"Five hundred twenty-five thousand Six hundred minutes, Five hundred twenty-five thousand Moments so dear, Five hundred twenty-five thousand Six hundred minutes How do you measure - measure a year? In daylights - in sunsets, In midnights - in cups of coffee, In inches - in miles, In laughter - in strife, In - five hundred twenty-five thousand, Six hundred minutes. How do you measure A year in the life?" (Seasons of Love- Rent).
This morning, I was able to attend the last worship for the teachers. At the end of the worship, they recognise the staff who is leaving or retiring. The 2 men who have mentored me, loved me, and being a stable relationship this entire year were the ones sending me off. The principal handed me a bag at the end. When i looked inside, the presents were wrapped. When I looked at him confused, he told me he got me coffee mugs because he knew about my love of coffee. I laughed. This year, the teachers and Principal Peter always found it hilarious when i walked into school with a full coffee mug for lessons. When it started to get nice out, students and I would grab coffee at a local cafe for our lessons. When I met with my mentor, espresso was always present.
This year has flown by. As I look back at the memories I have made, the relationships I have built, and the sunsets I have enjoyed, God is ever present. I recently was talking to a woman who is a local artist in the community. I was able to buy a couple of her handmade necklaces, where we got to talking. Her daughter asked why I chose to come to Békéscsaba, out of all the towns in Hungary. I explained although I chose to came to Hungary, I didn't get to choose the town I was placed in. Instead, it was if God chose Békéscsaba for me. This year, I don't see the time i spent. I see the cups of coffee I shared with staff and students. I see the moments of belly aching laughter that I shared with students over dumb jokes and "Would you rather?" questions. I see the moment of triumph of navigating Budapest for the first time by my self.
However, earlier in the week, while closing my bank account with a pastor, he looked at me and asked where this year went. It is a question I ask my self everyday because how do you measure a year in the life?
"It feels like home to me feels like I'm all the way back where I belong...". The lyrics to the popular song "Feels like Home" by Chantal Kreviazuk is throwing all kinds of feelings towards me lately. Békéscsaba has become my home. When I am gone for a week at a time, coming back to my flat in Hungary is comfortable. However, I am at the point in the year where I am having to say goodbye to my community and I am really missing home. I am missing the familiarity of my hometown, the house where I grew up, and my family. I recently met my brother in Budapest, where I was able to show him things that as Americans, we only ever hear about. He then came with me to my community, where we went to the Baths, had lessons with my students, and spent a week together, just the two of us, for the first time since I left for college 6 years ago. Having him in Békéscsaba, I had a small piece of home. I was the big sister again, making sure he had food to eat and was drinking enough water. He was my baby brother, laughing at me when I needed to lighten up. The day i put him on the train, I turned around so he couldn't see my tears as his train pulled away.
However, Békéscsaba has become my home. The lady at the local bakery knows I am American and likes to practice her English with me. I have become close to my students, laughing at things that only we would know. A couple people at the youth group like to practice their english translating sermons, explaining words in hungarian. I have learned the kinks of my flat and figured out my favourite grocery store. God constantly shows me I am loved by the people that have been placed in my life this year, because without them, I would have struggled so much more.
I recently watched a documentary entitled "Minimalism: A Documentary about the Important Things." The documentary "examines the many flavors of minimalism by taking the audience inside the lives of minimalists from all walks of life—families, entrepreneurs, architects, artists, journalists, scientists, and even a former Wall Street broker—all of whom are striving to live a meaningful life with less" (www.minimalism film.com). "Minimalism" follows 2 friends who left high paying jobs and downgraded to travel around the country with the basics to talk about what made them leave their lives of comfort.
I struggle with living with the bare minimum. This year has challenged me to live with the least amount of items that I need to survive. I will admit that going on retreats where we take the train versus an airplane I pack more than I need to. But, when it comes to every day living, i have a quarter of the amount of clothes (and shoes) that I did in the United States. I have 2 plates, 2 forks, 2 spoons, 2 knives. Until January, I didn't have a toaster (i didn't need one). I don't have two fans blowing on me at night. But, I have everything I need. I have a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, and I never go hungry.
