Then, visit 6 changes to explore a different (and quite possibly more effective) approach.

Saturday evening we sang at a church in a nearby village. I gave my camera to one of the girls from Sus, so I have lots of photos of that service (for a change). We were a little nervous about that service since it was our first time singing in Slovak, but the people were very kind (and said that they could understand us!).

Saturday was July 4th, and on the way back from our concert, we had a private celebration in our van. Amy Corey brought glow sticks, and we turned up the patriotic music. Strangely, I think it was the best July 4th celebration I’ve ever experienced. I guess being in rural Slovakia helped me see how much I should be thankful for my country.

We had our own service at the mission Sunday morning, and then Sunday afternoon we helped with the mission open house. Normally, they invite all of the village people to come over for a Bible study and have refreshments afterward. Since we were there, we sang, and then someone from the mission preached, and then we had refreshments. It was an exciting day, because lots of the village people came! Unfortunately, we didn’t get to stay to talk to people afterward because we had to be in Bratislava that evening. I think most of them probably didn’t speak English, so we couldn’t have talked much anyway.

Sunday evening we sang at a church in Bratislava, the capitol. We gave a concert after the evening service, and not everyone stayed. At first, I felt a little disappointed, but I remembered that God can work no matter what the size of the audience. We sang “It is Well” that night, and several of the audience members seemed especially moved by that song. Actually, it seemed to be a favorite all summer, in all languages.

Our visit to Berlin began on a disturbing note when we were accosted by a gypsy woman. By this point in the summer, we had seen lots of beggars. Usually, they sit quietly on the sidewalk with their cups. This woman wasn’t quiet. We weren’t even out of the van when she came up and started asking for money. When we politely refused, she became more insistent. She actually blocked the doorway so that we couldn’t get out, and stared into the van as we gathered our bags. We finally had to firmly tell her to go away, and then we had to leave someone to guard our vans. We didn’t have much stuff in them for her to steal, but we didn’t want to risk a broken window.

After we dealt with the gypsy lady, Tim and I took a group to the Pergamon Museum. That museum has two exhibits that are right out of Bible history. The first is the Pergamon altar, which gives the museum its name. This altar is from the city of Pergamum, which is mentioned in Revelation 2. The second is the Ishtar gate from ancient Babylon. I don’t think the gate is specifically mentioned in the Bible, but Daniel probably walked through it when Nebuchadnezzer brought him to Babylon. German archeologists unearthed the ruins in Iraq, and then rebuilt the gate inside the museum using as many original bricks as possible. For me, it’s absolutely amazing to stand beside that gate and think, “Daniel saw these blue bricks and animals. I’m seeing what Daniel saw.”

At Checkpoint Charlie (the entrance to the American sector in Berlin during communist times), it was hard to process my thoughts. I’m just old enough to have vague memories of the wall coming down. I remember seeing the footage on tv of people standing on the wall, cheering, breaking it down. In some ways, I don’t understand it any better than I did back in 1989, when I was 6. When I walked down the sidewalk and read the sign that says, “You are leaving the American sector,” it was hard to imagine that people couldn’t always walk there. It’s hard to imagine the barricades and the guns. Twenty years haven’t taught me why some people would want to build a wall that would separate families and ruin lives.

Finally, we had a few minutes to see the Brandenburg Gate. I studied Kennedy and Reagan’s speeches in my rhetoric classes, so I was really excited that I finally got to stand there and see the place for myself. It’s ironic, but I have the least to say about my favorite place. I wanted to see it so badly, and then, when I did, I just walked around, trying to absorb everything, and that was all. Well, except that I wish I could go back. I did go back later in the summer (after team left, when Tim and his parents and I went sight-seeing for a bit). Then I got to see the gate at dusk!

The most special thing about our Berlin trip happened after all of the sight-seeing. We had to rush back to the vans after seeing the Brandenburg Gate, but when we got there, I didn’t see the team. We started unlocking the van, and then someone came up and said, “Quick, get your music. We’re going to sing!” We were puzzled, but we did what we were told. On MMT, you must always be ready to sing.

It turns out, that while we were sight-seeing, the McCauleys went to a cafe for some schnitzel or something. As they were sitting there, they saw a group go by with some instruments, so Dr. Mom ran out and asked what they were doing. They said that were going to sing and pass out tracts, and they gave her some of their literature. They were from some churches outside of Berlin. Later, when the team started converging at the vans, they heard some music and found out that the other group was singing on a square right by our vans! After the McCauleys talked with them some more, they invited us to sing, and then asked if we had a preacher. So, Tim got to preach a short gospel message. It was really neat that God brought our two groups together. I should also mentioned that it wasn’t anything like the street protests and street preaching that you hear in America. We sang (and Tim preached) just like we normally would. Maybe the gypsy woman heard that God loves her.

