Thumbs out at our side, slowly walking along, nobody even glances our way. Finally someone pulls over. Wait, she’s just getting out. Never mind, just keep going straight. It’s a long walk back home if nobody stops. Oh God, please tug on someone’s heart. We decide to part ways, not a chance we’ll find someone to fit all 8. So 4 stay behind and 4 continue along as we reach a fork in the road. Shoot, which way do we go? There on the side is a man ready to leave. I quietly say, “Please don’t go.” Tamica runs forward, exchanges some words, and before we know it we’re all piling in, Tamica in car seat and all.
The man speaks in English as we talk of the Race and our work here in Romania. His phone rings and he simply ignores it, explaining it’s because he is late. He owns a pizza shop in Cartu Neshk (which I am BUTCHERING the spelling of since Stacy is not here for me to ask her), the town where we usually catch the bus. Tamica and I instantly look at each other as she grabs my arm and just smiles. Note: The man who picked us up this morning hitchhiking also ows a pizza shop in Cartu Neshk. God is so funny. We thank him again for picking us up and explain just how grateful we are.
Expecting to get out once we reach Cartu Neshk, the man keeps driving along. “You can just drop us here,” we explain, after all he is late. “It’s okay. I’ll just drive the whole way.” I wanted to cry in that moment right there. That moment where God simply smiled.
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We hop in the bus eager to start ministry. It’s village day! Off to see the kiddos! We drive for a bit before pulling over to pray. Binding and loosing. Binding and loosing. Everything belongs to our Lord. Pastor tells us we’re going to another village, not the one we went to last week and it’s not the one he intended for us to go to but the bus driver took us to the wrong place. We trust God. We visit Sunshine. She’s still precious 🙂 We head down to the corner store. Time to perform the drama, right there for all to see. We gather the kids ‘round and the drama begins. “Nice job guys,” I think to myself. Paul stands up and begins to debrief. And then before my very eyes I see 15 kids commit their life to Christ. Did this really happen? Could I have imagined it? All because of some drama we did? I’m skeptical as we begin to celebrate and worship but then I look at the children before me. “I am free,” they sing. As I notice the others mocking us and look back at these 15, I begin to take note of the difference. “I am free.” These children are singing truth.
We go to our village after all and the children are eager to see us, though we’re probably more eager to see them. We sing and we dance; we laugh and we play. Nails get painted and cows roam the street. A typical day in our little gypsy village. We say our goodbyes as it’s time to go home and slowly we begin to part ways. But before we know it we find ourselves back at Sunshine’s for a little “surprise.” A home cooked Romanian dinner awaits us, napkins and all! The tears begin to well up.
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“We’re in Romania and we’re cooking our own food over a fire.”
I sit there and hold the stick in my hand, watching the meat cook before my eyes. Is this really my life? I just feel so blessed in this moment, for the provision of these people, for their generosity, for the fact that I have a stick with meat cooking in the fire. In this moment of my craptacular day, I am just struck with gratitude. I laugh as I watch the old woman take Ashley’s piece of bread and replace it with one with a delicious spread on it. I smile as she hands us all forks, forks we don’t need. And as I take it all in, my eyes start to water…and it’s not from the smoke of the fire.
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I thank you Lord for the many tears I’ve already shed this trip. For tears of joy and even for the tears of pain and sorrow, Lord I thank you. I thank you for what you’re teaching me and the lessons contained in each and every one of those tears. I thank you, my Lord. I simply thank you. I know there’s many more to come.
