As I sit here at 11:30pm, not even to the half way point of our journey, on a bus somewhere in the middle of Bulgaria, my mind begins to wander through the last week and it’s events. I left my home for the next 9 months of life, said goodbye to my family, got travel plans changed due to a hurricane, had an unexpected afternoon to explore Portugal, arrived in Romania, have begun living in a house with 40 other people, been told we had the opportunity for a few days in Greece (Where I am headed now), and started ministry. Yet the thing that continues to run through my mind tonight is the woman on our train ride into the city we are staying in I Romania.
Already having been questioned in Romanian since getting on the train and then being laughed at, presumably due to my dumbfounded expression; I sat in a space for 4 people with 2 of my teammates and an older woman.
My expectations were that she would speak no English though I wasn’t worried about it. Yet when we asked her a question we got a small response in English. She slowly grew in her confidence in speaking to us, explaining it had been several years since she had spoken any English at all. As the ride continued she spoke about the book she was reading, helped us communicate with the train crew, and reminded us several times to buy water, never to drink the water of Romania.
Somewhere around the halfway mark of our ride she drifted off for a short nap and as she sat across from me, her head being held up her fist, I study her face. Life had worn her body down. The wrinkles and frail hands showed that. There was a deeper sense of exhaustion within her too that could be seen in her eyes and heard in her words.
We continued to speak with her after she woke up and she guided us in the franticness that ensued trying to get 40 World Racers off of a train, in this chaos I was pushed into the separate space of our train car. Through the glass door now seperating us, I watched as my other 2 team mates who had spoken with her as well, began to pray for her. They each had a hand on her shoulder and all 3 had there heads bowed. I couldn’t hear them but I prayed my own prayer for this woman as I studied her face once more. She looked up a few moments before my teammates did, obviously knowing the prayer was being wrapped up before it was completely finished, and what I saw brought me to tears.
Within the worn and tired body of this women shown a light that was not there before that prayer began. The tiredness of her eyes was gone and I saw the holy spirit shining through them as evident as the smile on her face.
I had yet to get to my first country, hadn’t begun my assigned ministry, and frankly, hadn’t spent much time with God in those past few days in the midst of all the travel. But God doesn’t wait for our timing to move. He shows up in his timing. In his place. All we need is to open our hands.
