Dream Trekker: A Glimpse into International Volunteering

By Gabriella Louise Sheldon

Not everybody gets to go home. Not everybody wants to go back home. I, however, had always wanted to see the land where my grandparents had been born. All my life, I had been curious about life on the other side of the pond, where my ancestors had walked and talked. I too wanted to walk the streets and see the scenery at fifty-five degrees latitude, but I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would go to Poland as a clown.

So begins a series of seven journeys that would take Gabriella Sheldon around the world as a volunteer. In Poland, she helped in a wheelchair distribution, but later she would witness the atrocities of Auschwitz. She lived and taught at a school in rural China, and she also got to see such famous sites as the Great Wall. She was a clown, a teacher, an orphan caretaker, and a traveler. Her roles varied, and so did the cultures she visited. She studied Polish, Russian, Mandarin, Spanish, and Lithuanian, never gaining fluency, yet always learning. Each journey was a step of faith as she bought her plane tickets and made her plans, often joining strangers in an outreach.

As you read Dream Trekker, you will find yourself immersed in the daily life of a volunteer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inspiring Voices
• Release date: Aug 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781462402274

Gabriella Louise Sheldon

Gabriella Louise Sheldon grew up on a small dairy farm. She writes poetry, stories, memoirs, and songs. She has taught at several universities and traveled to every continent except Antarctica, either as a tourist or as a volunteer. She lives in a rural environment where wild animals frequent her property.

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Copyright © 2012 Gabriella Louise Sheldon

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ISBN: 978-1-4624-0227-4 (e)

Inspiring Voices rev. date: 08/01/2012

To my daughter Annie

CONTENTS

Preface

Acknowledgments

Greta Goes To Poland

Greta Goes To Mexico

Gabriella And Greta Go To China

Gabriella And Greta Go To Russia

Gabriella Goes To Lithuania, Poland, Latvia, And Denmark

Dora Goes To The Caribbean

Gabriella Goes To Ukraine

PREFACE

The following accounts are true, faithfully written from journals created shortly after the fact. They document one woman’s travels around the world as a volunteer. I am that woman; my stories are not unique, for I joined others as I traveled and shared God’s love with those I met. As you read, you will find yourself immersed in cultures around the world: Poland, China, Mexico, and elsewhere.

Who am I? I’m a twice-divorced mother of six and grandmother of eleven. I have taught at several colleges and universities. My home sits in rural northern Michigan. I have deer, black bears, and coyotes as neighbors. Sometimes when I’m driving to town, I won’t see another car for 10 minutes, yet I’ve now seen some of the most populated cities in the world: Mexico City, Shanghai, and Beijing.

Have you ever dreamed of stepping outside your comfort zone? Of volunteering in an orphanage? Of teaching your skills to the needy? There are thousands of opportunities. My travels merely document seven very different journeys that I have taken. My purpose for compiling my journals is to give you a glimpse into the world of international volunteerism, with hopes that you too will want to get a passport, save money, and make a difference in the world. Maybe you will join me on my next journey.

Gabriella Sheldon, 2012

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My wholehearted thanks go to the Christian outreaches and individuals that decided to take me as a volunteer:

Joni and Friends Wheels for the World

North Shore Baptist, the Warrens, and the Morales.

New Day Creations

International Teams

LCC International University

Ciudades de Angeles of Cozumel, Mexico

Richard Smith of Belize

Ed Gibson of Grand Cayman

Sandy Bay Lighthouse Ministries of Isla de Roatan

Besides these, I couldn’t have ministered without all the many individuals named in my journals. Thank you, everyone.

A special thanks goes to my mother who helped take care of my home in my absences, to my son Matthew who tended to lawns and problems, and to Paul Erdman who took my cat into his home for several months and house sat.

And special thanks goes to all my dear friends at Bethlehem Covenant Church, who helped financially, but most important, prayed for me.

GRETA GOES TO POLAND

Poland June 2005 with Wheels for the World,

a ministry of Joni and Friends

Not everybody gets to go home. Not everybody wants to go back home. I, however, had always wanted to see the land where my grandparents had been born. All my life I had been curious about life on the other side of the pond where my ancestors had walked and talked. I too wanted to walk the streets and see the scenery at 55 degrees latitude, but I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would go to Poland as a clown.

Actually the dream I had began long before I ever became a clown. It began way back in high school when I made my plans to be a medical missionary doctor. I entered the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor as a premed student. Two years into my studies, I realized that being a medical doctor wasn’t my calling. I became a teacher instead and the dream of helping in the medical field simmered on the back burner.

