here every week in this weather.”

so athens is hot in july. sizzling, if you will. on our last wednesday morning outreach to the brothels, a male madame made this keen observation to dina, one of our staff members.

apparently we’re crazy.

nz staff member, kiki & her adorable son xristos

having loved

my cousin niki & i on a weekend getaway!

i’ll admit that i occasionally think of jesus’ apostles the way one would a next door neighbor. so far i’ve decided that i’d probably follow john around, in awe of his eloquence & trying to catch his observations. i would have trouble getting along with paul, quite frankly. as for peter, i think we’d be bff’s. i’d probably be calling him pete after a week or so.

i recognize something in the nature of peter that is very me-ish. i can’t help but have a good laugh when he blurts out an embarrassing statement, knowing that he is echoing recent thoughts i’ve had. i feel his pain when he realizes the gravity of denying the man he called messiah & savior, because i share a similar loathing for my selfish decisions. i rejoice in the strength god’s spirit gives peter as he becomes a leader in the radical movement that was the early church. his life story reminds me that there is constant hope, alongside short-fallings & growth. always something to look forward to.

and so. in the midst of a new season here in athens – the girls’ classes coming to an end, the city’s center becoming more crowded & chaotic, and working on a new schedule for nea zoi – we are pulled in many different directions. when problem-solving opportunities pop up here & there, i am reminded of how very small i am, in a different cultural context, band-aiding a multilayered societal issue, combined with my impulsive & outspoken self. if that is not potential for why did i say that, or eek i am useless scenarios, then i don’t know what is. this is where peter & i swap friendship bracelets & exchange our secret handshake.

then right before i conclude this whirlwind of doubts with a sort of helpless sarcasm, i come to john 13, which sites another one of peter’s classic blunders oh so familiar to me. he begins by refusing to accept a gift, the gift of jesus serving him by way of footwashing. he ends ends by practically signing up for the full spa experience. his childlike enthusiasm is so genuine – i just love the guy. & so does jesus, because he continues to encourage him, right up to his adamant requests that peter feed his beloved sheep. quite the task, for someone whose words make us cringe in half of his appearances. clearly jesus knew something we do not.

before he circles the room with towel & wash basin, john says that jesus knew it was time for him to go to his father. & “having loved his own who where in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love.” when he is done washing feet, he passes it on to those who were just cleansed. “wash one another’s feet.” love one another. provide for one another. forgive one another.

& so it goes. because imperfect, stumbling men were washed with these perfect hands, they must do the same. because he chose to show them the full extent of his love, they are able to do the same. despite my out of place, seemingly insignificant, impulsive self, i will do the same.

(please pray for nea zoi, as we are undergoing many changes with staff, needs, and environment. we just want to communicate this love on athen’s streets.)

the thing with feathers

my home for now.

it was a sunday morning & i needed some time to myself. so i began a quiet climb up philapopou – a short hike from where i was staying in thisseo. from the top i could see what appears to be all of athens. garden packed rooftops stretch across a maze of streets, all the way to the sea, curled around the port of piraeus. my eyes did not have to wander far to see a nearby island, the mountains that the city is just tucked into, and of course the acropolis – silently sitting atop its hill as the city’s mascot of sorts.

as i sat & watched athens from this panorama, smaller clips of what this place has become to me flashed through my mind. streets that welcome thought-filled steps as i weave my way around shortcuts & now familiar shops … colorful cafes that see long conversations or late night laughter … the crowded & dark street corners that showcase a reality in which many lives are trapped.

my eyes have seen such beauty & ugliness here. the ugly is what i’m stuck on. the hardened story of these street corners. “this is my reality. it is what others have made it. this is what i will do with it. this is the only truth. it is all i see & all i can do.”

it’s difficult to answer that. there are no quick fixes for someone who is stuck in prostitution. it is easiest to conclude that this man or woman will not leave because no one wants to hire, proper paperwork is impossible, dangerous organized crime is involved, the system is too corrupt, easy money is always available in the current job, etc. these are the immediate answers to the questions, “how can we help? what can i possibly do?” there are many logical answers that stop us in our path. logical & hopeless.

but these answers are too small. they are limited. initially, the only response reminds me of standing before the mountains surrounding the city. unmoving & final. but from the top of this hill, i know that perspective changes everything. now i see the full view – the possibilities, beyond what seemed all-consuming & endless. as one landscape folds into the one beside it, and one road connects to another, there is clarity.

i must admit that being here has changed the way i perceive what is before me. it is difficult to choose the top of the hill when it seems so realistic to believe what is right before me. it’s funny, because while i have occasionally surrendered to the cynical, i know that at the end of the day, there is hope. the “more” of lovely hope. in weakness i sometimes forget to say it – but jesus is lord.  he broadens my view when i try to narrow it down. pray that i choose to daily believe & speak this hope.