Back in March, I was lucky enough to see my parents for the second time. They came to see Hungary before we headed to Norway to see my brother. While in Norway, I got to talking to my brother about traveling. In lieu of Christmas or Birthday presents, he wanted to travel, to learn more about the world, and to better understand different cultures. He wanted memories, not things. At 20 years old, my baby brother humbled me. I realised that making memories was more important than the things that I collected.
As I start to whittle down what I am bringing back to the United States, I realise that I don't need to keep every single piece of paper to remember my time in Hungary. I have the memories of my time here. Through God and my community, I have everything I need.
Cultural customs are taught from an early age. Moving abroad, or even to different parts of the United States, those customs are incredibly different. During orientation, we were told different customs in Hungary to help prepare us for our life here. People tend to be polite, but straight forward. Men's hands are usually shaken before women's.
As I have lived in Hungary, I have picked up different customs as well. Hungarians, like everyone, don't like being cold. However, growing up in the Midwest, my version of "cold" in the winter is very different than in Hungary. It doesn't get nearly as cold as in the United States and it rains a lot more in the winter and spring. People also don't go outside with wet hair, no matter what the temperature is outside. When I did, I often got told or asked if I was going to get sick. People tend to wear winter jackets, long pants, and shirts long into the spring.
In the United States, it is incredibly common to see people walking around with "to-go" coffee cups in the morning or insulated mugs. People do not do this in Hungary. One of the first weeks I was here, I was walking around with an insulated mug. A pastor I have gotten to know said I looked very American.
As I have lived here, I have tried adapting to the Hungarian Culture. I try really hard not to go out with wet hair. I wear (thin) layers, especially in the morning. I try to drink a cup of coffee before leaving my flat so I don't have to carry a mug. But, some cultural habits die hard. Earlier this week, it was 77 degrees Fahrenheit in Bekescsaba. I HATE being hot. I had to run to the store, so I had on a dress because it is one of the few pieces of clothing that I brought that I don't have to layer and i can stay cool in. I walked into the store, and almost immediately was identified as "Not Hungarian." I looked around and realised that everyone else had on long pants and jackets, despite the warm weather. Although I adapt as much as I can to the culture that I am living in, I will always have a hard time wearing long clothing when it is what I consider summer weather out.
On April 1st, the Central Europe (Hungary) YAGM had the chance to attend a day long event in Aszod, Hungary. (Aszod is a town east of Budapest, in Northern Hungary). This event was a mission day for the Lutheran Church of Hungary, bringing together those who worship in and follow the Lutheran Faith. During this event, the YAGM and our country coordinators had the opportunity to explain what we do in Hungary, our reasons for being here, and the differences between the Lutheran faith here in Hungary and the Lutheran faith in the United States.
In the United States, there are 3 main branches of the Lutheran denomination (Wisconsin Synod, Missouri Synod, and The Evangelical Lutheran Church of America (ELCA)). In Hungary, there is “one” Lutheran denomination, meaning the Lutheran faith and teachings are standard across the country. In Hungary, the word for Lutheran is “Evangelikus”, or evangelical. In the United States, evangelical is used for a different denomination of Christianity other than Lutheran.
The Lutheran Church of Hungary is split up into three regions. A bishop runs each region, similar to the synods of the ELCA.
During the event, we had 2 hour breakout sessions. The people in attendance could choose which of these sessions to attend. At the end of our session, we were able to answer any questions that people had. A common theme that is brought up across answers to why we are serving in YAGM (not just in Hungary, but in many of the other countries) is learning how to combat racism. Discrimination isn’t always used or talked about.
According to Compass: Manual for Human Rights Education with Youth People (2015), Racism can be defined as “the belief that people’s qualities are influenced by their ethnic group or tribe and that the members of other groups and tribes (“races”) are not as good as members of their own, or the resulting unfair treatment of members of other “races””. Discrimination, on the other hand, is defined as “any distinction, exclusion, or restriction of preference, which is based on any ground such as race, culture, ethnic origin, nationality, sexual orientation, religion, physical handicap, or other characteristics not relevant to the issue in question” (Brander et. Al., Compass: Manual for Human Rights Education with Youth People, 2015).
