When all the church youth groups arrived in Thessaloniki, one of the first things World Changers did was organize us all into work crews, moving us out of our comfort zones by putting us in crews with people from other churches, rather than just with our familiar church friends.
Surprisingly, I was put in charge of a crew that consisted of all girls! In fact, it was the only all-female crew. (God—or somebody at World Changers—certainly has a sense of humor.) Furthermore, mine was the only crew with just one adult on it—me! So this guy that never had a
daughter (or a sister for that matter) suddenly had 9 teenage girls—ages 15 to 19—for which he was singularly responsible for the whole week! The girls and I traveled together, we ate all our meals together (except for breakfast), and we did ministry projects together. Except for the occasional challenge of trying to get everyone to leave at the same time and move in the same direction all at once—which could sometimes be akin to herding a group of cats—the girls were a real joy. We worked well together and we all had a great time getting to know one another. All in all, I felt that I had the best crew of all.
On that first night, when the crews were being organized, each had to decide on a name for itself. For some reason—known only to God—my crew collectively came up with the moniker “Pink Ladies”. At first I thought it was because they all someday aspired to be hospital volunteers in pink smocks. Or that maybe they just liked the color pink. Or perhaps they thought it was more feminine sounding. (Eventually, I realized it was because there was an all-girl gang called the "Pink Ladies" in the 1978 movie musical Grease. Get it...Greece!) Well, the dye had been cast (pun intended) and I had to live with it. As an afterthought, realizing that for obvious reasons I could not be a pink lady, the name was expanded to “Danny an
d the Pink Ladies." (Interestingly, the lead male character in Grease was named Danny.) But to me our new crew's name sort of conjured up images of some long forgotten 1950s doo-wop group, or a very bad Vegas lounge act. Eventually, one of the girls dubbed me “Pink Daddy” which kind of made me sound like a hip-hop gangsta rapper or worse.
As the week progressed, however, I chose to embrace this pink thing wholeheartedly and
have fun with it. (Hey, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.) I decided to surprise the girls by buying them all something pink to wear, to build on our team identity and to have as a keepsake of their trip. One afternoon, when I had a few minutes to spare, I went out in search of some pink article of clothing—a scarf, a ribbon, whatever I could find in multiples of nine. Finally, I discovered a women’s accessories shop near our hotel that had some “DKNY” designer baseball-style caps in pink. 
Miraculously, they had enough to outfit my whole team. When I bought the caps, I also got myself a pink bandana to wear around my neck. (By the way, this whole pink conversion of mine worried J. Landrum. The night before we boarded our flight home, he told me he would refuse to sit by me on the plane if I continued to wear that bandana once we left Greece. I informed him that real men are secure enough in their manhood to wear pink.)
In the mornings, my crew was involved in the beach cleanup at Pilea, picking up all kinds of disgusting things out in the hot sun with 100-
plus degree heat. I had to remind the girls to drink plenty of water and to take periodic breaks in the shade. You know, there’s an old saying that “horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies glisten.” Well, I obviously must be horse, because I was sweating buckets. But I have to say that my nine Pink Ladies were all glistening pretty good.
Every night, as part of a sports outreach effort, my girls went to a city park and played volleyball with different groups of local girls—Greeks, Albanians, Russians, Afghanis. Rumor had it that I was the coach of the team. (Tunstall High School coach Jackie Hardy must be laughing somewhere right now.) Actually, I had no time to coach. I was too busy being the official team photographer, cheerleader and purse carrier! (Hey, what all does Hannah carry in that big bag, anyway?)
From that first night in the park, everything just clicked. There was a great rapport
among all the volleyball players. Less competitive than the boys, who were playing soccer nearby, the girls mixed up their teams from the outset. In other words, we never had an all-American team; every team was multinational. And it was a real joy watching girls of different ethnic backgrounds playing together side by side—laughing together, high-fiving one another, celebrating shared victories. It was a great example of how athletics can be an ice-breaker, bridge-builder and unifier.
Following the volleyball games each night, some of our girls gave testimonies. Then they fielded questions from those interested in learning more
about a personal relationship with Christ. The final night, we had a tournament with an awards ceremony at the conclusion. Afterward, there were tears and hugs as these newfound friends parted company. The great thing is that Glad Tidings church will now continue to follow up on all the contacts made by our girls.
