The month of February was spent in Romania. I was working with the Afterschool program, helping with homework and teaching English. I had the opportunity to go on home visits, sort donations of clothing, and deliver said donations to various people. The four years before the race I was a Community Home Visitor; so visiting families, bringing food, clothing, and encouragement felt pretty normal. It made me miss many things about my job. Even not being able to communicate with people was even normal, since ½ my clients back home are Newcomers to Canada and I had to use Interpreters or ‘broken English’ during home visits.
On our quest to disperse clothing donations and open doors of contact for the church, we stopped by the “Mental Hospital”. I soon learned, as I met the clients, it is a home for adults with intellectual and development delays. We stopped by to ask if we could donate clothing. The director wasn’t there, so we talked to people out on the step. Each time we stopped by the residents were so happy to talk to us – even though we don’t speak Romanian. They all wanted to know our names, shake our hands and give us hugs. One lady wouldn’t let us get by without giving big hug and a sloppy wet kiss on our cheek. One day, on our second attempt to speak with the director, I met Robert. I don’t know his age, his history, his diagnosis, or even his language. But somehow we became friends. He spelled his name on my hand with his finger to make sure I understood.
One our third visit we dropped off many boxes of clothes. Robert was ready with his binder of papers and pictures. He showed me pictures of himself and his family. He showed me pictures of a place he lived, it was a hospital or treatment facility with physical therapy equipment and stark living conditions. And finally Robert showed me his pictures. He drew them and wanted me to take them and give them to Americans. I felt bad taking all his hard work, but he was insistent. We left after just a few minutes, but I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about our encounter. And I was eager to share my new treasures with my teammates. These pictures represent so much more then colours and lines on the page.
I was so happy to see Robert on the street one of our last days in Romania. He was talked as if I could understand and stood with me for a picture. Eventually I had to say goodbye and part ways. I’m not sure what it was in my conversations with Robert that struck me. But in those moments, I wished I could speak Romanian, I wish I could have spent time with him, hear his story, and speak life into him.
I think people see the World Race as this big crazy experience at every turn. That it’s full of adventure. That the amazing, life changing moments are constant. That there’s never a dull moment. That the World Race is never mundane. That when I come home I will have a million crazy stories about mountains being moved. It’s partly true, I have a few crazy stories. Sure I have had some days that were pretty adventurous. And yes, I have had some life changing moments. But most of the life changing moments, have been ones like meeting Robert. It’s the little moments that make the race worth it.
Please check out the many drawings from Robert on my facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10155406991670173.1073741848.506690172&type=1&l=ef35a355d8