In other words, Racism is “a lack of respect for practices or beliefs other than one’s own” (Brander et. Al., Compass: Manual for Human Rights Education with Youth People, 2015, pg. 440) and discrimination “occurs when people are treated less favourbly than others in a comparable situation only because they belong, or are perceived to belong, to a certain group or category” (Brander et. Al., Compass: Manual for Human Rights Education with Youth People, 2015, pg 440).
When I mention that I work with Roma young adults, the conversation either goes quiet or racist comments about Roma emerge. I have encountered racism towards Roma when talking about the youth group that I attend with Roma and Non Roma young adults. Comments often include, but are not limited to, how Roma are lazy, steal, don’t want to work, and don’t value education.
This has not been my experience. The people who I have met that identify as Roma are hardworking, have jobs, have at least a high school education, if not a college degree, want to provide for their families, and are the complete opposite of the racist comments that I have heard. The discrimination towards Roma though makes it hard for someone who is Roma to find work or go to college. They are often turned away from job interviews when someone sees the color of their skin or sees their name on an application.
I have found that racism and discrimination don’t have borders. Systemic racism and oppression rages from the United States to the Middle East. It was not until I attended a conference in November that was addressing racism and discrimination towards Roma and Jewish people that I was able to put into words how discrimination exists even when people don’t think about it.
A YouTube video was shown of an African American comedian doing a stand up routine, talking about African Americans within the US. He often referred to them using the N word, trying to use comedy to address racist issues. The Europeans in the group laughed as he spoke and I cringed the entire time.
As a white middle class American, using racial slurs to refer to people of color is a huge NO. I wouldn’t even think to use the “N” word or any kind of racial slurs to refer to a population of people, nor do I find it funny. After the video was done, we broke up into groups to talk about racism and I started talking about discrimination in the US and how that video was not funny to me. I had to talk to Roma and Jewish young adults and address racial slurs within Europe, applying that same conversation to the US. I had to explain as a white person, if I were to use those same slurs to refer to an African American, I would be yelled at.
We often internalize stereotypes about people of color in the US, including that they steal, don’t want to work, live off welfare, or are lazy. These stereotypes can be applied to the Roma within Europe as well. I have read story after story about young African Americans being followed or closely watched in stores to make sure they don’t steal. Certain neighborhoods are to be avoided in the Twin Cities.
Jesus spent time with people who the religious leaders of the time didn’t want to deal with. There are countless stories in the Bible about how Jesus talked to prostitutes, lepers, healed the sick, the blind, the broken, and broke religious laws all the time to spend time with those who needed His love the most. This year, it has become clearer to me that God’s love has no bounds. I have formed incredible relationships with people with disabilities this year and laughed harder than I ever have with those who identify as Roma. When we engage with those are pushed to the outskirts of humanity, we challenge stereotypes that have been built over centuries.
Beauty is something that has been on my mind. Growing up in the United States, females are told outright and through the media that they need to look and act a certain way. I was lucky to have parents who placed more emphasis on my education than on my looks.
Living in Hungary, I have noticed that women tend to look fabulous, even just running to the grocery store, and are expected to work and keep up the household. That is a lot of pressure to put on one person. Now, not all relationships in Hungary expect the women to do everything. But, I have noticed the women always have their hair and make up done, nails are done every two weeks, and some women even take one day off of work a month to get waxed, plucked, and dyed.
Today, when I went to the baths, I was reminded that women's bodies are also celebrated. Women of all shapes, sizes, and ages wore bikinis, one piece swim suits, and everything in between. Women are more comfortable showing their bodies then women I have seen in the States.
