After 3 days in Villa Tecii, Romania (about two hours away from Cluj and Count Dracular's castle), my contact has decided to be my “Romanian Father,” so he announced to me as I wrote a blog on an up-coming fundraising deadline. He hugged me and with his contagious smile, I agreed. It has been a while since I have had a father-like figure this year. Pastor Elisha in Kisumu (in June) was the first and last father-like figure and I have been missing out on this ever since we left for Mwanza and then Isabania. Now, by no means do I want to replace my Dad in Illinois, but it is just a plesant surprise to me when contacts or neighbors 'adopt' me, even if it is only for a month.
Sometimes, I struggle with this adoption, though. I don't feel 'good enough,' even though I make strives to fit in—by playing with my now-Romanian brothers (Lacy, 11 and Benny, 6), walking the sheep dog, checking in on the pigs in the morning, reaching out to neighbor's children, making friends with the babushkas that walk on the nearby street with long dresses and soured facial expressions, picking apples with an older gentleman during my morning run, cleaning the kitchen, and listening to my new Father's life story and the plights of his older daughters. I also talk about my own life and the questions about my future and the incredulous gasps and exclamations at my being without a husband (not to mention a boyfriend. “Why not? You are beautiful!” is what I heard yesterday and I replied with a shake of my head, a smile, and the usual line about waiting for God and His timing.)
I am not struggling with this now, because, not to project an image of egotism, God is showing me that I do have value and I am 'good enough.' After all—is this not one of the reasons Jesus died and rose for me? To be the ultimate sacrifice so that I would be acceptable and approved by His Father? I know that not everyone will love or even like me, but when I am blessed to be accepted for just being me, I am able to see through the clouds of lies and into the light of truth.
