The lines on their faces told unspeakable stories of heartbreak and abandonment. Day after day, they sit on their beds or on wooden benches in the concrete courtyard, looking, watching, and waiting for those who will likely never come to see them. Words are few between them, due in part to the language disparity of Russian and Romanian, a linguistic testimony of the turmoil that has ravaged their beloved Moldova for years. Though their backs are hunched from years of hard labor and their strands of grey show more than just years of worry, their eyes reveal the only sparkle of hope that keeps them going.
But they are not forgotten. No, they are not.
As we spent the afternoon visiting the nursing home in Calarasi, God kept telling me again and again to speak out that each of these individuals is not forgotten. God has seen their tears. He has listed each one on a scroll and captured them close to his heart in a bottle. And each and every person in this tiny home is precious to the heart of the Father.
One of the elderly gentlemen, propped up on crutches, watched us with curiosity as we entered the courtyard. When Tom reached out to shake his hand, tears started flowing from his eyes. As we sang, he continued to wipe at his eyes with a tattered handkerchief. Later, we were able to hear a bit more of Paulo’s story. He shared his frustrations about the nursing home and the fact that they put the elderly in the same room as those who are unable to speak (the nursing home is also a convalescent home). It was clear that his frustrations were rooted in something deeper, though; when he began telling us about his children who lived and worked in Moscow, his tears began to flow more freely. Each teardrop told of the heartache within, of feelings of anger and abandonment.
Several of the other individuals we met had similar reactions as we visited their rooms. Tears would well up, and then hands would be held and kisses planted on our cheeks, along with streams of words in Romanian or Russian to which we could only smile in response. They seemed overwhelmed that we would come visit them. Even though they may not have understood our prayers, I believe they felt the Holy Spirit’s presence move as we entered each room. I prayed that they would realize they are not forgotten, but that God’s love for them is real and present with them always. I could tell that many of them had not had visitors in a long time.
We had come with songs to sing and love to share, but the Holy Spirit resonated deeper into hearts than we could have. Several of the people we met smiled after we prayed for them. But some, including Paulo, struggled to understand how a loving God could leave them in such a place. We were able to share about God’s presence, and Sergiu (our contact) shared the gospel with them. Paulo continued to ask questions, and even though I could tell he was still a bit skeptical as we were leaving, I have to believe that the Holy Spirit will continue to work on his heart.
I hope we will be able to return to the nursing home. But more importantly, I pray that each of those individuals would know that they are not forgotten. Every tear we shed is truly precious to our Heavenly Father. I believe that one day He will show us the bottles of tears He has captured through the years; but I also believe that those tears will soon be forgotten when we realize the surpassing joy we will find in the face of His glorious presence.
