Van Dinnye???

“I’m going to go for little walk around the neighbor hood.” I stumbled, trying to put this idea into Hungarian words, in an effort to explain to my two Hungarian speaking housemates why I was leaving the house. “Just for a stroll…to get some fresh air and exercise.” “Szereted dinnye?” (do you like watermelon?) Ildiko asks. What an odd question to ask me as I’m leaving for a walk, I thought to myself….“yes.” Ildiko proceeded to tell me (in Hungarian) that I should take my walk down the street, to the fourth house on the right after the post office, and see if I could buy a watermelon from them. If I were still in the states and someone told me to do this – to walk into a stranger’s house and ask them for a watermelon, I probably would have shied away from the idea…add on the fact that I’m in another country, in a culture I don’t understand, and surrounded by a language I cannot yet speak...and a hundred reasons come swimming in my head, telling me not to do this. But, lo and behold, I figured it would be easier for me to just take some money and try to buy this watermelon, rather than figure out how to explain to Ildiko why I was too scared, and was not going to get the watermelon.

So, down the street I walked. Mossy, grassy stones passing underfoot. A baby girl learning to walk, led by her elderly grandmother…A youngster from the school passing behind me on his squeaky bicycle, entering the muddy driveway I just stepped through: “Szia Julie!”… “Szia!”….On past the now familiar red and green sign of the post office, hanging overhead…past house number one…house number two….house number three….hmmmm is this the house number four Ildiko spoke of? I wondered…and I could only hope it was, as I tried to politely get the attention of a couple standing in the yard, by hollering what little Hungarian I know about buying watermelons. They seemed to understand, and brought me around the side of their yard where there sat, one atop another, at least 100-200 watermelons laying on the brown dirt, poised and ready to be loaded on the trailer and taken to market. The man helping me kindly and carefully knocked on a dozen melons, until he seemed to find one that would be acceptable, then picked it up and carried it over and placed the heavy melon in my arms. I tried and tried to ask him how much I could pay; how much the melon cost, but to no avail. They would not let me pay, and sent me on my way with well wishes, and one big watermelon.

I meandered down the street, melon heavy in my arms, thinking about what a beautiful thing I’ve just been blessed to experience. To be accepted, on some level, at least, into this community. I couldn’t speak eloquently to the people at that house (little do I know if I even made any sense), yet that family graciously understood what I was sent there for, and took care of me and gifted me with a watermelon. I did absolutely nothing to deserve their graces, yet they poured them over my head.

I waddled down the uneven sidewalk that late afternoon, the weight of the marble green melon pulling and stretching at my arms, the sunlight slowly fading in the sky – and such a feeling of peace and warmth overflowing in my heart. A young boy from school, Pali, said hello from across the street, and ran over to walk beside me, an un-inflated balloon in his hand. We walked down the street, side by side, Pali bouncing along, blowing up his balloon and releasing it over and over again (and telling me all about it in Hungarian). I couldn’t understand but one or two words that he said, and yet, that was enough. Words don’t always need to be said. I’m learning that sometimes we can find commonality and understanding and community, by just trusting, and opening ourselves up to be with those around us. The community of Magyarmecske has done just that, for me. I can’t speak to them. They can’t speak to me, and yet, they let me be one of their own. They give to me without expecting payment, they wave to me on the street, and they walk beside me, keeping me company in a way that I can understand. And I can’t begin to tell you how blessed and humbled I am to be welcomed in such a way that I do not deserve.

Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves…

Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

Romans 12: 9-10,13