The Drunk, the Old Woman and the Orphans - Explore Archived World Race Alumni Blogs

Dear Friends,

I have been in Bulgaria for 8 days now.

Oh my goodness.

Where has the time gone?

After departing, we flew through Atlanta, Chicago, Istanbul and finally landed in Sofia, Bulgaria where we stayed the night in a hostel down a chilly city street. I was shivery cold and my body carried the nasty odor of one who had been traveling for over 24 hours.

After a jet lagged night of listening to the sounds and noises outside our hostel, my team and I awoke and took a subway to a bus station where we then rode a bus for seven hours to Silistra, Bulgaria(which is in north east region of Bulgaria, right next to the Danube) and we were then ushered to our hosts’ home in a small village called Kalipetrovo.

Since arriving in Kalipetrovo, I’ve been able to experience lots, but a few have stuck out in my mind the most.

First, is a drunk.

Yesterday morning, my team and I decided to go for a walk through Kalipetrovo and pray. Towards the end of our walk along the steep dirt street, we were stopped by a man with a bicycle. He began talking to us in Bulgarian.

He was very animated and began walking alongside us, pushing his bike, pointing out things and how to say them in Bulgarian. He offered me a ride on his bike and then stopped to pick up some walnuts and gave them to me.

As we came to a little corner store, we learned, through a series of broken English, that this was his shop and his name was George. He graciously offered us water and told us to sit next to another man, who happened to be very drunk. This drunk man’s name was Ivan.

(Ivan is on the left and George is on the right.)

After sitting down next to Ivan, who rambled on and on in Bulgarian, we quickly realized that he just wanted to talk and be listened to. So we nodded and listened as he monologued. We would smile encouragingly and repeat back the few english words he said, like Obama, Kangaroo, Bulgaria, Crocodile, Metallica, etc.

I really have no idea what Ivan was saying, but as I sat there, watching his glazed eyes widen with each slurred word, I understood something.

Ivan, in that moment and for all of his life, is precious. Underneath the drunkenness, the stench and endless amounts of words, was a man in need of hope.

It hasn’t taken long to see that hopelessness is all over in Bulgaria. With the fall of communism still fresh, there is a sense of freedom, but most of the older generations don’t know how to walk in it.

Walking down the streets of Silistra, many people carry themselves with heads held down, hunched over, just trying to make it from point A to point B. The goal is surviving.

As my team and I drove down the road yesterday, I saw an old woman walking along the road. With a determined look on her face, she walked up a hill, her head covered in a shall, with one hand steadying on a cane and the other grasping tightly to a grocery bag.

This old woman had to be in her 80s or 90s, her skin was weathered, sagging and she shook when she walked. I don’t know her story and I only actually saw her for about 5 seconds as we drove past, but what still sticks to my thoughts is the look of determined desperation in her eyes.

I can’t even begin to imagine what her whole life looked like. In assuming she’s in her 80’s or 90s she saw her country stand through communism. Her children were probably raised in a society where everything is equal and nobody is unique. I imagine she lived in a stone building much like her neighbors where independent thinking was frowned upon greatly.

Now, even though it has been 26 years since democracy began in Bulgaria, it seems the mind sets of hopelessness still stick. It only took a few seconds for me to see it in the way she was hunched over.

Even now, as I type, I can still see her in my mind. The truth is, this lady, like Ivan, was precious. She was also lovely.

But life had told her otherwise. And it was written all over her face.

Bulgaria is in need of hope.

A few turns in the road after seeing this woman, we arrived at our next destination.

For the first time since entering Bulgaria, I saw joy in the faces of young Bulgarians.

Strange that these Bulgarians were also orphans.

This orphanage has around 27 children and 20 workers.

We were able to go into this orphanage and help paint one of their rooms. As we painted, the kids came in, smiling and trying out english words they had been learning.

One little boy in particular(pictured below), thoroughly loved taking selfies. After taking one, he’d say, “dobre”, which means “good” in Bulgarian.

I was assigned to painting a wall outside, which is actually a lot tougher than it looks when there are so many crevices and bubbles to paint into.

There was another little boy who faithfully painted beside me, asking if he was doing a good job, and smiling when I nodded and said, “da” (which is Yes, in Bulgarian).

I don’t know the stories of these children. I don’t know why they are orphans or how long they have been living in this orphanage. But it seemed to me that these kids understood the very thing God was showing me about Ivan and the old woman.

They are precious.

They are lovely.

They are special.

Friends, this is what God says about us too. He loves us so much.

I’m not so sure Ivan will ever remember us. I know for a fact that the old woman didn’t see me driving past in the car. But if it is possible, I’d love to get to know them both better. Because these are the people that God is inviting into His kingdom. These are the people that God is bringing hope to.