-I was so excited the day you were born;  saw how anxious your mother was for you to “come out” and to meet you for the first time

-I looked deep into your eyes when you were a little baby and saw myself reflected on their glassy surface, wondered what you were thinking; were you content just to know you are loved

-I held you when you were upset and crying, felt your little chest heave against mine; we wandered outside into the damp night, you gasped the fresh, cool air and  you seemed to rest with your knees curled up tightly against your stomach

-I was worried for you, really deathly scared for you because you didn’t move and I wondered if you would ever move freely again; my prayers felt so wobbly as I prayed them; Father God healed you I know because you are doing splendidly today; I thank Him

-I handed you a sour pickle to suck on; we were in our cabin and you were “flying”, balancing on your stomach; you loved that pickle and when I came back the skin of the pickle was collapsed because you had sucked out all the seeds and the soft flesh; I was proud of you; you still love pickles

-I boosted you up on all fours when you were in the “rocking stage” and I tried to help you coordinate the “rocking” with some forward motion; don’t know if it helped at all but you had it built into you to learn to crawl and you did it well

-I caught you, clapped with you and then we did it all over again, you were taking some of your first steps; they were rubbery I thought but they were progress, and you knew that

-Here I am holding you, and you are special to me the way you are;  I am happy that you like small and normal things; I am happy that stacking crushed limestone rocks makes you happy;  may you never lose your sense of wonder about the world; you are in God’s care and I pray that you will always desire that and that you will allow Him to be your leader; it will be good.

Much love, Robin

Sara and I

Glory to God, in full anthems of joy;
The being He gave us death cannot destroy:
Sad were the life we must part with tomorrow,
If tears were our birthright, and death were our end;
But Jesus hath cheered the dark valley of sorrow,
And bade us, immortal, to Heaven ascend:
Lift then your voices in triumph on high,
For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die.

The words that I highlighted here have spoken very powerfully to me this Easter Season.  I revel in the joy of receiving life today both spiritually and physically because of Jesus’ sacrifice of life.  He laid his life down to take it up again.

With Polski Rolski, this is Robin signing off.

Being in Germany really surprised me in several ways.  For one thing I had this impression that most Germans would be really cold, but to the contrary they were so friendly and helpful.  Much more than Polish people I experience generally.  Also, all of the public transportation was so clean and fast.  The trains take off like sports cars and I would not be too afraid to eat off of the station platforms.  From the “get go” we (I) had a problem navigating the train systems because they have two kinds of trains that run above and below ground.  There were also many different train numbers running on the very same tracks so you have to be careful which train you get.  We ended up getting mixed up for about an hour on the train system before we actually got to our hostel for the night.  The hostel itself was really clean and nice, Caia.  It did not have a normal hostel “atmosphere” like the ones I have known with all the international people but it was really clean and we got our own room to ourselves; the four of us.

The first night at the hostel Eric cooked spaghetti and then we talked about what we were planning to do the next day.  We got up to a really nicely set breakfast.  They had many varieties of break and fruit as well as cold cuts and yoghurt and granola.  I have never been at a hostel where they serve such nice food for a free breakfast.  After breakfast we followed our noses and a map into old town and visited a really amazing old Catholic cathedral in the downtown, it was the one with the two domes preserved during the war as a landmark for bombing raids, walked through it and even sang a few worship songs up near the pulpit.  Later on, we sort of ambled through the rest of old town going up into the clock tower over the main square and running down through vast halls in the lower rooms of the court house.  We shot some nice pictures downstairs and Eric and I sang song songs in the hall.  The acoustics were fantastic because the ceiling was domed concrete with marble walls.  For lunch we walked into a little town park and sat down with bread and cheese even though a cool breeze was blowing.  Interestingly enough a couple of US exchange students from Wisconsin and Oregon sat down beside us and we started an interesting conversation with them.  They were both in Germany because they were majoring in German language studies.  I was amazed at how little reason they had for studying German other than it seemed to them sort of a default option; better than taking some scientific based courses.  I just wouldn’t want to study very much if I saw no real point in it.  That evening we went to a free concert with a cellist and a pianist duo.  The cellist was a young Russian/ Ukranian man who was doing his senior recital on the cello.  I enjoyed his performance a lot.  The last piece was so incredible because his fingers were flying across the fingerboard and yet his eyes were closed, but then at the end of the piece he played some high notes that were so high that his fingers were “fretting” off the fingerboard.  I don’t remember who wrote the piece.