Time changed a lot in my life. So did six children and an unfaithful husband. Then my life changed some more as I learned to love nine grandchildren and to accept the estrangement of my second husband. As events in my life continued to provide challenges and opportunities, I felt a longing surging up within me to reach beyond myself, to do some missionary work again, for in my younger days I had gone on two mission trips, one to Mexico for three months and one to Colombia and Ecuador for six weeks. Both had centered around construction. I wanted to go again, but where and with whom I didn’t know.

I started to pray and to seek direction. I found out about Wheels for the World, an outreach to the disabled through Joni and Friends. I filled out the registration and decided that June would be a good month to go. Much to my surprise, I found out that a team would be going to Poland in June. I had never even thought that I might be going to the birthplace of my dad’s mother and father, both who had died long before my birth. After filling out everything, I ran into a small problem. The team director for Poland had everyone she needed for the distribution of wheelchairs. She didn’t need me. I didn’t know how to respond except I really felt I needed to be part of that team. In a last minute effort to get her to accept me, I said I also clown. She asked me to send her pictures of me clowning along with a letter. She would think about having a clown on the team.

Some weeks later, I got a call saying that I had been accepted on the team going to Poland, and I would be going as a clown.

Since I knew only a few words in Polish, I got some tapes and started studying Polish. I wanted to be able in interact with the people coming to get wheelchairs. I wanted to say something that would make them laugh. Twenty tapes later, I knew a couple hundred words, enough to communicate a little. Polish is one of the most difficult languages to learn partly because the words change spelling in different situations. I knew I’d have fun mispronouncing words. Mispronouncing would be easy. Saying anything correctly would be a lot harder, but I managed to memorize enough words correctly to give the semblance of knowing more than I did.

Polly was my clown name, but Polly really didn’t want to go to Poland. She was pretty fussy. She had to dress in a private room, and she took a long time to put her face on. Polly was going to have to stay home. Who could go in her place? I designed a new outfit that slipped over my clothes and got new hair, a new hat, and a new face thanks to some prosthetic teeth and a nose tip. My new clown needed a name, so I went to visit a Polish aunt. Using a Polish calendar for ideas, we found the name Greta, and so Greta went to Poland instead of Polly.

June 4, 2005.

I’m on a 777 Boeing, British Airways flight 299, heading for London, where I will change planes for Warsaw, Poland. In my Wheels for the World carry-on with me I have Greta, my clown persona, a change, and other important items. My other carry-on is my balloon bag. I smile as I recall having blown up balloons for about a dozen children waiting in the airport. One child stopped crying when I gave him a balloon. It isn’t easy to travel with little children. I am alone although three others on the flight are supposed to be part of the Wheels for the World team. I haven’t met anyone yet although we have communicated via email. So many months of planning have gone into this trip. It hardly seems real that I actually am heading to Europe to be part of a team, all strangers to me except for our electronic letters.

The flight to London is short: six hours and 55 minutes. We were delayed in starting over an hour. I just made contact with the three other members of the team. They had been on the flight when it landed in Chicago’s O’Hare Airport, where I had boarded, so that is why I didn’t see them in the waiting area. It is 9:30 CST and I am getting hungry. In the airport I had an Angus steak burger at 2:30, so I am ready to eat again.

June 5, 2005.

After eating lasagna, I fell asleep and missed breakfast. Then we were in London and transferring to our flight to Warsaw. A light lunch was served and we were in Poland. Clowns aren’t supposed to cry, but when I actually landed in Poland and heard everyone speaking in Polish, I cried. Of course, Greta was still in the suitcase. She might not have cried just then. My being able to give a little something to Poland brought tears to my eyes. At that point in time, I really didn’t think I had much to offer, but I did have a heart really, really wanting to give.

We gathered together and went through immigration. Two members of the team couldn’t find their luggage. One piece arrived with another plane, which had other members of the team. Another piece was missing also. We spent some time trying to locate the missing luggage, which contained tools and equipment for the wheelchair mechanics and physical therapists. Volunteers came from both coasts and some places in between, so our flights were varied. I was happy that my luggage arrived because I wanted to change my clothes more than once. In the confusion of missing luggage, one of the members, Sydney, lost something more important than her luggage: her passport. It was never found, so she had the difficulty of getting a new one before our return trip to the United States in two weeks. She also lost her driver’s license.

