Travels with Sventoi Dvasia

(Warning: long, detailed travel stories ahead)

Somehow I have been home for four days already and am just now carving out a few minutes to write down my travel adventures. It has been relatively easy to reconnect with people and ways of living here – though the days are flying by faster than I expected. I can’t seem to escape a list-driven lifestyle, even on my “vacation.” There are gifts to be bought, friends to have coffee with, family to tell stories with… I am so blessed to have such a community to return to, and yet in the busyness, what I want most, more than anything, is to hear the voice of God, to seek Him in His sanctuary.

I think this is one of the reasons that I enjoy the process of traveling so much – in that in-between time, those minutes (or days) between when I have left one place and when I arrive at another, I have a great sense of the nearness of God. My existence is stripped down to the space of a bus seat and a backpack full of clothes.

The three days of travel it took to bring me from Klaipeda to Greeley were full to brimming with the voice of the Holy Spirit and the sense that God is truly Immanuel, with me. I am glad of the time that it took- the long bus ride, the layovers- because I was able to gradually, slowly, leave Klaipeda and Europe behind and prepare myself for the brief special time here.

I left Klaipeda with a friend at 10 a.m. last Friday morning, buckled down for the epic-length journey to Frankfurt, Germany which included a somewhat nerve-wracking short connection in Mariampole, Lithuania. Once we’d smoothly navigated the bus transfer, we settled into the coach seats and watched the flat, Iowa-like fields of Poland begin to roll past our windows. Not long into the trip, we noticed that the same family that had been on our bus from Klaipeda was sitting in the row in front of us on this bus as well. Eventually the woman and her daughter turned around and began talking (in Lithuanian) to me and my friend Thor. My Lithuanian comprehension is getting decent, but my available vocabulary is still quite limited, but we all managed to have a nice conversation about our holiday plans, where we were from, etc. After finding out that the family lived in Klaipeda, we asked what street they lived on. “Sportininku,” the woman said. “Sportininku?” I questioned, surprised, “Aš gyvenu Sportininku 14!” (“I live at number 14”) I said. “14?” the woman exclaimed, and then went on to tell us that they lived in building 14 too! Come to find out, they are my neighbors in apartment #4 – I just moved into #3 at the beginning of December!

From then on, we had a nice sense of camaraderie on the journey, and through Thor’s translation, were able to talk about real things. After awhile the conversation turned to church and we talked about the church Thor and I both attend in Klaipeda. The woman was interested in what type of church it is, given that most non-Catholic churches in Lithuania are perceived as being cults or sects. At one point in the conversation she expressed a desire to visit the church once we’re all back from holidays. Clearly, this was a divine appointment – one which was only the first of many over the next days.

I will not deny that 30 hours on a bus are physically trying, and by the end of the afternoon on Saturday, we were wiped out from little sleep and uncomfortable sitting positions! You reach a point of sort of dazed exhaustion just about the time the bus finally gets to where it’s going and you tumble out, gather your things and prepare for the next leg of the journey. We had about an hour in Frankfurt before needing to catch our train connection – I was heading to Stuttgart, Thor via Stuttgart to Munich. It was enough time to allow me to practice ordering a kebab in German (ich mochte eine doner) and to reintroduce myself to the joy of designer coffee (I confess, I stooped to the level of partaking of Starbucks). It was, of course, Christmas Eve, and the station was filled with decorations and people on their way to reunions and gatherings. Holding a cup of good coffee, backpack strapped to my back, full of the sense of being at home in the world, I couldn’t help but exclaim, “this is the good life”!

I occupied myself on the short trip from Frankfurt to Stuttgart by attempting to write down some pieces of the adventure and thoughts about home and travel that had been floating through my head throughout the journey. At a few moments, the sense of aliveness and the beauty of Christ’s Incarnation overflowed in my heart, and tears started to drip down from my eyes. Seeing as I wasn’t going to make it to a Christmas Eve service, I turned on my recording of The Messiah, and opened the Bible to Isaiah 40, to read the promise that:

Every valley shall be raised up,

Every mountain and hill made low,

The rough ground shall become level,

The rugged places a plain.