I recently returned to Hungary after a trip to Norway to visit my brother. While in Oslo, I noticed how Norwegian culture is active. People would walk through Oslo, carrying snowboards and skies, Helly Hansen and outdoor stores were on every corner, and being active was such a part of the culture. In Jerusalem, my mom and I were waiting to go through Security between Israel and Palestine. An older man who was standing behind us was a traditional Muslim, pointed to the scarf around my neck and said something me in Arabic. Not understanding, he repeated what he said in English. "Showing your hair is a gift from Allah only to be viewed by your husband or boyfriend. You are beautiful, but you would be beautiful if you covered your head." Not knowing quite how to respond, I thanked him and turned around. My mom saw this exchange and as soon as we got through security, we mentioned this to my brother who lives in Palestine and better understands the nuances of the culture. Walking through Norway, Palestine, and Israel, I noticed how beauty in the way the women were dressed and the confidence that they had.
Beauty is so different across cultures. But each woman is so beautiful in her own way.
Where I’m From
George Ella Lyon
I am from clothspins
From Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride
I am from the dirt under the back porch
it tasted like beets)
I am from the forsythia bush
The dutch elm
Whose long gone limbs I remember
As if they were my own.
I am from fudge and eyeglasses
From Imogene and alafair.
Im from the know it alls
And the pass it ons
From Perk Up! And Pipe Down!
Im from He restoreth my soul
With a cottonball lamb
And ten verses I can say myself.
Im from artemus and Billie’s Branch,
Fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost to the auger,
The eye my father shut to keep his sight.
Under my bed was a dress box
Spilling old pictures,
A sift of lost faces
To drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments-
Snapped before I budded-
Leaf fall from the family tree.
During our spring retreat, we were read this poem to remember where we came from. Although I try to focus on the future and what that may look like, I realized during the retreat how important it is to remember where I come from. I come from my hometown, my parents, my extended family, the countries my extended family came from, and all the traits that I inherited. I come from the lakes of northern and Southern Minnesota, a small town in West Virginia, Norway, Sweden, German, and Ireland. I come from a deep-rooted sense of family. I come from a strong Lutheran faith.
The values and morals I apply to my everyday day, which helps determine my future I learned from my parents and grandparents.
Where I’m From
Where I am from the coffee pot is always full,
The front door is always unlocked, and everyone
Knows my name.
Where I am from loud is the normal volume,
Music is always playing,
And the scent of Swedish meatballs at Christmas
Is wafting through the house.
Where I am from John Denver, Garrison Keillor, and NPR
Play on the radio,
Please and thank you
start and end your sentences,
and everyone is Aunt and Uncle.
Where I am from family dinners are a priority,
phone calls that we are going to be late
are non negotiable,
and Mom knows all our friends.
I am from a 3 story house in the country,
Neighbors are more than people who live next door,
Keys are left in the ignition, and friends walk on in.
I am from coffee, from where life isn’t slowing down,
and from strong family connections.
“The best kind of people are the ones that come into your life, and make you see the sun where you once saw clouds. The people that believe in you so much, you start to believe in you too. The people that love you, simply for being you. The once in a life kind of people.”
I am a firm believer that God brings people into our life for a reason. When I first met the woman who cleans my wing of the school, we did the standard greeting of saying hello, smiling and continuing our ways. As time has gone on and our relationship has developed, she has become one of my most favorite people and an important person in my daily routine.
Our most recent spring retreat for YAGM was a week long and I had a day between our retreat and my parents arriving. My cleaning lady friend was so excited to see me back in Hungary and was so excited my parents were coming to visit, but I could tell she was disappointed I was going to be gone another week.
When I arrived back in Békéscsaba on Monday after traveling for the last two weeks, her face was one of the first familiar faces I saw after coming back to Hungary. When she saw me come through the gate of the school, her face lit up, despite being on the phone. She grabbed me for a hug and held me tight.
My parents had brought some cheese from Wisconsin, my home state, as a small gift for her. When I came down with the cheese and explained it was from the States, she started to tear up. I wanted to make sure she understood her relationship is incredibly important to me and I value her more than she will ever realize. Her friendship means so much and I hold closely the conversations that we have had.
