I sit in the church that I call my home right now surrounded
by some world racers I know, ones I’ve never laid eyes on and a plethora of
Romanians. The sermon is completely in
Romanian which provides an interesting obstacle for about half of the people
listening. Most of the racers here see
this building simply as a rural church, the people as stranger Romanians, the
town as a new one. I see the church as
my home, the people as my family, and the town as my community. It’s a strange place to find myself. From the outside I look no different than any
other American here in this room, but I am.
My team and I seem to unanimously agree that we love it
here. The community has already taught us so much about family and community
and love. The people are so full of joy
yet they have ‘nothing’ to our standards.
As the lessons around us continue to roll in, our team
continues to grow together also. Here we
all sleep in one room together. We share
in sickness and sadness, jokes and fun. We
struggle through language barriers and unidentified meats. We laugh over bucket showers and sprints to
the outhouse. As dysfunctional as we are
at times we are truly coming together as a family.
The people here are beautiful and I am so excited at the
opportunity to continue serving them.