And the glory of the Lord will be revealed,

And all mankind together will see it.

For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.

I can’t imagine a better Christmas Eve than to be on the road with a friend, reading these words of life, and listening to the soaring melodies that are just a small taste of the heaven that Christ’s coming has made possible. I was blessed by the Holy Spirit’s presence with me in that train car, the reality of God’s Kingdom at the coming of Christ into the world that pressed in on my chest in a wholly unexpected way that afternoon.

Stuttgart station was my destination for that day, and I was planning to meet my friend Lisa from LCC, whose family lives in Stuttgart, to spend Christmas Eve with her. I was planning to wait for her until their church service let out, but we hadn’t made a clear plan of where inside the station to meet. Thor helped me orient myself and pointed out an internet café where I could send Lisa a message about where to connect. Before catching his train on to Munich, he and I prayed together for continued safe travels and to thank God for His protection and presence thus far.

I took advantage of the hour to send a couple emails and then settled myself in a conspicuous place near the front steps of the station where I thought I might see Lisa when she arrived. I don’t know if it was the exhaustion of travel or the poignancy of the day and the distances traveled, but I leaned back against my backpack with a few round tears hovering in the corners of my eyes. I must have looked especially pathetic because a kind, round German woman with short dark hair and glasses came up to me and began trying to talk to me in German. I being wrung out with travel and hunger, she must have seen the dark circles under my eyes because she made a wiping motion under her eyes, and patted my leg. I could understand the essence of what she was saying, but could only reply, “nine sprechen zie Deutsch” and “Danke!” She was telling me that I am young and strong, and not to be sad, to be brave and not to cry. Then she pointed up with her hands and said, “Gott ist Gut.” “Ya!” I exclaimed, and tried to mimic her phrase, “God ist Gut.” At that, the tears that had been threatening to run over brimmed with thanksgiving. In that moment, I KNEW that God had sent her, she was meant to comfort an exhausted traveler and fellow believer in a cold station on Christmas Eve. “Tonight,” she expressed, pointing to now, “bad. Morgen besser.” Tomorrow will be better.

After a few minutes, she left and I said a prayer of thanks for God’s comfort and then felt like I should make another attempt to find Lisa. I quickly picked up my backpack and turned around, only to see, at that very moment, Lisa walking past me, right across the center of the station, her eyes scanning the crowds for me. We connected with a hug and she led me out to her family’s car where her parents and three-year-old niece were waiting.

I am convinced that one of the most neglected spiritual gifts in modern life is the gift of hospitality – this, though, is not the case for the Friesen family. I was welcomed into their Christmas celebration wholeheartedly, and it was a wonderful blessing to be amongst a family that loves each other so completely. I played with Amelie, Lisa’s niece, held some of the other babies, took the family photographs, ate knudel, drank gluhwein, laughed at the family talent show, ate too much chocolate, and was even given a gift (a bag full of chocolates my family is still enjoying this week!). Despite being on the other side of the world from my own family, I didn’t feel even the slightest bit disconnected or forgotten. Christmas is about this – the inviting in of strangers, the arrival of visitors from far away, God leaving His home to be amongst those who do not know Him, who did not yet recognize Him. Christ himself was the traveler who came the furthest distance on Christmas night.

I got a night of solid sleep in Lisa’s family guest room and then Lisa drove me to the train station Christmas morning so I could catch my train back to the Frankfurt airport where I’d catch my flight to Denver (via Cincinnati). Another short ride, an easy check-in, and a small mishap at security (I forgot to take my cheese-cutting pocket knife out of my carry-on bag after snacking on the bus, and had to surrender it to the security agents. Oh well), I had a good amount of time before my flight boarded, so I had breakfast and a cappuccino. Making my way toward my gate with an hour to spare, I began to feel a strong urge to pray or to go off somewhere to honor Christ’s day in some way. I was walking down one long hallway and encountered a mass of people lining up for another security check, so I detoured around them and down a different hallway.

