I arrived at the airport in Greece. It was sunny there, and the humidity in this small area was enough to make me sweat gallons! The pastor was waiting for me there. He smiled, introducing himself as John. I smiled back. He was so nice to meet me at the airport. We went through the Greek language and traditions to the point where I could recite it back to him. He seemed satisfied. Then we walked out into the open air and he saddled me up on a gray donkey. I fanned myself frequently. The white washed walls of the city amazed me, and I found myself amazed at how daily life went here. One person, an elderly lady, stared at me like I was an alien. We kept riding and finally I slipped off my donkey and introduced myself to the people I was staying with. A young woman introduced herself as Nikki. She was very gracious. She lived with her daughter in a small house struggling in need of repairs. Her daughter, Lena, talked about anything and EVERYTHING being in her "early-teens". She asked tons of questions. By the end of the day I felt like the family and I had known each other a long time. Her mother made a delicious green bean casserole for dinner later that evening. We talked for hours before the pastor signaled it was time for him to leave. He smiled and I smiled back, and then he drew me into a hug. "May the Lord bless you on your journey."I helped Nikki with the bed linens, as she left to go check on Lena. I realized they didn't have a phone or television. I pulled out my bible and read the instructed passages John said I should read before the next day's activities. As I closed my eyes I soon fell asleep. I was dreaming...of home: Mom was making taco salad and dad was watching the news and in a flash...ruins everywhere, no one was around. I screamed for help thinking this was a natural disaster. I turned around to see a man in gold robes. He held out his hand for me. We were flying through the sky. He had blood stains on his wrists from where nails appeared, and a crown of thorns. I knew him, and automatically wept. I cried and he held me to his chest.
When I awoke Lena was shaking me, but I remembered it vividly. I knew the man, Jesus, sent me here to help this family realize his awesomeness, and others as well. I told Lena all of my dream. Afterwards, she stared at me watching what I'd say next, but I didn't know what to say. There were no more words.
During breakfast, Nikki put out a box of cereal. She hadn't gotten the milk yet, so I volunteered to go into the market for her.
The market was crowed. Men were talking to each other while their wives gossiped about the increasing prices. A fisherman selling fish he'd caught was having no luck so I bought a fish with the money I had. " Bless you, ma'am!", he shouted. As I bought milk later on, there was a hole in the carton and it spilled through the bag. Ugh!!!! As I went to get another carton from the sales woman, I bumped into a man selling bread and olives. He saw my anguished state, and put money on the counter before I could protest. I looked around to to thank him but he was gone. I was aware that he dropped his wallet when he disappeared. I knew I had to find him and give it back when I saw him. There was a picture of three skinny boys next to him. I asked around to see if anyone knew him. One lady identified him as as Marcus Bellini, an Italian merchant who came every summer to trade. She pointed to his house up the road.
As I knocked a boy came and called, "Uncle!" The man who came was indeed the man who payed for me. I handed him the wallet, as he stared into my eyes. They were sea-green and blue. "Thanks." I told him about the lady who directed me here. He nodded. Then he did something unexpected. He smiled and kissed my forehead, uttering a few words in which sounded like a prayer.
Later that night I told Nikki what happened. She told me the boys in the photo were orphans since there parents were killed in a terrorist attack. Marcus claimed to be related before they went to foster homes since he was a friend of the parents. I was shocked at the story, and even more so, because his parents worked the World Trade Center on 9/11. Marcus left Italy to come here and raise them. Their aunt had watched them while he was on business. But he visited often. He was there god-father. I knew this man was called by God to do what he did. I decided I would help him out in anyway I could during my time here. Time is limited, after all.
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