      Our next day we took a train into the northern edge of the Bavarian alps.  We wanted to visit a castle built by Ludwig II, the crazy king of Bavaria.  It was built in the late seventeen hundreds and was crafted by almost all native stone cutters and masons.  They must have been top notch in their craft because each stone is faced with a smoothing tool and then the mortar joint is finished off with a polished half inch taper down to the actual joint itself.  It took two hundred masons employed full time for nearly eighteen years to complete the outside of the castle.  The castle is built on a small peak in the beginnings of the alps which raise their snowy heads high into the sky above a rather starkly flat and treeless valley. On one side of the castle, a chasm drops away for some 8 -900 feet to a rushing torrent below.  The castle itself is a tribute to Ludwig’s dream to be a real duchal with a real castle in the most pristine places; surrounded by the sheer wildness of the mountains.  I guess I am also influenced by a couple of quotes of his that gave me an impression of his tortured life.  We toured the castle which was an absolute marvel.  He had a huge dance/ music room upstairs with scenes and characters from some of Wagner’s famous plays depicted on the walls.  He was a huge supporter of Wagner.  The castle took a lot of time to take in, but below it, nearer to the valley floor, he had built a castle for his in laws so we saw that too.  He had even rigged up some sort of telephone system between the castles for better communication.  Beside the lower castle there was a beautiful alpine lake frozen with about a foot of ice.  Surprisingly enough though, the day was quite warm and even balmy.  But above the main castle there was a foot bridge that crossed a waterfall rushing into a pool below, so we walked out on it as it was getting dusk and then climbed the hillside overlooking the gorge and ate some pasta salad Maria and I had made.  It was fun to eat the salad because I forgot to bring spoons with us so we had to fill our mouth with our hands or by sliding the noodles into our throats with our tongues.  Afterwards we hiked up higher off the trail until we were right on the verge of the precipice looking down into that gorge.  Maria and Alison sat together on the cliff and Eric and I walked on further.  There was a stiff breeze blowing but the view was so amazing that I hardly thought about the cold.  The whole time up there in the alps was really refreshing; I felt so free.

       We got back late that evening and we got to have an interesting chat with a man who works as a chef for MAN diesels of Germany.  The workers build trucks and engines and he feeds them.  The girls went to sleep on the trip home.  They were tuckered out. 

         Our third day we got up early once again.  I decided to check into the option of touring the BMW plant in Munich, the company is headquartered there, even though I had read on the internet that tours were only allowed if they were pre registered for.  However, we found that tours ran on the hour and so we decided to do it.  It was one of the most interesting things we did, I thought.  We got a really good first hand look at the quality that goes into building a BMW car.  They are really an example of super good engineering; German engineering.  I “test drove” a simulator in the display area.  It was supposed to be the version of their all wheel drive intelligent traction system which senses traction control via computers “sensing” each wheel individually.  Incredible!  Every car that leaves the plant is custom designed for a specific owner and has been fitted with options and additions to suit their whims.  Even the girls loved it.  Alison and I were watching the body “dipping” process and the rest of the group left us behind and we did not know which door to go through to catch up.  So, our tour guide was calling for us and we did not know where she was because we could hear her all the time through our headsets but couldn’t talk to her.  Finally we opened the right door and got back with the group.  I thought that the robots were the best part of production.  To see the robots work together was amazing.  They function in such limited spaces and yet the repeat their tasks with incredible precision.  We ate lunch and then dispersed to do more individual things.  I wanted to go to some English gardens . There was not a whole lot to see there because it is winter, but I loved watching people going about their weekend lives.  We walked back to the hostel to try to get tickets for a performance of the “Riverdance” which was happening in Munich.  We tried but the tickets were just too expensive: nearly ninety American dollars.  So we settled for some tea and coffee in a nice little bar/ restaurant on the south side of town.  It was warm and cozy and we talked and shared and just generally hung out.  It was a nice way to sort of “top off” our time together in the city.

