Stefanie & Ramona

Ramona and Stefanie

It was in July that I received an email from my sweet friend, Kathrin, who I wrote about on my blog three posts back. Her daughter, Stefanie, and friend, Ramona were backpacking for three weeks across Eastern Europe. They would be staying in hostels, but she wondered if they could stay with Dennis and I when they came to Hungary, one of the ten countries they were planning to visit.

The dates coincided with non-travel days for us. Of course, we would be delighted to host them in our home. And what a delight these twenty-something Swiss women were. Ramona's husband gave his blessing to a three-week separation since he was focusing on writing his thesis. Stefanie, an adventurer at heart, was set on seeing Eastern Europe by backpack and train before she headed to the states to work with inner-city children in New York City over the fall/winter months.

Taking them around our grand city of Budapest was a joy and a gift to me. I love the twenty-something age. Perhaps it's because I see the 20's as pivotal in my own life. Choices made in the 20's often determine the trajectory of life. So, it was a breath of fresh air to hang out with Ramona and Stefanie.

A grace-filled gift of summer 2011.

Sweeter Than Honey

In my last post I shared about my new Hungarian friend, Gyöngyvér, who was preparing for a lecture in her area of expertise, but needed to brush up on her English since the lecture was to be given in English. She was so grateful for my assistance that she kept finding ways to "pay" me.

One day when I arrived at her 4th story flat a bit earlier then the scheduled time, she greeted me at the door and then apologized that she had to leave for a few minutes to run down to the ground floor to meet someone she was expecting at the front gate.

She returned with a brown paper bag, and then with a big smile on her face, pulled out a big container filled with honey.

"This is for you!"

I took it and held it up to see honey so light and clear that I could practically see right through it. I gave her a big hug, thanking her for her thoughtfulness. She explained that the man she met at the door is from the countryside where he extracts honey from his hives. She had him deliver it that morning especially for me. She proceeded to tell me that Hungarian honey is some of the best around, especially when it comes straight from the countryside. "So pure and sweet."

I couldn't help but think what this gift meant to me. There are two places where the Psalmist speaks of honey in relationship to God's Word. When Gyöngyvér gave me the honey, I was instantly reminded of these two passages. 

From a portion of Psalm 19:
 The instructions of the Lord are perfect,
      reviving the soul.
   The decrees of the Lord are trustworthy,
      making wise the simple.
 The commandments of the Lord are right,
      bringing joy to the heart.
   The commands of the Lord are clear,
      giving insight for living.
 Reverence for the Lord is pure,
      lasting forever.
   The laws of the Lord are true;
      each one is fair.
 They are more desirable than gold,
      even the finest gold.
   They are sweeter than honey,
      even honey dripping from the comb.

And, Psalm 119:103:

How sweet your words taste to me;
      they are sweeter than honey. 

Like the bowl full of cherries that Gyöngyvér had given me just the week before, God was giving me gifts from nature that reminded me of His nature. What beautiful images of His love and grace. A reminder that the winter season does come to an end, that the leaves bud and the fruit blossoms, that the bees return to collect the nectar, and that He makes all things new once again.

Gyöngyvér's gift of honey was yet another grace-filled gift of summer 2011.

Side note: Did you know that honey naturally resists molds, fungi, and other bacteria, allowing it to last for years without refrigeration? :)

A Bowl Full of Cherries

One of the privileges I had this past summer was to come along side Gyöngyvér, a Hungarian psychologist, who was preparing to give a lecture in English at a conference in Vienna. A search for a native English speaker who could help her brush up on her English and make sure her lecture was grammatically correct ended up being me.

We met in her flat or at a coffee shop twice a week for four weeks editing her lecture document and working through the correct pronunciation of English words. She wanted to pay me for my services, but I kindly told her that I did not expect pay. I considered it a gift to be able to meet with her, getting to know her, and sharing our native language with each other.

Often times we caught the attention of other coffee patrons as we watched intently at how the other would form syllables or letters with proper lip formation or tongue placement.  I'm sure it looked like we were doing charades. We would lean in with our faces about a foot away from each other repeating back and forth the proper sound. It wouldn't be long until we would lose all composure, laughing at ourselves at how silly we must have looked and sounded.

It was after our second meeting that Gyöngyvér said she had something for me. She handed me a small gift bag filled with cherries. I have never been one to eat cherries, but I thanked her for her kindness.

I didn't give it much thought until I got home, washed the cherries, and poured them into a red bowl. And then it hit me. Life is like a bowl full of cherries. I smiled at the thought. I popped one into my mouth, squishing out the seed, surprised by the sweet and refreshing taste. Why had I not liked cherries before?

Dennis was gone for several weeks at the time. I ate the whole bowl of cherries in a matter of days. Every time I popped one into my mouth it was a reminder of God's goodness and grace even when life isn't always like a bowl full of cherries. Gyöngyvér's gift was indeed a grace-filled gift of summer 2011.