Greece · December 2022The best oranges in the world

At eleven one night, a message came from the owner of the house we were renting. We had to leave the next day.

We prayed about it, cleaned the house and moved out as early as we could the next morning, not knowing where to go. The morning greeted us with wonderful sunshine, and we felt the presence of God, but we were still worried. The wifi had been shut off, we had very little cash, and the nearest cash machine was many kilometres away.

The only people we had any kind of relationship with were the owners of the village shop. My wife went to ask them for help, while the children and I moved the luggage a few hundred metres at a time towards the railway station. I had a blister covering a quarter of my foot, so the older children did most of the work.

The lady at the shop made phone calls for us, full of compassion. We were asked to walk two kilometres to meet someone, and that is how we met the woman who took us in. Two simple rooms, one with a kitchen. Heat and warm water were included. She helped us fetch the children and the luggage, and drove me to the cash machine.

After a while she came back with a bag of oranges, the best I've ever tasted. Later that evening, a bottle of olive oil. Then extra blankets and a heater. In the weeks after: more oranges, picked straight from the tree outside, and one morning fish and milk.

The entire village had seen us that day, moving the luggage and praying by the road, and how God stepped in through someone who was willing to serve Him.