MISSION POSSIBLE
International partnership ministry is
NOT just for the young
By Bev Oren
 
To me, the mission was impossible. It was conceived in the ever-active brain of the chairman emeritus of our focus group at First Baptist Houston. The assignment: Fifteen (maximum) of our elderly go to our sister-church in Jelgava, Latvia and spend 12 days fellowshipping with however many of their elderly they could interest. The thought was beautiful. Most, if not all, of our partnership projects had been geared to the young. The elderly in the church had spent 50 years under the pall of a horrifying oppression. Whereas, the young had resources to make a living, the old had few avenues of assistance.
So, we would travel around to different places in a big comfortable bus and sightsee and eat and bond together. They would love us and we would love them because we were Christians and we were having a good time together. That was the thought, the dream. But (and there is always a 'butter') here was the reality. I have traveled a lot around this world. Americans are not liked. We do not excite feelings of warmth and camaraderie. We are tolerated by the polite and snubbed by the impolite.
We had been to Jelgava two years before and seen the poverty some of them lived in, God bless them. So, we strangers with soft hands and matching clothes and shoes that held together at the seams were going to bond with these people who had seen Jelgava burn to the ground, some of them taken to Siberia, some shot on their doorsteps, never enough to eat or keep warm. I don't think so.
I wasn't the only one. Eight from my church in Houston signed up to go. Two dropped out because of health reasons. Five women, one man.
We arrived in Riga at 10:30 p.m. and by midnight we were tucked in our own beds at the Jelgava Hotel. The next morning, we visited the Palace and there was a reception at the church where we met those we would spend the next 11 days with. They sat on one side of the table, we sat on the other. The following day we had a wonderful dinner together. There were some young people to translate. That was good. A few were with us on the trip to the seacoast town of Liepaja. We spent the night there and by now we all were loosening up, showing pictures of grandchildren. The man in our group was "Mr. Entertainment," huggin' 'em and kissin' 'em and squeezin' 'em and teasin' 'em.
Wednesday night was a sweet prayer service at the church, and Thursday was a trip to Riga to attend an opera in a beautifully restored opera house. It was a first for some. The Latvians are exceptionally musical and they sing as few others. Thursday was a trip to the Summer Palace with instruction on the ways of restoration. So much has been, is being, or will be restored to its former beauty.
The last evening was Sunday, May 11. Such hugging and kissing and presentations of flowers you have never seen. Such tears flowed. And the tall, stately, shabby lady with few teeth I had picked as my favorite grabbed my hand in her hard, work-worn hands and said haltingly, "I - will - see - you - in - heaven!" . . . Amen!
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