Just a few steps into my detour I passed a corner, and nearly stopped dead in my tracks. A long silver cross was fixed to a door, and the word, “Chapel” was painted next to it. (For those of you who read Harry Potter, the entire experience reminded me of the “Room of Requirement” that appears only when the characters need a secret place to meet!). I went in and sat down, read the messages of peace and Merry Christmas that other Christians had written in the guestbook, and then wrote my own – some words of a hymn which seemed fitting for the day and place:

We are pilgrims on a journey

We are brothers on the road

We are here to help each other

Walk the mile and bear the load

I was able to spend a half hour in prayer and quiet, and was struck again by the absolute, unequivocal knowledge of God’s presence and guiding over me. There were Bibles in three languages lying open on the table at the front of the chapel, the English one open to, of course, Isaiah 40, so I read:

He tends His flock like a shepherd;

He gathers the lambs in His arms

And carries them close to His heart

I was carried through the rest of the day, close to God’s heart. Sensing this, I wrote my own prayer in the little journal I always carry with me:

What more can I ask You, Apa,

But to hold me this Christmas Day.

Hold me so close I can hear the

Beat of Your heart for the world,

The rhythm You choose for my dancing,

Not my own steps,

But Your time.

In the chapel were several pamphlets in different languages, one of which was a collection of prayers, which I took with me and read over again on my flight. Mary’s words in Luke were written out in a prayer called the Angelus. Mary answers the angel Gabriel saying, “Behold the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be done to me according to your word. And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us…”.

I spent much of my flight from Frankfurt to Cincinnati in conversation with the German woman, Melanie, who was sitting next to me. She was returning to her American husband after her first visit to Germany after receiving her Green Card. We talked about places we’d traveled, and holiday activities, and all the things that can be discussed by strangers on long flights over the ocean! Arriving in Cincinnati she was worried about some of her paperwork going through customs, but we stuck by each other, helped each other gather our luggage, and then shook hands as we headed to separate terminals for our connecting flights. Throughout our conversations, I continually prayed that the Holy Spirit would guide me if I was meant to direct our talk toward spiritual things. I know I still need to learn obedience when the Holy Spirit prompts me, but I didn’t sense a point at which I was supposed to say more than I did. After leaving her, I prayed for her travels and her family, and was reminded of something my friend once said – that maybe some people are brought into our lives simply so we can pray for them. Prayer is, after all, our strongest weapon.

My flight to Denver was achingly long, seeing as I had then been on the road for over two days! But soon enough the familiar galaxy of lights spread out over the flat prairie glinted through the plane windows, and I was home again.

The divine appointments didn’t end with my arrival, however. The day after Christmas I woke up when my friend Kelli arrived to take me to coffee. She filled me in on the typical Greeley Christmas happenings, who’s pregnant, who’s engaged, who she saw at the Christmas Eve service, etc. She mentioned that she had seen the sister of one of our high school friends at the service, and found out that this girl, Sarah, was now working at a school in Slovakia, teaching English at a seminary there. It was exciting to hear about another Greeley-ite living somewhat close to me in Europe, but I didn’t know if I’d have time to connect with this girl in the short time I’m home.

Well, you can see where this is going. Kelli and I went to the coffee shop, and walking through the door, we see Sarah and another church friend sitting in the corner. We quickly swapped stories of our activities in Central Europe and began commiserating over the difficult number of cases and noun declensions in Lithuanian and Slovak! I wasn’t even surprised that, of all the people I could run into at Starbucks on the morning after Christmas, I would see her. Of course we were supposed to connect. Of course we should exchange email addresses and make plans to see each other. I should stop being surprised at the way God works, the way He draws people together, and the way He speaks into the world on a daily, moment-ly basis. This is the promise of Christmas, and of Pentecost, after all – God has come into the world, and desires continually to enter it, if we will listen, seek Him and obey.