Kingdom Travelling

Short-term Mission Trips 2012

SlackAlis — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 23:43:06 +0000

Where will you go in 2012?

SoapBox has just published their date list for 2012. Check it out on their new look website at http://www.soapboxtrust.com/

The site is brand new, so please get in touch if you spot any errors or broken links.

Don’s Romania/Ukraine Mission Journal Part 11

SlackAlis — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 22:16:57 +0000

I’ve just about stopped breaking into floods of tears at the drop of a hat now.

Having discussed and prayed about the Claudia topic we have regretfully decided that for now it’s a “no”. But we should do a lot more than we are doing.

I often think of the story of the million starfish washed up on the beach and how a little boy flings one or two of them back into the sea. His father suggested to him that he won’t make any impression on the state of the beach and what he’s doing will not matter. The little boy retorted that it mattered to the starfish he threw back.

My mind has accepted that I won’t ever be able to solve the problem of abandoned kids or beaten wives totally, but that shouldn’t stop me from doing something – anything, because it will surely matter to the ones we help!

Don’s Romania/Ukraine Mission Journal Part 10

SlackAlis — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 22:11:14 +0000

Kornel is kind enough to take me to the airport and we debrief on the way; he has need of English speaking 18 to 25 year olds for next year’s camps in Hungary and Ukraine, money to support a second camp in Ukraine (the area of greatest need) and clothes, sweets and toiletries for the kids. He has also received a recent request for an English speaking intern to spend a term or longer at a Hungarian school to push the children’s language skills. Do I know anyone?

I think the world of this bloke. We bid a fond farewell.

If you can spare a couple of weeks or longer to help at a summer camp or Hungarian school. Please leave a comment and I’ll get in touch.

Don’s Romania/Ukraine Mission Journal Part 9

SlackAlis — Sun, 28 Aug 2011 22:03:00 +0000

A lazy start and everyone is off to church in the city centre – Golgotha Baptist church is in an old theatre and has four services on Sunday. Some songs have English subtitles, others not. Some have a familiar tune and Geo and I try and fit the Hungarian words on the screen in. It’s easier to sing than to say actually.

The pastor is an American but we followed what he was saying all the same!

There’s also a young lady giving Hungarian translation on the fly for the benefit of the 60 per cent who don’t do English of any flavour.

Back to Eva’s for dinner of thin soup with pasta and carrots (very nice) and breaded pork steaks and boiled pots and rice. I think Hungarian cook books must have over used the phrase ‘cook until stiff’ over the years.

Next we all pile into the minibus and we’re off to see Henrietta and her five kids (the sixth has already started school some distance away. Somehow I felt this was to be a trip to the suburbs but two hours later we’re still batting along.

Henrietta is one of four personal projects of Eva and even has a sponsor related to a Scunthorpe Baptist Church member. Henrietta is thin and quietly spoken and has three boys and two girls with her who are incredibly polite and bright. They are great fun though a little subdued, probably missing a father figure. H has three jobs but still struggles financially. The house they rent is up for sale and so they may have to move again soon if it sells. This would mean more expense for different school uniforms, etc. H is visibly wilting under the pressure but they all put on a good face. Eva and G/J pray with H in the kitchen while Kornel and I play footie on the grass outside with the kids. G/J have brought boxes of stuff from Scunthorpe for them and a couple of us try and sneak dosh into her fridge for her to find when we’ve gone.

Look, I know what I said earlier about not helping anyone else after Eva/Kornel, Mary and Ramiz, but I can just squeeze in one more, can’t I?

Home to Eva’s and she and I discuss the prospects for the future. I insist that she does NOT get hopeful but express my feelings towards adopting, perhaps even Claudia. She shows me pictures of her. She’s convinced Claudia is the right one and instantly becomes hopeful (Dooh!). I try and calm her down saying that I must discuss with my wife and girls, and spend serious prayer time on this.

