I’m back in the USA after nearly two weeks in Europe. I have so many extraordinary memories, but the ones that fill my eyes with tears are the many, many, many acts of kindness that surrounded me and my 85-years-lived traveling friend.
Our mobility is less agile, and I am particularly aware of the courtesy that was generously offered us in Sweden and Germany.
We had five days in Berlin, two of which were filled from morning to night with the FIBA Women’s Basketball World Cup. We watched women representing sixteen countries compete with joy and enthusiasm. Conversations across countries filled our time during and between games.
Saturday was our only completely free day, and we made a plan to mainly ride the tram to a couple or more sites recalling the Berlin Wall.
The first stop was for coffee and rolls at a German bakery. I’d carefully navigated tram numbers and stops for our day. We boarded the M10 tram which was less than a block’s walk from our hotel. Before I could sit down, the tram very suddenly began to move, and I catapulted to the ground. It was very dramatic.
Almost immediately a woman from Italy leapt down beside me to check on me and then ran to get the tram driver.
I had hit my head pretty hard (hard enough to shatter my iPhone screen), and I’m pretty sure I was concussed. After checking that I knew my name and where I was and offering to call an ambulance (no way—it was my only day to see the Berlin Wall and there was no time to be sitting in an ER), after my dizziness and nausea began to pass, another woman offered me a sip of water from her flask.
I gingerly got up, and Fausta, the passenger from Italy, insisted on sitting with us for the tram ride and then walking us to the coffee shop. Turns out, she was on her way to that day’s ball game!
Selfies taken, hugs and tears, and plans to meet at the next day’s game between USA and Italy, we went to our bakery destination.
There we received more kindness. I was given a black glove filled with ice and wrapped in napkins for my head, and we sat at a table for a couple of hours while I recovered. I also must add I had the best cinnamon roll I’ve ever eaten when the nausea subsided.
The next day, we returned to the bakery for more coffee and rolls, and the staff personnel recognized us and asked how I was doing. Such kindness!
In the spirit of the way that St. John ends his Gospel, there are many, many more acts of kindness I experienced than I am able to write about in this blog. These few acts I’ve told about, however, were not unique. Time and again, people went beyond what is expected to make life more gentle and open-heated.
In another blog, I plan to write about worshiping at the church Lensand, Sweden a little over a week ago. This past Sunday, I was regretting that I hadn’t been able to figure out how we could stop to join others for worship on Sunday in Berlin.
However, as I was writing this blog, I realized that I had had worship in the most holy of sense in the graciousness of strangers. Those acts were in fact the hands of Christ as I was offered cups of cold water from people who did not speak my language or share my nationality but communicated in the universal language of acts that I experienced as a holy communion.
I hasten to add, on Sunday, our new friend Fausta searched us out and found me and my traveling friend in the Berlin Arena.
It was Church indeed.
House of Grace 