It's the end of Romania and I still haven't blogged. Out of all the things I had thought of, I didn't expect to have a lack of words. But really when I think about it, I don't have a lack of words but a lack of knowledge of what to say.
I have sat down to write multiple times each week and I get out my first sentence and I stop. I think, where do I go from here? What do I tell them? What do I say to anyone about my travels so far?
I've been able to chat a little with all of my family and I don't know how to answer them when they ask the vague question of "How's Romania so far?" In all actuality, Romania is probably the same it has been for years. But what has it been like to me?
Romania is beautiful, it is living history, overflowing with things that make me think of Disney movies. From the horse drawn carts to the gothic architecture of worn down homes, you feel the need to breathe deeper and watch where you step. But what will I remember from Romania? I will remember a lot of office work and the realization that the inner workings of churches around the world are the same. I will remember sprained ankles, sniffles, and nightmares. I will remember a people who gave more generously than they had.
But if I had to choose a face to remember, I would choose a small simple face filled with expression. You see, one of our first days here I went on a walk with a couple of the girls. It was in the middle of this that we heard a voice call out from behind. Turning around, we saw a boy, maybe 10-years old, running down the road toward us.
He ran wildly, with one of the biggest grins I've ever seen, and calling to us without language. He gestured for us to take his pictures, grinning bigger with each click of the shutter. We learned from the woman who followed him that he was deaf. He smiled, and squealed with joy, and the beauty didn't stop there.
A few days later myself and a teammate were walking to the church when we heard his voice again, his beautiful mumbled yell carried across the street catching our attention. The rest of our walk to the church he asked continually if we were going to the church to pray, yelling to get our attention each time we looked away.
I haven't seen him since then. I hoped and prayed that I would but it didn't come to pass. Now I have to change my prayer.
I know I won't see him again, so I have been trying to find what to what to pray for him. I pray that he would have a godly presence in his life and that he would be able to hear God's voice clearly. My prayers for him have made me think about praying for my journeys yet to come.
I have begun to pray for the people I will meet in my upcoming countries, and that God would give me a single person to shine His light on.
So you see, when I think of what to blog, I think I don't really know what to say.
I guess that is a lie, because I just told you about Romania and what I will remember. It isn't lot, but for me it is beautiful.