Don’s Romania/Ukraine Mission Journal Part 8

SlackAlis — Sat, 27 Aug 2011 22:56:18 +0000

A tearful send off from Oradea with lots of promises, tears and hugs.

The van handles a lot better now that it’s empty. I don’t though, I feel empty too.

We join the motorway queues on the approaches to Budapest once again and arrive at Eva’s as requested before 11 o’clock. Down a quick cup of coffee then into the city centre in Kornel’s minibus to collect Andrea, Chilla and Kristi. Then it’s on to the next stop which is a Refuge/Orphanage/Home for the homeless housed in one of the blocks of an old Russian army barracks at a place I can’t spell or pronounce (80ish miles away).

Kornel asks me to organise the timed “Scooter down the Slalom of Cones” game. The other helpers have different competition/games spread around the play area. I devise a complicated system of handicap which makes the watch go slower the younger the competitor is. My warped sense of Central European humour offers to take bribes to reduce the time, but it didn’t work on most of the kids. One enterprising eight year old agrees but pays me in stones he’s just picked off the ground. I went with the spirit of the offer and gave him a good timing. Later on, at the sweet/prize giving ceremony this youth wins top prize; it seems he has worked this deal on the others too! He’ll go far this kid.

Chilla gives the message and teaches the kids John 14:6 ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, no one comes to the Father except through the Son’ recognisable even in Hungarian.

More songs and I join in with “Blessed be the Name of the Lord…” but Kornel stops half way through verse one and calls me out to the front to show the kids my moves. Oh! Fellow Britons I do not let you down but gyrate my best moves which I have been saving for my daughters wedding days, ending with my favourite carpet surfing on the polished floor slide (with hindsight maybe that was not such a good example to set – but hey, I’m up the road in an hour or so…).

I show the kids my magic tricks but this lot are quite a bit rougher and less polite than previous groups and try to snatch coins from my hands and even plunge their hands into my pocket to retrieve them once the trick is over. A noisily rolling scrummage results which they love and no-one is injured. I still have my phone and some money, though hair ruffled and dignity in tatters.

We say a cheery farewell and it’s my turn to buy the ice creams on the return journey. Gentility returns in this the poshest ice-cream emporium I have ever seen. I talk to Andrea and cannot believe how badly Hungarian teachers are paid.

In the evening I take Kornel out for a beer to pick his brain. We sit in a bar on the banks of the mighty Danube, admiring the sun descending over the glistening Danube, drinking beer which tastes distinctly like erm… (you got it)!

Don’s Romania/Ukraine Mission Journal Part 7

SlackAlis — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 22:54:22 +0000

Full day with Mary. Difficult. As described yesterday.

Don’s Romania/Ukraine Mission Journal Part 6

SlackAlis — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 22:46:30 +0000

At 9 o’clock, after a frankfurter and scrambled egg breakfast we are collected by a man in a posh car to go and look at another charity’s work who needs our help.

I am determined not to be drawn by a charity which runs expensive cars and a city centre office. He takes us for a coffee in a chique city centre cafe (I keep my thoughts to myself, even when he makes all the right noises). He’s a Romanian doctor speaking with a very educated, slightly American accent. It turns out that he is Ramiz Momeni, a director of Romania Relief. He tells us of the marvellous projects his charity is doing amongst the poorest of the poor; Gypsies in Tincha. We jump into his massive VW 4×4 and cruise the 40 miles to Tincha and look at the newly-built but as yet uncommissioned clinic. It’s right next to the shacks in which the Gypsy families live. He then takes us to two incredibly beautiful houses in the town which are specially built refuges for homeless and abandoned kids.

The kids and staff are happy, content, well provided for and sincerely grateful. We have a great time. The kids and staff are really (really) valued. I soften. Not enough space here to tell of the 5* treatment Romania Relief provide. Needless to say, my opinion of the good doctor and his charity were totally reversed in the day; even the £45,000 VW Toureg was provided by the Good Lord above as it was won by the supporters in England and sent out free of charge!

Tonight I resolve to help Eva and Kornel in Budapest, Mary in Oradea and Dr Ramiz at Tincha – but NO MORE!

