With no evident signs of Nazism, we disembarked at our downtown bus stop as quickly as possible. Chaos engulfed us as we circled our bright red, purple, and giraffe print luggage. I wanted to hide as Berliners walked by, smirking. Overwhelm threatened to take over as my blood pressure rose and cheeks reddened. Aware of just how far from home I was and how American we looked bombarded me. And, most terrifying, there was no place to hide.

Our little group of five had ten humongous suitcases and backpacks piled on the sidewalk. A female chimpanzee with a big red bootie and hundreds of school children looking, laughing, and pointing came to mind. Every sneer gouged this gal’s Texas pride. Struggling not to make eye contact, I casually studied my feet.

Trying to find the metro station entrance was an eye-opening experience. Not only from the toll of the weight of our luggage, but because we had made the blunder of not learning simple German phrases before we left.

 Pardon me..       Where is the metro station?       Can you help me?

Big mistake!

Once we located the entrance after much searching, we made the journey down three flights of old stone stairways. Sherry, Cathy, and I stood at the bottom of each level watching as Jon and Calli made three trips, bringing the ten fifty-pound suitcases down. Our heroes!

After laboring to figure out what tickets to buy, we struggled through swinging gates and crowded sidewalks. Loading everything in the subway cars in the fifteen seconds we had was flat-out miraculous. It could cost us hours to find each other if one of us hadn’t made it on. I fought to control the scream creeping up my throat as I thought of losing someone in this bedlam.

At our second stop, bracing for impact, we scrambled to transfer our things to the walkway. While frantically trying to find our next connection, a fit woman with silver, spikey hair and a kind face strolled up.

“You must be my guests from Austin,” she said in an American Midwest accent, no doubt noticing our ragged and overloaded condition. “I’m Kim. Come with me.”

With wobbly legs and grateful hearts, we followed her to the three flights of stairs leading to street level. Dread seized us as we looked up at the climb. But this time, two young men and a young woman picked up our suitcases and helped us to street level. With theirs and Kim’s help, it only took two trips. We thanked our new friends with handshakes and nods.

“They must be angels,” Kim said shaking her head. “People don’t volunteer to help you here.”

That, I already knew.

Once outside, breathing in the fresh summer air was like emerging out of a deep, cavernous cave of dense humanity into glorious freedom. It helped revive my soul for the rest of the arduous journey.

Along the mile hike with cars buzzing by and trains overhead,  Kim pointed out places of interest. My eyes feasted on bright art studios, gift shops, and graffitied outdoor cafes lining the streets. My stomach begged for attention as wonderful aromas hovered over us. Alas, we didn’t slow down to have the leisurely lunch I had imagined. My head bent forward, I trudged on step by step, promising myself I would get through this. The toasty afternoon made the journey even harder. A question kept bombarding my thoughts:

Can I do this?

Can I do this?

Can I do this?

My thoughts went to the childbirths I had endured, not knowing if I had the strength to push my babies out. But, just like then, I knew there was no option to quit. Our new mission and other’s destinies depended on it.

Not thinking I could go any further, my legs and arms aching from the strain, I slowed down just as Kim called over her shoulder. “We’re almost there.” I turned to Sherry and Cathy and whispered, “I bet she lives on the third floor.”

Kim turned with an uncomfortable look on her face a few steps later. “I haven’t told you Tanya, but I live on the fourth floor and your family is staying on the fifth. So, it’s a bit of a climb.”

A bit of a climb! I wanted to plop down and beat my fists on the sidewalk in protest. But wisdom entered my heart.

With a sigh of relief, we arrived at our home for the next couple of days. It was on a quiet, tree-lined street. A ministry Kim partnered with rented the bottom floor for a prayer room that wasn’t being used that week. So, we were free to store the luggage we didn’t need in there for the next three days. My heart danced a jig as I sat rearranging my things.

The climb up five floors of uneven wooden stairways, arms full and backs breaking, took all the strength I had. On the landing, bent over my suitcase straining to catch my breath, I took in the sweetness of our welcoming room with whitewashed walls and soft colors. God’s presence wrapped around me like a sweet embrace. We were in a safe place. I’d been on outreaches before, where I forced myself to stay and not run. Here, I felt secure and at home. With deep breaths, my body unwound with deep gratitude.

A double bed sat along the far wall with a twin under an enormous window. The sight of their softness beckoned us. But it was still early, and we needed to settle our things and visit with our host. A cool breeze and buzzing sounds of the city cooled and refreshed my tired soul.

I climbed across the twin bed onto the window ledge where I could take in the sights and sounds of the apartments across the alley below. Gentle music playing, people cooking or sitting on their window seats, reading. Sighing, I realized this was the European sight I hungered for.

After I got settled, I descended the small staircase to the fourth floor where Cathy, Sherry, and Kim’s rooms were. The apartment was cozy and well-kept. A small, cute kitchen with a sweet window and welcoming table sat inviting conversation. There was only one bathroom, but it was clean, large, and supplied a washer/dryer. Jackpot!

A friend had introduced me to Kim’s daughter by email, just two months earlier. Her family moved to Berlin as missionaries half a decade ago. One of Kim’s many passions was providing hospitality to traveling missionaries. So, she welcomed us to with open arms.

While the others were getting settled, Kim took me into her comfy bedroom. Very bohemian, which I loved. It was enchanting with rich cushion colors and soft fabrics.

“You have such a wonderful place. I can see myself living here,” I said.

A large picture window with a built-in seat looked over the graffitied building across the narrow street. As we sat relaxing, she began a fascinating story. “When I moved here in 2006, squatters were warring with the government over their right to stay in homes and businesses they created. As people poured out of East Berlin in 1989 to freedom, others saw opportunities for survival. Squat culture began, which expanded as people from the east and west took over abandoned properties and began thriving. It’s still being contested today.”

Kim pointed to a street which intersected hers. “I watched a tank pass by there. Quite frightening,” she said, staring as if she was seeing it all again.

I sat riveted to her account, imagining the sights and sounds of unrest right out her window. Captivated, I imagined the fear she must have felt, but also excited to be part of history. Berlin became even more alluring to me. I couldn’t wait to explore more.

After a wonderful Indian food supper Kim prepared, we climbed upstairs for our first night’s sleep in the Father Land. As we set our watches to the seven-hour time change, it shocked us to see it was already ten-thirty pm. The sun was setting, so we thought it must be around nine o’clock. That’s when the sun sets in summer at home. Too tired to figure it out, we slipped into our snug beds.

Satisfaction filled my heart as I thought about all we had overcome in the last twenty-four hours. We survived flying seven hours over a vast ocean in a crowded plane, acting as a team, and supporting one another. When we wanted to grumble and complain, we kept it to ourselves. It could have been so much worse. My confidence grew as I whispered, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

I watched the pink clouds fade into darkness. Thankful we had two full days to recuperate before getting on the train to Herrnhut, I closed my eyes to the soft sounds of the city below.

Wonder what we’ll do first?