The Breaths of Poland: Article 2

No matter how many times I fly, I always seem to get a little apprehensive when I first walk into an airport. Did I forget anything? Are my bags light enough? Do I have enough money if something goes wrong? How much time do I have? But once I take a breath I am able to remember there’s really not much that I have control over, so what’s the point in fretting? With a few more breaths I am able to relax and enjoy the wondrous mix of people around me.

Breathing. It helps me a lot. More than just the obvious of keeping me alive, it is often the bridge that allows me to move from one opposite to another. One breath can be the difference between timidity and boldness. One breath can bring me to a place of peace when moments before I could feel my heart contracting with anxiety. Adrenaline can course through my blood with one breath, preparing me for the moments to come. These breaths became very important for me, especially at the beginning of my Polish adventure.

At the first gate to the first plane of the trip I started to pass an older couple, but caught my breath. Is this the couple I will be with for the rest of the adventure? As I paused for a second to decide what to do, I released the breath that held my fears of embarrassing myself, turned around, and introduced myself to the man and his lady. Russ and Doris, a wonderful couple from the greater Minneapolis area who run Poland Evangelic Mission, were automatically warm with me. Conversation came as easily as warmed butter on toast. We talked of families, our travels to the airport, what the previous few days of preparation were like, and of course, we talked of Poland. Well, I listened to much of the talk of Poland. They both had been there numerous times before and had lots to share. Again I took one of those special breaths as a tightening of anxiousness gripped my muscles. The thought of the coming unknown tempted me with fear, but my breath prayer allowed excitement to eclipse anxiety.

After four airports, a little running in those airports, four airplanes, one hour of sleep, and about fifteen hours of travel we arrived in Poznan, Poland. I don’t remember much of Poznan from that first visit, but I do remember two different breaths that I had to take. The first, the quick breath that comes before a sneeze, acquainted itself to me as a most faithful companion for my stay in Poland. And the second, the deep breath that accompanies tiredness, which is best known as the yawn, presented itself multiple times between departing the plane and entering a car where I promptly entered the stage that tosses you back and forth between consciousness.

After driving a couple hours we finally arrived at Camp Eden in Ocwieka, Poland. I needed many breaths to get me through this next part of the trip. It was a new place, which was unfamiliar, filled with people, who were unfamiliar, speaking a language that was unfamiliar. It was a bit overwhelming for a girl as tired as me. I remember wanting to attach myself to Russ and Doris like a leach, but I hate leaches and preferred not being one. I didn’t know what to do. In the process of being shown my room I was separated from anyone I felt even a little comfortable with.  I sat on the futon in my little room, journaling, and finally deciding that a few breaths focused on worship would do me good. It did and it led me into an hour and a half nap.

Soon after I woke I found some peace by making myself useful. I helped clean the rooms of the campers that had left that day, and during that found out that I would not be staying at Ocwieka more than one night. I would be staying with the Siech family who lived in Bydgoszcz, a little more than an hour away. They were the ones I would be with for the rest of the month, preparing for and doing ministry with them. Russ and Doris, though, would not be coming with me. They were staying at the camp. With a few more breaths I pushed away the overwhelmed feeling that kept trying to jump on my back. I yearned for bed. I hoped the blanket of sleep would cover up my loneliness and my fears that my inability to communicate would keep me lonesome.
Seven AM I woke up with a long breath and a stretch. Some breaths spent in prayer and some breakfast at nine readied me for the day. No longer feeling overwhelmed, I began to prepare myself for what the day would hold. I would finally be getting to meet the people I would be staying with, eating with, practicing with, worshiping with, and ministering with for the next 30 days.  At ten I left my room, walked down some stairs, packed my luggage into a vehicle, said see-ya to Russ and Doris, and entered Jarek Siech’s car feeling as though the adventure was officially starting.
But with one big breath I wondered to myself… “How many times can an adventure start?”