New Grace...

A Spring Lake friend after battling cancer - husband, father, grandpa - passed away a few weeks ago at the age of 52. A young mother on one of our Europe fields is persevering through chemo treatments with all its side effects as she walks the difficult journey of breast cancer. My good friend, Helene, just recently lost her twin sister to cancer.

Hard stuff. Tough stuff. But not without hope in every case.

I first became aware of the term "new grace" just a few weeks ago while reading a journal entry on the Caring Bridge site of a husband whose wife has an inoperable brain tumor. I've been keeping up with Chuck's entries as he processes his grief knowing that he will lose Joy, the love of his life, in the near future. Chuck and Joy are parents to one of our West MI church planters - Chad and Julie - who we have grown to love. Upon hearing the doctor's diagnosis and learning that treatment would not prolong life, Joy decided to "let the cancer run its course." And it is.

I've thought of this new grace just about every day since I read of it. Chuck wrote of a song that I've not heard of that sings of new grace. Grace that hasn't been needed before. I know the verse, "My grace is sufficient," and the Old Testament passage that reminds us that God's "mercies are new every morning, Great is His faithfulness," but this thought of new grace is something I can wrap my head around. No matter what comes our way in life's journey, God has new grace for whatever, whenever, whoever, when we don't know how to answer the why's of life.

New grace. God's grace - His love shown in practical ways when we need it most.

I write this today as I think of my friends walking through hard times, thankful for God's new grace - always enough, always plenty - for each new day.

Speak English?

Moving to a country where you don't know one iota of the language is a very humbling experience. What was once a simple ask, greeting, or polite expression - words or phrases that spill out so naturally in a native language - has no words. At a loss for words has a whole new meaning for me... every single day.

I enter a packed out tram just barely squeezing in between the door and the young lady standing directly in front of me. "Excuse me" or "I'm sorry" seem appropriate, but they have no meaning. I remember the word for this expression and quickly blurt out "bocsanat" hoping that I'm saying the word correctly and adequately. She smiles.

Several nights ago after dusk with Dennis out of the country and our landlords on vacation, my call bell rang, which meant somebody was on the ground level by our big front doors calling up to our flat. I answered the phone thinking it might be someone I knew, only to hear a lady rattling on in Hungarian. I had no idea what she was saying. I just said "nem" (meaning no), hung up the phone and hoped she would go away. I could see the motion detector light going on and off. She wasn't going away. Eventually, I went out on our balcony to see if I could communicate at all, but it was in vain. Finally I said, "Nem ertem," (I don't understand) to which she shrugged her shoulders and walked through the gate with her final word "shorry," which I assumed was an apology. Why do these things happen when Dennis is gone?

"Speak English?" has become my best means of communication right now... until I get the basics down. Some people just shake their head indicating "not at all." Others give me a doubtful look gesturing with their thumb and index finger to demonstrate a small amount as they respond with a thick Hungarian accent "a little bit." Once in a while I get a confident "yes" expressed as a question knowing they are about to help me in some manner. I have found Hungarians to be very gracious and helpful. Some have gone the second mile to get us in the right direction, mail a package at the post office, or find a certain item at the grocery store.

Unlike the book on the right, I'm hoping to learn more than "just enough" to get by. I am committed to learning as much Hungarian as possible so that I can communicate adequately. In the meantime, I'm studying the pronunciation of the letters (some consonants are two-letters, but one sound) and listening to Hungarians give proper sound to the words.

Twenty words or phrases have become familiar vocabulary in my new world. One of them I use more than any other - "koszonom." Can you guess what it means?

A Place to Call Home

A few nights ago Dennis and I were saying how much we like our flat and how it feels so good to know that when we are done with our frequent travels we have a place like our flat to come home to.

It was last August when we first saw this flat. Prior to that visit to Budapest I had been praying specifically for certain characteristics and features - lots of windows, walking distance to shops/stores, character, safe, secure, even down to some bathroom specifics - that would make our home "us." This is something I have always done when making a move and God has always been faithful to honor my requests. Home is important to me, as it would be to anybody. A place to call your own - to let down, relax, and totally be yourself. Dennis figured that he will be in Budapest only 34 days in the next three months... even more so to make our home a place of replenishment.

Our flat has some interesting history. I'm discovering what was world history in my high school studies is personal history for many in Europe. Maria, our landlady, shared that the house was built in the 1920's or early 30's by a wealthy family. It was a large single family dwelling (actually beyond the city limits at that time) until the end of WWII when the then owners, a Jewish family, were kicked out and five families were moved in - the Communistic system to create equality among the people. Our landlords rented one of the flats in 1988 when Communism was beginning to crumble. They were then given the opportunity to purchase the flat from the state and eventually bought the other flats to own the entire house. They made major improvements as the home had weathered the war (even bullet holes on the outside) and subsequent multi-family living. Frank and Maria are gracious, accommodating landlords for which we are grateful.

All that said, welcome to our flat. Let me show you around.

Enter by the double doors with the blue curtains.
A small bathroom is to your right, coat hooks to the left.
Come in through the second door with dining area on right ,
kitchen straight ahead, and living room to the left.

You don't see many flats with this many windows.

With ceilings 11 feet high we have very tall door ways!
From the central area you enter what is our office area.

My desk.
We each have our own little corner in this room.
Dennis' desk.

On to the bathroom. We are told it is very unusual
to have two bathrooms in one flat.

Note my washing machine to the right. Maria
says it's "old, but very good."

Our bedroom has no closets,
so two wardrobes are furnished.
I hang my wash to dry on a drying rack
in the bedroom, plus heat radiators (like the one under
the window) in every room serve as effective clothes dryers :).

Thanks for stopping by and letting me show you around.
We love calling this place home!