Finally we were met by Mariola and Christav, who took us to Salwador Hotel. The hotel was a small one-story building. In my room, I had two small beds, narrower than twin size, with duvets. I also had a small bathroom with a toilet, shower, and sink. I found out that the toilet thought it was a bidet, which are not uncommon in Europe. My roommate was Valerie, a delightful African American physical therapist from Maryland. For a meal we had three kinds of pierogi. At 11:00 p.m. we had a meeting and then headed to bed. I found out that every night would be late the next two weeks. Since I am an early-to-bed and early-to-rise gal, I struggled to stay awake during our late night meetings.

June 6, 2005.

Valerie and I both woke up early and were ready for breakfast: cheese, cold cuts, tomato slices, pickles or cucumbers, scrambled eggs and sausage, AKA hotdogs. We also had coffee. Slowly everyone came into the dining room to eat and then we made plans to visit a prison, where inmates had been restoring donated wheelchairs. In the states many other inmates have also been involved in wheelchair restoration as part of the Wheels for the World ministry. It was quite easy to get into the prison, so I assumed we were in a minimum security type prison. The physical therapists had lists of potential wheelchair recipients, so they chose wheelchairs that they thought might work, plus extras, for designated drop off points. I helped clean wheelchairs.

After we left the prison, we went to a shelter for the homeless, where more wheelchairs were stored. We did the same work there, except all the wheelchairs were stored inside and had to be loaded unto trucks outside. First we had to push the wheelchairs into the sunshine, take off their protective plastic covers, and then sort them. Our work was followed by a visit to Joni and Friends (Przyjaciele) headquarters in a mall in Warsaw, where we had lunch. Most of us exchanged dollars for Zloty at $1.00 to 3.31 Z.

Upon returning to the hotel, we reorganized our luggage for a week of traveling to distribution sites. We were going to travel in a large van or bus, as it was called. At 6:00 we left. Our first stop at 9:00 was at a McDonald’s where I had a salad and a small shake. I always feel cheated when I eat at a familiar North American restaurant when I’m out of the United States, but I was hungry. We continued to travel until our next pit stop at 1:30 a.m. At 4:30 we arrived at our hotel in Glogow, our driver having misunderstood the directions, thereby lengthening our journey. Our rooms were on the third floor, and there wasn’t an elevator, so the strong ones among us helped the others haul their suitcases up the stairs. Since Greta traveled in the carry-on, I had to bring my large suitcase with all my clothes. I didn’t need all my clothes, but I had no alternative bag.

June 7, 2005.

By 9:00 a.m. we had to be at our first distribution site, so that meant we had a very short sleep in the hotel. I got my hair braided and up, ready for my wig, and then I ate before 8:00. In a few minutes Gabriella vanished and Greta appeared. Gabriella would never be seen at any of the distribution sites.

For the first hour another helper, Meg, and I cleaned and sized (measured their width) wheelchairs. The others set up three sites for fitting of the 40 possible listed recipients. After every chair was ready, Meg became the photographer with her Polaroid camera. I became the clown. I blew up balloons, stuck happy face stickers on the young and the old, turned kielbasas into dogs, and in general just goofed around as only a clown can do. After a busy morning, we left for lunch at a local cooking school. That was a good meal: tomato soup, breaded chicken breast, potatoes with dill, a red cabbage salad, lettuce with dill, radishes and carrots. Most of the workers ate very little salad; however, I enjoyed both but ate very few of my potatoes. We had a torte for dessert.

The afternoon passed the same as the morning. We were served pea soup and pierogi for supper. Then we were entertained by several people singing Polish folk songs and by several dance troupes of young girls. By 5:00 we were on the road and heading toward Mamyslow. This trip took only four hours, so at 9:00, we were at our hotel. After taking our suitcases to our rooms, we gathered together for pizza and our nightly meeting. Delinda, the organizer and director of the distribution, told us that each night she would pick one person, and we would each say how that person blessed us during the day.

It was at the end of our first day of distribution that I found out what Greta really could give because Greta was the first person to be picked. And then Delinda shared how she had been reluctant to have a clown go on a distribution. She told how Greta had positively changed the atmosphere of the distribution from all the other times she had been at a distribution. I felt like crying again as each person told how Greta had made a child smile or lightened the mood. Greta had made a difference. She had a lot to offer. It was funny, but I think I learned a lot from Greta.

