I’m sitting in a beautiful, quaint, polished, large, intimate, coffee-loving, six-story bookstore in Bucharest, Romania. Surrounded by words and, oddly enough, white walls that inspire, I’m feeling a bit pressured to write something of grandeur.
But my dad just left to go back home after being here for five whirlwind days. And Romania—month eight—is speedily approaching “The End.”
So what was this month like? How’s Europe you ask? How about I tell you with the number eight.
1. You can find rest in a house of forty people.
This was our second all-squad month. We all lived under one roof, with one bathroom area, one mirror, one washing machine, one refrigerator. My anxiety hit an all-new level of weird (read HERE); to say I felt claustrophobic and overwhelmed is an understatement. But God gave me the word “rest” our first week, and I’ve (slowly) learned how to embrace chaos and calm in one breath.
2. No matter how old you are, you can still dream.
I saw this in our ministry contact, Raul, a man who dreams so large for the kingdom. I witnessed it in many parents, including my dad, who are just as capable and talented to bless this earth with their dreams and gifts. It sparked something in me, to not only pursue my own twenty-something ideas, but to push the older wiser folk to pursue theirs.
3. Being united as a squad and fighting for good corporate worship is a supernatural experience.
G squad has struggled much of the Race with corporate worship. But this month blew the last seven months out of the water. There’s just something about being in a church sanctuary, with real life instruments and a chorus of voices. But even if you took all that away, our hearts’ posture and willingness to push through the death spoken over worship in previous months was more than enough for the Spirit to do great things in each of us.
4. Ministry can look like poop and folding laundry.
Every month we’re doing something new, whether that be teaching English, doing construction, or this month for me, babysitting and helping with chores. I admit that my attitude was far from right the first few days; I was more frustrated than not to be sitting around (or rather chasing kids around) instead of “actually doing something.” But God kindly smacked me across the head (and so did some teammates) and I realized that ministry is serving and serving is allowing a mom a break from her three rambunctious kids so she can actually finish a chore without interruption or attend Bible study. And may I just add that these three kids somehow turned my heart to mush by the time we had to say goodbye.
5. My dad is one of the most Spirit-filled people I’ve ever met, and also one of the funniest.
Not in the shaking and sweating with the Spirit way, or “hey, you’re so funny I can’t stop crying and you should be a comedian”, but he’s still Spirit-filled and still funny. I’ve heard my dad pray and speak and share his heart my entire life, but to walk side by side him as we handed out tracts, or to proudly listen to him preach (he’ll deny that it was actually INCREDIBLE) changed how I saw my dad. He truly lives his faith, and he’s honest about the painful but often necessary growth of a relationship with Christ. And even more so, I’ve (humbly?) discovered that my sense of humor comes from my dad. Do people cringe at my jokes too? Just kidding, Dad. Thanks for the gift of laughter and cheesiness.
6. Romania is badly broken and consumed in darkness, but there is HOPE.
Romania is bound in chains to the Orthodox church, a religion mixed with tradition. Less than 0.5% are Christians. But in a small village town called Draganesti Olt stands Hope Church. Pouring out of those walls is a hope beyond the name of the building. The missionaries there are flickering lights in a dark, dark area, but they are lights nonetheless. Great things are happening in that town, and hope is spreading.
7. I met Love through nine warriors, and was greatly humbled.
February 14th marks an over processed, artificial, chocolate-binging day for most, but this year, it meant sacrifice. Our nine men on G squad invited us into a night of loveliness and beauty, celebrating us as sisters and daughters of Christ. We were serenaded, served a three course meal, had a foot washing and were prayed over, and worshipped together. What affected me the most was our table settings. On the inside of each name card, the men had written one word describing each of us and how God viewed us. But I wasn’t allowed to read it. The person across from me took my nametag and spoke each word to me. Truth was literally being spoken into souls of thirty women all at once. Love was in the hands of my warrior brothers as they washed our feet; love was dancing through the smiling and crazy faces of each of us in a slideshow of the last eight months; love was speechless at the thoughtfulness and humble desire of these men to express the worthiness of each woman on the squad. I met Love.
8. Chocoholics Anonymous should probably become a real thing.
If it isn’t already. When chocolate bars are cheap, and—ok, I have absolutely no excuse for how much chocolate I ate. But when in Europe…
I’m no longer sitting in a cute, six-story bookstore, but am a week and a half later in time in Balti, Moldova. And I’m still reeling with the growth and experiences I had last month. God continues to show his faithfulness to me over and over again, and only explodes my heart with new reasons to sing. And I like to think he’s a big fan of dark chocolate and lists of growing pains, too.