As I sit in my “living room” (the spare bedroom that happens to have two comfortable chairs to curl up in), listening to the cars drive by and the birds chirping outside my open window, I realize how little I sit and just listen. During the week, I am so stressed about being places on time, planning healthy meals, and worrying about life in general. I forget to relax, to shut off all electronics, to shut off my brain, and to just be. As the sun streams into my flat, I realize how much I needed the sunshine, the warm weather, and the snow and ice to melt. I am at peace.
Having anxiety, I worry about the little things that I know I need to let go of. I worry about not having an Internet connection because the people in my life (in both the United States and Hungary) use Facebook, face time, and I message to get ahold of me. Although I am safe, I worry that they will worry about me not responding to messages. I worry about the dishes that need to be washed, the laundry that needs to be done and put away. I worry that I am not helping enough at the nursing home or drop in center. I worry about my students not getting enough out of our time together. I worry about getting to the market before it closes to get food for the weekend. In the midst of all this worrying, I forget that it is okay to let these worries go and to trust that the Lord has a plan. In the 5 months that I have been living in Hungary, I have been taken care of in ways that I never expected. I have been challenged to see my self and my habits in new light. I am realizing I need to slow down, take my time, and to listen to the world around me using mindfulness techniques I have learned while living in Hungary.
When I was in high school, my mom and I discovered essential oils. My mom got me my first diffuser and peppermint oil to help me focus on studying. She found lavender essential oils to help me sleep. My mom started seeing a chiropractor and acupuncturist to help with migraines and stomach pain a few years ago. When I couldn’t walk without limping because of the arthritis in one of my ankle a year ago, my mom brought me to her acupuncturist to work wonders. When I was at work one day, I couldn’t even handle the lights on in my office at work due to a sudden onset migraine, into the chiropractor I went. Since arriving in Hungary, I have learned so much more about mindfulness, yoga, essential oils, massage, and other alternative treatments. As a culture, Hungarians tend to focus on fixing what is wrong in the body versus taking 5 medications to fix one problem. Essential oils are more readily available and affordable. Going to the baths is healthy and good for the soul. Using Lavender and other essential oils, mindfulness, and the sunshine, I am able to fully immerse myself in what is going on around me.
I realized this morning as I slowly woke up that the worries that I had during the week were gone. Although I have things I know need to get done, like studying Hungarian and washing dishes, I am completely at ease, slowly sipping my coffee and enjoying the warm sunshine and the breeze coming into my flat. Until I board the bus to go to Békés for youth group, I don’t have anywhere I need to be, no deadlines to meet, no rushing out the door to a commitment. My wifi is off, but the connection that I feel to the world is strong.
“Szia!” (Hello!). Every afternoon and evening as I come back to the wing of the school where I live, I am greeted with a huge smile, a hug, and a hello. The woman who cleans the school and I have become friends. God knew I needed this kind woman in my life and placed her in a position where I get to see her 5 days a week.
She started cleaning “my” wing of the school in November. Our relationship began with a simple “Hello” and gradually began to grow as our paths crossed on a daily basis. Right before Christmas, I came home to find a small bag hanging from my door handle. There was no note. I turned around to see her mopping the hallway behind me. She pointed to the bag, then to herself and wished me a Merry Christmas. Tears came to my eyes as I hugged her tightly.
Last Friday, I finally was able to get her a small present. Leaving the gift of a coffee mug and tea where she would see it, I went back to my flat, hoping she would find it. Returning to the wing after lessons on Monday, I found her gathering supplies for that afternoon. I caught her eye and tears filled her eyes as she smiled and grabbed me for a huge hug.
During orientation, all the YAGM volunteers are told multiple times that we will build relationships with people of all ages. We are told that our friendships won’t always be with people within our age range and that we will form relationships with people we normally wouldn’t expect to become close to.
I am constantly reminded of Jeremiah 29:11-13: “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me, if you seek me with all your heart.” God knew I needed to live in the wing of a school before I did. He saw I would need to get to know this woman and the other women who clean the school. The relationships I am forming are not only with the teachers and students, but with people I never would have guessed would have an impact on my YAGM year
I am from a town on the border of Minnesota and Wisconsin. I grew up in Hudson, WI, where I had the privilege of returning after graduating from Winona State University with a degree in Therapeutic Recreation.