All week long, I was especially proud of how seriously my girls took the relationship-building
aspect of their ministry assignment. Without prompting, they took it to the next level, meeting with a group of Albanian girls for lunch at McDonalds one day, inviting some of their new friends to drop by our hotel for an afternoon visit, and so forth. It was great! I was so impressed with them, as was the local World Changers leadership team.
During the course of the week, the Pink Ladies and I shared a lot of meals together. One eating establishment we visited had a cook that reminded me of the infamous Soup Nazi on the old TV sitcom “Seinfeld”. You know, the angry guy who yelled “No soup for you!” whenever customers failed to follow his instructions.
During our first visit to the Thessaloniki Soup Nazi, one of my girls ordered a gyro with no tomatoes. “No!” he responded curtly, “There are too many people in your group! I cannot make changes for you! You eat it the way I make it! And you like it!” (So much for the customer always being right!)
The next night, at my urging, we went back to see the Soup Nazi again. (Even though the guy was rude, the food was good, quick and cheap.) This time I came in and greeted the old storm trooper as if he were an old friend. “Ahhhh, my friend!,” I shouted as I grabbed him by the hand.
“It’s so good to see you again!” His hardness began to melt. Then one of the girls showed him the article about us (regarding our beach cleanup efforts) that had appeared in the morning paper. After he read the story, he became a completely different person, eagerly waiting on us with a smile. He also offered to come to the United States and personally clean our beaches! (Does this guy have any idea how many miles of coastline we have?)
As we were leaving, I asked the ex-Gestapo agent (he's the one in the white shirt) if I could take a photo of him and his co-worker. He beckoned me to join them behind the
counter for a photo op. Then, one by one, he and his colleague paused for photos with each of our girls. They even gave away their little orange cook’s hats as souvenirs to a couple of our girls. Everyone was having fun and loving it. Our Soup Nazi had suddenly become a warm and cuddly Soup Angel, kind of like when Dr. Suess’ Grinch grew a heart.
All it all, it was a great week of ministry in Thessaloniki—one that I’ll never forget. The Pink Ladies were an inspiration to everyone. Thanks, Rachel, Laura, Hannah, Whitney, Angela, Jazmine, Rachelle, Brittany, and Tay Gabbi for letting me be just one of the girls! You gals are the greatest! In the years to come, whenever I look back on this trip to Greece, I’ll always think pink.
Pastor “Pink Daddy”
Surprisingly, I was put in charge of a crew that consisted of all girls! In fact, it was the only all-female crew. (God—or somebody at World Changers—certainly has a sense of humor.) Furthermore, mine was the only crew with just one adult on it—me! So this guy that never had a
daughter (or a sister for that matter) suddenly had 9 teenage girls—ages 15 to 19—for which he was singularly responsible for the whole week! The girls and I traveled together, we ate all our meals together (except for breakfast), and we did ministry projects together. Except for the occasional challenge of trying to get everyone to leave at the same time and move in the same direction all at once—which could sometimes be akin to herding a group of cats—the girls were a real joy. We worked well together and we all had a great time getting to know one another. All in all, I felt that I had the best crew of all.
On that first night, when the crews were being organized, each had to decide on a name for itself. For some reason—known only to God—my crew collectively came up with the moniker “Pink Ladies”. At first I thought it was because they all someday aspired to be hospital volunteers in pink smocks. Or that maybe they just liked the color pink. Or perhaps they thought it was more feminine sounding. (Eventually, I realized it was because there was an all-girl gang called the "Pink Ladies" in the 1978 movie musical Grease. Get it...Greece!) Well, the dye had been cast (pun intended) and I had to live with it. As an afterthought, realizing that for obvious reasons I could not be a pink lady, the name was expanded to “Danny an
d the Pink Ladies." (Interestingly, the lead male character in Grease was named Danny.) But to me our new crew's name sort of conjured up images of some long forgotten 1950s doo-wop group, or a very bad Vegas lounge act. Eventually, one of the girls dubbed me “Pink Daddy” which kind of made me sound like a hip-hop gangsta rapper or worse.As the week progressed, however, I chose to embrace this pink thing wholeheartedly and
have fun with it. (Hey, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.) I decided to surprise the girls by buying them all something pink to wear, to build on our team identity and to have as a keepsake of their trip. One afternoon, when I had a few minutes to spare, I went out in search of some pink article of clothing—a scarf, a ribbon, whatever I could find in multiples of nine. Finally, I discovered a women’s accessories shop near our hotel that had some “DKNY” designer baseball-style caps in pink. 