Mary isn’t well this evening and the heat isn’t helping. Four hours in the room is enough for me to get cabin fever, poor lass has been here 12 years. She cries with frustration as well as the pain. We pray, but it just doesn’t come close to being enough. I hear myself speaking platitudes in a vain attempt to bring relief. I don’t fool anybody.

Meet a Missionary – George

SlackAlis — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 15:26:11 +0000

George has managed to get in touch from Romania and said this:

“All ok. Having great fellowship with the team. It has been long days with work on a new house for a homeless man clued Marchet. We are travelling one hour each way to and from the hostel.

“I’m just getting used to cold showers but it is hard on the skin.

“We have a great team who have all been super together.

“Tell you more on Tuesday when I get back.”

Is sounds like George is having a good time, doing some good work and making the most of his experience. Please remember him over the next couple of weeks as he finishes off the work, prepares to come home and settles back into everyday life.

Don’s Romania/Ukraine Mission Journal Part 5

SlackAlis — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 22:37:11 +0000

A lazy start. We’ll be in Romania’s nearest city by lunch time but Eva has still packed us up some serious sandwiches. The sun gets even hotter as we go further East.

Still in Hungary the countryside is simple but well kept and cultivated. The Romanian border post is forbidding and the landscape somehow changes as soon as we’re through. The Romanian fields are obviously just as fertile but not as well worked.

Oradea greets us on the horizon with an enormous chimney belching out orange soot straight over the city. Are they really in the same EU as us?

Mary and her mum Dominika live on the ground floor of one of the many Ceauescu apartment blocks (a three year old could have designed better using Lego).

Outside the door Dominika greets Geo and Jo using a hold she must have picked up as a wrestler somewhere. I loosen up and get ready. She’s too quick for me and succeeds in pinning me to her (ample) self. When I come up for air she is greeting me in a torrent of Romanian with tears starting to come. She smiles a warm smile into me which doesn’t begin to hide how grateful she feels that someone would drive across Europe to come and see her and bring (erm..) stuff!

Dominika doesn’t do English but they say only 20% of communication is spoken, so we’re fine.

Inside I’m daunted at the prospect of meeting the bed-bound Mary who seldom leaves her room. I give Geo and Jo space and feel a little like an interloper who really doesn’t belong. They graciously introduce me as their Master of Ceremonies though I’m stuck for what to say or do. I can’t decide on the appropriate greeting, do I warmly kiss both cheeks or more formally/respectfully shake hands? I opt for good old British compromise and kiss her hand (seemed a better option than shaking her cheeks).

Mary welcomes me in fluent English which I’m very impressed with. Sorry, I of course mean, with which I am very impressed. She’s still a bonny, vivacious 31 year old, well, the upper half of her is. She was in a car crash 12 years ago which broke her back. Extracted unprofessionally from the wreckage she has never walked since, and worse, she has never been without pain. She’s still a young woman though and proudly looks after her skin, hair and nails despite suffering the daily ignominy of incontinence. I resolve never to complain about anything ever again.

We unload the truck and bring in boxes of incontinence pads, tins of tuna and corned beef, toiletries and clothes. It turns out that Mary’s laptop died some months ago so George gives her his. This would be a kind act if Geo/Jo were wealthy, but they are not (I’ve decided they are saints).

Dominika potters around the house cleaning, washing, preparing massive meals, etc. She’s spent a full day scrubbing the room which is to be mine for the next three nights. It’s very dated, but spotless. My tricks and mime and inappropriate one liners go down well and don’t even loose too much when Mary translates for her mum. We have a good time and I’m glad I have been able to bring something to the party. The heat is stifling still and this doesn’t aid Mary’s comfort during the night.

Later it turns out that my open window doesn’t have a mosquito mesh and I’m slowly being eaten alive in the darkness. I get up in anger and dance around the room doing the “naked Romanian Mozzy-swat” flailing at them with yesterday’s under-trolleys shouting “Die Infidel”. I don’t kill anything, but it makes me feel better; it also surprises the passers-by on the street just outside – must get those curtains fixed!