scenes of easter

candle light service

the eve before my first greek easter, i stood in a square outside a traditional orthodox church in the center of athens. i did my best to absorb the new everything around me. the sights & sounds of this celebration: the priests singing into the cold night, surrounded by a mesmerized crowd, in which the soft glow of candlelight was slowing growing. the gradual walk through plaka, shared with friends trying to keep their light the whole way home. the calm city, with only church bells to break its rare silence. anticipating the taste of lamb for our easter lunch the following afternoon …

as i reflected back on this easter season, which had started weeks before, the picture unfolded into nea zoi’s special holiday outreaches. the senses of easter were much different here. the sight of a dark stairway, lit by a single dim dulb above its doorway. the sound of loud dance music to greet us at the entrance – a constant reminder of the cheap party some women are forced to attend. the smell of cigarettes, perhaps from a previous customer. the warming affect of a smile & “kalo paska!” in a crowded & uncomfortable place. the taste of chocolate in our gifts, sharing a celebration. the shy welcome of a girl, telling her name or country of origin with hesitation.

one girl in particular stands out in my mind from our visits. tanya works in a brothel that is a longer walk from our outreach center. she is bulgarian, and immediately welcomed my friend & i inside. she was not busy at the time & we had a chance to sit with tanya & her madam for several minutes. they both accepted candles, and were interested in discussing the easter holiday & what we do as an organization. tanya has been in this work since she was a young teen, and is now in her mid-20’s. she was open to hearing about nea zoi & she had such a welcoming & kind heart! i was thankful that we had a chance to meet tanya, and know we were only able to make this far-away connection because of our unique easter outreaches, in which we cover more ground. we know many other bulgarian women like tanya, and it is my hope that we can continue to have positive contacts with as many as possible.

these are the visions that fly through my mind as i reflect on nea zoi’s easter season – a time of sharing true, vibrant life in a dull & colorless world. i pray these gifts are received well & that the hope of something different lingers in their minds.

this little light of mine

view from the top: hydra

i haven’t seen the easter bunny this april. not once. but i have seen signs of the greek easter everywhere, including special candies, the McLent menu, and the fun holidays celebrated throughout this season. another important detail of easter in greece is the candles that hang in every other shop window – a traditional family gift.

at nea zoi, we plan to hand out decorated candles to the men & women on the street this week. we will be doing special easter outreaches 8, 9, 13 april. the gifts include a decorated candle with a verse & chocolate eggs.

this is an exciting & important time. easter is huge in greece – comparible to the christmas season in the states. so giving a gift is a great way to form relationships, and we are usually able to connect with more people over this time. i’m looking forward to experiencing these unique outreaches, and ask that you pray for our conversations as we pass them out.

yiati?

look who came to visit

this morning as i studied my greek, i sorted through my paper mountain of vocabulary flashcards that’s slowly building. if you need to tell your greek friend about a burgundy bicycle on the kitchen counter to your left, i’ll help you out. before you get too impressed, i am reminded daily of the basics i don’t know. there are always the w question words – what, where, which, when, etc. i’ve added them all to the pile, but realized today that i cannot complete a good game of clue in this language simply because i havent learned all those w’s. strange, you’d think i might have these essentials before i could help you find your globe, basement, or trolley. i have no idea how to ask my most visited question – “why?” so i looked it up for myself: “yiati” (the closest i can come in our alphabet).

i can now sleep at night. yiati. i was thinking about this wonderful question, and wondering why (see, there it is!) i hadn’t added it to the list before then. come to think of it, “why” really doesn’t show up much in small talk. i think it’s safe to say that some people don’t like this question much. it seems accusing, and often leads to an uncomfortable answer.

but someone has to stop and ask why. someone has to challenge the ugly or avoided or just plain senseless. it is easy to ignore the dirty, crowded streets we walk down on thursday nights, or the bare white bulb shining above a brothel door. life would be simpler for the nea zoi volunteers if they hadn’t just serve tea to a naked girl who doesn’t know where she is or how to leave, and then prayed to ask the God of the universe why she is there if he loves her enough to count the hair on her head. i don’t know why i still have confidence that He knows & cares about this work, when we don’t always have students attend our classes, or funds to pay for projects. but i do.

& on frustrating days, it’s so vey uplifting to be around other volunteers who continue to show up & start conversations & pour tea. it reminds me that other people are not afraid to ask why? why do these men & women face such rejection? why was this one girl forced to leave her home to be sold like an object? why have they chosen to believe that this is where their value lies? yiati? i am reminded of Jesus, who constantly challenges our selfish choices to ignore the darkness instead of lighting a match. please pray that we will continue to ask why – that we will not be discouraged when a little match light seems too small – that we will faithfully rely on the work that God is doing, seen or unseen.

good news

very good news.  here’s a little article about some progress (hopefully) in policy to prevent  international sex slavery.

please pray for government & organizations  involved in working against this issue on a large scale!

Craigslist Sued Over Erotic Ads (BBC News)