Instead of pulling out some profound insight that has come to fruition for me here in Romania I've decided to just let you in. I've decided to let you read my journal. I've pulled together tid-bits from my days spent here in Pitesti, Romania working in one of the poorest neighborhoods (a gypsy neighborhood) – Razboeini (don't pronounce the “i” at the end). Which you should know the word “Razboi” means “war.”
October 2 . 2014 // Day 96
Last night I watched the sky turn cotton candy pink and orange as I played with gypsy kids in the worst neighborhood of Pitesti. We threw an American football, played tennis with a soccer ball and our feet, and swung a young boy in circles. I absolutely loved it.
While we were there we got word that someone (a father) was stabbed and killed by his son because he wouldn't give him any money. The kids that ran up and told us this were not scared in the slightest – rather they were excited. It was as if someone just won a football game. Violence is such a part of these kids lives that even death doesn't phase them.
There is a darkness here, not by choice but rather by generations of parents not knowing any different.
October 3 . 2014 // Day 97
Last night (Thursday night) we were introduced to the street people this church helps with. Thursday nights they gather together to pray, sing praise to the Lord and Pastor Christi gave a message about the prisoners on Jesus's right and left asking for forgiveness. Afterwards the church feeds them. Christi's number one goal through all of this is to just simply love. The peoples (mostly men) prayer requests were…
- Thanks for a “safe” place to sleep at night (an abandoned house)
- Food they found
- For a husband to be released from jail to be reunited with his wife and new born
- Forgiveness for fighting
- Praise for being able to wash their clothes
My heart was full of joy when interacting with these people. Despite their criminal ways there was a sense of honesty among them.
October 6 . 2014 // Day 100
…they (children) would look at me, hoping that the more they stared maybe I would somehow learn Romanian, but after a while when staring didn't work, one of them ran to someone who spoke both languages and they told them how to say “You are beautiful.” This quickly turned into a game of finding out how to say “You are beautiful.” and running up to me, hugging me, shouting “YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!” After a while they took my hand and invited me to play tag in the yard out back.
As if the buildings weren't telling enough of the lack of concern and level of poverty we were in, the broken glass, unleveled ground, trash filled grass of the yard out back told the story….
October 6 . 2014 // Day 100 …continued
…To get a picture of the kids we're working with, one of the teen's, the trusted/more involved kids was wearing a black and white graphic T-shirt where the front had a naked girl with explicit behavior and the back said “cocaine.” This was one of the guys the pastor called up in front of the children to be an example of how to pray (on Sunday). …a sweet 3 foot nothing girl took me by hand into worship where the group of us – children, teens and leaders sang Hillsong's Oceans (all you “stop singing Ocean's” haters back off) in Romanian. I watched as the kids wrote in their prayer journals (that are kept safe in a locked box) while being cuddled by the same 3 foot nothing little girl.
October 15 . 2014 // Day 109
She is clothed in strength and dignity, and laughs without fear of the future. – Proverbs 31:25
October 15 . 2014 // Day 109
…and it could have been my favorite day of ministry yet on the race! Because regardless of so many of them being drunk or high on paint – their family atmosphere is always constant and it always remains. Love is always present. Pastor Christi did not speak at all, we ended up joyfully singing songs and chanting Isus (Jesus) while throwing our fists in the air. Tiny old Maria sang a song to Isus and revealed some of her past in front of us all (although the information was likely only new to me). Maria explained how her husband did not know she was here for fear of him beating her to the point of hospitalization… again (she had just recovered from a two week stay because of his last beating). Later I was told by Christi that when she was young, after accepting the Lord and becoming a christian her gypsy village rejected her. They took her into the forest and beat her to near death. She then ran away and found a home on the streets.
Towards the end of their service one family member stumbled in drunk. To settle the ruckus Christi had him sit in the front with him on the edge of the stage along side him. We ended the service standing in a circle singing a warm-hearted song while holding hands. It was as sweet as “The Who's of WhoVille” at the end of the movie “Grinch”… just a bit more dirty and with a few more intoxicated family members.
The heart-beat of the gypsies is the rhythm of a hand beaten drum.
October 20 . 2014 // Day 114
Later we got the scoop on the kids lives. We discovered that none of these Razboeini kids are at a place to give up their lives for God. They all have different versions of the same story. These innocent young girls get raped by their fathers, pay rent through prostitution (the same way their mothers do) or dancing, girls get pregnant at 13, they find food in dumpsters and beg on street sides. Their fathers are violent or M.I.A. They learn to smoke at the age of 5 and are likely to drink and huff paint (among other drugs).