Don’s Romania/Ukraine Mission Journal Part 4

SlackAlis — Tue, 23 Aug 2011 22:26:47 +0000

A good nights’ sleep with a pullout settee all to myself.

An early start, we pile into Kornel’s white transit minibus and head for the city to pick up Krista and Dora (who isn’t an explorer but a Wizzair stewardess – disappointingly). We also have with us Donni who is Kornel’s nephew and Cissy a twelve year old lad from today’s orphanage who has been staying with Kornel and Ruth. Poor Cissy is not looking forward to returning there today after being part of this perfect family for a week – who would?

We travel 60 miles back towards the Austrian border and Dora and I chat about my message today (which she’ll translate), then about the prospect of her trebling her wages by moving to London and becoming a waitress.

We arrive at the Koszeg orphanage and enter the gates which lead to the grand facade of an officer training academy. Most impressive from the outside; the inside is derelict apart from one floor on one wing which is the state run orphanage. There’s even a 105mm field gun on the tree lined drive (no orphanage should be without one!).

We draw up, and out of the corner of my eye I witness Cissy run to his mum who gives him such a cool reception. Then she gets into the battered pickup belonging to her drug dealer partner and drives off. Cissy takes this emotional punch to his solar plexus just as he has since day one. Luckily Krista also noticed the event and clinched Cissy to herself until his eyes dried and his spiritual breath returned (Brownie point to Krista).

The kids are all buzzing and I instantly have a team of new “bezzie mates” all wanting me to see where they live and sleep and play and wash and take pictures and play football….

The stone steps, high ceilings and echoing corridors shout authority, institution, rules and cold practicality, but hopefully the kids don’t see it anymore (‘bet it’s damn cold in winter though).

We’re greeted by some of the remaining staff who are underpaid and largely untrained – saints, every one. We start filling balloons with water for later, though some are for now – apparently! However, I’m quick to dry off in the heat.

Outside near the basketball court Kornel gets out his guitar and they all start singing and doing the actions. I even recognise “Who’s the King of the Jungle” and join in in English which raises a few eyebrows.

Then it’s my turn to speak. Dora translates. We read the first few verses from Ecclesiastes ch 3 (I bet you didn’t expect that!) “There is a time for every purpose under heaven, a time to weep and a time to dance, etc.” I drag out a message of hope (I hope) and tell the kids that times WILL change and the present circumstances will pass, but whatever comes their way God loves them and cares for them, and that will never change.

We play with the water bombs (I meant balloons – obviously), trampoline a little, I show them my magic tricks and we generally hang out together talking in smiles and mime. I fall in love with two girls Vicki and Hoyni who are probably only six or seven and look like the youngest there. I give them spins and piggy-back rides for 15 mins or so. At the end of a short canter I turn to set Hoyni’s legs down on the bench and feel all the weight come off my shoulders. She’s pretending not to notice that the ride has ended as her arms stay draped around my neck; she’s sneakily “stealing” a hug. As I am firmly of the opinion that for six year old princesses at least, hugs should be free and in plentiful supply. I turn around and we hug gently for a while longer letting the day drift by, saying nothing. She has a shunt beneath her skin from skull to abdomen, presumably to treat hydrocephalus. In fact all of these kids have some kind of physical or mental shortcoming, but God and I love them all the same.

I take myself off for a quick cry and a prayer, but God says “get your butt back in there now, we can do this later, right now it’s not about you, or even Me, it’s about them, and you’ve not got long here, so go” . I obey and trot back, sharing a last few chocolates and smiles, mimes and hugs – well, you get the picture dear reader.

We leave, and I sit in the bus, dazed, having never before felt like I have been parachuted OUT of a situation (?) so much as I do just now.

The stop for ice cream on the way home is cold comfort for the separation (no pun intended).

About 120miles and several broken hearts – mine included.