1. Lublin, We Went Through Fire and Water

But You led us to a place of abundance. (Psalm 66:12)

 

“Oh God, how am I going to make it? You have got to help me. Never in my life have I felt this helpless.” Caught in an absolute desperate depth of desperation I never knew possible, this missionary wife and mom needed Jesus as never before.

It was the summer of 1977, and Larry and I, with our Baby Girl, had gone to live covertly as missionaries behind the Iron Curtain. We were students in a summer language program in Lublin, Poland. Though we were trained for culture shock, this shock was way beyond our preparation. This was Communism. Nothing could have trained a free American for this. We were behind the Iron Curtain; we were behind the lines of NATO. Alone didn’t begin to describe the acute isolation created by a covert, undercover lifestyle.

The iron fist of communism screamed around every corner. Economic deprivation was astounding. Routine tasks became monumental. A simple phone call to my parents in the U.S. had to be reserved 48 hours ahead, and then on the appointed day, we waited two hours in the post office for the international operator to connect the call. Once the call was connected, we hyper-guarded our conversations were for personal safety. 

I assessed my situation and knew: 

Life was far more challenging than I expected.

We washed our clothes in a wringer washer, the type my Daddy purchased for my Grandmother when he returned from World War II. There was no dryer, and the cool summer weather made drying clothes especially difficult. Food lines outside of nearly empty stores resembled black and white movie clips from The Great Depression.

Language school was far more challenging than I anticipated.

My high school Spanish class paled in comparison to this. The Polish language was daunting.  I felt so stupid. 

Lingering questions, like “How did I get here?” were far more threatening than I could handle.

How did I end up as a clandestine missionary in a communist country? How did I find myself walking the streets of a town a mere 97 kilometers, 60 miles from the Soviet border? How could I have landed in the same town with buildings, photographs, and personal effects of the Nazi concentration camp Majdanek? How screamed at me!

I grew up in a Christian home, and I became a follower of Christ at an early age. As a little 3rd grade girl I believe God wanted me to be a missionary. Yet, for years my relationship with God was laced with fear, fear that He would ruin my life and send me to Africa as a missionary. 

Then, at university, I met a group of students who had a smile on their face, a spring in the step and a song in their heart. They were marching to the beat of a different drum, and I joined their ranks. Our clarion call was “Come help change the world.” My manifesto before God was declared, “Anything, Anytime, Anywhere.”

Soon after, I met and fell in love with a young football player. His proposal was “Will you go with me in helping to reach the world for Christ?” My “yes” to that question, and the supernatural call of God on our lives, now placed me right here on this unfamiliar piece of earth in eastern Poland.
 
“Oh God, p l e a s e help me. If I am going to survive, You must intervene.” My prayer gushed from an honest, confused, hurting, aching heart held out before God. 

And. God. intervened. Deep down, in the depths of my soul, in the power of His Word, God took over.  He marched right across communism, right across culture shock, right across my emotional crisis, and met me, Debby, with the words of Psalm 139:9-10: “Though I dwell on the far side of the sea, even there Your Hand will guide me, Your right Hand will hold me fast.” 

The Holy Spirit threw a Lifeline, and I grabbed it. I held on for dear life. Right there in a communist coffee shop, surrounded by a language I could not understand, heaven descended and brought peace to my troubled, broken heart. Just what I needed most, just when I needed it most. God showed up - right then, right there.
In July 1977
     In Lublin, Poland
          In His Word
 
That dark day I discovered the light of a lesson I will never forget, a lesson that laid the foundation for the 12,045 days of the 33 years to follow: 

When I was most desperate, He was most dependable.
Geography is not an issue to God.

“I will never leave you or forsake you,” is for real. (Hebrews 13:8) 

I’ll Never Forget the Silk Corsage

It must have been spring. The holiday must have been Easter. She was getting closer to her due date, and we were holding our breaths. Her previous miscarriages made this pregnancy especially precious. Being an only child of 9 years acutely intensified my desperate longing to have sibling. I would have done anything for her. At least I thought I would.

There we stood, just the two of us, in the aisle of the Dime Store as the local Woolworth’s was called. It was hot, and the store was empty. I still hear the quietness. Tall shelves were in the back of the store, but we stood near the short counters in the middle section. I held something in my hand, and she held something in hers. Mine was a purse, and I will never forget, hers was a silk corsage. The floral cluster was designed to be worn as a simple accessory on an outfit. It offered a touch, just a small delicate touch, for a woman who felt very large, very pregnant.

I did not understand all of that, no, of course not. I only knew I wanted to walk out of the store owning the item I clutched in my hand. To me, it made sense that we would both get what we wanted. Both, not either-or.

Without ceremony, without sermon, she said, “No. We can’t buy both. There’s not enough money. I’ll put mine back.” And that is what she did. We paid, we walked out, and we made our way home in the brown and white Pontiac. No one even knew what had transpired. But I never forgot. On Sunday I carried a small white straw purse, and she wore a simple, undecorated brown maternity top.

Now that I look back, I see she made a lifetime habit of putting hers back. She was consistent in selflessly putting my wants before her own. This beautiful woman is my Mother.

With seamless grace she has made the transition from one generation of relationships to another. As Mother, as Grandmother, as Great Grandmother, she just keeps on getting it right.

As a Mother, she is a model. Ask me how I know coffee with a hurting friend is more important that a to-do list. As a Grandmother she is loyal. Ask the teenager who needed foolishness not to be found out. As a Great Grandmother she is generous. Ask the little one who opens a birthday card to find $20 tucked inside.

Her secret? Love - love for the Lord, and love for people. Uncomplicated, simple, never-too-busy, straightforward love. Somewhere long ago she calculated love would involve sacrifice, putting hers back. Standing in the aisle of a store she modeled a message words could never articulate. Her actions have stood the test of time.

I wonder if she dreamed the day would come when we, her family, would all want to be with her, want to talk to her, want to get her advice, get her recipe, get her opinion, get her perspective. Somehow I don’t think so. That would have been too complicated. And putting it back isn’t complicated; it is a choice.

Mama, thank you. Thank you for then; thank you for now. I left with far more than a purse; I left with a lesson. I love you dearly for all the times you demonstrated love means putting it back.