Miraculously, they had enough to outfit my whole team. When I bought the caps, I also got myself a pink bandana to wear around my neck. (By the way, this whole pink conversion of mine worried J. Landrum. The night before we boarded our flight home, he told me he would refuse to sit by me on the plane if I continued to wear that bandana once we left Greece. I informed him that real men are secure enough in their manhood to wear pink.)In the mornings, my crew was involved in the beach cleanup at Pilea, picking up all kinds of disgusting things out in the hot sun with 100-
plus degree heat. I had to remind the girls to drink plenty of water and to take periodic breaks in the shade. You know, there’s an old saying that “horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies glisten.” Well, I obviously must be horse, because I was sweating buckets. But I have to say that my nine Pink Ladies were all glistening pretty good.
Every night, as part of a sports outreach effort, my girls went to a city park and played volleyball with different groups of local girls—Greeks, Albanians, Russians, Afghanis. Rumor had it that I was the coach of the team. (Tunstall High School coach Jackie Hardy must be laughing somewhere right now.) Actually, I had no time to coach. I was too busy being the official team photographer, cheerleader and purse carrier! (Hey, what all does Hannah carry in that big bag, anyway?)From that first night in the park, everything just clicked. There was a great rapport
among all the volleyball players. Less competitive than the boys, who were playing soccer nearby, the girls mixed up their teams from the outset. In other words, we never had an all-American team; every team was multinational. And it was a real joy watching girls of different ethnic backgrounds playing together side by side—laughing together, high-fiving one another, celebrating shared victories. It was a great example of how athletics can be an ice-breaker, bridge-builder and unifier.Following the volleyball games each night, some of our girls gave testimonies. Then they fielded questions from those interested in learning more
about a personal relationship with Christ. The final night, we had a tournament with an awards ceremony at the conclusion. Afterward, there were tears and hugs as these newfound friends parted company. The great thing is that Glad Tidings church will now continue to follow up on all the contacts made by our girls.All week long, I was especially proud of how seriously my girls took the relationship-building
aspect of their ministry assignment. Without prompting, they took it to the next level, meeting with a group of Albanian girls for lunch at McDonalds one day, inviting some of their new friends to drop by our hotel for an afternoon visit, and so forth. It was great! I was so impressed with them, as was the local World Changers leadership team.
During the course of the week, the Pink Ladies and I shared a lot of meals together. One eating establishment we visited had a cook that reminded me of the infamous Soup Nazi on the old TV sitcom “Seinfeld”. You know, the angry guy who yelled “No soup for you!” whenever customers failed to follow his instructions.During our first visit to the Thessaloniki Soup Nazi, one of my girls ordered a gyro with no tomatoes. “No!” he responded curtly, “There are too many people in your group! I cannot make changes for you! You eat it the way I make it! And you like it!” (So much for the customer always being right!)
The next night, at my urging, we went back to see the Soup Nazi again. (Even though the guy was rude, the food was good, quick and cheap.) This time I came in and greeted the old storm trooper as if he were an old friend. “Ahhhh, my friend!,” I shouted as I grabbed him by the hand.
“It’s so good to see you again!” His hardness began to melt. Then one of the girls showed him the article about us (regarding our beach cleanup efforts) that had appeared in the morning paper. After he read the story, he became a completely different person, eagerly waiting on us with a smile. He also offered to come to the United States and personally clean our beaches! (Does this guy have any idea how many miles of coastline we have?)As we were leaving, I asked the ex-Gestapo agent (he's the one in the white shirt) if I could take a photo of him and his co-worker. He beckoned me to join them behind the
counter for a photo op. Then, one by one, he and his colleague paused for photos with each of our girls. They even gave away their little orange cook’s hats as souvenirs to a couple of our girls. Everyone was having fun and loving it. Our Soup Nazi had suddenly become a warm and cuddly Soup Angel, kind of like when Dr. Suess’ Grinch grew a heart.
All it all, it was a great week of ministry in Thessaloniki—one that I’ll never forget. The Pink Ladies were an inspiration to everyone. Thanks, Rachel, Laura, Hannah, Whitney, Angela, Jazmine, Rachelle, Brittany, and Tay Gabbi for letting me be just one of the girls! You gals are the greatest! In the years to come, whenever I look back on this trip to Greece, I’ll always think pink.Pastor “Pink Daddy”
