The look of panic on my uncle’s face as he directed our family to run towards shelter in the caves is forever engraved in my mind. “The Germans are coming!” I was just four years old, so I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew we were in grave danger!

I grew up in the picturesque village of Avgeniki on the Island of Crete. The Varverakis family dates back at least five generations, based on the stories handed down to me by my Yiayia and Papou. We were a small, close-knit village that filled our days working our olive groves and grape vineyards. My father, mother, two brothers, two sisters, and I lived under a roof filled with love, which was the strong foundation that helped us get through the occupation of the Nazis during WWII.

For about three years, my early childhood story played out during the occupation of Nazis, and the life we knew drastically changed. We experienced tremendous loss as our loved ones were killed before our eyes. Many villagers disappeared and later we would learn they were tortured and killed. We experienced hunger as our fields and food supplies were confiscated for the German army. I remember so many nights trying to sleep, but my hunger pains kept me awake for hours. We routinely went to the village dump and picked out the leftover table scraps the Nazis trashed. My mom would clean the potato peelings and other scraps to make us a dinner that barely filled the empty void in our stomachs. Once a kind Nazi soldier gave my mom a chocolate candy bar, which she used to make us a pot of hot chocolate. He also provided us with blankets and medicine when my baby brother became ill. As the months became years, I started school and our village attempted some sort of normalcy during this occupation.

When the Nazis left in 1944, they destroyed most of our crops, including our olive trees and grape vineyards. Not only that, but they planted land mines—one actually exploded when my Uncle Manuel stepped on it. Thankfully, he lived, and many years later my children were fascinated with his wooden leg! Saying we experienced difficult times is an understatement. Greece spent decades rebuilding our beautiful country after the devastation of WWII. Looking back, God used this incredible hardship to prompt my father to seek refuge in America, the land of opportunity!

It took my father almost ten years to get the appropriate paperwork in order and money to bring my mother, my younger brother, and me to America. By that time, my three older siblings were married and building their lives in Greece. My Uncle George owned a restaurant in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and was instrumental in helping us build a new life. So, when I was 18 years old, we boarded the Queen Frederica steamliner and crossed the Atlantic in 13 days—most of which we spent incredibly seasick. My first thoughts as we approached New York were of wonder and awe. I had never seen a skyline before! We spent days going through the process of entering the States, and I was both nervous and excited, as everything was so foreign to me.

Once we arrived in Pittsburgh, my Aunt Bea took me shopping for new clothes—new, pretty clothes, not the hand-me-downs I was accustomed to. A new coat, a new hat, gloves, and shoes. I was so stylish! Within a few days, my Uncle George had me working behind the counter at his restaurant. My first English words were “ketchup” and “mustard”! It was quite entertaining trying to take orders. My first paycheck was $15 dollars for a week, and I felt like a millionaire!

We settled into a three-room apartment, and for the first time, I had my own bed. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to be in America. I went to night school to learn English and continued to work at Uncle George’s Chicken Delight for three more years. Restless and wondering what I was supposed to do with the rest of my life, I considered going back to Greece. Then my cousin, Irene, who was married to an American GI, invited me to stay with her for a change of scenery. So, I took a bus to Whiteman Air Force Base in Missouri. Little did I know I was about to meet my future husband!

Several weeks into our visit, I answered the knock at their front door and there stood this tall, handsome soldier. I wasn’t sure what to make of him, but somehow found myself agreeing to a date—my very first date! We went to a drive-in movie, ate a footlong hotdog, and had a soda! Jim was a big flirt, and I was very naïve. We had a whirlwind courtship—met in October of 1959 and had a Big Fat Greek Orthodox Wedding on December 26—the same year! I was the only sibling in my family to marry an American, so you can imagine how funny our wedding was, as we merged my Greek family with Jim’s Kentucky/Ohio family! Looking back, it seems so crazy, but God had a future for me and our family.