Flying back to Poland was not easy, but I did realize that part of my heart is there.  Once again, I called it home.  With Rolski Polski, this is Robin signing off.

Revival

I hear the voice of one calling, prepare ye the way of the Lord.
And make His paths straight in the wilderness
And let your light shine in the darkness
And let your rain fall in the desert.

As sure as gold is precious and the honey sweet,
So you love this city and you love these streets.
Every child out playing by their own front door
Every baby laying on the bedroom floor.

Every dreamer dreaming in her dead-end job
Every driver driving through the rush hour mob
I feel it in my spirit, feel it in my bones
You’re going to send revival, bring them all back home

I can hear that thunder in the distance
Like a train on the edge of town
I can feel the brooding of Your Spirit
“Lay your burdens down, Lay your burdens down”.

From the Preacher preaching when the well is dry
To the lost soul reaching for a higher high
From the young man working through his hopes and fears
To the widow walking through the veil of tears

Every man and woman, every old and young
Every fathers daughter, every mothers son.
I feel it in my spirit, feel it in my bones
You’re going to send revival, bring them all back home

I can hear that thunder in the distance
Like a train on the edge of town
I can feel the brooding of Your Spirit
“Lay your burdens down, Lay your burdens down”.

Revive us, Revive us,
Revive us with your fire!

I will write more later concerning why I am affected and inspired by this song.  With Rolski Polski this is Robin signing off.

The cabin is a great and lonely place.  It is equipped with almost everything two bachelors need to stay alive; all but the food.  However, it is also a place where I have experienced some real frustration over the last month.  First, our well pump completely succumbed to entropy.  The motor burned up because one of the phases shorted out, and then when John got the motor rewound and re-reinstalled the pump just dribbled water out of the bottom and refused to pump.  So, we were without water at all for three or so weeks.  John faithfully hauled water over to us in bottles in the back of his van, but I was not always a happy trooper.  During this time the wood we were trying to burn was totally green wood which only sizzled and smoked in the fireplace.  It was downright cold to come home after a day of teaching and to watch your breath drift away in a white cloud towards the ceiling.  I bought a splitting maul and Eric and I fell upon the wood with viciousness (being cold makes you vicious) until we had split most of it into kindling sized pieces that would burn.  And the wood burned much better this way and made a lot of smoke.  So, those were our troubles with water and heat.

Now we are learning to cook.  Whow, look out!  Here come the yo, yo . . . two . . . two. . . who thought they was coo’ . . . they cook up some chow . . .  think they’ve got it dow’ . . . try ‘gain, try ‘gain, I say . . .we do it again . . . forget about the soup . . . do the loop . . . split some wood . . . think we done what we should . . . but then, yo, we smelled . . . oh . . . no . . . got the stuff in the pot . . . got it way too hot . . . wish a breeze would blow low . . . broths on the flo’ . . . the lentils are black . . . smell! you know you lost track . . . go to the fence . . . try not to dance . . . with the rage in yo bones . . . you done bad . . . ain’t got the lentils, wish you had . . . read on the web . . . know what a woman said? . . . she said . . . yeah she said . . . go to bed . . . don’t fret . . .  just open a can u spam . . . forget about it, man . . . but man, my stomach’s in a jam . . . ate nothing since one . . . won’t be no fun . . . hit the sack with no grub . . . no man, ain’t no chub . . . just want some food . . . anything good . . . don’t matt’r its hot o not . . . not really ready to eat  rot . . . but, hey, got to be a way . . . to live in the day . . . listen to uh (her) . . . she’s got somethin’ ta say . . . its the mother . . . it’s the sister . . . they know how to do it . . . they cook it, they stew it . . . wish I knew how to do it . . . but wait fo’ a minute . . . take a moment . . . be silent, brotha . . . give them the honor . . . speak really tender . . . it’s a gift, man . . . a gift from the Fatha . . . they do it . . . but I forget it . . . leave the table . . . blew it . . . forgot the meaning . . . the sacrificial love . . . sent from above . . . its the cook . . . just give her a look . . . yo, that food was top . . . remember L M Alcott . . . keeping house . . . ain’t no joke

Life is much easier now, we have enough pressure from our pump to get water in the sink even warm water sometimes.  John and I got some dry apple wood that has been burning much more reasonably than anything so far.  Christmas is upon us and past.  I want to thank God for his Son and for the peace on earth that He came to give.  Men will always fight but there can be peace in our hearts because of Him.

