In Romania,
these people look so familiar,
Their smiles, their styles, their interests –
they are so tall, skinny, like pillars on these old cobblestone streets
we exchange limited words
when I try, often I receive blank stares and emotionless faces.
"Buna Ziua," I say as we pass each other on the street.
Some smile, some respond, others throw me a cold stare.
But, beauty embedded under the covers, the masks;
it exists in Ana, the young waitress who kindly serves me my Rulou Chocolata
and explains the correct pronunciation for 'thank you,' – Multumesc,
which really sounds like "mool – tsoo – mesk."
Like the layers upon layers of history lying under rubble and brick,
dating back to the 14th century,
there is so much beauty here,
layering quietly under the tired faces of the elderly;
With scarves carefully tied around their heads.
And old woman street beggar speaks in riddles on the street corner –
she points to her stomach, her mouth, her head. She is hungry.
I purchase a seminte (pretzel) and hand it to her.
She smiles, and I try to get her name.
"Shelli…" I point to myself. "My name is Shelli."
No comprehension, but words are unnecessary, sometimes.
Sometimes it is movement, action, gestures of love that make the greatest impact.
She holds my hand tightly and doesn't let go for an uncomfortably long time.
Someone said once,
"When we grow old, there can only be one regret –
not to have given enough of ourselves."
(Eleanora Duse)
and it's more true than it's ever been,
that by giving it all,
I am gaining it all.
What feels like losing –
personal time, freedoms, my own perfectly scripted agenda…
by letting it go,
and embracing the potentially intimidating:
Street beggars
old men playing rummy
women in the park watching their children
I might gain:
a black-toothed smile from a green-eyed child
a caramel candy from a sweet old man
a language lesson from three women on a bench
I am not sure, but I think the gain
is always worth the risk in just letting go
and being the hands and feet of Jesus.
Even if it is awkward, misunderstood, unreciprocated
because, ultimately, that's not what matters
What matters
is
being
exactly who I am
and not trying
to be anybody else
because of
anybody else's expectations
of who I am supposed to be.
I really don't care what people think anymore.
If I have to ask anyone else's permission
to be who I am
then I really am not free.
And after all,
it is for
FREEDOM
that Christ has set us free.
"For His sake,
I have discarded everything else,
counting it all as garbage,
so that I could gain C H R I S T
and become one with him."
(Philippians 3:8-9)