Jim loved to tell our friends we had the perfect marriage until I learned to speak good English! We certainly had to have a sense of humor as we navigated our first years of marriage combining our cultural backgrounds. Our first baby came soon afterwards, Michael Glenn Walker—named after both grandfathers. That same year in 1961, I became a proud American citizen, something I treasure to this very day. Our daughter, Janet Marie, was born the next year, followed by Gladys Rae a few years later, and finally Victoria Lynn in 1967. Our Air Force assignments took us on many adventures from the East Coast to the West Coast and several overseas assignments. Jim did several remote tours to Korea. Those were challenging years, as I was back in the States with four small children. I was anxiously awaiting the time to return to my beloved Greece and was overjoyed when, in 1970, Jim was assigned to Hellenikon Air Force Base in Athens, Greece.

Greece was a dream come true for our family. I was in my element—the culture, the food, the people, the language, and the Greek Orthodox Church. It felt so familiar and comforting to be back after 14 years. Little did I know that God would transform Jim’s life and in turn change the course of our family. One of Jim’s work peers, Louis Delgado, gave him a Bible and began sharing Jesus. At the same time, we were introduced to some missionaries, Bob and Maria Hill, who served in Athens. God used our friendship to lead us to His saving grace and a personal relationship with His Son, Jesus. You can imagine the irony of me—a born and bred Greek, raised in the Greek Orthodox Church—making the decision to follow Jesus and be baptized. We attended a mission church—Trinity Baptist. For the first time in my life, I began to read and study the living Word of God. My Greek Bible came alive for me as I grew in my relationship with God and learned what it meant to daily serve Him.

In 1973, we returned to the States. I’m embarrassed to admit that I cried most of the trip through the state of Oklahoma. I’ll never forget my first impressions of the flat, dry land and awful smell of the stockyards as we entered Altus. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why God would send us here to this awful place after three glorious years in Greece. As new believers, it was important for us to find a church. Emmanuel Baptist Church was where we spent the next two years and formed some of the sweetest friendships that I cherish to this day. Our pastor’s wife, Gladys, took me under her wing, as well as did Effie Cook, one of the sweetest ladies you would ever meet. These ladies were important spiritual mentors that God provided as encouragers and friends who sharpened me.

One day, Jim walked into our base house and told me it was time for him to retire or he would have to do another remote tour away from our family. So, he retired after 23 years in the military, and we headed to the big state of Texas for Jim to attend Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. At that time, I had the opportunity to work at Life Outreach International, a Christian organization dedicated to sharing Jesus Christ with hurting people worldwide. During the 23 years I worked for them, this ministry had a huge impact on my life. When Jim died in 2015, the organization’s founder, James Robison, called to pray and encourage me. And my church family, First Baptist Hurst, were the hands and feet of Jesus. If I needed anything, they were there giving me rides to church, helping me run errands, and fixing things around the house that Jim used to handle. I still chuckle over my pastor, Jeff Burnett, asking, “Hey, Greekie, how are you doing?” Through loving relationships in my church, God provided a family for me.

Oh, how I fell in love with Texas! It has been my home now for over 40 years! When I think of where I started, in a small village on the other side of the world, I am truly convinced that God was with me every single step of the way.

In April 2022, I had the privilege of celebrating my 85 years on this earth by returning to my beloved Greece with my daughters, Janet and Gladys, and their husbands, Mike and Tim. We spent two amazing weeks exploring the beauty of my birthplace, visiting the Acropolis, Corinth, and Santorini, and most importantly, reconnecting with my family. My sister Irene is my only living sibling, and my reunion with her was precious. I walked with my daughters through the streets of my village, sharing my memories and stories, and thanking God again for His provision through the hardest days of my life so many years ago. God has been faithful, He is good, and I am truly blessed!

“Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.” (Psalm 34:8)

Harriet Walker loves studying the Bible with women in her church, using her well-worn Greek Bible. A woman of many talents, she shares loaves of her freshly baked bread with families at the Ronald McDonald House. As a volunteer at Harris Methodist Hospital for 21 years, she has received the Helping Hands award three times. Each year she knits hundreds of caps for babies in the nursery. Harriet takes great delight in her family, including nine grandchildren and six great-grandchildren.