So, our Berlin trip had a disturbing beginning but encouraging end. And in the middle, we saw 3 gates–the Ishtar gate, Checkpoint Charlie, and the Brandenburg Gate. It was a good day.

Not to be paranoid, but I wonder how much of the green movement is just a sales pitch. When we read tips about helping the earth how many of those things actually help, and how many come from industries trying to get our money? How can we know if something is truly green or not?

The snow would have been much less enjoyable if we had lost power (like many people in the area). Snow is no fun when there’s no warm house to come back to. But we had working heat, so that wasn’t a problem.

The only downside to the snow (for me), was my daffodils. I love daffodils, and the snow crushed mine. Don’t they look tragic?

Heather Mac Donald writes that lawyers charge the city officials with carrying out a “deliberate campaign of abuse against the homeless.” The city’s homeless have access to “coffee and Danish brought to the park every weekday morning; bag lunches and dinner feedings; showers, laundry and kitchen facilities at a drop-in center; and shelter during the winter months.” It sounds to me like that city is trying to help the homeless. But apparently, these lawyers are not impressed.

Just to recap, the city is giving free food, showers, laundry, and shelter to the homeless. But some lawyers have accused the city of abusing the homeless. What are the lawyers upset about? They’re upset that the city is occasionally enforcing its no-camping ordinance.

Homeless people have to sleep somewhere. So what happens when the city spends thousands (millions?) of dollars to build a playground for children, but people are afraid to let their children play there because homeless people sleep on the benches during the day?

I pondered this question one time when I saw a policeman trying to get a homeless guy to leave a playground. I was there with a group of kids from the summer day camp where I worked. When we arrived, I noted the homeless man with a little bit of alarm. He looked like he was asleep, but I wondered what would happen if he woke up and started attacking us in a drug-crazed frenzy.

Or, more likely, if he approached me or one of the other leaders asking for money.

Hey, give the homeless guy a break! He’s got to sleep somewhere! And he isn’t hurting the kids. Yeah, I thought that myself for a minute.

But I couldn’t deny my fear. If I had been alone with a toddler, instead of accompanied by two other women, and two dozen or so 8-10 year-olds, I wouldn’t have stayed at the playground with the homeless guy.

So I was glad when the policeman made him leave even though I wanted the man to have somewhere to sleep. If he wants to sleep on the playground at night when the kids are at home, fine. But not during the day. The playground was built for the kids, not the homeless man. And that’s where things like no-camping ordinances come in.

If these lawyers really want to help homeless people, then they can start with Bobby. My husband met Bobby when he was sitting on the little wall in our front yard. He looked hot and tired, so Tim offered him a drink and talked to him for a few minutes.

Bobby has been back dozens of times since then. He always comes back to ask us for money. We don’t like to give him money, because he buys beer and cigarettes with it. I don’t think those things are helping him improve his situation. So usually, we give him a meal, or at least a sandwich, and the Coke that he demands.

Bobby visited us once in the middle of the night. I’m not sure why, but I think he wanted money and food. And apparently he didn’t realize that it was 2 in the morning. I had a hard time forgiving him for that. Do you know how upsetting it is to be woken up in the middle of the night by someone yelling and beating on your front door?

But the worst thing about Bobby is that somehow, he tries to make us responsible for his well being. He tries to guilt us into giving him money. He’s come by on cold nights begging to sleep in our house. I’m sorry, but that’s where I draw the line. I’m afraid that if I let him in for one night, he would never go away. The thing is, our city has shelters for men like him. Tim has offered to take him to a shelter on those cold nights, but he usually won’t go. There are programs to help people like him get jobs. He told us once that he was going to enroll in a program like that, but then he was back at our doorstep, begging for money.

I can’t take responsibility for Bobby. He’s a grown man. If he wants to live a normal life, then he should take advantage of the programs in place to help him. But since he refuses to do that, since he chooses to stay homeless, he shouldn’t expect me to finance his lifestyle.

It’s the same way for those homeless guys in California. If those people choose to give the homeless people food, shelter, and a way out of homelessness, then that’s great. It’s good to help the homeless. But the homeless don’t have the right to demand how they will be helped. And if they reject help, and choose to remain homeless, then they certainly don’t have the right to make other people’s lives miserable.

So instead of suing people that are already helping the homeless, those fancy lawyers should come to my neighborhood tonight and try to find Bobby. They could bring him a nice meal, and give him money to buy beer and cigarettes. It’s supposed to be cold tonight, and I’m sure he would like to stay at one of their houses. He might stay with them forever. Or maybe he would miss being homeless.

As I contemplated this situation, I realized that my status as a student has become part of my identity. I’m a shameless academic, and even if I never go back for a Ph.D., even if I never return to the classroom, I will always be an academic.

So I’m starting this blog, partly to celebrate academics and learning for the sake of learning. I’m also documenting my transition out of life as a full-time student. For now, at least, I’m finished being a student, but I hope I never stop learning.