Her fingers seem to be permanently stained. Living in the dirt and trash and muck will do that to you apparently. She is eight years old and speaks no English, but she’ll attempt to repeat your words and look adorable doing so. I taught her to say “Jesus loves me” and “I’m beautiful.” Her name is Corina and her joy makes being on the other side of the world worth the while. I spent last month near Targu MureÅŸ, Romania and visited a nearby village a few times a week. I had the privilege of playing with Corina and dozens like her; each time I saw them, my heart melted.
“Culture shock” does not accurately depict my reaction to the small gypsy village I entered on a weekly basis. I’ve seen pictures of poverty before. Having grown up in American suburbia, I was exposed to the news. Yet, it was something that didn’t seem to affect me. Poverty like that, in that manner, was somewhere else affecting someone else. It was contained in a box outside of my life and daily routine. But here it was, right in front of me. Children ran around, some of them clothed, some not, all of them dirty. The few children between eight and thirteen held constantly crying babies. Parents paid no heed as dozens of kids flocked to us for attention.
Despite having no possessions, and likely no opportunity, Corina smiles. Maybe she’s unaware of her situation or naïve of the uncertainty of her future. Or perhaps, she simply is unconcerned and unwilling to worry. Her joy is infectious and excitement exudes from her entire being. I wonder at how she can be so happy with nothing while I know people with so much more who are discontent. Seeing her carefree manner taught me a huge lesson; it’s one that sounds cliché but still holds true. Sometimes, it really is the small things that make life so amazing, so good, so beautiful.
Corina was happy just to play with a dozen twenty-something year old strangers. She was happy to have a hand to hold. Her face lit up when I twirled her around or hugged her. It was humbling to see such joy in the face of such hardship. It made me, ultimately want to love the little things and see the beauty in all situations. I never thought that I would learn such a valuable thing from an eight-year-old gypsy, but I did.
Isn’t it funny how that happens? How humbling. I love how God uses different people, situations and places to teach me huge lessons. They usually come unexpectedly. A few months ago, he showed me how vast and great he is while I was looking at books in a library. Now he is using a little girl to shatter my perspectives and worldview. Corina’s joy spurred me on to look at my own life, my stewardship, and the way I live. It makes me question my priorities and my expectations. In Hebrews, it says to be content for God has said “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”
That’s my prayer for Corina, and for myself. I want her to know that the Lord will never abandon her. May we be content in all circumstances and joyful always.