Greta played balloon ball with children who couldn’t talk and who couldn’t walk. And she always had a smile and a handshake to all she met. She didn’t care if the person was frowning or smiling. She was just as silly to each, whether the person had lost a leg because of diabetes or had been born with cerebral palsy. Everyone who came for a fitting had a medical problem, so Greta was part of a medical missionary team and part of a decades old dream fulfilled, a dream almost 40 years old.

June 8, 2005.

Wednesday has come. We were served a typical breakfast at the hotel and then went to our site. We were all cold, so everyone wore jackets or layers as was the case for Greta who wore her clown clothes over regular clothing. Again I sized wheelchairs and then clowned in a large area where the recipients registered. We were in a Pentecostal church, so the church gave out tracts, books, etc and shared the Gospel. Wheels for the World does not try to evangelize or preach. Our message is one of giving. We do pray for people if they request it. The church fed us lunch of chicken, hard rolls, cabbage salad, and bars. When all the chairs were distributed, we hugged a few and said, Do widzenia when we left. The people at the church were warm and friendly.

Then we once again packed our bags, hauled them down a winding staircase, boarded our bus, and headed to Pinczou. It was very chilly outside, about -2 C. We were near the snowy Carpathian Mountains, where my paternal grandfather had grown up. At Hotel Sonato, we enjoyed an elevator to our floors. I changed and then we headed to a nice restaurant where a two-man keyboard band played and patrons danced. We gathered at a large table, and I ordered mushroom soup with dill and noodles, black mulberry juice, grilled pork with mushrooms, fried potatoes, and a typical Polish salad. Later during our meeting, we told how my roommate Valerie had blessed us.

June 9, 2005.

Hotel Sonato offered a typical breakfast. After eating, this time we went to a nursing home. About 12:30, we completed fitting everyone, so we went to another nursing home, where the recipients were on the second and third floors. Since there were no elevators, we had to haul everything upstairs. I went to the rooms and clowned with the old folks. In one room I shed tears with a daughter who was visiting her mother, who was nonresponsive.

After all the recipients were fitted with their chairs, we walked to an ice cream parlor, where I had three small scoops with peaches, nuts, and whipped cream. Once again we loaded the bus and this time had a short drive to Katowice, where we stopped to eat at a rustic restaurant close to the Czech border. All sorts of hunting and country paraphernalia were displayed everywhere. A delicious goulash was served in a heated metal bowl. It was enough for me, but not the end of the meal. We had family type dining with bowls of food passed around: sauerkraut, red cabbage, veal, and pork. On the ride to our hotel, we began our meeting. After we got to the hotel, we finished our meeting. I showered and washed my hair while Valeria called home. I never called anyone since I live alone. Our room, as was typical, had two narrow beds but the room was bigger and things looked newer.

June 10, 2005.

In the United States I had found out from Polish friends that Friday is the day of the week in Poland that people who want to fast for religious reasons fast. I typically fast on Mondays, but I decided that I would fast on Friday in Poland. Since today is Friday, I fasted, making my morning easier. We were kept very busy at the facility, which was another church. The others ate soup and rolls for lunch. The afternoon was busy also, so it was 6:00 when we finished. Another meal was served. It was 8:00 by the time we loaded the bus and were heading back to Warsaw.

Around 11:30, we were back at the hotel in Warsaw. We got our keys and put our luggage in our rooms. Then we had our meeting of blessing. I didn’t look at my watch when we retired.

June 11, 2005.

This was a free day, so we got up late, with breakfast around 9:30. A little later we were bused to a stop close to Old Town, where we split up and went shopping. I asked Tucker Boone, who was living in Poland and had learned a lot of Polish, if he would be so kind as to accompany since I get lost very easily and he was the age of one of my sons. He agreed and I had a very enjoyable time, knowing I wouldn’t get lost. I bought postcards and stamps, books, t-shirts for my children, amber jewelry for my mother and myself, and a few other things. At lunch time, we stopped at a pierogi shop. We were all to meet at a statue called Sigy mon at 6:15, so we did. From there we headed to a famous, very fancy restaurant called Dom Polski. I had worn a long red dress for shopping, so I felt dressed up enough as long as no one looked at my white walking Nikes, which did match my white hat. By the way, I saw hundreds of women, but I never saw another woman wearing a hat. Peonies were everywhere in the restaurant, giving the whole place a delightful aroma. The delicious meal was followed by our usual time of blessing.