With Polski Rolski this is Robin signing off.

I read a bit about the manufacturing and the use of snuff and found it to be quite informative. The grinding of the tobacco into powder at least the consistency of flour is difficult. It is done in mechanical mortar and pestles, but if the leaves are too dry the powder will become airborne and be lost. Talk about being in an environment where you would be “doing snuff”! So, the moisture content must be low but not too low allowing the product to disappear. After the grinding process is completed, the snuff is mixed with different natural oils, fragrances, and sweeteners to give it a particular signature flavor. To use the end product, the addict puts a pinch of the snuff under each nostril and inhales. the fine powder is sucked up onto the mucus linings of the nose where the nicotine is quickly absorbed into the bloodstream and the addict smells the fragrance and feels a nicotine boost for twenty minutes or so. I am sure you all have read classic English stories about a conversation between to aristocrats who “took snuff and sneezed together/ in unison”. This must mean that the tobacco irritates the lining of your nose enough to give you the urge to sneeze. I really don’t know if these guys were too nervous to be “doing snuff” properly but some sources say that if snuff is taken properly there will be little if any urge to sneeze. In the remote chance that the urge suddenly arises, I suppose the snuff user would do well to carry a heavy weight bandanna to catch that sneeze. But make it a red or green or blue one. Not white.

In no way am I condoning the use of tobacco.  With Polski Rolski, this is Robin signing off.

-riding our bicycles to Treblinka the day after Christmas.  It was really cold and we packed very little in the way of trail food or provisions, so we were counting heavily on stocking up from roadside skleps.  Little did we know that skleps are not open the day after Christmas.  So, here we were trundling down endless roads with very little to eat or drink.  We came into one small town and asked for a hint as to which might be the right road towards Treblinka and whether or not any stores were open.  A couple of bedraggled old fellows in long trench coats broke their mutually shared silence for a moment to mutter a bit in response.  We pushed into the little wodka bar on the side of town to ask if they might have a liter or so of liquid to sell us, preferably not alcohol.  The cigarette smoke hung low over the counter and gray, woolen clad men stared vaguely up at us.  Several shifted their half liters to the other hand and resumed their composed study of us.  Silence was predominate.  We bought two liters of orange juice, clinking our sweaty zlotes on the grimy counter.  Must have been a strange pair,we two.  Les was wearing his red down vest and I had on a streamlined cycling helmet . . . and bid them farewell.  We got to Treblinka only to be severely blasted by cold wind and snow.  The trip was a total of one hundred and fifty kilometers or more.

-we took Rich hostage when he was visiting Cor.  It was very successful and we ended up really having a good time with him.   They were always hanging out and the guys had no time with him, so we made time:)

-Listening to Les talk about relating to other people and having long discussions about evangelism, love, meaning, dreams, trucks, music, words, and we go on.  We had some really fun times watching movies together or lighting candles on cold winter nights, after midnight and sitting there talking with mugs of coffee or hot chocolate . . . our room was cold too

-going on a walk with Les in the forest just after it had rained; walking through the mist and enjoying just being together.

-searching for tickets, scrambling for options, and then deciding about going to Ireland; carrying it out and having a splendid time together; But YOU drove on the wrong side, man!

Yes, Les, I do consider you to be a brother and a real friend.  Thank you for your friendship.

Now, to my friend Eric, Arek, welcome.  He is a really great guy.  A singer, a really caring friend, a visionary, a person who wants to live in harmony and still have fiber in his food.  I am so glad he is here.  I expect that a few things will happen when we put our heads together:)  Yessir, get ready!  This is a great picture of Eric and his huge heart for people. Eric and Samantha, Roy and Elizabeth Yoder’s little girl, are hanging out. Cheers, man.