Since coming to Transnistria, Team RADIANT has been learning to adjust to a very different pace. The structure and relative order of American ministry is long-gone and the transition into this unfamiliar way of life has been kind of difficult. Here, I don’t wake up to a pre-existing program every day or a to-do list of people to talk to and places to go; my days are exactly what I make them to be and there is no form to fall back on.
I kind of like that, though — this lack of structure gets things back to basics. As our translator Peter keeps telling us, these kids that we play with aren’t necessarily going to remember the games or Bible stories or crafts that we do with them. They’re going to remember the fact that people came here and actually paid attention to them, that they were valued and noticed and hugged and loved. Without a program to steal our energy away from the kids, the community can get the firstfruits of what we’re here to do — and that is to bring the love of Jesus to people who don’t see it that often.
So our ministry looks different every single day. Some days we’re visiting church members who have been sick or in the hospital recently.
This man’s name is Mihai and he is having surgery tomorrow, so we visited him a couple of days ago. He talked about his life and we sang a song and prayed together. Then we left. Short and sweet, but meaningful.
Or this morning, for example, we got up and walked over to this building. All of the Soviet buildings still stand and people live in the small, gray apartments. The lights in the hallways work…sometimes. Other times, the entire buildings are plunged in darkness and you have to feel your way around to find a door.
This man’s apartment burned ten years ago and the damage was never taken care of. His children shuffled him around between villages until two weeks ago, when his son told him that he was no longer welcome.
.We spent our morning shin-deep in debris that bums left behind when they illegally stayed here throughout the past decade.
Mold and papers and spiders and dust an inch thick covered the entire apartment.
We were only there for an hour (the apartment was so small that the six of us could pretty much take care of it in that much time) and we barely spoke to the man, but we left behind a clean slate to build on.
Our afternoons look like soccer on the porch with unruly fourteen-year-old boys.
These two boys are named Dema and Slavik and they’re here every single day to eat lunch and to pick on the younger kids. They act tough, but they are dying for any attention or affection that we will give them, as evidenced by the way that they chase us and tease us and steal the soccer ball whenever it’s within reach.
My afternoons look like Maxime.
He just turned six years old last week. Today he showed up at the church around one and told us that his parents weren’t going to be home until late, so he just had to wander around the streets all day. My team makes fun of me, because the second he walks through the door, I’m his. We got in a leaf fight today and when Dema whipped a handful of leaves at my face, Maxime charged Dema and kicked him in the shin. He then came back to me and picked the leaves out of my hair.
I’m madly in love, to state the obvious.
At night, our ministry looks like card games.
I thought that I got to leave Skip-Bo with Jessie and Jon in Allendale, but I roll into a fake country and lo and behold — an international language of aggravating card games. Two of the teenage boys hang out here every night until we go to bed, playing cards with Peter and us.
Dorek is sixteen and he is hilarious. He is the biggest cheat in cards, but he makes everybody laugh, so we forgive him…the first 7 games. He tries to speak English and says that everything is “cool” every 17 seconds. He and Angel speak the same language via the piano — neither of them say they can play, because they don’t read music, but when they sit down at the piano together…would it be cliche to say that it’s magical? Because that is the only word that I can think of to describe what happens in those moments.
Danak is Dorek’s older brother by eleven months. These two are in the middle of a family of eleven kids and I never see one without the other. A few of their younger siblings are around during the day, and even though Danak is the strong, silent type, his little sisters hang all over him and his younger brothers absolutely idolize him. He has warmed up to us a lot in the past couple of weeks — Peter keeps telling us how amazed he is at Danak’s behavior with a bunch of ridiculous American women. It’s been crazy to see Danak grow and open up with us. He’s a really fantastic guy.
I’m quickly learning that every single country I go to this year is going to be completely different than the last. My ministry will look different, the people will look different, the schedules and food and lodging will all look different…but this deep, deep desire to be known and loved is never going to change. So no matter what pace I find myself adjusting to this year and no matter if I feel stretched thin or completely ineffective, what it comes down to is this — kids want attention. People want to be heard. And when you give somebody a piece of Jesus’ love for them, they’re pretty much always going to want more.
